Having and Being Had

by Eula Biss

Work, Lewis Hyde writes, is distinct from labor. Work is something we do by the hour, and labor sets its own pace. Work, if we are fortunate, is rewarded with money, but the reward for labor is transformation. “Writing a poem,” Hyde writes, “raising a child, developing a new calculus, resolving a neurosis, invention in all forms—these are labors.” This list reveals to me my problem. I want to give my life to labor, not work. Or the other way around. The meanings of labor and work are reversed in Andrea Komlosy’s Work: The Last 1,000 Years. Both words can be traced back to Latin, she writes, which gave every Indo-European language two words for work. In Latin, labor meant arduous toil, and the word laborare came from the swaying of slaves under heavy loads. Opus, which became our work, was creative and productive. This work was satisfying, a source of pleasure and a sense of accomplishment.