Modern classics

Nick Hornby

In an angry column Nick Hornby wrote for Believer magazine way back in August 2005, the novelist sounds off on the term "modern classic." His anger is not directed at the term itself but rather at a "pompous twit" he heard on the radio complaining about Money by Martin Amis being republished as a Penguin Modern Classic. How, the twit had asked indignantly, can a book less than 50 years old be considered a classic?

Hornby counters, quite reasonably, that "in this context the word 'classic' means simply, 'of the highest class.'" It would be nonsensical to insist that a Penguin Modern Classic be more than 50 years old. How could a book be both modern and a classic using the 50-year rule?

Classic is word that seems to mean different things in different contexts. A classic car, for example, simply means it is old. There seems to be no suggestion of quality. My first car was a 1955 Hudson. If I still had that car, and I wish I did, it would be considered a classic simply because it was more than 65 years old. Actually it was a pretty good car even if it wasn't a Jaguar.

A brand new symphony, meanwhile, might be called "classical music." It wouldn't be old and might not even be particularly good, but it would be considered classical because of the type of music it is.

Classic literature, as Hornby's twit argued, suggests both age and quality. A classic book is a book generally recognized as great years after its publication, whether or not it was recognized as great at the time it was published. It usually does take 50 years or more to know whether a book stands out as a classic or not. Most books are forgotten long before those 50 years are past. Books considered great at the time of publication may have nothing to say to readers a half century later.

So the phrase "modern classic" does imply a contradiction, sort of like describing someone as "an attractive ugly guy" or ordering a plate of "jumbo shrimp." Yet I agree with Hornby that it makes a useful term, a way of describing contemporary literature that already stands out above the rest and has a good chance of actually becoming a classic someday.

Hornby's diatribe is only a way of introducing his review of Marilynne Robinson's novel Gilead. He writes, "It's a beautiful, rich, unforgettable work of high seriousness, and you don't need to know that the book has already won the Pulitzer Prize to see that Robinson isn't messing around." I agree. This novel does qualify as a "modern classic," and may one day be recognized as a true classic. But who knows? We still have to wait a few years to know for sure.