\tEach year, books appear that are hailed as \u201cmodern\u201d classics, books that are destined to endure for all time. Certainly some small percentage of them will actually be classics, but most will fade from memory rather quickly. Yesterday\u2019s bestseller will soon be forgotten.<\/p>\n
\tFor instance, this past year, my daughter was required to read a historical novel. I suggested she read a book entitled, The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman<\/a><\/em> by Ernest J. Gaines. It was originally published in 1971. Not only was it a popular best seller, it was made into a TV movie <\/a>on CBS in 1984. It won nine Emmy Awards. I have fond memories of both the book and that movie.<\/p>\n \tBut when my daughter told her teacher of her selection, her teacher rejected it. She explained, \u201cYou have to read a historical novel\u2014you know, fiction. You can\u2019t pick a biography or autobiography.\u201d Eventually her teacher\u2014after some intervention on my part\u2014came to understand that the book was indeed fictional. There never was anyone named \u201cMiss Jane Pittman.\u201d But given that her teacher was born in the 1970s, she missed ever having been exposed to the book or the movie\u2014despite the fact that it remains in print. My daughter\u2019s use of the book was the first time her teacher had ever heard of it\u2014and the book\u2019s title misled her as to its content. Even the most popular of books\u2014books that are cultural phenomena\u2014will tend to fade with the passage of the years.<\/p>\n \tAs an author, it helps keep my work in perspective. I realize that my books are probably about as enduring as my initials carved into the surface of a lake would be: given the vast history of the human race, with a future of unknown length, the odds that my books will endure past the present moment are not good.<\/p>\n \tBut then, as the prophet Isaiah in the Bible wrote, \u201cAll people are like grass, and all human faithfulness is like the flowers of the field.\u201d (Isaiah 40:6)<\/p>\n Our lives are but vapors, and so is everything we make: whether our works are \u201cintellectual property,\u201d monuments, houses, a repaired toilet, or a fancy dinner. Everything human passes; nothing endures. Even memory fades away. As the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote: <\/p>\n I met a traveler from an antique land Google decided to figure out just how many books they needed to plan for in their attempt to scan all the books that have ever been written. This was a practical consideration, since they needed to get a sense of … Continue reading
\nWho said: \u201cTwo vast and trunkless legs of stone
\nStand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
\nHalf sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
\nAnd wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
\nTell that its sculptor well those passions read
\nWhich yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
\nThe hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
\nAnd on the pedestal these words appear:
\n\u2018My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
\nLook on my works, ye mighty, and despair!\u2019
\nNothing beside remains. Round the decay
\nOf that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
\nThe lone and level sands stretch far away.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n![](\"https:\/\/nettelhorst.com\/blog1\/wp-content\/plugins\/send-to-kindle\/media\/white-15.png\")
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