The super-busy Thersites, who hasn’t the time to “dismantle” me in full, has, nevertheless, decided to give me a “taste” of what I’m up against. In a post titled “A Taste of Paste” (Atrios would be so proud! 10% off hotel fees at “EschaCon II: Attack of the Clones” for you, you big lug!), Thersites begins his dismissive onslaught. After quoting from the intro to my course notes—
The course itself is predicated on a number of polemical claims, claims particularly controversial in an era of poststructuralist and new historicist literary sensibilities. The first of these claims is this: a text has one “meaning,” and that texts’ (singular) meaning is decided upon by its author and governed by his/her intentions. The theoretical background for this claim is speech act theory, particularly Searle’s “Principle of Expressibility”
—Thersites lets fly with the heavy artillery:
Tendentious rubbish.
Searle has the virtue, with Austin, of nodding towards an acknowledgement of the social conditions necessary for the communication of meaning. But Searle says nothing very useful about how any such analysis might proceed. Much could be said here, but the simple point is that Goldstein is eliding the entire history of how literature came to be constitued as a unique social field explicable by the specific rules (descriptive more than prescriptive) that in fact define it.
Dork.
I replied over at his site, but since that reply seems to be held up, allow me to reply here, as well.
First, to the point that “Searle has the virtue, with Austin, of nodding towards an acknowledgement of the social conditions necessary for the communication of meaning,” my answer is…and…? Intentionalists are well aware of (and dutifully acknowledge) the social conditions [convention, context, multiple authorship, presumption of agency, inter- and intratextuality, etc.] necessary for the communication of meaning. In fact, the notes themselves address (and critique) how this common sense observation is made into an interpretive paradigm and then “used” to justify the marginalization of the “author” (along with originary intent), and to expand “meaning” beyond any coherent parameters (meaning as untethered from authorial intent). Which makes me wonder if Thersites is as confused about intentionalism as he is about what I’ve written.
Because he then goes on to argue that “Searle says nothing very useful about how any such analysis might proceed,” which, while that may or may not be the case [it is unclear to me to which “analysis” Thersites is referring], in either event it is entirely irrelevant. The problem with such an observation is this: whether or not speech-act theory “says anything very useful about how such analysis might proceed,†is precisely what is under consideration throughout the entirety of my argument. So Thersites’ saying that it does not is more of a denial than it is a refutation. It begs the question.1
Second, to Thersites’ point about how I’ve elided “the entire history of how literature came to be constituted as a unique social field explicable by the specific rules that define it,” I’ll only point out that this observation 1) misses the point—I am talking about interpretation in general, and applying general principles to literary texts as well as any other text, something I make clear in the very section where I answer this charge; and 2) well, I have already addressed the point in my notes, specifically in response to Jonathan Culler, who offers a similar argument to the one that Thersites tries to slip by here. From footnote 3 (p 3-4):
The Derridean argument I will challenge is most clearly articulated in his collection of essays/replies to Searle, Limited Inc (1977). Culler’s On Deconstruction (1982), The Pursuit of Signs (1981), and Framing the Sign (1988) were also consulted. Importantly, it was the American philosopher C.S. Peirce who, in the course of his work on semiotics, proposed the idea of “unlimited semiosis.†Since every sign creates and interpretant which in turn is the representamen of a second sign, semiosis results, for Peirce, in a ‘series of successive interpretants’ ad infinitum. There is no ‘first’ or ‘last’ sign in this process of unlimited semiosis.
And yet the idea of infinite semiosis does not, for Peirce, imply a vicious circle. Unlimited semiosis refers instead to the very modern idea that ‘thinking always proceeds in the form of a
dialogueâ€â€a dialogue between different phases of the egoâ€â€so that, being dialogical, it is essentially composed of signs.’ Since ‘every thought must address itself to some other’ the continuous process of semiosis (or thinking) can only be ‘interrupted’ but never really ‘ended.’ As Gallie points out, ‘this endless series is essentially a potential one. Peirce’s point is that any actual interpretant of a given sign can theoretically be interpreted in some further sign, and that in another without any necessary end being reached. The exigencies of practical life inevitably cut short such potentially endless development.’ For Peirce, “habit†governs pragmatical sign use; convention, that is, points us toward proper interpretation. But the key here is that convention merely helps us to interpret. Following conventions, that is, is only a way of doing what is essential, namely, giving clues to intention.For Culler, “a willingness to think of literature as an institution composed of a variety of interpretive operations†leads to the inevitable conclusion that all interpretive operations are dependent upon the institutional assumptions of the interpreter. Given that the assumptions which govern interpretive practices are theoretically illimitableâ€â€precisely because they are not universal, but are rather constructed as (provisional) propositionsâ€â€interpretation itself is illimitable. What I would argue, however, is that while interpretive assumptions may indeed be institutionally (and thus impermenantly) sanctioned, “meaning†is not a product of particular assumptions, but rather a product of the intention to signify. If by “interpretation†we mean we are seeking a text’s “meaning†(what the addresser “meant†by the signs she used) then what we are after is, in fact, stable. That institutions can adopt illimitable interpretive assumptions, then, simply means that at different times we believe we can do different things with texts, depending upon the assumptions employed at a given interpretive moment. But the force of this (accurate) claim does nothing to alter the meaning of the text under investigation; instead, it testifies to a kind of ingenuity which seeks to equate incorrigibility with absenceâ€â€and therefore to equate whatever proves non-provable with the necessity of its provisionality.
