In his chapter “Literature and Literary Criticism,” Richard C. Taylor begins by distinguishing literary studies as a “plurality, interdisciplinarity, and transition…[that] acknowledges instability in the categories of knowledge and practice” in contrast with the “more fixed” study of literature (199-200). This contrast is necessary in understanding the the discipline’s debate over which is question is most worthy of our time: what should we read in English verses how should we read? I argue both questions are worthy of scholars’ attention and curricular responsibility to their students. The content of what we read, what we comprehend consciously, as well as the details that implicitly speak to us are shaped by how we read. Critical readers build an awareness for how our identities, experiences, histories, and past exposure to texts create what Spivak names “the ways we read the world” (219). Taylor makes convincing arguments against the idea of a singular “cannon,” as well as defining the discipline through literary periodicity. Thus, I agree with Taylor that welcoming interdisciplinary study and the conflicts that arise from the multiplistic nature of our discipline is what is most fruitful and stimulating.
I think it is interesting to think about how the texts were learn from and know from an early age can influence how we go on to view and create texts in the future. I think it would be interesting for professors and their students to share their own reading and literacy autobiographies. Gertrude Stein describes this idea, in particular to literature, as having “our own history of English literature inside of us, the history as by reading we have come to know it” (200). I would argue even building an awareness of ourselves as creators of texts at an early age is another way to explore what informs our reading presently. For example, when I was a mouthy pre-teen in the fifth grade, my mother mother assigned me to write her a letter of apology instead of grounding me. Unfortunately for me, she never chose this as an method of punishment again because my letter was too persuasive and her plan backfired; I persuaded her to let me off the hook! Thus, early on I saw myself as an effective writer and continued to love the craft of creating and critiquing arguments (which explains why I am writing this paper for you now).
To illustrate how my undergraduate education has informed how I read, I will borrow Taylor’s crash course in close reading and use some of the main critical methods he outlines in his chapter as I share my readings of “Proem” and “The Tenor and The Boy” by Madame Sarah Grand. I will also comment on how I use these methods to read.
First, Taylor describes “the typical student trained in New Criticism” as “maintaining a focus on the language...itself” (213). With this focus on language, I am immediately aware of the title “Proem” for the prelude to the novel The Heavenly Twins. “Proem” come from Greek for “before” and “song”; however, this title can also be read as a combination of the words “prose” and “poem,” which are generally viewed as two separate genres (I don’t think Grand had heard of today’s term prose poem back in 1888). I favor my second reading of the title because it introduces the idea of challenging society’s foundation in binary norms. For example, the prelude begins with a description of the setting, emphasized with opposites, such as “the great wicked city, and over the fair flat country”(7). Thus, a binary motif is started, but then throughout is complicated. A few pages later, the township’s chime is introduced, as the not the narrator describes:
“it began to appear as if the supremacy of the great masculine ideas as at least being seriously threatened, for even in Morningquest a new voice of extraordinary sweetness had already been heard, not his, the voice of man; but theirs, the collective voice of humanity...the male and female principles which together created the universe, the infinite father and mother, without whom, in perfect accord and exact equality, the best government of nations has always been crippled and abortive ” (11).
Here, the chime represents a faith in“all-pervading good,” suggesting the chime represents characteristics of the most humane civilizations which are detailed as both male and female. However, later, when the chime fails and “the majority of those who had ears to hear it in the big old fashioned city heard not, use having dulled their faculties,” it has becomes an empty vessel or “double standard” for perpetuating along binary social norms (11). \
The climax of “The Tenor and The Boy” reveals the Boy as merely Angelica in disguise and the Tenor’s rejection of her despite his supposed true love. From this point on, the omniscient narration flips back and forth sharing both Angelica and the Tenor’s conflicting thoughts. While the ending is painful, especially when reading the Tenor’s hurtful rejection, I was not surprised; however, this does not diminish the anger I feel for society’s reliance on binary norms, which is still a relevant conflict today.
Just this past week at our high school, the dance team rejected Gender and Sexuality Awareness (GSA) club’s nomination of two females (who both self-identify as gender neutral) to homecoming court. I advise GSA club and encouraged my students to take this issue to our administration. Our principal persuaded the GSA students that nothing could be done because the rules for nominating explicitly stated each co-ed club could nominate one female and one male. But our principal went on to tell the students they could work on rewriting the language of this rule and present it to MHS Student Council to potentially change the nomination process for all future dances. My students are excited about this opportunity to leave a legacy at Memorial, but I must admit I was surprised by the resistance in the first place. I wonder what kind of chapter, and novel, Madame Sarah Grand would write today and if the Tenor would be any more welcoming of love. Maybe he would, but perhaps not.
No comments:
Post a Comment