Someone asked me, ‘What’s the point of reading fiction?’ Slightly gob-smacked that this would come from someone I know, I blurted the first thing that popped into my head: It teaches us things about the world. (Lame, I know, but remember I was in shock.) ‘Oh yeah,’ she said, ‘like what?’ Well I burbled/floundered/dribbled on with a pile of rubbish and I could tell from the slightly patronising, rather smug smile on her dial that she wasn’t convinced. But, later, I had some brilliant things to say. What a shame she wasn’t around to hear them.

Of course the first mistake I made was to try to convince her that fiction is useful (which it is). Why do beautiful things have to be “useful”? Why does everything have to do something? Our Puritan ancestors thought that only things which had a practical purpose were worthwhile. Things that were simply ornamental were “frivolous” and could even lead to idolatry. I think they took things too far.

John Keats wrote: A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never, Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing…An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink. 

So…  What he said. (For those who are still Puritans in inclination and practice, can I just remind you that Jesus told stories all the time. He called them parables. Funnily enough, he expected people to learn something from them.)

I’ve given this question a lot of thought and I could quote scientific research, draw graphs and pie charts (actually I couldn’t but use your imagination) and list a plethora of reasons for reading fiction. But, I won’t. I’m going straight for the most important one: empathy. That’s right, you heard me. I went straight for the jugular. Hardcore, that’s me.

Fiction readers are constantly using their imaginations to picture themselves in another person’s shoes: to walk a path they would never take; to experience situations they would, probably, never face; to weep, to laugh, to dream, to hope, to fear another person’s joys, griefs, fears and hopes. They learn how to see things from someone else’s perspective. They learn about the world outside their own little bubble, and discover things about humanity and LIFE in ways they would never be able to do in downtown suburbia. They are hard-wiring their brains and hearts to empathise with others.

I bet you anything you like that psychopaths, sociopaths and the other-paths don’t read much fiction. I know that in books (let’s face it, not everything you read is true) the serial killers are sometimes big readers, but remember that books are written by people who value books, so it makes sense to them that killers would be inspired by crime or horror stories. However, it wouldn’t surprise me if most killers, rapists and other violent thugs don’t read much more than the motor-bike monthly and the K-mart catalogue. Those people just don’t care about other people. They’d rather be skulling beers and brawling outside pubs, or quietly stalking someone, than reading a good book.

So, if you don’t want to be a serial killer, read some fiction. That’s all from Dr Noble this week.