Sorry, but snarky dismissals are not going to do, except among Thersites’ amen chorus, who have already declared him the victor (presumably without having read my argument themselves).
My advice? Perhaps Thersites and co. should read through the entire thing before they further “dismantle†it.
That will at least save me the trouble of having to cut and paste my responses—and will save Thersites the embarrassment of suggesting I haven’t considered the points he brings up for the “delectation” of his readers.
update: Thersites replies, first by quoting from this post:
Intentionalists are well aware of (and dutifully acknowledge) the social conditions [convention, context, multiple authorship, presumption of agency, inter- and intratextuality, etc.] necessary for the communication of meaning. In fact, the notes themselves address (and critique) how this common sense observation is made into an interpretive paradigm and then “used†to justify the marginalization of the “author†(along with originary intent), and to expand “meaning†beyond any coherent parameters (meaning as untethered from authorial intent).
—then arguing:
The standard oversimplification. There is just far more to any linguistic exchange that takes place in the real world than can be accounted for through “authorial intent.”
Literature is a case in point, indeed THE case in point for, well, literary analysis. JG says he is talking about “interpretation in general, and applying general principles to literary texts as well as any other text.” This is exactly the problem. As I said, this approach “elides the entire history of how literature came to be constitued as a unique social field explicable by the specific rules (descriptive more than prescriptive) that in fact define it.” Literary texts are NOT “any other text.”
He says he answers this objection by refuting Derrida and Culler. Which is nice, but I’m not making a deconstructionist argument, something that should be obvious to anyone who recognizes where phrases like “exterminate the brutes” (all of them!) come from. Sheesh. (I’m not making any sort of new critical or romantic argument about Great Literature, either. )
JG’s approach ultimately ends in a refusal to say anything actually insightful or perceptive about literature, or even authors. It’s not that he’s wrong, it’s that he’s… dull. And leaves the door open to some bad-faith and noxious kinds of arguments. I’ll get to that later. Meanwhile, my opinion of the sentence I quoted stands, notwithstanding JG’s refutation of something I wasn’t talking about.
Quickly, because I’m on my way to a Rockies game:
1) Thersites’ first claim: “The standard oversimplification. There is just far more to any linguistic exchange that takes place in the real world than can be accounted for through ‘authorial intent.’”
True and false. We can (and do) do many things with texts “in the real world” that don’t take into consideration authorial intent. But again, that’s not in dispute. The question is, what makes those things we do which don’t take into account authorial intent come to count as “interpretation”? Again. I implore you, Thersites: read more. All of this is covered quite thoroughly in my notes.
2) Thersites’ second claim: “Literary texts are NOT ‘any other text.’” Here, Thersites’ is claiming a special status for literary texts, though it is not clear on what he is basing this rather interesting ontological distinction. Presumably, he wishes to say that we do different things with literary texts than we do with other kinds of texts.
To which my reply, once again, is…and? I thought I’d addressed this clearly enough by highlighting the response to Culler (ignore Thersites’ red herring about my trying to pigeonhole him as a deconstructionist; I’m not, nor are such labels important here, though his initial appeal to the “social conditions necessary for the communication of meaning” indicate he is an adherent of one of the “reader response” schools), but evidently Thersites needs me to zero in more: here is my direct address to the assertion that literary texts, because they are placed in an interpretive context with different expectations from other texts (which doesn’t make them different, I would argue—only differently situated—but we’ll grant Thersites his peculiar ontological tic), cannot be treated similarly, and are open to “more” meaning than, say, street signs. Once again, and with feeling!:
What I would argue, however, is that while interpretive assumptions may indeed be institutionally (and thus impermenantly) sanctioned, “meaning†is not a product of particular assumptions, but rather a product of the intention to signify. If by “interpretation†we mean we are seeking a text’s “meaning†(what the addresser “meant†by the signs she used) then what we are after is, in fact, stable. That institutions can adopt illimitable interpretive assumptions, then, simply means that at different times we believe we can do different things with texts, depending upon the assumptions employed at a given interpretive moment. But the force of this (accurate) claim does nothing to alter the meaning of the text under investigation; instead, it testifies to a kind of ingenuity which seeks to equate incorrigibility with absenceâ€â€and therefore to equate whatever proves non-provable with the necessity of its provisionality.
