Reading fiction to learn about life

Work colleague A today mentioned that she reads only nonfiction because she reads primarily to "learn things," and I (haplessly) tried to explain that fiction, literature for that matter, is also a way to "learn things" and in my view a far more profound way to learn about our world, our culture, our history, our lives, our fellow human beings that (most) nonfiction. Current reading, Willa Cather's shot novel "My Antonia" is a perfect example: would you learn more about family life on the American prairie and the mid-to-late 19th century from a textbook, a history book, even a journal - or from Cather's beautiful and evocative and thoughtful and entertaining novel - all the cliches and formula apply: emotion recollected in tranquility, an imitation of an action, the consciousness of the consciousness of another - all are in play in this beautiful novel. OK, I'm only about 50 or so pages into it, the character of Antonia is still not finely or fully realized - but just taking this novel as a document about a long-gone time and place, if nothing else, makes this novel well worth anyone's reading: Cather is one of the best at evoking a sense of place and a sense of a world whose ways are long vanished. I still hold her novel Death Comes for the Archbishop to be one of the greatest of all American books, and perfect for book groups by the way - thoughtful and detailed and edgy, an evocation of New Mexico when it was a frontier territory. Antonia is about the Nebraska prairie, and obviously drown from the details of Cather's own early life. I would like to give a copy to any member of the Tea Party or any Ayn Rand follower and clone: reading this novel and seeing the abject poverty in which some of the characters live in rural America, with no social services to help them in any way, reminds us and helps us understand that no, things were not better in the old days, when everyone was independent and neighbor helped neighbor - that's a myth, and our society is far better today for most people because of our shared sociopolitical sense of responsibility for at least the minimal well-being of all. Some of the amazing scenes in the first part of Antonia include the visits to the Shimerdas' home basically carved out of the side of a mountain, where the family is practically starving to death; the introduction of the family and of their exploitation by an unscrupulous countryman; the two Russian men struggling for life - and then the odd back-story we learn about their life back in Russia and why they fled. I can't quite understand the relation between 10-year-old narrator, Jim, and 14-year-old Antonia - is there a sexual element to their friendship? Why is neither, apparently, in any sort of school? Perhaps Cather will take that up later. Book reminds me a little of Porter's Noon Wine and even more so of Wharton's Ethan Frome - American poverty - read these books and believe me you'll learn something about where we've been.