In its simplest terms, novels can be reduced to setting, plot, character, conflict, and resolution. Any seventh grader knows that. But literature is more than these things. Literature is different than story. But what makes literature, well, literature?
The explanation of what is literature and what is not has endured generations of writers, reviewers, and critics. Most recently the debate has fallen into the Freudian realm of "a pipe is just a pipe," leading to recursive arguments where both sides lack a will to move toward consensus. However, the question remains: why is one piece of writing considered literary and another, perhaps similar piece, not.
This got me to thinking: how do we know Hardy is literature? What makes his novels more important than what some would call Victorian melodrama, or soap operas? In the New York Times Book Review, reviewer Christopher Beha disagrees with Marjorie Garber's premise that "what it might mean to regard literature in a 'literary' way, or as Garber writes, how we might distinguish it 'from other distinct, though valuable, human enterprises like morality, politics and aesthetics.'" Beha promotes the idea that this is exactly what literature is for: to express the author's views on society, morality, and beauty.
Read the review and comment below on whether you believe Hardy's work can be considered literature.