A review of Martin Puchner’s “The Written World”

Overview

How has literature shaped humanity throughout history?  It’s an overwhelming and ambitious question for most, but Martin Puchner makes answering it look easy.  Puchner is the Byron and Anita Wien Professor of English and Comparative Literature at Harvard University.  In his 2017 book, “The Written World: The Power of Stories to Shape People, History, Civilization,” he masterfully elucidates the story of literature and “how it turned our planet into a written world” (p. xxiii). 

Stories are innately human.  They’ve existed before written language and were passed from one generation to the next orally until finally written down.  They shape everything from our philosophy, our understanding of the world, our identity and origins, how we live our lives, and how we organize ourselves politically.  Wars and revolutions have been fought over ideas and foundational stories, which will likely continue.  Recognizing the sheer magnitude of stories and how they’ve shaped humanity is necessary to understand societies’ vitality, success, and failure, which is why I have read this book.

Puchner argues that the story of literature can be categorized into four, general stages: (p. xx-xxi)

1. The first stage was dominated by powerful scribes and priests who kept writing and reading secret.  They were the ones who created influential texts, such as the Epic of Gilgamesh and the Hebrew Bible.

2. The second stage is characterized by outsiders, such as the Buddha, Jesus, and Socrates, who challenged the literary elites resulting in “new styles of writing” (p. xx).

3. The third stage saw the emergence of individual authors as technology and innovations made access to writing easier.

4. The fourth stage saw the widespread use of paper, production, and literacy.

Puchner explores topics from war, religious fundamentalism, political control, sexism, revolution, colonialism and post-colonialism and shows how they have all, more than once, intersected with the written word.  Despite the seemingly dense and heavy subject matter, the book’s crucial ideas and stories are excellently conveyed, suitable for any audience curious to learn about world history but through a lens of language and stories.  No expert knowledge of history is needed to understand the text, and everything is explained clearly and in an engaging manner.

One distinguishing feature of the book is Puchner’s use of personal narrative.  Puchner takes readers on a worldwide journey spanning millennia from Asia, Europe, Africa, South America, and the Caribbean, in which he shares some of his most thought-provoking ideas and anecdotes as he researches his main topic.  He asks penetrating questions that force us to reflect more deeply on our lives and society, such as whether we will one day nostalgically look back at the internet the same way we currently do with printed books (p. 210). 

For those interested in how and why ideas and stories spread, look no further than “The Written World.”

Important lessons

Below are just four key takeaways I gleaned from this masterpiece of literature that I find relevant for understanding how societies are shaped.  I hope that you, too, find them insightful.

War and conquest can sometimes be beneficial to the conquered.  Puchner details how Alexander the Great was motivated to conquer the Persian Empire after reading Homer’s “The Iliad.” He carried the book with him throughout his travels, attempting to re-enact the story with him at the centre.  When Alexander conquered the Persian Empire, he and his army did not merely spread violence and destruction: the conquests spread the Greek language and alphabet writing systems.  Non-alphabetic systems slowly lost prominence throughout Asia Minor while Greek culture and literature proliferated (p. 18-19), explains Puchner.  Inhabitants throughout the region even started to read “The Iliad.”

It may seem like a controversial insight, but it remains significant throughout human history and even in our current times.  The spread of one society’s culture, language, and world interpretation via violent conflict is almost inevitable.  Indeed, many cultures and people who are swallowed up may resent the victors.  Still, it’s important to remember that it can be expedient and pragmatic for the defeated to adopt customs from the victors if they are helpful.  In Alexander’s case and for those throughout Asia Minor and Central Asia, it was clearly the alphabetic system.  The same thing happened in Mali when the Mande people adopted French as their official language of administration following independence from France in 1960 (p. 304).  To be clear, Puchner details how and why language spread in his book, but he does not glorify violence.

Textual fundamentalism can hinder a society’s prospects.  By far, one of the most important parts of Puchner’s book is his exploration of “textual fundamentalism.”  Textual fundamentalism is when “worshipped texts hold cultures hostage to ancient ideas, bridging them strictly to the past, to the letters of the text” (p. 60), which rests on two contradictory assumptions: one, the text is fixed and does not change, and two, the text can be interpreted but only by an exclusive group (p. 61).  Unsurprisingly, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam are most prone to textual fundamentalism.  But Puchner emphasizes that religious texts are not the only texts prone to fundamentalism.  For instance, textual fundamentalism is upheld for some legal and political texts, such as the US Constitution and the Communist Manifesto.  Puchner explains that a good indicator of being in the presence of a sacred text is when we have an exclusive group interpreting it; again, think of members of supreme courts and their teams of experts, and even the roles of specific members in religious institutions.

