BookPleasures.com ishonored to welcome William Marx, Professor of Comparative Literaturesat the prestigious Collège de France and one of the mostdistinguished literary thinkers of our time.

Renowned for hispenetrating explorations of literature's role in society, William hasauthored a number of influential works, including The Hatredof Literature and The Tomb of Oedipus. 

His latest book, Librariesof the Mind, is a fascinating and timely meditation on theinvisible libraries we carry within us—those mental shelves formedby our memories, readings, and cultural inheritances.

Drawing inspiration fromErich Auerbach, who famously wrote Mimesis in exile with noaccess to a physical library, William invites us to reconsider how weconstruct our internal collections of literature.

As he compellingly argues,our minds are themselves libraries—often partial, often biased—andin need of both renovation and expansion.

He urges us to recover the“dark matter” of literature: lost texts, fragmented works,suppressed voices, and even books that were never written but shouldhave been. In this erudite yet accessible work, William challengesreaders to build a more inclusive and imaginative “mental worldlibrary.”

In today’s conversation,we’ll speak with Professor Marx about the philosophical andpersonal dimensions of reading, the shifting boundaries of theliterary canon, and how we might all become better readers—not justof books, but of culture itself.

Good day William andthanks for taking part in our interview for bookpleasures.com

Norm: What exactly doyou mean by Our Minds as Libraries? Do you think most people areaware of their own inner library, or does it work moresubconsciously?

William: First, I want tothank you for the opportunity to elaborate on ideas that are dear tome.

When I say that our mindsare libraries, I mean that we are filled—mostly without realizingit—with the books we’ve read throughout our lives, but also withthose we’ve only heard about, or know only through hearsay, briefsummaries, or even just by their titles.

We are full of these veryincomplete libraries, and every book we read is unconsciously placedon one of these mental shelves. Without knowing it, we compare a newnovel we discover with others we already know, and those familiarbooks help us make sense of the new one.

This wouldn’t be aproblem if it weren’t also true that the works already present inour mental library can sometimes prevent us from fully understandingor appreciating new ones.

In a way, we are alreadyguided—or even biased—by what we know. It's therefore better tobecome aware of this orientation, these limitations, rather thanletting ourselves be unconsciously led. Becoming aware of theexistence of these mental libraries is the essential first step.

Norm: What does ErichAuerbach’s story teach us? Do you think a similar book could bewritten today from memory alone, in our digital age?

William: Erich Auerbachwrote one of the greatest works of literary criticism, Mimesis,while in exile in Istanbul, without access to a library. He reliedentirely on his personal memory, on the recollection of his readings.

And yet, two thousandyears from now, that single book could still give an archaeologist areasonably accurate idea of what Western literature was. In truth,the fate of all literature, all libraries, is to become mentalconstructs, memories.

The essence of a literarywork is to be absorbed through a mental act we call reading. Arethere still great scholars today, in the digital age? They arebecoming increasingly rare.

They should be a protectedspecies. Young people are reading less and less. Still, I know somewho are madly in love with literature—even with ancient literature.

Perhaps, in case ofcatastrophe (which sadly becomes more likely), they will be the ErichAuerbachs of the future.

Norm: Why should wecare about books that are lost or never written? Is there ahistorical example of a "lost" work you wish we still had?

William: Becoming aware ofour mental libraries means not only recognizing the books theycontain, but also those they don’t. There are many reasons why awork might go unread or be forgotten.

One of the most obvious isthat the text has been lost.

I think of the hundreds oftragedies once written and performed in ancient Athens, of which onlythirty-two remain—and by just three authors. Aeschylus, Sophocles,and Euripides also wrote satyr plays—hilarious, absurd works—ofwhich we have only a single nearly intact example.

I would love to read moreof them, just as I would love to read the complete works ofHeraclitus, of which only a few fragments remain! Sophocles wrote atreatise on the tragic chorus, which would be incredibly valuable tous today for understanding ancient theater.

Aristotle’s dialogueswere, by some accounts, more beautiful than Plato’s—yet they areall lost!

