People (at least in Delhi, India) have forgotten to read better books and champion themselves reading the books whose writers are not sure what is the importance of ‘…’ (Three dots in succession) or why it is just pathetic to say ‘we write what people want.’
Well, people want porn and it does sell well. So why not write about a certain Mr Dick taking a trip with a certain Ms Cunt and they both enjoy some fur-burger! Teenagers would love to get their hands on it. Give them some pictures, make it descriptive and you would make tons of money.
But that’s not what a good piece of writing is. It defies the logic of economics. Muktibodh died and couldn’t get all his works published. Oscar Wilde saw just one book published while he was alive. Keats was just 26 when he died. But all of them took the literary world by storm and are still making good money to their families and publishers.
Writers are the ones who tell the history of their time, albeit in a different way. Your imagination is constructed by the things you have experienced and things you would like to see as per your perspective. And telling what you see in a bunch of words devoid of any depth is what journalists do.
Add some meaning to the words for the coming generations. Add some depth for people to exercise their brain. That is your responsibility and no writer, at least who call themselves writers, can run away in the name of ‘this is what people want.’
You have the responsibility to record the best possible history in the words of fiction and imagination that represents the core realities of society as well as guides it towards betterment.
No wonder people read less books now, morons are selling millions of copies which might gratify your senses, but wouldn’t remain with you. You won’t find one beautiful quote to quote. Oscar Wilde’s Picture of Dorian Gray is one book that has more than half of the quotes on life and its philosophy and when you read it (or watch the movie with subtitles) you would want to remember each word.
That’s what good writings are meant for. You carry the words with you and not just an outline of story: a boy met girl, the talked, ate at restaurants, kissed here and there, had sex, broke in to an argument and it was over, both moved on!
You don’t find that with Shakespeare, Ved Vyas, Prem Chand, Dostoevsky, Chekhov, Manto or any of the people who are dead and still are taught in classes. That’s the matter meant to keep you glued with eyes and soul.
Books must appeal to soul, else they are coarse even for an arse wiping tissue, the toilet paper.