Why the “Old Classics” Are Still Called Classics — Even When Few People Read Them

 

Walk into any library, bookstore, or high school English classroom in America and you will find the same names quietly holding their ground: Moby-Dick, A Tale of Two Cities, Pride and Prejudice, The Great Gatsby, War and Peace.
They are assigned. They are cited. They are revered.
They are also, for many readers, unfinished.

It is fashionable—and often honest—to admit that these books can feel slow, verbose, morally didactic, structurally meandering, or linguistically archaic. Modern readers, conditioned by the velocity of digital media and the compression of contemporary prose, may find them exhausting.  So the question is legitimate:  Why are they still considered classics?  Why are they not quietly retired in favor of more accessible modern works?  And, perhaps more provocatively, why should anyone read them today?

This essay addresses those questions directly—without romanticism. We will examine what “classic” actually means in literary discourse, why works such as Moby-Dick and A Tale of Two Cities retain canonical status, and whether the case for reading them remains persuasive in the 21st century.  Along the way, I will offer concise but meaningful synopses of each. 

What Do We Mean by “Classic”?

The term “classic” is not synonymous with “popular,” “easy,” or even “enjoyable.” In literary studies, a classic is generally understood to possess several characteristics:
Endurance — It has survived across generations.
Influence — It has shaped subsequent literature or cultural discourse.
Complexity — It supports multiple interpretations over time.
Thematic Universality — It addresses enduring human concerns.
Formal or Stylistic Innovation — It expanded or refined narrative technique.
Importantly, a classic need not be widely read in any given decade. Popularity and canonical status are not identical.  Many contemporary bestsellers will not survive fifty years.  Conversely, some classics were commercial failures in their own time (Moby-Dick being the most famous example).
The label “classic” is ultimately conferred by sustained academic, cultural, and institutional endorsement—universities, publishers, critics, educators, and literary historians. That endorsement persists when a work continues to generate serious engagement.

Now let us examine two of the most commonly criticized yet canonized works.

Moby-Dick: Obsession, Knowledge, and the Limits of Man
Synopsis
Published in 1851 by Herman Melville, Moby-Dick begins with one of the most famous openings in literature: “Call me Ishmael.”
The narrator, Ishmael, joins a whaling voyage aboard the Pequod, commanded by the monomaniacal Captain Ahab.  Ahab is consumed by a singular obsession: to hunt and kill Moby Dick, a massive white whale that previously maimed him, taking his leg.
The novel unfolds on multiple levels:
A maritime adventure narrative.
A philosophical meditation.
An encyclopedic account of whaling practices.
A psychological portrait of obsession.
A symbolic exploration of good, evil, fate, and knowledge.
The pursuit culminates in catastrophe. Ahab’s obsession overrides reason, duty, and collective survival.  The Pequod is destroyed. The crew perishes. Only Ishmael survives to tell the tale.

Why Is It Considered a Classic?

1. It Expanded the Novel’s Scope
Before Moby-Dick, the American novel had not fully embraced such intellectual ambition. Melville fused:  Shakespearean dramatic language, Biblical cadence, Scientific exposition, Philosophical inquiry, Maritime realism.
The book refuses to be a simple adventure story.  It interrogates epistemology (how we know what we know), theology, metaphysics, race, labor, capitalism, and environmental exploitation. That scope alone marked a structural innovation.
2. It Is a Study of Obsession
Captain Ahab remains one of literature’s most powerful depictions of destructive fixation. His quest is not merely revenge—it is metaphysical defiance.  He projects cosmic malice onto the whale and seeks to strike through “the mask” of reality itself.
Obsession as a theme has permeated modern storytelling—from noir detectives to antihero dramas.  Ahab is a template.
3. It Anticipates Modernism
Melville’s shifting narrative modes, digressions, and symbolic density anticipate literary modernism decades before it formally emerged. The novel destabilizes narrative authority and resists closure in ways that feel strikingly modern. 

Why Do Many Readers Find It Boring?

The criticisms are understandable:
Long digressions into whale taxonomy.  Dense, archaic prose.  Dramatic monologues that feel theatrical.  Structural irregularity.  It demands patience. It demands re-reading.  It does not prioritize entertainment. For readers seeking narrative efficiency, it can feel punishing.  But difficulty is not synonymous with poor craftsmanship.  It often signals intellectual density.
A Tale of Two Cities: Revolution, Sacrifice, and Historical Memory.

Synopsis

Published in 1859 by Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities is set in London and Paris before and during the French Revolution.  The novel follows several intertwined characters:  Dr. Alexandre Manette, unjustly imprisoned in the Bastille for 18 years.  His daughter Lucie, symbol of compassion and renewal.
Charles Darnay, a French aristocrat who rejects his family’s cruelty.  Sydney Carton, a disillusioned English lawyer who resembles Darnay physically but lives in moral despair.  