3) Thersites’ third claim: “JG’s approach ultimately ends in a refusal to say anything actually insightful or perceptive about literature, or even authors. It’s not that he’s wrong, it’s that he’s… dull. And leaves the door open to some bad-faith and noxious kinds of arguments. I’ll get to that later.”
Well, whether or not I have anything insightful or perceptive to say about literature is a matter of opinion; a noted Renaissance scholar, for instance, was very excited about my take on The Prince (I read it as a parody on Renaissance advice manuals, though through Hutcheons, and a bit differently than Mattingly); and I think the discussion of In Cold Blood, Ragtime, Beloved and Portnoy’s Complaint toward the end of the notes is very interesting, though of course, I’m biased.
My students found it interesting, though—as did they being taught intentionalism through a study of Curious George. But it takes a great deal to titilate Thersites (“GOLDSTEIN EATS PASTE! OPEN THREAD!”), so I am willing to grant that perhaps he truly is bored by what I have to say.
However, lest we miss it in all the self-serving verbiage, Thersites does note “It’s not that he’s wrong, it’s that he’s… dull”—which means we’re making progress.
Although I would have preferred “right” instead of “not wrong.” But again, that’s just me nitpicking.
As to the claim that certain ideas about interpretation “leave the door open to some bad-faith and noxious kinds of arguments,” well, I couldn’t agree more. As regular readers know, I believe that ideas of interpretation that proceed from an incoherent base in linguistics are dangerous and lead us toward an interpretive environment where meaning is “made” in the person of the interpreter, but can be ascribed, conveniently, to the author (if one so wishes), or else be said to exist independently of the author. That’s trying to have your cake and eat it to, and it leads to a situation in which meaning is necessarily relative, having nothing concrete to anchor itself to.
Intent—whether it is the intent of the original author or the intent of the interpreter—is what provides marks their signification, and so a text its “meaning(s)”. Thersites calls this a “standard oversimplification”—though he doesn’t say how or why, except to note that we can do more with texts than appeal to an author’s intent. But again, so what? Yes, we can make paper airplanes out of the pages of Ulysses or origami out of the pages of Moby Dick—neither of which changes the fact that, for purposes of interpretation, what I take pains to describe in my notes is the process of making and interpreting meaning.
But please, let us continue….
****
1 for a very interesting discussion of Searle and intentionalism, see the post and, in particular, the comments, here (h/t beetroot). Very little use of “paste” or “dork,” though, so the discussion might not be for everyone. My (brief) response is here.
“Mongo just pawn in game of life.”
Literary theory makes my head hurt. Especially post-moderist theory. Sadist.
SB: alone
in my head
If I only had a nickel for every dinner party that ended badly over this very argument.
We’ll be tossing literary glasses of Chateau neuf du Pape across the web’s white linen in a few moments…. and that’s when it gets real ugly.
Still swinging that USS Iowa class battleship around, I see. But, I guess this time it is a little more than a fly you are squashing. More like a garden spider, I think.
Why do these people seek to embarrass themselves in a medium that allows us to see every word of the argument? It’s one thing to snipe at somebody in a conversation, or to gossip. But thanks to Google caches, screen freezes/shots, etc., we can trace the whole massacre out in detail.
Better luck next time, Thersites.
I recommend that he switch to margaritas, if he’s going the blender-drink route.
I think I am following this argument. If you get my meaning.
So meaning stems from the intent to signify, in general i’m down with that. But what happens when the signifier lacks the knowledge or skills necessary to the task? Not all malapropisms are intentional. Do we always mean what we say? Probably a safe assumption for literary texts, but once we expand the scope to include the great unwashed don’t things get a little bit dicey?
*font size alert*
That’s it? That’s his idea of a smackdown? Wow.
Culler taught me Theory.
Took me years to recover.
No, seriously, he was a great teacher.
I thought that some of the metaphysical imagery was really particularly effective. Interesting rhythmic devices too, which seemed to counterpoint the surrealism of the underlying metaphor of the humanity of the Vogonity.
TW: served; Ameglian Major Cow.
He’d better call out the reinforcements of the MLA but fast! He’s not up to this task.
There’s nothing so desperately empty as postmodern lit-crit. The last refuge of the moronic scoundrel in tweed. Only a total dipwad fool would take classes from such a cherkov glue sniffer.
