Beauty for beauty's sake

How a trip to Italy reminded me why I am so fond of literary fiction

I recently returned from an 11-day trip to Italy. It was full of all the things you’d expect an Italian vacation to be: gorgeous architecture, incredible food, lots of walking, hundreds of photos, daily gelato, even a man playing the accordion in the street.

One unexpected delight I found myself noticing over and over, which I’d not thought much about in previous trips to Italy, was the country’s use of beauty for beauty’s sake. Italy is full of it. You cannot throw a stone without hitting a beautiful flourish; a detail so charming, so intricate — and so arguably unnecessary. It is form over function, and in Italy, it works.

Take this small slice of Florence’s cathedral, Santa Maria del Fiore (commonly referred to as the Duomo), below. Were it not for the immense detail, the duomo would still be impressive. It is the fourth largest church in the world; when its dome was erected, nothing of that shape and size had ever been built before. Its dimensions alone are remarkable.

But the cathedral is adorned with so much detail. So much art! There are the twelve Apostles each in their own niche. There are the Madonna and child in the center. Lower down, there are glittering gold haloes surrounding Christ and his disciples in the fresco. The details are innumerable; uncountable, and this is just one small section of the nearly 90,000-square foot building.

Does this excess of art serve a function? Besides beauty, besides something to marvel at — I’m not sure.

As if each of the individual statues of the Apostles were not artful enough, the niches in which they are housed all have intricate details of their own. But why? What is the purpose?

I kept turning this question over in my head as I walked the uneven streets of Florence, as I saw door knockers more detailed than any art I have ever held in my hands (besides books, naturally).

Then, while passing another supremely decorated church, I made the connection. The purpose is art for art’s sake; beauty for beauty’s sake — much like literary fiction.

Books classified as literary fiction tend to include those many niches. They use words like the artists of the Duomo used marble and chisels. Literary fiction takes a story and slants it toward a celebration of language; toward an appreciation for the beautiful.

One could argue that the rich prose of literary fiction does serve a purpose other than beauty, just like I suspect the art on the Duomo may. But there are simpler, more accessible ways to create. There’s clean, tight prose; there’s bare-bones architecture. Why the flourishes? Why all the extra?

Because it is beautiful. It is beauty for beauty’s sake.

An example from Hanya Yanagihara’s A Little Life:

“… he was eighty-nine, and his dark eyes had turned that same unnamable gray that only the very young or the very old possess: the color of the sea from which one comes, the color of the sea to which one returns.”

— A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara

Yanagihara could have said in simple, concise terms that the man’s eyes revealed his age. But why do that when she could add the superfluous details; details whose existence serve to make one feel, rather than portray information?

Similarly, in Szilvia Molnar’s The Nursery:

“Today, like yesterday, so let’s call it tomorrow, Button is latched on and is sucking and snoozing in a tender rhythmic loop.”

— The Nursery by Szilvia Molnar

Molnar could have expressed that the baby in the mother’s arms ceased to detach itself from her breast. But instead, she tangles the sense of time — just as a mother tends to feel in those early postpartum days — and makes the reader feel the expression.

Yes, making the reader feel the confusion of time is a function of Molnar’s words of choice (therefore her words don’t serve solely as form), but she could have done it simpler if she wanted to. There are easier ways to portray that information, but Molnar opted instead for this beautiful arrangement of words and sentiments.

One of the best — or perhaps worst, depending on who you ask — things about art is that it is subjective. As such, I imagine my opinions are not shared by all. I imagine all those extra details probably do serve a purpose beyond beauty for beauty’s sake, and someone may correct me. In fact, I welcome the correction.

But for the intent of this essay, let’s consider what it means to create something with no purpose other than beauty.

I think that is the noblest pursuit.

What I’m reading: Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri. This is the third book I’ve read of hers so far in 2024 — the year I am declaring my Year of Jhumpa. I’ve also read In Altre Parole (In Other Words) and Translating Myself and Others.

What are you reading? Please share! Thank you for reading.

Love,

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