There was a time in Hong Kong when literature was considered a dream subject in the university; only those with top marks were admitted to the Faculty. Of the two official languages in the colonial days, Chinese literature was less popular a choice than English literary studies probably because a good command of English, both spoken and written, would almost always guarantee a smooth career. I am not only referring to a teaching job which, of course, could be secured should one wished to. A university graduate with a Bachelor’s degree in English literature had a range of options to choose from. The more adventurous type could find themselves a job in the business or the bank, or if one sought security in life, being a civil servant was perhaps a better choice. It was, and still is a relatively well-paid and stable job with low turnover rate, albeit a wide gender gap with women earning much less than men in the past. Those who were smart and hardworking had a good chance of being promoted to high positions. One such example is Mrs. Anson Chan who became Hong Kong’s first Chinese Chief Secretary. She studied English literature and graduated from Hong Kong University in the early 1960s.
Let us move forward to two decades later. Although an ability to speak and write flawless English was still revered by the community as a whole, studying English literature wasn’t as fashionable as it was before. People did not want just that. They wanted to invest into something more tangible such as business and science. Such was the time when I studied science subjects for my O-level in Hong Kong. For someone who always loves languages and treat reading and writing as her second instinct, it was a disaster. In the first term of study, I could have switched back to the arts stream that included the study of English literature, but did not do so. Out of pride, I forced myself to study subjects that gave me nightmares throughout my studies. In one recurrent dream, I would enter an examination hall to sit for some paper such as physics or chemistry. My mind would always go blank for I knew nothing about the subject. This recurrent nightmare would come to my sleep every now and then, at an interval of one to a few years. Amazingly, it stopped after I earned my PhD degree. You might think that I have digressed. This anecdote does have a purpose– it highlights a period in Hong Kong’s history when English literature wasn’t in the trend.
I was finally able to freely choose what I liked to study when I wasn’t closely watched by my father who, out of good intentions, had all his plans laid out for me (and my siblings, too). English literature was definitely not on his list. When I made the choice myself without consulting anyone, I felt liberated. Not thinking of my future career, I felt I had to study English literature because that was the subject that appealed to me. Looking back now, I wouldn’t have been able to change my study path had I remained in Hong Kong. The syllabus in Canada, however, allowed me to study both science subjects, and literature in my senior high school year. It was then I came to know, and appreciate works such as Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles, Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman, and Shakespeare’s King Lear. I continued to direct my energy towards literary studies in the university. Studying works written in my favourite era, the twentieth century, I grew into adulthood in great company of James Joyce, Samuel Beckett, T. S. Eliot, Virginia Woolf, Henry James, Oscar Wilde, Ernest Hemingway, Scott Fitzgerald, D. H. Lawrence, E. M. Forster, Joseph Conrad, Harold Pinter, and many others.
So, why did I feel compelled to take up the path of literature? What is literature for? For most people, literature is equivalent to reading. Isn’t that what books are written for? Most people are content to just being readers; not many of us would make an attempt to produce anything for it is a laborious task, taking up much time and effort that does not always pay off. I am not as bold as Borges who openly considers it a stupid question to ask what literature is for although I must admit that I share his view. If nobody questions the existence of “the song of a canary or the crimson glow of a sunset”, why must we justify that of literature? This is an optimistic view which I am afraid not many people share. We are now living in the digital era when everything happens so quickly that people need to justify how they spend their time. After slaving themselves at work for punishingly long hours, wouldn’t it be nice to go shopping, drinking, clubbing, and meeting friends? Those who choose to stay home have so many activities to choose from: playing computer games, watching films and TV series online, chatting with friends online, snacking, or simply catching up with sleep. Why would anyone choose a cognitive activity that requires high concentration? In the presence of all other less demanding options, reading does find it hard to appeal to the public, particularly the young generations.
It’s partly true that in competition with other pastimes, literature does not have much of a future. But we must remember that literature has never meant for happy times, or for people who are satisfied with life. In the process of making and consuming literature, one finds solace in escaping from the everyday absurdities. By submerging for a few hours in an imagined literary world, she can be resilient and face the harshness of life again. Mario Vargas Llosa believes that good literature helps “[develop] a non-conformist, critical spirit towards life, [so] we become more susceptible to unhappiness.” It’s absolutely true that there is sufficient unhappiness for everyone to share around the world. Even for people who have a smaller portion of the human sorrow, slipping into indifference is inexcusable.
I am confident that the wheel of fortune for literature has turned in its favour again. Why? The year 2020 witnessed a series of calamities: the pandemic, a controversial and divisive US election, suppression of democracy activists in Hong Kong and Thailand, all of which provide a good source for literature. In living through these human sufferings, we need an outlet that helps us make sense of our experiences. If someone can describe them with precision and elegance, we will exclaim, ‘Ah, that’s exactly how I feel.’. In a shared literary world, we feel more complete and more human.