Much could be said here …
But far be it that Thirsty actually give it the old college try …
:::guffaw:::
What I would argue, however, is that while interpretive assumptions may indeed by institutionally (and thus impermenantly) sanctioned,
I assume you actually meant ”be sanctioned,” because otherwise I’m confused.
(Of course, if I choose to interpret it as “by,” and I can get that institutionally sanctioned, or indeed interpret it as “I have a gun, give me all your money and I am going to shoot you,” who are you to disagree? After all, even though you may be the author, you do not exist in the same quantum state as the instant you wrote it and cannot claim to be that exact person, and additionally you may misremember or even intentionally misconstrue your original meaning in subsequent references to it.
BECAUSE OF THE NON-PROVABILTY!!
Of course, the infinite malleability of interpretation is why in law intent generally trumps any and all interpretations. Otherwise, you’d be under arrest for armed robbery right now.)
One of my fave’s –
The Post-Modern Paper Generator
Random Dadist dribblings at the click of a mouse.
http://www.elsewhere.org/pomo
SB: mother
grabber
He lost me with ‘The first of these claims is this: a text has one “meaning,â€Â.’ Only a liar or a fool would posit that a message doesn’t mean what its author intends, and there are too many beers I haven’t tried to waste time on liars or fools.
“meaning†is not a product of particular assumptions, but rather a product of the intention to signify.”
Okay, I’m not sure I understand much of any of this (I referred to Derrida as Jack DeRider when forced to the theory trough), but isn’t this excerpt the crux of the matter? I mean, isn’t thirsty simply insisting that your intention to signify what you intended to signify in the first place be forced through the sieve of his own peculiar assumptions?
TW: I can’t for the “life” of me figure out how these people pass the smell test.
Jeff,
I would like to follow along…but my 58 year old eyes are betraying me. Could you help us old folks?
Funny that through my interpretive filter Thermopylae seems to be agreeing with everything you say, Jeff, and in fact has offered some rather blush-inducing suggestions in which paste would be employed as the lubricant (with the neccessity of its provisionality).
Which is to say, having read both arguments, and subjected each to deliberation and analysis, I know which post I’d rather take a dump on.
“His own,” insofar as he embodiesâ€â€or, really, is spoken through byâ€â€a certain hierarchic officialdom, yes. Because somehow, through the miracle of passive voice,
Read that as rulers, if you like. He (and Culler) can’t have one without the other.
But Jeff (and Searle) can.
[Explanation redacted, because I won’t even talk at these people.]
Let me know when we’re arguing about Axial fluvial depositional systems in a braided stream enviroment, but until that point I’m going to let you handle it. God knows you lost me in that arguement pretty early.
Ah. The first bit that made sense in this post.
And let me just make it clear: Mortimer Mouse is the dumbest Disney character ever.
“I can’t for the “life†of me figure out how these people pass the smell test.”
Simple.
They grade the test.
But if the reader’s intentions trump the author’s, then who is confus-ed here? After all, that Thersites cannot see a way, does not mean that others cannot. Thersites reveals the limitations of his own imagination AND shoots his argument in the back all at the same time. Bravo, sir!
Methinks that Thersites, our hunch-hemisphered guest, might want to step a bit more softly when discussing an author’s limitationsâ€â€any authorâ€â€when trumpeting the primacy of his own class.
But whatever. You guys play nice with the Latin-Greek imaginary words. I’ll content myself with the Saxon and four-letter variety.
Personally, I’d just slap him for saying something like that about my mother.
Hell, why not?
ThomasD asks:
All we’re seeing in the case of a malapropism is a failure to signal intent “correctly” (that is, using conventional means). An easy way to think of this is to imagine yourself in a situation where you are trying to say one thing but you choose the wrong word, one that confuses the interpreter.
Under those conditions, your intent to mean a particular thing is unchanged. The way you went about using the tools to make sure your meaning was properly interpreted, however, broke down.
In short, you created a use for the sign (you added to the signifer an unconventional signified) that is confusing in a given context—and so is likely to be misunderstood. You, however, still meant what you meant by it—despite your failure to signal your meaning effectively.
I actually discuss this somewhere in the notes at greater length. I’d try to find it for you, but my wife got us tickets to the Rockies game tonight, so I’m writing this on my way out the door.
Boy, I am so not qualified to comment on this stuff, and I’m impressed people get paid to do it. Basically, I like porn.
So, then, are spoonerisms a subset of malapropisms, or vise reversa?
or do they even belong together?
(ooh, I think like this game)
They have pencils that have erasers.
