Literature, Class 6: Period 3, Thursday, February 12
Miss Elizabeth Bennet had quite nearly recovered from her weekend's misadventures, though one should inquire after axes only at one's own peril.
"Today," she said, "we are going to revisit the subject that should have held last week: identity. It seems particularly topical, as many of us found our identities transformed of late, as per Fandom's whims."
"Identity changes a work, both from the author's perspective as well as readers. One's perceptions and background form the lens through which one views a work, and thus, readers with quite different life experiences may view fundamental aspects of the text in new ways, or with new shades of meaning. Critics argue that the text is objective, not subjective -- that it can be seen on its own merits, and how the reader interprets it is secondary. I am not so certain that I agree. Who would the impartial reader be, who can separate his own self from the text? If I feel the heroine in this novel is sweet, and you find her to be false and cloying, which of us is right? Can we say for certain which the author intended, and if so, is that the final word on the matter?"
"Let us, for one moment, presume to place individuals into specific categories: one's sex, one's age, one's social standing, one's culture, one's economic status, and so forward. Let us then add one more layer, which is each individual's history, observations, morals, and the like. These categories might be thought to influence the works one reads. A young boy, raised on a farm, might be fond of horses, and could therefore find books of horse-racing to be quite exciting. An older gentleman who was an experienced jockey might likewise reach for the tale, eagerly, while a wealthy society matron may feel that horses are thoroughly uninteresting. A girl whose uncle lost a great deal of money on horse-racing may dislike the novel most of all."
She lifted her shoulders lightly. "It sounds straightforward, but people are more complex than that. The young boy from the farm may feel that forcing the horse to compete in a race is ridiculous, when it could be pulling a carriage or a plough. The experienced jockey may be tired of that life, or may find the story to be highly inaccurate as regards his own experiences. The wealthy society matron could herself drawn in by a world the likes of which she has never imagined, and the girl may wish to understand what it was that held such lure for her uncle's path to ruin."
"I am not meaning to imply that identity studies, or reader-responses, are this simplistic," she explained. "They most certainly aren't. My brief example of the horse-racing story was simply to show that what appeals to us in a work is intrinsic to who we are as individuals. Perhaps the reason I find that heroine so sweet is that she reminds me greatly of my sister Jane, whereas you have never known someone who behaves in that manner, and are suspicious of her motivations. You might argue that the heroine is only hoping to appear sweet, and is scheming and plotting her way through life, falling back on her presumption of innocence when all else fails. If the author never intended that reading of the work, is it still a valid interpretation? There are critics who believe that Tolkien's King of the Bracelets was an allegory for the great war which took place during that time; Tolkien himself denied it. Could he have written it as an unintentional allegory? Might one say that it functions as one, if the author did not intend for it to be so? Are alternate readings of a text valid, or are they simply illustrative of the ways in which we are fundamentally different in worldviews and perceptions -- an interesting literary exercise, but nothing more?"
She stopped pacing, glancing around the room again. "The author must have his share in this. The works considered to be 'classics' were largely those written by wealthy English and European men. Which suggests that either women and men from other cultural backgrounds simply weren't writing as much as Anglican men, that their works were markedly inferior on an objective scale, or that those responsible for identifying 'classics' were by and large Anglican men, who favored works written from similar perspectives. This is a rather telling point for the response crowd, I might add, but let us continue. A man writes of actions which would be seen as normal and unremarkable during his lifetime, and seems to condone them; later, history condemns those same behaviors, as well as his tale. Should we view the story through his lens, or ours? Lest you think this is strictly hypothetical, I regret to inform you that Shakespeare himself wrote a play which is quite highly anti-Semitic, which would not be wholly remarkable in society at that time. Critics argue that you might read the character sympathetically, or even that Shakespeare himself intended to portray him as such, but certain aspects of the play make either reading -- slanderous or sensitive -- difficult. The situation is problematical, to say the least."
She smiled at everyone. "One last note, simply as an amusing exercise. If you were not yourself this past weekend, do you feel that your experiences as another person will influence your perspectives, when reading? Have they added to what works you may enjoy, or find distasteful?"
