Here is one that your professor isn’t going to like.
In modern literature, especially modern American literature, there is an ever-growing movement toward works that aim to serve a purpose, rather than adhering to the original intent of literature: to entertain and provoke thought through the use of aesthetic devices and to provide the reader with an imaginative experience.
"Physics envy" is a term coined by practitioners of the hard sciences to describe movements in more fluid disciplines that attempt to make those disciplines seem more complicated and rigorous. In literature, this idea takes the form of literary theory. Literary theory, boiled down to its simplest understanding, is a systematic approach to the study of literature. It can get (intentionally) confusing to grasp the intricate details of literary theory; however, the main distinction to understand if you’d like a basic grasp is this: theory integrates systems, assumptions, and principles, while literary criticism seeks to observe and judge literature based only on its aesthetic value.
One of the most prevalent examples of literary theory in today’s market is gender theory, which examines literary works based on their use of gender dynamics through characters, societal forces, and more. For example, a gender theory critique was made of my own novel, I.P.A. The novel includes both violence toward a female character and the rape of another, which provides fertile ground for a gender theorist’s analysis. Outside of a theoretical lens, one might quickly realize that both instances within the novel have rationalizations: they serve to highlight the degraded moralities of the male characters, who are more than capable of stopping both events but choose not to. However, the critique through a gender lens takes a different approach—one that is ultimately valid: the book carries inherent misogynistic characteristics and is fundamentally flawed.
Modern people are generally paralyzed about what to do next. Gender theorists of merit, unfortunately, tend to err on the side of the book’s deletion, claiming that because of its moral failures, it is unfit to hold a place on our society’s shelves and should be “canceled.” A literary critic, on the other hand, would seek to understand the merit of these failures in an artistic sense and evaluate whether they carry any storytelling value.
Nobody worth listening to supports rape or violence against women, but I would argue that nobody who believes these themes should be absent from art is worth listening to either. Ambiguous morality is one of the ways humanity’s true essence is conveyed in art, and without it, there often isn’t enough true conflict to carry a story, film, poem, etc. There is, in fact, a word for art without conflict, and we encounter it daily—that word is propaganda.
I think it has always been the artist’s role to shine light on the difficult aspects of humanity. Whether stand up comics, filmmakers, performance artists, painters, musicians, writers—it is part of our mandate not only to entertain, but to expose. Consumers of art are there for the experience, whether willingly or subconsciously.