Jeff, I think you’re taking the wrong tack. I don’t have the props to do it—I lack the vocabulary and the reference library—but if you have the time and energy, you should take him at his word.
That is, instead of arguing against him in any way, you should very carefully interpret his argument in a way that denies intent. That is, you should produce a reading of his post that agrees totally with what you say and directly contradicts him. After all, the interpeter is free to derive any interpretation from the speech that can be extracted from the symbols, right? And the symbols themselves may be interpeted as signifiers according to the appropriate reading… it ought to be interesting, at the very least.
When he protests, do it again to the protest, with maximum quoting of the previous post.
It seems to this particular gap-toothed redneck that denying intent is the same thing as saying that one’s own work is a waste of time and annoys the electrons.
Regards,
Ric
Ummm, it’s spelled pron.
Anyone who would write “tendentious rubbish” is a twat.
Really, you could have just called him a pussy and saved yourself a lot of writing.
I think I’m envisioning a three-way ‘wisdom Churchill/Billy Jack/Thersites embroglio series coming on.
Fish, meet barrel. Do it Jeff.
Ummmm….you do realize that you’re quoting JG?
And just to build some consensus (maybe): Do all of JG’s fans agree that “Only a liar or a fool would posit that a message doesn’t mean what its author intends”?
Just curious.
You wantcher literary theory?
Make ‘em laugh
Make ‘em cry
make ‘em wait for the next book
I’ve been hangin’ out here too lon
I actually understand a lot of that post!!!(Thanks Jeff)
sheesh…long
maybe I needs more Larnin’
Lots of great stuff here to gnaw on. Special thanks to the “gap-toothed red-neck“‘s “theory-challenged accessible” illumination.
Now we all know what Thersites means to say when he says what he says so poorly. Better than he does.
I got an idea for thirst’s next journal article though: Trans-meaning Textuality.
Hmmmm.
Ok.
1. Is there a test?
2. Is there a mid-term?
3. Do I get any credits for this coursework?
Posit, yes. Conclude, perhaps not. You do know the difference, yes?
Only a liar who is also an egotistical jerkwad with an inflated sense of personal adequacy would reduce the position to that. Of course it’s simple, therefore appropriate for simple minds.
Regards,
Ric
I’m just waiting for Thersites to employ the full power of his paradigmn by interpreting Jeff to be in agreement with him.
JG says:
Your scholar must’ve led a somewhat sheltered life. There’s really nothing new or startling about the idea of “The Prince” as parody (cf. Rousseau). And there’s nothing new or startling about the idea of it as a sort of Satanic inversion of the “mirror for princes” genre. To put those two ideas together is obvious enough. Indeed, Garrett Mattingly did exactly that in 1958:
Which is not by any means to imply that you plagiarized Mattingly or anyone else. I’m just kind of surprised that a “noted Renaissance scholar” got excited over this interpretation.
That said, carry on.
Glad to see you have your priorities straight and sure hope you enjoyed the game.
Your argument certainly sounds consistent and coherent to my unwashed ears. I’m less concerned with the obvious breakdowns that can occur with poor communication, but more struck by the examples where a breakdown should occur, but where the reader/listener is somehow able to intuit meaning even in the presence of incorrect signification. Somewhat paradoxically, this would seem to strengthen your argument all the more – that intent can indeed trump all else.
I’ll sleep well knowing that originality and uniqueness remain separate concepts.
and, all tolled, I’d rather be a paste-eater than a glue-sniffer.
Jeff
– what then do we assign to the walls of litterary material, the product of hundreds of years of the middle ages from notables such as Nostradamous, wherein the authors, muse or bard, were forced, as a primary need, to ensconch their purposful meanings as “the” writer, in extensive code-speak of the times, seeking to maintain their heads atop their shoulders. One can imagine the simpler minded quafing on his mead, thouroughly enjoying the wimsy of a lyrical cannon or fanciful tale, while his wisened companions on either side of him, astride the rough hewn benches, frowned deeply, considering the best way to cover the taste of arsenic deposited in the Royal ham, all parties enjoying the same spoken/sung passage of prose. Since both versions of interpretation of the natient signs imported meaning to its attendent listeners, is there a “better-ness” of one over the other?
– Kings everywhere want to know. The rest of us just want to go on enjoying our meads, and a quiet wet fart once in awhile.
TW: The voice speaks forth through the ether, and having spoken laughs on…..
“Do all of JG’s fans agree that “Only a liar or a fool would posit that a message doesn’t mean what its author intendsâ€Â?”
Asking a question like this in the type of echo chamber I suspect you usually frequent would get a fairly quick alignment of agreement with whatever opinion is held by the alpha inhabitant…Atrios, Thersites, whoever. Here I think you’d find it more like an attempt to herd cats.
