If someone asked me at the beginning of this year what literature was for, I probably would have said entertainment, symbolism, or maybe learning how to write better essays. After reading King Lear and Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead, I no longer think literature exists simply to tell stories. Literature forces people to confront truths they usually avoid. Both texts changed the way I think about power, loneliness, justice, and the danger of dismissing people whose voices do not fit society’s expectations. Through Lear’s tragic collapse and Janina Duszejko’s isolation and rage, I realized that human beings often destroy one another not through violence alone, but through indifference.
What affected me most about both works was how each protagonist is ignored until it is too late. In King Lear, Lear begins the play believing authority guarantees love and loyalty. He divides his kingdom based on performance rather than sincerity, rewarding the daughters who flatter him and rejecting Cordelia because her honesty embarrasses him. At first, Lear seems powerful, but Shakespeare slowly reveals that power without self-awareness creates blindness. Lear cannot recognize truth because he only values what comforts his ego. By the time he finally understands Cordelia’s love, the damage is irreversible. His suffering becomes tragic because his wisdom arrives too late to save anyone.
Reading King Lear changed the way I think about pride and communication in real life. People often ignore uncomfortable truths because they want validation more than honesty. I realized that many conflicts between parents and children, leaders and citizens, or even friends begin when people stop listening and start demanding approval. Lear’s downfall taught me that emotional blindness can be just as destructive as physical violence. The storm scene especially stood out to me because the chaos outside mirrors the destruction inside his mind. Shakespeare suggests that when humans refuse humility, nature itself seems to turn against them. That idea made me reflect on how pride can isolate people from those who genuinely care about them.
Similarly, Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead presents a protagonist society refuses to hear. Janina Duszejko is dismissed because she is older, eccentric, emotional, and obsessed with astrology and animals. The men around her constantly treat her as irrational, even when she tries to warn them about cruelty and corruption. Like Lear, society ignores truth because it comes from someone they consider unimportant. However, unlike Lear, Janina does not gain clarity through suffering alone; instead, she transforms her isolation into rebellion. Her anger grows from witnessing violence against animals and the hypocrisy of people who claim morality while committing cruelty themselves.
This novel changed the way I think about justice and the relationship between humans and nature. Before reading it, I rarely considered how easily society separates human suffering from environmental destruction. Tokarczuk forces readers to see that cruelty toward animals reflects a larger moral failure. The hunters in the novel believe domination gives them the right to kill, just as powerful figures in King Lear believe authority gives them the right to control others. Both texts expose how power often removes empathy. That realization made me question how modern society treats vulnerable people, animals, and even the environment itself. We often ignore suffering until it directly affects us.
What connects these two works most strongly to me is isolation. Lear becomes isolated because of his pride, while Janina becomes isolated because society rejects her perspective. Yet both characters reveal the consequences of refusing human connection and understanding. Lear wanders through the storm stripped of status and identity, discovering that power means nothing without compassion. Janina exists on the margins of society, where her loneliness sharpens her awareness of hypocrisy and injustice. Both characters ultimately challenge me to ask who society chooses to listen to and who it chooses to silence.
These texts also changed how I view morality. Before this year, I thought literature usually divided characters clearly into heroes and villains. King Lear and Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead refuse simple moral answers. Lear is both cruel and sympathetic. Janina is compassionate yet capable of terrible actions. This complexity made me realize that people cannot be understood through labels alone. Literature matters because it forces readers to sit inside uncomfortable ambiguity. Instead of teaching simple lessons, these works teach empathy by revealing contradictions within human nature.
If I were to represent my experience with these texts visually, I would create a painting divided into two landscapes merging. On one side would be Lear standing in the storm beneath a collapsing crown, symbolizing the destruction caused by pride and blindness. On the other side would be Janina, standing in a snowy forest surrounded by animal eyes watching silently from the darkness. Between them would be a cracked mirror reflecting both faces together, showing that despite their differences, both characters suffer from humanity’s inability to truly listen and understand. The storm and forest would blend together to symbolize how emotional chaos and environmental destruction are connected.
Ultimately, these works changed my understanding of literature because they changed my understanding of people. Literature is powerful not because it gives answers, but because it forces confrontation with difficult truths about society and ourselves. King Lear taught me that pride and the desire for control can destroy relationships before people recognize what truly matters. Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead taught me that ignoring marginalized voices and dismissing compassion can create corruption disguised as normality. Together, these texts revealed that isolation, blindness, and indifference are among the most dangerous human flaws.
By the end of this year, I no longer see literature as something distant from reality. These stories continue to shape how I think about empathy, justice, and human responsibility. They remind me that listening — genuinely listening — may be one of the most important acts a person can perform.