Sometimes I go hiking up some mountains near my house. There’s no reason I need to do this. I’m not paid for it, and there’s no necessary outcome that follows because of it (food to eat, shelter for my family).
So then why do I go hiking up mountains?
I can think of two reasons.
One: there’s something satisfying about the exertion. Going uphill and navigating novel terrain brings me joy. It’s fun.
Two: there’s something satisfying about the view. It feels good to get up high and see the surrounding city from a height and from a distance (these mountains are in a desert preserve inside Phoenix, so there’s surrounding city to see).
I think this reasoning also applies to reading the books that are called “Great Books.” Strictly speaking, I have no need to read Plato or Jane Austen. Reading the Iliad doesn’t pay the bills.
So why bother? Reading them is an invigorating exercise. Reading them gives me a new view.