Let’s say right off the bat that distortion of meaning due to a failing by an intermediary like an interpretor or messenger doesn’t count. Given that, I do agree that “Only a liar or a fool would posit that a message doesn’t mean what its author intends†with one major caveat. You can’t get around the filtering due to their unique experiences and expectations exhibited by all parties in any exchange of messages so messages can convey more or less meaning than the author intends. Nuance is the catchall term for this. That’s not to say that the original message is not what the author intended but that the author’s choice of words and the reader’s interpretation of those choices add graduation and shading to meaning.
Is that what you were driving at? I ask because a core message can be obscured and it’s meaning completely altered if enough intentional distortion under the umbrella of nuance is applied. Calling ‘nuance’ has been a favorite method for mooting a contradictory message by the left when trying to explain away the many inconsistencies in their worldview (and predictions based on it). It would not surprise me to have you drag nuance out next.
It’s discussions like this that make me glad I’m an engineer.
I beg your pardon? Exactly who are you trying to insult here?
I’m not trying to “reduce the position” to anything. I was trying to get some sense of well how the commenters here understand the basic issues under discussion. Some people, I’m sure, understand them perfectly. Some people, obviously, don’t (e.g., the ones who imply that Thersites is arguing for some sort of deconstructionist free-for-all).
One commenter made a pretty bold statement, so I quoted it and asked whether anyone agreed with it. I thought it was a fair question. If it wasn’t, the hell with it. Never mind. I’ll go have a daquiri.
You’re talking about interpretation. I’m not. I’m asking if a message, before interpretation by an addressee, means what its author intends? If so, why and how?
Your patience for Thirsty is admirable, to the extent it’s not a total waste of your time and patience.
Phila – Your frustration is well founded. The question wasn’t so much at fault, just the poor interpretation. Several of us, I would venture to guess, realized you were just wicked thirsty.
Theory sucks.
Phila,
You’re trying to get to the Deep Philosophical Questions, and I don’t go there. If a tree falls in the forest it causes pressure waves in the air. If you and the rest of the Department want to gas about whether or not that constitutes “sound” please feel free. I’ll even drink beer and nod profoundly once in a while, but you have to buy.
If I’m understanding the jargon correctly, when an author makes symbols to encode a message then either the message means (some part of) what the author intended or the author made an error. The error, if it exists, or omission may illuminate some portion of the question the message addresses, which is why deconstruction is not totally useless. Omission always occurs; there is no set of symbols that can convey the entirety of any meaning, and no such can be contrived. The only possible full and true representation of the Universe is the Universe itself. All else is abbreviation and abridgement.
What Thersites is attempting is a binary separation of Universe into “literature” and “not-literature”, claiming for himself the authority to draw the boundary and arrogating to himself the ability to construct it from the symbols without reference to the author. He fails, for the same reason philosophy ultimately fails: the concept of a boundary is a construct—a useful construct, but a construct nevertheless. Universe cannot be separated into “A” and “not-A”. Every thing, in the sense of that-which-is-signified, has a finite extent, and a boundary is a finite zone in which “A” transitions to “not-A” through intermediate stages. Definitions are useful away from the boundary zone, but trying to draw them so strictly as to generate a boundary of zero width is a useless exercise except to the bartender, and possibly to the vendor of bar napkins.
Jeff’s charge is larger, and his ambition correspondingly more modest. He claims to examine “messages” which are constructed by authors producing symbols, and does not attempt a more particular definition; his thesis is not literary (because he rejects “literature” and “not-literature” as meaningful distinctions) but social. Subject to his correction I will attempt paraphrase: interpreting a message without privileging the intent of the author destroys the very concept of “message” and renders the interpretation—itself a message—void. If “message” is an empty concept intercourse, and therefore society, is impossible on its face.
Thersites—and you, perhaps?—may find self-titillation sufficient. The rest of us prefer something more satisfying.
Regards,
Ric
tw: clearly. Well, no, as a matter of fact, but I did try thinking it through while mucking out the horse-stalls.
Ric,
CLAP!
CLAP!
CLAP!
CLAP!
CLAP!
CLAP!
ENCORE!!
Presuming to know what someone else is thinking beyond what they’ve communicated through word and action is presumption at best, suicidal folly at worst.
Actually, Phila, she was familiar w/ Mattingly’s take but wasn’t persuaded by it. In fact, somebody whose name I can’t remember (a Notre Dame prof) came out with a similar argument about the same time I wrote my paper.
What Dr Wilson (she’s a Quijote scholar) liked about my particular essay is that it used Linda Hutcheon’s ideas about parody and then used a narratological approach to show how the book slowly deconstructs in on itself, in what I posited was part of the books design to signal the parodic intent.