As revolutionary fervor intensifies in France, Darnay is arrested and  condemned to death due to his aristocratic lineage.  In a climactic act of redemption, Sydney Carton takes Darnay’s place at the guillotine, sacrificing his life so Lucie and her family may live.
“It is a far, far better thing that I do…”

Why Is It Considered a Classic?

1. It Humanizes Historical Trauma
Dickens does not merely narrate the French Revolution. He dramatizes the emotional consequences of systemic injustice. The novel recognizes both:
The brutality of aristocratic oppression.  The savagery of revolutionary vengeance. 

It avoids simplistic moral binaries.  The oppressed can become oppressors. Justice can become bloodlust.
2. Thematic Permanence
Sacrifice, resurrection, identity, and social upheaval remain relevant.  Political polarization and populist uprisings make the book’s warnings contemporary.
3. Narrative Architecture
Dickens constructs the novel with deliberate symmetry—two cities, doubles, mirrored identities. The structural pairing reinforces its themes of contrast and duality.

Why Do Modern Readers Resist It?

Melodrama can feel excessive.  Coincidences strain plausibility.  Victorian sentimentality can seem heavy-handed. Prose can feel ornamental.
Yet Dickens’ emotional intensity was part of his cultural function: he serialized fiction for mass audiences and sought to move readers morally and politically.

The Deeper Question: Why Read Them at All?

If the prose feels antiquated and the pacing slow, why persist?  Here are the substantive arguments.
1. They Expand Cognitive Endurance
Modern media encourages skimming.  Classic literature demands sustained attention.  The act of reading complex 19th-century prose strengthens interpretive stamina and analytical precision.

This is not nostalgia; it is neurological conditioning.
2. They Preserve Intellectual Lineage
To understand modern literature, one must understand its ancestors. Contemporary narrative tropes—antiheroes, moral ambiguity, psychological depth—did not emerge spontaneously.

They evolved.

Reading classics allows one to see:
How narrative voice developed.  How realism matured.  How symbolism gained sophistication.  How political fiction evolved.
3. They Confront Foundational Human Questions
Moby-Dick asks:  Can human beings comprehend the universe, or do we project meaning onto chaos?
A Tale of Two Cities asks:  Can systemic injustice be corrected without reproducing cruelty?
These questions remain unresolved.
4. They Resist Instant Gratification
There is intellectual value in engaging with material that does not yield immediately.  Difficulty cultivates interpretive humility.  Not every text is designed for immediate pleasure.

Are Some Classics Overrated?

Yes.
Canon formation is not neutral. It reflects:
Historical power structures.  Educational traditions.  Publishing economies.
Academic gatekeeping.  Many deserving voices were excluded—women, non-Western authors, marginalized communities. The canon evolves precisely because of this recognition.  However, the presence of flaws does not negate merit.  One can critique the canon while still acknowledging the structural brilliance of works within it.

The Cultural Function of the Classic

Classics operate as:
Cultural anchors — Shared reference points.
Intellectual benchmarks — Tests of interpretive depth.
Historical documents — Windows into prior moral frameworks.
Dialogic partners — Texts that speak differently in different eras.
Their survival is not accidental. It is iterative: each generation reinterprets them.

The Honest Reader’s Objection

Let us address the blunt criticism:  “They are boring and poorly written.”
From a modern stylistic perspective, yes, many classics violate contemporary norms:
Sentences are long.  Dialogue is formal.  Narration digresses.  Moral commentary is explicit.  But stylistic norms are historically contingent.  What feels verbose now was once rhetorical elegance.  To dismiss them entirely is to impose present-day aesthetic standards retroactively.

A Practical Approach to Reading Classics

If one chooses to engage them:
Read slowly.  Use annotated editions.  Accept ambiguity.  Read with historical context.  Avoid forcing enjoyment—seek understanding.  One need not love a classic to respect its contribution.

Should Everyone Read Them?

No.
Reading is voluntary.  Intellectual enrichment comes in many forms.  However, those who wish to understand:
The evolution of Western narrative, The foundations of modern literary themes, The historical imagination of prior centuries,
will benefit from reading at least a few canonical works in full.

Final Assessment

Moby-Dick endures because it transcends its plot and interrogates metaphysical obsession.

A Tale of Two Cities endures because it dramatizes the cyclical violence embedded in political revolution.

They are not classics because they are easy.  They are classics because they are durable, influential, and intellectually generative.  One may find them slow. One may find them overwrought.  One may abandon them midway.  But dismissing them entirely risks mistaking difficulty for deficiency.  And that, perhaps, is the central distinction.

In the end, the question is not whether these books entertain in the manner of contemporary fiction.  It is whether they expand the intellectual and moral vocabulary of the reader.  For many, across centuries, the answer has been yes.
Whether it is yes for you is a decision no canon can enforce.

Artie Fischal

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