Reading Classic Novels

I only read a few classic novels a year, but the beauty of their words lingers long after I’ve finished the book. Aside from reflections on societal and historical contexts, what stays with me is usually something subtle, like a beautiful turn of phrase, a moving passage or the delicacy of a particular description.

A classic book doesn’t read the same as a contemporary one. The plots and characters take time to develop. Hardly can these books be devoured in a single sitting. Classics need to be savoured slowly, with many pauses, ideally in a beautiful place, such as in a spacious armchair or in a delightful garden where the long-winded descriptions in the book can feel close and real. They’re the kind of books you might need to put down, then pick up again after a few days.

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Classics transport us to another time and place. We see how people lived during eras we can barely imagine. We learn about their customs and feel their emotions, hopes and dreams. The beautifully crafted sentences written when time moved less quickly, and the impeccable manners and exquisite references to clothing and decorum encourages a gentle reading experience.

Classic literature is very broad, spanning centuries and covering many regions of the globe. But if we consider some classic female authors of the English-speaking world, we can certainly view their work as a precursor to the contemporary romantic fiction many of us revel in. Books from Jane Austen, Louisa May Alcott, Charlotte Brontë, Lucy Maud Montgomery or Edith Wharton all focus on the sentimental growth of strong female characters as do today’s romance bestsellers.

I love the language used in classic books and enjoy needing to look up the occasional word in the dictionary. These novels also prompt travel ideas. Literary tours, including visits to author childhood homes and the scenery that influenced their stories appeal to many readers.

Most of all, it’s the courage, poise and elegance of these authors, and their writing, that I appreciate above all.

TEXT BY FATIMA RIZZO