Then there are imaginedworks that were never written or never finished: Aristotle’smythical second book of the Poetics, which so fascinates thecharacters in Eco’s The Name of the Rose, or the endings ofLucretius’s De rerum natura or Virgil’s Aeneid.

Norm: What kind ofmindset should we have today? What’s one common misconceptionreaders have about literature that you think holds them back?

William: Today, thedominant belief is that literature exists to make us feel good, tooffer a “safe space” that helps us cope with reality. PhilosopherRalph Waldo Emerson marveled at finding in great works a spark of theuniversal “Divine Soul.”

It’s a lovely idea—butone that has done, and continues to do, much harm to literature. Bythat logic, anything lacking immediate benefit or anything that mightshock the reader is rejected. It becomes a justification forcensorship.

I believe, on thecontrary, that literature’s path is far more complex. Literatureneed not be better than the world we live in—it should reflect itin all its diversity. It should not conform to our expectations.

We must learn to embracethe otherness of works that carry different values from our own. Thegoodness we seek in literature must be forged by our ownreflection—not served to us as something already digested.

Pope Francis, in hisrecent letter on literature, said the same thing: literary worksexist to awaken our own responsibility as readers and interpreters.

Norm: How can readersbuild their inner libraries? Are there any simple reading habits orstrategies you’d recommend for someone who wants to become a morereflective reader?

William: First, we must bewilling to be shocked or unsettled by works. We shouldn’t expectthe authors we read to think like us. Why do we accept a plurality ofopinions in a democracy, but not in literature?

Ancient and distantcultures also have a voice in the conversation of humanity. Ignoringhumanity’s diversity is absurd. We shouldn’t assume we’rebetter than the past. On some points, perhaps we are—especiallyregarding respect for differences.

But no literary, poetic,or narrative text can be reduced to a single opinion (racism,misogyny, homophobia, etc.) that would be enough to disqualify itentirely.

Texts carry a multitude ofmeanings—diverse and sometimes contradictory—that deserveexploration.

Historical knowledge,prefaces, and footnotes help us recontextualize texts within theircultural framework. Ideas have histories, and ignoring that leads todangerous anachronisms.

Expecting 17th-centurywriters to be free of all their era’s biases is like accusing a19th-century doctor of not using antibiotics! The worst mistake wouldbe thinking we’re more intelligent than the past.

That illusion would exposeus, inevitably, to being censored or erased by our own descendants,whose moral sensitivity will surely differ from ours.

Norm: How do we startexploring forgotten voices? Are there publishers, anthologies, oreven online resources you’d recommend to readers curious aboutoverlooked literature?

William: Read, read, andread without limits. Follow your curiosity and your impulses.Education, textbooks, anthologies—they’re essential, of course.

But they inevitablyreflect the interests of our present time. “All history iscontemporary history,” said philosopher Benedetto Croce—meaningit’s written for the historian’s contemporaries. Selections areuseful, but they are still only selections.

The best approach is towander through the shelves of major libraries and browse the books noone ever requests. Personally, I love rummaging through second-handbookshops and antiquarian bookstores to discover forgotten works.

The booksellers along theSeine in Paris are paradise for someone like me, a lover of lostliterature. There you’ll find wonderful texts neglected by literaryhistory. No one should dictate our taste.

What our grandparentsloved—but our parents disliked—might delight us again. What wasdiscarded in one era could be revered a hundred years later.

Norm: What authorsdeserve more attention? Is there a work you’ve championedpersonally that people often overlook?

William: Today, writersfrom historically marginalized groups—women, racializedcommunities—are being rediscovered, and rightly so. There are somany treasures to reclaim. Why deprive ourselves of them? I alsoencourage reading in translation.

Translated works havepassed through so many filters and barriers before reachingpublication that they’re often better and more interesting thanmuch of what’s published directly in English (I’m addressingEnglish-speaking readers here).

This is especially truefor translations from so-called rare languages—Hungarian, Czech,certain African or Asian tongues—which face more obstacles beforereaching bookstores. If these works made it through, it’s usuallybecause their quality is exceptional.

