An important component in the evaluation of whether or not a piece of literature is “good literature” turns on the point of how it handles virtue and vice in the story. In any given story what ought to happen is that virtue is praised and vice censured. Some will, of course, see this statement as nothing more than puritanical or moralistic. But it is not puritanical; it is eschatological. Insofar as a story corresponds with truth it will portray virtuous characters as receiving their just praise and the wicked ending in ruin.
The Lord of the Rings may be the greatest example of literature presenting the praiseworthiness of its virtuous characters. From Aragorn who faithfully serves and protects the vulnerable at great jeopardy to his own well being and is in the end recognized as the true king and shepherd of his people, to Samwise who loves his friend faithfully and walks through fire with him and comes home to claim the love of his Rosie, to an Elf and a Dwarf who overcome the prejudices of their races to be rewarded with the blessing of unending friendship, there are so many examples of virtue well praised. All of these characters receive honor in the book and even get to see just end of their labor. Even Boromir who temporarily succumbs to vice, although he dies in his act of penitence, is revered with honor for doing what is right in the end and we love him.
Compare The Lord of the Rings with Dune, however, and you will see a story that, while well written in so far as diction and imagination go, falls far short of this ideal. No one in the story is virtuous. No not one. Paul is, at best, not as bad as the Harknonnen clan who are indeed despicable in every way. But the reason Dune (well liked as it is) will never have the kind of devoted love that LOTR has (and why I believe it will fall in the ash heap long before people stop reading Tolkien) is just that there is nothing particularly praiseworthy about the protagonist. What modicum of virtue may be seen in Paul is always overwhelmed by his compromises with wickedness. Being the least bad is not the same thing as being a praiseworthy hero.
Further, any story that has a “happy ending” for vicious characters is by default a bad story. Imagine Anna Karenina ( speaking of the character herself) living the same life she does in the story, making all the same choices, and ending up pleased with herself in the end, praised by her all her acquaintances, all the while showing no remorse. This would not be a fitting end to her descent into depravity and it would be patently bad literature. It would, in fact, be a lie because it is not possible to follow the path that Anna does and end up happy in any meaningful sense of the word. Further, I believe almost everyone would hate such a book except those who are themselves living in perpetual vice and looking for validation.
In reality, the life of self absorbed pleasure seeking without repentance always (yes, always) ends in destruction. Tolstoy’s genius is allowing the reader to safely walk that path with Anna and see its proper end at the train station. He does this without damaging the soul of the reader (because the reader is only a viewer and not a participant) while still offering them an appropriate warning of the end of such a life.1
Other examples of this same kind of appropriate treatment of vicious living include F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, and the excellent short story by Willa Cather called Paul’s Case. Each of these, in their own way, show what an unbridled pursuit of pleasure and material wealth lead to, namely, despair. It is a fundamental quality of good literature that the pursuit of vice ruins those who seek it.
Virtue is to be praised and vice censured and the truth is everyone already knows this. People cannot help themselves. Even when they are wicked themselves they know good when they see it and often praise it. They even largely acknowledge the just end of the wicked. They praise the hero who risks his life for the vulnerable and they boo and his the self obsessed egomaniac killing due to his own lust for power. Cognitive dissonance allows evil people to applaud and scorn appropriately all while failing to see themselves in the proper light.
Under the best of circumstances, however, great stories have a balming effect on the soul. The reader will see virtue, praise it, and long for it. They will see vice, loathe it, and want to be free of it. They will look in the corners of their own hearts and want to be more like Aragorn and less like Anna. In truth most of us can really only hope to be Boromir. But, if so, then let us by all means be Boromir.
Tolkien masterfully does the same thing with Gollum and his grim and fiery end.