So, while I appreciate your raising the specter of Mattingly’s early entry into the parodic reading (I included him in my paper, incidentally)—and while I further enjoyed your implication that Dr Wilson led a sheltered academic life simply because somebody else had made the argument before me that she was not convinced by, while she was, in fact, convinced by mine (not sure how many years she taught The Prince, but if I had to guess, I’d say 20-25, maybe?)—I’ll just conclude, out of kindness, that you didn’t mean to be a smug prick trying to show off, or trying to suggest plagiarism without having read the paper or knowing very much about it, for that matter.
Howdy, Ric —
Well, you answered it at some length, using a number of philosophical terms, so evidently, you do go there. (And I’m grateful for it, BTW!)
You say, “What Thersites is attempting is a binary separation of Universe into “literature†and “not-literatureâ€Â, claiming for himself the authority to draw the boundary and arrogating to himself the ability to construct it from the symbols without reference to the author.”
Hmmm. I don’t see him saying that. Can you show me where he does? If not, please recall that “interpreting a message without privileging the intent of the author destroys the very concept of ‘message’ and renders the interpretationâ€â€itself a messageâ€â€void.” (Speaking of that, how many of the comments in this thread meet that interpretive standard, would you say?)
Unless I’m completely nuts, I see Thersites claiming – among other things – that literature is a unique cultural field defined by specific descriptive rules. One doesn’t have to agree with him, but I’m hard pressed to see how it’s an inherently stupid thing for him to believe. The Deep Philosophical complaint that the universe shouldn’t be separated into “literature and non-literature” doesn’t mean much to me; you may as well say it shouldn’t be separated into fire ants and not-fire ants, or daquiris and not-daquiris. If it’s truly impossible (or unnecessary) to distinguish between speech and books for the purpose of literary analysis, I’d like to know precisely why.
Unfortunately, I’ll have to leave it there for now, ‘cause if I spend yet another night debating questions like these, my wife’s gonna kick me in the slats.
I do appreciate your friendly answer, though.
Whatever other obnoxiousness I may be guilty of, I had no intention of accusing you of plagiarism on any level. Can see why you might suspect it…but when I said I wasn’t accusing you of that, I meant it.
Yeah, the “sheltered life” part was definitely me being kind of a prick. Guilty as charged. I was going by your description of your paper, and expressing surprise that it was thought to be “exciting” since all you said about it was that it treated “The Prince” as a parody of advice manuals.
So I chose an admittedly obnoxious way of saying “What’s so special about that?” Not the first departure from strict courtesy here today, I think. Probably won’t be the last, either. We’re no angels, I guess.
Anyway, I asked, you answered, so that’s that (unless I read the paper, someday). Thanks for your time.
You don’t seem to get intentionalism, Phila.
All it requires is that a given interpretation appeal to what the interpreter believes is the author’s intent. Ric clearly believes Thersites’ intent—to carve out a special place for literature (which, by the way, I have no problem with; what is silly is the idea that literary differs materially from non-literature in terms of how it functions as language)—and so, even if he is wrong, he has followed the procedures for proper interpretation.
<blockquote>Unless I’m completely nuts, I see Thersites claiming – among other things – that literature is a unique cultural field defined by specific descriptive rules. One doesn’t have to agree with him, but I’m hard pressed to see how it’s an inherently stupid thing for him to believe.</blockquote>Noting that literature is a unique cultural field (so is sanitary engineering, incidentally) is different than claiming that literature is different in kind from other texts.
The purpose of me reiterating the passage on Culler makes that clear: we can do (theoretically) infinite things with literary texts, or come up with an infinite number or assumptions about interpretation—none of which changes the essential fixed nature of meaning, formed when a signifier is signified by some agency.
It is of course possible to make such distinctions. As to whether or not it is “necessary,” that depends upon your purpose for drawing the distinction.
But if what you think you are doing is interpreting, then it makes no coherent sense to say that the signification occurring in the production of a literary text is different from signification occurring in any other kind of text. Agency adds a signified (and a referent, if you want to follow Peirce rather than Saussure) to a signifier. At that point—the moment language / the sign is created—meaning is set.
I really do wish some of you who are making these arguments would actually read the notes; because I have dealt with these questions in detail. And I think you’ll find that your understanding of intentionalism—and its importance—would improve dramatically.
<blockquote>I see Thersites claiming – among other things – that literature is a unique cultural field defined by specific descriptive rules.</blockquote>
A “rule” is a special case of “message”, a subset if you will. Thersites claims that it is valid to interpret a message based solely upon the symbols and the meaning the reader applies to them. If we apply that standard to a rule, the rule becomes whatever the interpreter decides it is. So Thersites can apply his interpretation of the rules to define what he wishes to as “literature”.
