Reading and Writing Literary Novels as Therapy

Reading and writing literary fiction can change your brain and transform your life, no matter when you start. The benefits go far beyond learning new facts, losing yourself in a pleasant activity, or earning material rewards for your writing. Sometimes the private moments we share with a work of literary fiction, one that we are reading or one that we are writing, can heal old wounds, break the curses of intergenerational trauma, and restore our health and wellness. Literature has done all of this for me.

Self-help books, nonfiction texts, and genre fiction all have their purposes, but literary fiction is alchemy. That's a metaphor, of course, and metaphor is exactly why literary fiction works upon our minds so deeply and efficiently, because it doesn't just feed us advice or take our mind off our worries or give us a platform from which to vent. Instead, it challenges us to engage with the deep truths that transcend facts, talking points, and old habits of perception and response.

At my last book talk, I explained that I wrote several unfinished novel manuscripts in my 20s based on the facts of my own life experiences, trying to follow the old tip to "write what you know." But dry facts make for boring stories, and I was too young to fully understand who I was or how the events of my life had shaped me, or why. But I sensed that I could use fiction to find out, like the great Joan Didion said she did:

I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.

My fellow author Christina Mitchell and I were both struggling to craft a novel worth finishing, and she finally convinced me to join her in setting aside our early endeavors and coming up with some ridiculous concept that had nothing to do with our own life stories, which we would write as fast as we could, without pausing to think anything through, using the NaNoWriMo program.

It sounded like a fun break from the "serious" work of trying to write a good novel, so I agreed, and the silly Sleeping Beauty vs. Beauty and the Beast story I ended up writing, Briars and Black Hellebore, opened portals to undiscovered depths of my psyche that eventually led to the creation of my first completed literary novel, The Grove of Thorismud. 

In the process of shaking things up, I had discovered the perfect creative distance from which to see my own mind and heart clearly, to get outside of my own thought patterns and factual experiences just enough to gain a new perspective. We don't heal trauma by simply reliving it; we don't untangle knots by yanking them tighter but by pushing deep and unraveling threads one by one. Writing parts of myself into stories that weren't mine allowed me the space to gently pick apart my thoughts, feelings, and memories so that I could craft something new with them, combining elements of myself and lost loved ones and favorite fictional characters into a beautiful Frankenstein's monster of a tale with a life all its own, within a safe fantasy world spun from the fabric of dreams more vivid and seemingly real than the dry facts of my waking experiences.

In the heart of the middle-aged, medieval peasant Thorismud laboring his life away beneath the tower of Hildegard there is me, at age 11, grieving the loss of my most cherished childhood friend.

In the tears of the psychotically melodramatic Beast King Gustav falling onto a silver spoon, there is me, at age 29, discovering the loss of my husband's dear childhood friend to heroin.

And in the similarities and the contrasts between the fantasy realm and my own memories, I found both the magic of a good fictional story and, privately, the lost pieces of myself.

Privately because nobody cares about the author's personal life and motivations for writing a story, unless the reader has bought a book because of the author's pre-existing celebrity. I know that when I read fiction, I don't read it to gain insight about the author. When I get lost in a great story, in fact, I forget that I am inhabiting a world created by a real, single human being with a particular perspective. What I seek in the text is not information about the author, it is a deeper truth about the shared experience of humanity, a truth that could help me unlock the mysteries of myself. 

And so when I wrote my novels The Grove of Thorismud and then the more historically ambitious Leirah and the Wild Man, I stripped cloth from skin and meat from bone to craft a magic mirror in which my readers can find not me, but themselves within the free and open wilderness of my fictional worlds. I want my books to tell people secrets that even I don't know, private whispers that no two readers will receive the same way. I want my novels to go out and live their own lives and form relationships with readers that I will never know about. I want to have brought to light a living work of art.

We read popular genre fiction for reassurance or escape. We read nonfiction to learn facts about other people and things. We read literary fiction to get to know ourselves, and to master our own growth into our fullest expressions of being.

Lifehack's list of the the benefits of literary fiction includes:

Helps you find yourself

Since our real emotions are clouded under peer pressure, we find ourselves not only discovering our true emotions when reading but wants and needs. When we read, the chains of social pressure are released, and we find ourselves looking at life in the perspective we’ve always believed to be true but hid from ourselves and others. This helps us realize our most important priorities including goals for success.

It’s time to set ourselves free.

ElifNotes lists studies that demonstrate how reading literary fiction improves both mental and physical health as well as developing higher cognitive, social, and emotional skills. 

And LiteratureLust clearly describes the difference between literary and genre (popular) fiction and why reading literary fiction affects us so differently: 

Reading literary fiction prompts the most change

A social psychologist, Emanuele Castano, and a Ph.D. candidate, David Kidd, have done numerous studies on the impact of genre reading on personality. They were surprised to learn that reading literary fiction has a significant impact on empathy levels.

Literary fiction is different than genre fiction. Mysteries, thrillers, romances, fantasy, and westerns are considered genre fiction because they follow certain plotlines and often have characters that are a bit heroic or unrealistic. Genre fiction offers an escape from reality. 

Literary fiction, on the other hand, doesn’t follow prescribed plotlines. It focuses on creative storytelling and multi-layered, fully-developed characters. The goal of literary fiction is to help understand life and the human condition, to delve into reality instead of escape from it.

Why literary fiction works

If you’re a reader, this research on literary fiction makes perfect sense. If you’re a doubter, consider this.

• Reading literary fiction allows us to go into other people’s worlds and experience what they experience. We see their thoughts, allowing us to understand other perspectives, increasing tolerance for others and changing attitudes.