Norm: What’s it likeworking with unfinished writings? Do you feel a responsibility topreserve the writer’s intentions, or is there room forinterpretation?

William: As a scholarlyeditor, I will never attempt to finish a work that its authorabandoned. That would violate all editorial principles. In somecases, based on existing sources, we can speculate about how a workmight have ended.

But if an author stopsworking on something—not because of illness or death, but due toinsurmountable obstacles—no one after them can truly resolve thoseissues. Again, I repeat: we should not think ourselves moreintelligent than the author.

Of course, for commercialreasons, some may want to complete and publish such works. But bewareof inconsistencies! Composer Franco Alfano completed Puccini’smagnificent Turandot, which was meant to culminate in asublime final scene—a love duet as moving as Wagner’s Liebestod.Alas, Alfano delivered bombastic, vulgar music that, to my ears,somewhat spoils the masterpiece.

Norm: Why rethink theliterary canon? Have you seen a meaningful example where expandingthe canon has changed how people view a culture or era?

William: Literary canonsare mental libraries at a collective level—not just individual, butsocial, national, cultural. There are various canons depending onuse—school, university, commercial, etc. These canons spotlightsome works at the expense of others.

They help build a sharedcultural memory within a nation, and I believe that’s important:they allow continuity between generations. Shakespeare in theEnglish-speaking world or La Fontaine in France provide constantpoints of reference and shared quotations across ages—a foundationfor social communication.

But these seemingly stablecanons are always evolving. It’s crucial to open them up to newlydiscovered or re-evaluated works. Still, better to enlarge ordiversify canons than to exclude works deliberately. Let forgettinghappen naturally.

Never force it. Allcensorship, all intentional erasure must be rejected. Human memory islimited, so canons will always be necessary. They offer acompact—though partial and biased—vision of a period or culture.

Today, we’rerediscovering the immense presence of women in 19th-century Frenchmusical life, despite later erasure. I’ve been especially struck bythe piano compositions of Hélène de Montgeroult—very popular inher time—whose singular beauty influenced Schubert and Chopin, forexample.

Norm: How do youinspire students to read deeply? Can you recall a moment when astudent’s perspective surprised you or changed how you saw a text?

William: The key is alwaysto create surprise—to show that texts are more complex than wethought. I remember teaching Japanese Noh theater. For severalsessions, I explained in detail how this theater works. We read thesemagnificent texts together.

Then, toward the end, Iwould show a video recording of an actual Noh performance. Andwithout fail, even though students knew all the theory, theexperience stunned them. It was so different from anything they’dseen that they felt like they were watching extraterrestrialsperform!

And that surprisereawakened in me my own initial astonishment. Such experiences areinvaluable. They provide a kind of cognitive shift that helpsstudents better embrace all kinds of difference later in life.

Norm: Where can ourreaders find out more about you and Libraries of the Mind?

William: They can start byreading the book, of course! But they can also visit the website ofmy institution, the Collège de France, where they’ll find a verycomprehensive personal page—including an English Version

There they’ll find manyresources, including all my courses and lectures, available in audioand video formats, also on YouTube. YouTube can even automaticallytranslate my lectures into English—the translations are far fromperfect, but sufficient, I believe, to follow along.

Norm: As our interviewcomes to an end, what’s the one idea you hope readers remember? Ifsomeone finishes your book and only changes one habit or thoughtpattern—what would you want that to be?

William: Long,sustained reading is in grave danger today, threatened by the endlessdistractions of screens that surround us. And yet reading demands aspecial kind of effort—an effort that is amply rewarded later. Butthat initial effort is crucial.

If I could make just onerecommendation, it would be this: discipline yourself to turn off allscreens for at least half an hour each day, and read a book duringthat time. And if you have children, lead by example—show them thejoy that reading brings.

Why read? Because perhapswhat we haven’t read—what lies outside our mental library—iseven more important than what we have.

There is always a treasureout there waiting to be discovered, sitting on a shelf we’ve longignored. What joy and hope to think the best is yet to be found!That’s a powerful reason to keep reading—and even to keep living.

Norm: Thanks once again and good luck with all of your future endeavors