Does ‘literariness’ or ‘literary’ reside inside or outside language? These words are derived from the root word ‘literature’. Nevertheless, neither term is clearly defined, and both remain conceptually elusive even in dictionaries. For instance, although the word ‘anew’ does not radically change its meaning, there has been a gradual shift in its grammar and orthography. It was considered a literary form in Old English; however, it became an adverb in Middle English, and in contemporary English it has lost much of its literary character and even its original orthography. The word ‘mad’ in classical literature was meant ‘insane’ or truly filled with rage, but now we casually utter, “a mad summer deal”. Similarly, the word ‘ephemeral’ bears no trace of literariness, but it has acquired literary currency in modern English. We can fairly conclude that ‘literariness’ resides outside the language. A word may be ordinary, but its use can make it extraordinary.
Interestingly, when common words are strung together with rhyme, rhythm, meter, and arrangement, they acquire the currency of literariness. This literariness is often crafted by poets who possess unique linguistic abilities, yet ordinary dispositions. For instance, in “Paradise Lost”, John Milton says, “the mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, and a hell of heaven”. He manipulates ordinary words to achieve extraordinary impact. Indeed, poets use minimal linguistic forms to achieve maximum emotional and social impact. It is the use of words, not the words themselves, that holds the magical power.
Away from the gloomy or pessimistic self, poets need to relate their experiences to contemporary local and global challenges and provide pathways for readers to overcome them through musicality.
There are many English poets, but some such as John Keats and T.S. Eliot seem endowed with extraordinary poetic abilities. They embed literariness seamlessly in their poems to stimulate emotions. In doing so, they unfold chapters of history, identity, and ideology. They blend spirituality, myths, and aesthetics not only to reveal their own experiences but also to illuminate universal truths. While doing so, their language becomes universal too. T. S. Eliot writes, “we shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” He also discusses in his essay “Tradition and the Individual Talent” how poets vividly blend personal experiences with inherited traditions to expose deeper truth and evoke universal appeal.
There are also poets such as Emily Dickinson and Robert Frost who emerged from the United States, a former British colony. Both employ simple language, including short lines and everyday words, to convey deeper insights. For instance, from Dickinson: “because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me”. Similarly, from Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken, “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and I I took the one less travelled by, and that has made all the difference”. His use of common words and linguistic brevity creates an enduring emotional impact.
Many English poets were born during and after British rule in India. They have collectively reclaimed agency and represent multiple shades of local culture and social structures. Among these voices is Shahid Imtiaz’s “Janus Lahore and Other Poems”. Through a collection of 58 poems on diverse themes, he presents both prescriptive and descriptive perspectives, often blending the two simultaneously to unfold his thoughts about his identity, ideology, and the discourses he has been experiencing. The words he chooses to describe the world portray his ‘ self’ profoundly about people, place, and culture. Across his collection, he attempts to capitalise on the metalinguistic potential of language to express his inner self that is closely intertwined with the recurring theme of silence or personal reflection. He attempts to write silence within him and without him. Interestingly, he even equates silence with the language of love.
His poem Janus Lahore beautifully captures the many faces of Lahore, including its past and present, through minimal language forms. He says that one face of Lahore is mythical, while the other bears the imprint of colonial history. Readers, however, may also long for poems that could inspire them to confront and transcend the injustice of postcolonial Lahore.
Away from the gloomy or pessimistic self, poets need to relate their experiences to contemporary local and global challenges and provide pathways for readers to overcome them through musicality. Some are born with poetic qualities, mission, and vision. They embed magical words, symbols, and metaphors to stimulate emotions with knowledge and wisdom. They rise on the wings of universal language that remains meaningful in every discourse and time. Many others desperately strive to acquire abilities to craft literariness, although not everyone succeeds. This raises eyebrows about the declining quality of literature and its screen adaptations. Can one learn to become a poet, or is poetry ultimately a matter of innate talent? Perhaps the answer is that genuine poetic genius cannot simply be learned, or a poem cannot be composed when someone has a craving for it.
When we read or hear words without the currency of literariness, albeit words devoid of imagination, knowledge, and wisdom, it raises concerns that our literary standards are falling apart. Some poets may apparently entertain their audiences on social media, yet they do not possess the currency of genuine poetic genius. This raises a profound question about the rapidly declining literary standards of both poetry and its readership. The decline is equally evident in many screen adaptations of our time.
The first author is a Professor of English at Riphah International University, Lahore. He is a lead guest editor at Emerald and Springer publishing.
The second author is an Assistant Professor of English at Govt. Graduate College for Women, Samanabad, Lahore