Literary criticism is not your forte, my dear fellow. Don't try it. You should leave that to people who haven't been at a University. They do it so well in the daily papers.
There are very few people less qualified to speak, write, or even think about English literature than those who pretend to study it. To put it mildly, barring one acquaintance of mine, they are all imbeciles. The reason for this, aside from the genuine stupidity of some of their lot, is that they think it can be managed by people who can speak English; this is not necessarily true. In fact, this is rarely true. In fact, it is no more true than my driving a car makes me competent to talk about the intricacies of engineering and mass producing an internal combustion engine.
Let us look at a specimen of fairly straightforward 18th-century English prose.
I have observed, that a Reader seldom peruses a Book with Pleasure 'till he knows whether the Writer of it be a black or a fair Man, of a mild or cholerick Disposition, Married or a Batchelor, with other Particulars of the like nature, that conduce very much to the right Understanding of an Author. -from The Spectator no. 1 (Thursday, March 11, 1711) Addison
Now, let's pretend that we're English majors:
"From this text, we can see that tacit racist assumptions underly early 18th century ideas about authorship. The implication of this first sentence is that a reader would not like a book written by a black man, as it must be inferior to the writing of a 'fair man'. Addison will then set out some biographic details in order to allay the readers fears that he may be one such inferior writer"
The problem with this analysis, of course, is that it is absolute bullshit. Our little English major sees the words 'black man' and immensely, modern racial discourse is what is afoot in his little mind. Aside, of course, from the fact that racism, as we know it, was rather unknown to the early 18th century (being, in it's present form, a byproduct of late 18th and 19th century imperial colonization), there is an exceptional meaning that this phrase carries, which can only be recognized by an educated (a "led out of ignorance by instruction in the Latin language") man.
Observe Catullus 93
Nil nimium studio, Caesar, tibi velle placere
nec scire utrum sis albus an ater homo.
Which we will very liberally translate:
Frankly, Caesar, I don't care whether or not you like me
And I don't give a flying fuck whether you're a white or black man.
As Caesar's pigmentation was not a matter of debate among the romans of the late republic (either way, it seems he was not at all shiny but of a lustreless complexion), we know that what is meant here is something more akin to the distinction between good and bad. The idiom in Latin, 'albus an ater sit non curo' merely means 'let him be x or not x, it makes no difference to me'. The word alba also means 'favourable' (since white sparrows - alba avis - were used in divination).
So Addison, it seems, was not a racist. Or maybe he was, I don't care. Merely, the opening of The Spectator no. 1 is definitely not evidence that he was. It is, on the contrary, evidence that he has read Catullus (and, we can surmise, other books as well).
English cannot be profitably read by those who do not understand, at the barest minimum, Latin and French. So, my little English majors, either learn something, or put a sock in it.
I'll begin by saying that if I am not the excepted acquaintance to which you refer, the next time we meet you can expect to be thumped over the head with a wine bottle. (After we've emptied it, of course. There's no need to be wasteful.)
ReplyDeleteI do agree with your arguments, but my enthusiasm is considerably tempered - as usual - by your insistence on broad generalization and by your scornful, condescending tone. But that, I suppose, almost goes without saying. As you know, I object to the practice of characterizing an entire group by its least competent members.
I would also mention that the premise that most English Majors are unilingual is broadly not the case - at least not at my school. Most here speak at least some French, and Classical Languages is a Minor very frequently paired with a Major in English. After all, how one could manage to absorb anything from a course in Middle English or Medieval Literature without at least a very basic understanding of French and Latin is quite beyond me.
While I do agree that reading a text in light of one's own modern preoccupations is a startlingly poor academic practice, there are also many flaws in attempting to take the historicist approach you seem to support.
On that subject, I recommend you read this short piece by Terry Eagleton: http://www.scribd.com/doc/94570/Terry-Eagleton-what-is-literature1
Literary criticism is a far more developed field than I think you are giving it credit for, and these developments are not (usually) made by your average undergraduate. I would remind you, therefore, that English Majors are students, and many are still drying out their wings, so to speak. I would also remind you that you are not a subject matter expert when it comes to literary criticism (as this post demonstrates), so you may wish to tread softly.
As for your title, I have little to say. I make no claim to trustworthiness. Guilty until proven ignorant, I suppose.
Glad to hear from you. Regarding exceptions: who else could it possibly be?
ReplyDeleteRegarding prose: scornful, condescending, (and I would add, 'incendiary') prose is the most fun to write; as I have no self discipline, it is the only kind I am able to write.
Regarding methods of characterizing: while perhaps it is more polite to refrain from judging other groups by their weakest members, that is exactly how all groups who value themselves, ought to judge themselves. It's why we have the Ontario College of Surgeons, and other similar bodies. *insert truism concerning teams of horses*
Regarding n-lingualism where n represents a latinate numerical prefix corresponding with a positive integer: plenty of people are bilingual; being bilingual, even in a university environment does not always equal competence. e.g.
Regarding the Eagleton: not short enough I fear. I don't know if it actually was tedious to read, or if I merely dislike reading things on the computer. But concerning it's content - it seemed to me, to timidly assert the necessity of the very historicism I'm a fan of. After outlining a bunch of obviously flawed theories of literature (really? the Russian formalists? It's like the guy at work whose day job is 'blowing glass'...it's just way to easy...) he says that value judgments are made by people in time who have different mentalities, concerns, assumptions, &c.
Of course, I have deliberately shied from saying anything concerning literary criticism; aside from my private conviction that it is all a lot of nonsense, and my bitterness over the fact that nothing I could ever produce would satisfy them as 'great literature' (or maybe it just wouldn't be - you're in a pretty good [better than me?] position to decide that), literary criticism presupposes (I hope!) knowledge of content - I suspect, even the Formalist would look at what the words are before deciding that they are irrelevant. Knowledge of content presupposes an ability to read correctly; which ability presupposes most of the things I advocate.
I readily concede that I know nothing of literary criticism, and very little more concerning literature. I merely know how to read. My only wish is that reading once more become prerequisite to any number of endeavors wishing to present themselves as valuable. As you say, unhistorical, or uncritical approaches, or whatever we desire to term them, are exceptionally poor academic work, I see no reason to assume that literary criticism is a priori an academic endeavour. Though perhaps permissible with good wine and company, the endeavour, which I readily own to partaking in, does seem, at it's very heart, remarkably infantile. Dixit Wittgenstein ad nos, dicens: 'What we cannot speak about we must pass over in silence and leave off taking up space with it in periodicals and on library shelves'.