"Today," she said, "we are going to revisit the subject that should have held last week: identity. It seems particularly topical, as many of us found our identities transformed of late, as per Fandom's whims."
"Identity changes a work, both from the author's perspective as well as readers. One's perceptions and background form the lens through which one views a work, and thus, readers with quite different life experiences may view fundamental aspects of the text in new ways, or with new shades of meaning. Critics argue that the text is objective, not subjective -- that it can be seen on its own merits, and how the reader interprets it is secondary. I am not so certain that I agree. Who would the impartial reader be, who can separate his own self from the text? If I feel the heroine in this novel is sweet, and you find her to be false and cloying, which of us is right? Can we say for certain which the author intended, and if so, is that the final word on the matter?"
"Let us, for one moment, presume to place individuals into specific categories: one's sex, one's age, one's social standing, one's culture, one's economic status, and so forward. Let us then add one more layer, which is each individual's history, observations, morals, and the like. These categories might be thought to influence the works one reads. A young boy, raised on a farm, might be fond of horses, and could therefore find books of horse-racing to be quite exciting. An older gentleman who was an experienced jockey might likewise reach for the tale, eagerly, while a wealthy society matron may feel that horses are thoroughly uninteresting. A girl whose uncle lost a great deal of money on horse-racing may dislike the novel most of all."
She lifted her shoulders lightly. "It sounds straightforward, but people are more complex than that. The young boy from the farm may feel that forcing the horse to compete in a race is ridiculous, when it could be pulling a carriage or a plough. The experienced jockey may be tired of that life, or may find the story to be highly inaccurate as regards his own experiences. The wealthy society matron could herself drawn in by a world the likes of which she has never imagined, and the girl may wish to understand what it was that held such lure for her uncle's path to ruin."
"I am not meaning to imply that identity studies, or reader-responses, are this simplistic," she explained. "They most certainly aren't. My brief example of the horse-racing story was simply to show that what appeals to us in a work is intrinsic to who we are as individuals. Perhaps the reason I find that heroine so sweet is that she reminds me greatly of my sister Jane, whereas you have never known someone who behaves in that manner, and are suspicious of her motivations. You might argue that the heroine is only hoping to appear sweet, and is scheming and plotting her way through life, falling back on her presumption of innocence when all else fails. If the author never intended that reading of the work, is it still a valid interpretation? There are critics who believe that Tolkien's King of the Bracelets was an allegory for the great war which took place during that time; Tolkien himself denied it. Could he have written it as an unintentional allegory? Might one say that it functions as one, if the author did not intend for it to be so? Are alternate readings of a text valid, or are they simply illustrative of the ways in which we are fundamentally different in worldviews and perceptions -- an interesting literary exercise, but nothing more?"
She stopped pacing, glancing around the room again. "The author must have his share in this. The works considered to be 'classics' were largely those written by wealthy English and European men. Which suggests that either women and men from other cultural backgrounds simply weren't writing as much as Anglican men, that their works were markedly inferior on an objective scale, or that those responsible for identifying 'classics' were by and large Anglican men, who favored works written from similar perspectives. This is a rather telling point for the response crowd, I might add, but let us continue. A man writes of actions which would be seen as normal and unremarkable during his lifetime, and seems to condone them; later, history condemns those same behaviors, as well as his tale. Should we view the story through his lens, or ours? Lest you think this is strictly hypothetical, I regret to inform you that Shakespeare himself wrote a play which is quite highly anti-Semitic, which would not be wholly remarkable in society at that time. Critics argue that you might read the character sympathetically, or even that Shakespeare himself intended to portray him as such, but certain aspects of the play make either reading -- slanderous or sensitive -- difficult. The situation is problematical, to say the least."
She smiled at everyone. "One last note, simply as an amusing exercise. If you were not yourself this past weekend, do you feel that your experiences as another person will influence your perspectives, when reading? Have they added to what works you may enjoy, or find distasteful?"