Why do we love stories? Why do we return to the same books, the same films, or any other media, even when we already know how they end? Why do we care so deeply about people who do not exist, feel joy at their victories, or carry the weight of their losses with us long after the story is over? Stories accompany us everywhere, told to children before sleep, shared among friends, passed down through generations, and we talk about them, argue over them, and return to them again and again. Stories are not just entertainment; they are thought experiments, ideas that we test safely.

Stories do not simply mirror our lives; they grow out of them. They take shape from the things we want, fear, envy, hope for, and regret. When we read or watch a story, we are not just following events, we are working through experiences, often ones we cannot safely or easily live ourselves. Every piece of literature, in its own way, asks questions. For example, what makes a good life? Who gets power, and why? Why do some people succeed while others fail, even when they seem equally deserving? What makes an interaction meaningful? What counts as good, and what counts as bad? Stories raise these questions through characters, choices, conflicts, and endings rather than through direct answers. And literary criticism exists because these questions will not answer themselves.

At its simplest, literary criticism is thinking about literature (novels, short stories, poetry, and other forms) and explaining that thinking. It is asking why a character acted the way they did, why a moment felt sad or hopeful even when nothing obvious happened, or why an ending feels satisfying or unfair. Often, we have these reactions before we understand them; criticism is the act of slowing down and figuring out where they came from. A work of literature can be thought of as a puzzle. Literary criticism asks which pieces fit together and how, and what kind of picture they finally create. It does this by asking two related questions: how does this work make meaning, and why does that meaning matter? This is why it is not a summary of events, not the use of jargon to sound intelligent, and not a collection of opinions thrown out without support. It is an attempt to show, using the literature itself, how meaning is created and to make a case for that meaning.

Literary criticism often approaches a work of literature from different angles, sometimes called lenses. One way of reading focuses on characters: what they want, what they fear, and how their choices shape the story. Another looks at themes, asking what larger ideas the work returns to again and again. A different lens pays attention to society, considering who holds power, who does not, and how those relationships influence events. Another looks at the author, asking why certain choices might have been made and what concerns or experiences may have shaped the work. Each of these lenses draws attention to different details, and each can reveal something meaningful. None of them, however, offers a single final answer. The same work can support multiple readings, and part of what makes it worthwhile is learning how to see more than one angle at once.

Many works of literature include a journey. A character leaves home, faces difficulties, meets others along the way, and eventually returns changed. On the surface, this may look like a simple movement from one place to another. Read more closely, however, the journey is rarely just about travel. It often represents growth, loss, self-knowledge, and/or disillusionment. The places a character passes through, the obstacles they face, and the way they return all help show how they have changed, and what that change has cost them. Seeing the journey this way does not deny the events of the story, rather the journey becomes a way of making meaning not the mere narration of a chain of events.

Literary criticism often sounds far more serious than it needs to be. In practice, it is closer to what happens when people care deeply about a book or movie and cannot stop talking about it. It is the audience arguing, explaining, noticing patterns, and returning to the same topic again and again. In that sense, literary critics are not so different from devoted fans who analyze their favorite works at length, except that criticism asks them to be the best out there by slowing down, paying attention, and supporting what they say with the evidence. It is just caring loudly and thoughtfully about literature, and enjoying the fact that no matter how many times you return to a work, there is always something new to notice.