So why does any of this matter, and why is it significant for understanding why some societies prosper while others stagnate or decline?  The reasoning is quite simple.  Textual fundamentalism prevents and severely restricts the freedom, amount, and variation of perspectives that counter established ideas, norms, and customs, making any kind of progress or reform onerous or even impossible.  Sometimes, old ideas can become disastrous in the wake of significant, paradigm-shifting societal changes, whether caused by science, technology, or a rising political enemy.  New circumstances may warrant new ways of thinking.  Only the best ideas will win, but that can only happen in a society that openly contests established theories.  Puchner advises to guard against textual fundamentalism by creating and maintaining a robust interpretation culture, and to allow each generation of readers to make their own interpretations (p. 61) to suit their times better.  Passages like this demonstrate Puchner’s logical, fluid, and clear thinking that readers can admire.  He is unafraid to discuss the nuances of fundamental forms of philosophy while remaining impartial and polite.  Readers of all political backgrounds can applaud his approach immensely.

The most powerful creative writing can come from unexpected places.  Most people worldwide live under conditions where they cannot openly comment, criticize, and debate.  Governments or entrenched societal attitudes can severely restrict peoples’ freedoms.  Iconoclasts face ostracization, humiliation, and sometimes persecution and death for refusing to kowtow to certain norms and expectations.  But when open and direct dialogue fail, creativity and the arts may succeed.  Look no further than the “Tale of Genji,” the world’s first novel written around 1,000 CE in Japan.  I will not retell the story here (you can read Puchner’s book or a synopsis for that).  Essentially, the story is significant for several reasons.  The novel illustrated how marriage was used to control women and maintain political power (p. 101) under the Fujiwara clan.  It was also a critique against the “cultural source code” of male privilege; for instance, Japanese women at the time were not allowed to learn Chinese but had to use the Kana script (p. 107).  Additionally, it exposed the hypocrisy of high-status Japanese people and the futility of excessive rules governing people’s lives; for example, characters in the book would regularly engage in illicit affairs, much like in high-society Japan (p. 111). 

Murasaki would not have been able to author this novel and create a distinct form of literature (i.e. autobiographical writing (p. 118)) had she not been brave enough to learn Chinese literature secretly.  While Japanese men were perfectly content adhering to Chinese writing and tradition, women were “in a better position to innovate,” argues Puchner.  Murasaki probably would never have been successful if she had tried to write a polemic against aristocratic society.  Instead, creatively conveying her opinions was a winning formula. 

It must make contemporary readers think about the writings of traditionally marginalized groups in the Western world, such as visible minorities, women, and those with disabilities.  Many in the Western world are increasingly seeing new narratives from traditionally underrepresented groups, where the protagonist is not a heroic, strong white male, but instead some other type of person who doesn’t fit those identifiers.  Demographics and consumer demands change, and often some of the best and most highly sought stories come from areas one would least expect.

Literature’s survival depends on education, not technology.  Literature and stories do not merely survive as ideas printed on pages or stored in digital formats.; they require continual use, argues Puchner (p. 337).  If stories are irrelevant to the people and their times, they will not be transcribed, translated, and read.  It does not matter how hard some groups or governments may work to prevent certain narratives from proliferating.  As Puchner argues, “Powerful literature has always been able to bide its time” (p. 252), as evidenced from texts like the “Communist Manifesto.” But why was “The Manifesto” so successful?  It absorbed valuable historical lessons, told an origin story, addressed all people rather than just one nation or people, and created a new political reality (p. 271).  If an author’s opinions are unappealing, they have no hope of surviving.  It’s as obvious and as simple as that.  Those hoping to garner influence should pay close attention to what people feel, or become irrelevant and forgotten.  Let’s not forget that even in an apocalypse, when knowledge of writing and writing technology is lost, relevant stories can still pass from one generation to the next orally.

Other key topics explored

I can’t do this book justice since there’s too much to unpack.  Here are just some other important subjects Puchner investigates without ever sounding dry and dull:

• The power of dissenting opinions, challenging elite scribes and appealing to the everyday person, based on the stories of the Buddha (5th century BCE), Confucius (5th century BCE), Socrates (399 BCE), and Jesus (first decades CE) (Chapter 4).

• The history of how, when, and where papermaking spread (p. 140).

• The invention of writing, twice, once in Eurasia and another in the Americas (p. 176-179). The fact that Puchner challenges misconceptions like this makes his book essential for modern readers.

• How and why foundational texts serve modern, political purposes (the example of the Popol Vuh (p. 183)).

• The growth of publishing markets and their accompanying economic, intellectual property, and financial practices (many of which are upheld today) (p. 199-209).

• Why literature requires novelty and must continuously challenge existing literature to remain exciting and relevant (The story of Don Quixote and its crucial themes (p. 202)).

Overall impression

Puchner articulates how literature shaped history and human civilizations through thick and thin.  “The Written World” is not a dense, academic, jargon-filled text.  Puchner inserts his personal narrative and life experiences throughout its paragraphs, making his journeys and research palpable and entertaining for us to enjoy, learn, and grow.

Readers will inevitably view history differently, specifically through literature rather than through the lives of kings and rulers.  The text is suitable for those interested in the languages, arts, and humanities and for anyone interested in learning and thinking deeply about politics and society.

With an understanding of literature comes an understanding of humanity.