211. The guilty pleasure of lesser literature

It is my observation that lesser literature - entertaining fiction, as compared to erudite essay and classic novel - is easier to read and rewards with quicker pleasure. By this I don’t mean bad literature, but rather, good run of the mill fiction, with less lofty aspirations. I am currently reading Glen Duncan’s entertaining, and well written ‘The last werewolf’, during a break halfway through Rousseau’s ‘The Social Contract’, which followed a re-read of Kafka’s ‘The Trial’ and a first read of Popper’s ‘The Poverty of Historicism’. The latter three elicit extensive thinking. Concepts barely understood at first reading are slowly developed in one’s mind, turned over and regurgitated until one is confident one has sufficiently understood and, further, developed one’s own thinking. The former requires nothing other than page turning, entertained by the story and enthused by the occasional, genius turn of phrase. Balance between both is important as, in fact, it is with everything in life 

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