• After reading fiction, we use the experiences of the literary characters to examine ourselves. We are able to contemplate our sense of worth and open ourselves up to inner experiences based on what we’ve learned about others.

• Consuming fiction allows us to see the impact of decisions on the totality of a life, not just at the present moment. Knowing how decisions impact lives is information we can use.

David Kidd, the coauthor of the studies cited above, says

“Literary fiction, … focuses more on the psychology of characters and their relationships. “Often those characters’ minds are depicted vaguely, without many details, and we’re forced to fill in the gaps to understand their intentions and motivations… This genre prompts the reader to imagine the characters’ introspective dialogues. This psychological awareness carries over into the real world, which is full of complicated individuals whose inner lives are usually difficult to fathom. Although literary fiction tends to be more realistic than popular fiction, the characters disrupt reader expectations, undermining prejudices and stereotypes. They support and teach us values about social behavior, such as the importance of understanding those who are different from ourselves.”

For those who desire more hard science, Psypost.org drills down into the stark differences between the effects on the brain of reading literary vs. popular fiction.  

Popular novels can be soothing treats, predictable and sweet. Nonfiction books can break down academic concepts using precise tools. Teachy-preachy novels can function to build enthusiasm or respect around certain values or goals for social change. But only literary fiction unites the heart, mind, and soul in an interactive call to personal growth.

As a friend who attended my first book talk put it,

I want art to confuse me.

She discussed the importance of building trust between the creator of an artistic work and the consumer using the example of a standup comedian who can get away with telling hard and cutting jokes, only if you trust that the real person behind the performance does not actually despise or violate your innermost values. When you trust the creator, you can let yourself be taken mentally and emotionally into places fraught with anxiety, and they can make it fun and manageable, like a Halloween haunted house or a roller coaster ride.

My husband and I have both noted that experiencing the mind-exploding effects of a brilliant work of art is kind of like taking therapeutic psychedelics--but only within a context of safety and trust. When we trust the artistic spirit guide, we can go anywhere and overcome any fear.

The last book I read that took me apart and put me together differently, and for the better, was The Seven or Eight Deaths of Stella Fortuna. This fictional story of an immigrant woman's long and miserable life is a litany of the most sickening nightmares. And yet, like one of those dreams in which the events don't match the emotional score, I felt flooded by warmth, tenderness, and love as I read it. Stella's life is not mine, or the author's, or the life of a real relative of hers (though it is inspired by some of her own family history). In it, I learned specific things about Calabrian culture and history, which my husband's great-grandfather came from. And I learned general wisdom about war and violence and domestic abuse and the ways that men and women bear trauma across generations, and by the time I finished the book, I felt that I had completely forgiven all of my many mysteriously wounded and abusive and immature and disappointing older relatives, and I was infused with a powerful, glowing gratitude for every single one of my known ancestors.

In a flood of insight, I understood at a visceral level everything that my parents had overcome and given of themselves so that their children could have a better life, even beyond their own understanding. I felt mothered and whole in places I didn't even know were lacking. After walking through the hell of Stella's fictional life, I felt peaceful and at ease.

This is why I particularly love big, roaming family sagas--right now I am reading Beasts of a Little Land, so different in its particulars of culture and character and yet so similar in its magic. What hurricanes of insight, bringing rain to deserted souls! I could read piles of academic papers for years and never experience that deeply watered wisdom soaking all the way down into my lizard brain, into my guts and the nerves under my skin, that I can get from consuming one fat, ripe novel.

From childhood through young adulthood, I have suffered acutely from mental health issues, especially anxiety symptoms that affected my physical as well as my emotional functioning. And all my life, as far back as I can remember, I have burned with the desire to write a novel. Now I have written two, and between writing my books and reading thousands of others, some by authors whose words sound like the voices of gods in my mind, I feel now, approaching the age of 40, that I have broken my curses and set myself free.

I have a family and friends and a life that I love with abandon and without any perfectionist expectations, as I love myself. My Big Bucket List--to have a stable and loving family of my own, to write books, to find a healing professional role in my community--is full and complete, while my heart and mind and body are all still fresh and healthy enough to enjoy it all. 

I experience daily challenges like everyone else, and I feel a wide range of emotions. There are things that make me sad and sometimes, though less and less often, angry. Sometimes I am tired or frustrated or irritable. And sometimes, more and more often, I am blissfully happy. And all of those experiences and emotions feel cleaner and better now that they are not all entangled in the scar tissues of anxiety. Every so often I realize it has been a long time since the constant ticker tape of anxiety scripts has slowed down my operating system by running along in the background of my every waking moment: Why do I feel this way? How dare I feel this sad? How can I suppress this anger? Am I happy enough? Am I enjoying this occasion as much as I should? What is wrong with me? Those voices have gone. The fog has lifted. I am living my life more fully than ever before, effortlessly, without overthinking it.

Nothing in this life lasts forever, and I don't expect it to. Tragedies will occur. Difficulties will arise. Old desires will fade, and new wants and needs will spring up. But I've reached a place of glorious peace for now, and I'm too busy melting into it to think about what I want to do next.

Well, except to chomp through my novel reading list.

If you love literary fiction, fantasy, history, fairy tales, and folklore even half as much as I do, I invite you to explore the books that I have curated and created myself in my new online storefront, the Magic Nutshell Bookshop. Purchases made through this storefront benefit local independent bookstores, which I love! I do my own shopping through Bookshop.org when I need to place an online order. May you find a savory cure for what ails you while feeling the glow of doing good.