Literature exists inside the language. It's made of words.
Literature is not made of ideas and it's not made of concepts, of psychological analysis. It's made of words.
I know that a translation of a work of literature is like playing a violin concerto on the piano. You can do this. You can do this very successfully on one strict condition: never try to force the piano to produce the sounds of the violin. This will be grotesque.
In the same way in which music is made of notes and a painting is made of lines of colors, the matter of literature are words.
Literature belongs first and foremost to the language in which it is being written.
I prefer to talk about the gift of literature rather than its role or task.
You know, gynecology has a role; sex is a gift. And literature is not about sending messages.
Literature is about telling stories.
The gift of literature is that, in some lucky cases, reading a novel or a story makes the reader more curious, more open-minded.
Literature may open a third eye in the middle of the reader's forehead.
Literature may make the reader reexamine some of his or her own conventions, look at himself or herself in a different way, look at others in a different way. This goes way beyond just making statements or manifesting principles.
I'm not sure I'm happy with words such as "task" or "role" when they are attached to literature.