Literary theory. period.

Just read books

BRENDAN CATHCART STAFF/

“It is necessary to distinguish this negative method of abstraction from the positive method of affirmation, in which we deal with the Divine Attributes. For with these latter we begin with the universal and primary, and pass through the intermediate and secondary to the particular and ultimate attributes; but now we ascend from the particular to the universal conceptions, abstracting all attributes in order that, without veil, we may know that Unknowing which is enshrouded under all that is known and all that can be known, and that we may begin to contemplate the superessential Darkness which is hidden by all the light that is in existing things.”

Fifteen hundred years later a fellow known by the name of Jacques Derrida wrote this equally obscure treatise on the philosophy of language and literature:

“There are thus two interpretations of interpretation, of structure, of sign, of freeplay. The one seeks to decipher, dreams of deciphering, a truth or an origin which is free from freeplay and from the order of the sign, and lives like an exile the necessity of interpretation. The other, which is no longer turned toward the origin, affirms freeplay and tries to pass beyond man and humanism, the name man being the name of that being who, throughout the history of metaphysics or of ontotheology — in other words, through the history of all of his history — has dreamed of full presence, the reassuring foundation, the origin and the end of the game.”

Perhaps it’s uncharitable to cast literary theory in the same light as arcane theology, but there are good reasons for collapsing the supposed distinction. The common belief held by both cloisters is the inability of language to connect directly to the source. Both developed new languages and practices and took off running in a direction not represented on the compasses used by the rest of society. Dionysus and Derrida were at points in the development of their disciplines where theory closed in around itself and forgot that it was originally developed as a secondary form, a tool to better interpret and understand founding texts. Mystical theology was birthed out of the Biblical womb, became enamored of its new shape, and then cast off the Bible. Likewise literary theory began by talking about novels, plays and poetry, but now talks almost exclusively about itself. The problem is that outside of the academy of gnosis, the recondite language of mystery is impenetrable.

Over the last 40 years, the eruption caused by those mesmerized by their own reflection has effected the burial of Pompeii beneath the Academy. Roland Barthes and Michel Foucault declared the traditional notion of authorship dead, claiming, “to give a text an Author is to impose a limit on that text,” and that the very notion of author “impedes the free circulation, the free manipulation, the free composition, decomposition, and recomposition of fiction.” Fiction and poetry became understood as fluid and amorphous, incapable of producing anything resembling a stable truth or meaning, and could now only made accessible through the sovereign interpretation of the literary theorist.

There’s a better than good chance that those who just put aside a book to read this article — perhaps a book written by Tom Clancy, Stephen King, J.K. Rowling, Patricia Cornwell, or even Dickens, Dostoevsky or Shakespeare — likely have never heard of, read, met or cared for even a second about what some self-proclaimed authority on literary meaning has said about it. For most people outside of universities, reading is an intensely personal exercise; it is a form of entertainment, escape, education, stimulation, relaxation, stress release, and a way to vicariously experience drastically different or comfortingly similar ways of living in the world. On the street, the interdictions of modern literary theory have had little effect on who reads what and how they read it.

So what’s the point in preaching blasphemy to the choir and then pantsing them in front of the uninitiated masses? Forewarning. Danger is afoot. In The Western Canon, Harold Bloom takes a cautious step back and notes, “Literary criticism, as an art, always was and always will be an elitist phenomenon.” The problem is that theory no longer confines itself to contemplative classrooms. Deconstruction — the belief that words can only refer to other words and never to anything like truth or meaning — is not self-contained within the literature section, but has jumped host and is spreading out into the rest of the library. This means that there are going to be, and already are, significant numbers of students entering the policy-affecting worlds of law, politics, religion, psychology, sociology, education and literature, believing that all the old rules are dead and every social structure is up for grabs.

Unfortunately, the majority of modern literary criticism believes that it knows culture and knows what’s best for it, and then reads its ideas back overtop of any book of poetry or fiction it picks up. Nearly every piece of literature studied in the English department becomes transformed into one of a short list of form letters that always gives up the same information and inculcates highly specific cultural beliefs, such as: the true value of history is on par with fiction; books written prior to feminism are valuable only insofar as they demonstrate the monstrosity of patriarchy; all literature written in English prior to 20th century decolonization was predicated on beliefs of British cultural and racial supremacy; and everything you could possibly read is about class and class struggle.

Apart from the cross-dressing identity confusion of literary theory — believing itself to be a social science — there has been a drastic change in the educational materials taught to English students. In The Critical Tradition, David Richter gives a good sense of the trajectory of modern literature studies, citing a staggeringly intimidating list of theorists that must be read to have a chance at competing in the classroom. What is striking is the absence of what has more traditionally been labelled “works of literature.” Richter points out that “The new practices were based on theory and were incomprehensible in isolation from their theoretical origins.” What has usurped the place of literature is an extensive survey of conceptually and terminologically complex theory

about the missing works of literature. There are still many novels and books of poetry being read in English classes, but they are mainly being used as ventriloquism dummies.

Brian Boyd from the University of Auckland points to the elephant in the room when he says, “Indicting writings by dead authors who cannot complain of the misrepresentation is absurdly easy, yet supposes itself both intellectually sophisticated . . . and socially transformative.” Certainly those indicted works of literature were written for reasons other than to be the next mathematics. Millions and millions and millions of ideas, experiences and perspectives have been written in stories. Theory has forgotten how to read and instead catalogues each sentence according to whichever checklist is in current fashion.

Susan Sontag urges us to burn the church and prostrate ourselves on the living earth and remember, that the “earliest experience of art must have been that it was incantatory, magical; art was an instrument of ritual . . . What is important now is to recover our senses. We must learn to see more, to hear more, to feel more.” Stories exist because the vitality of experience and meaning could not be captured in the statement “this is what I believe, it goes A, B, C, and this is what I believe you should now believe.” Why would anybody choose to waste hours and hours immersed in poetry and novels full of characters in circumstances of excitement, tragedy, humour, mystery, suspense, stupidity, loss, discovery, catastrophe, exploration, squalor, depression, sexuality, apocalypse and so on ad infinitum if they could just open a single book of theory and then move on with their lives? If an answer is actually required then you're likely riding the short-bus on the way to theory's institution.