Absent obvious trolls, the majority of commenters here seem to privilege the author’s intent. Many times they interpret that intent mistakenly, but there’s nothing in intentionalism that requires either author or interpreter to perform their tasks successfully.
Sibling! and my boss will lay me off for physical disability… G’night, all.
Regards,
Ric
Phila —
I appreciate the clarification, re: The Prince. I have been wanting to post the paper for a long time, but I wrote it several computers ago, and I’m not great at keeping track of old files. Which means I have to dig it out and retype it.
And the prospect doesn’t thrill me.
For what it’s worth, Dr Wilson wanted me to shorten it and send it into Renaissance Quarterly for publication. But I never got around to it, alas. First, foremost, I’m a fiction writer. And at around that time I started getting into hypertext fiction, and shoved “The Prince’s (Parodic) Progress” on the back burner.
For someone who is a “radical intentionalist,” I am also, by dint of being a fiction writer myself, quite interested in certain formalist endeavors, chief among them narratology (I did some interesting work on both Gatsby and The Time Machine from a narratological perspective).
Anyway, if you have time, read through the notes, and then we can talk about them productively.
Are literary texts different from other texts? I think I have this one solved. To judge, Thersites stands at the bottom of a tall tower. I stand at the top, with a heavy literary text, and an equally heavy non-literary text…
Phila asked:
“Do all of JG’s fans agree that “Only a liar or a fool would posit that a message doesn’t mean what its author intendsâ€Â?â€Â
Just Passing Through answered:
Given that, I do agree that “Only a liar or a fool would posit that a message doesn’t mean what its author intends†with one major caveat. You can’t get around the filtering due to their unique experiences and expectations exhibited by all parties in any exchange of messages so messages can convey more or less meaning than the author intends. Nuance is the catchall term for this. That’s not to say that the original message is not what the author intended but that the author’s choice of words and the reader’s interpretation of those choices add graduation and shading to meaning.
I would like to know what Jeff thinks of the above answer.
The “unique experiences and expectations” cannot be captured by an analysis of the author’s intent. Audience response must be taken into account, if you are interested in their response to a text.
The question is: What are those various responses? And should scholars ignore those unique experiences? Are those different reactions to texts meaningful or significant? Or should scholars dismiss or ignore the audience reaction? (Does it matter how the audience reacted to Shakespere’s plays? If they laughed or if they cried?)
What does it mean to read Lolita in Tehran?
Thersites nervously tugged his toga across his chest a few inches as the bartender leaned over the edge of the bar.
“You wanna think long and hard before ya start decontextualizing ‘round here.”
Thersities hadn’t thought he’d said anything aloud.
The bartender waited until Thersites made eye contact, a gesture that the words had made it through, then grabbed a glass from behind the counter.
“Don’t get me wrong, son,” the grey-maned server continued. “We’re all about free thinkin’ here. Think anything you like. But if’n ya get to imputin’ things into an author’s work all haphazard… well, someone’s bound to take offense.”
Thersites had a feeling the lecture wasn’t over, and said nothing. He simply nursed his Mai Tai and waited. The bartenber poured himself a Pale Ale.
“Take for example mah boy Jeff,” the bartender gestured loosely at a bearded grizzly sitting in the corner with a sombreroed armadillo. Half a dozen empty shot glasses sat upside down in front of the armadillo, the bearded man was arranging colorful capsules in rows on the table.
“Get a couple of Klonopin in him, Jeff’l entertain yer vague theories about meaning all day. That damned ‘dillo, though…”
As if in response, the armadillo stirred. Beady reflected eyes looked around the room from under the sombrero’s brim, then the armadillo began to lazily gnaw on the edge of the table.
“He ain’t got no room for nuance. Step too far away from literal interpretation and he gets cranky. Liable to chow down on something else.”
The armadillo managed to pull a chunk of splintered wood out from the table and was tugging on it like a dog worrying a rawhide chew.
“Oh,” the bartender added, “do us all a favor and don’t mention paste.”
Thersites sighed as the bartender walked away. “I knew I shouldn’t have made that left turn at Albuquerque.”
The distinct feeling I get from reading your posts on this matter is, “Yes, and…?” I wouldn’t say I find your writing dull, it’s not. And, unlike most other academics in this field you at least come across as honestly interested in pursuing problems of interpretation rather than grinding your own political axe and then retroactively confabulating an interpretive theory that supports your cause; the issue is that outside of theoretical or rabidly political situations, intent is so central to understanding that it seems positively banal for anyone who already has two feet planted on the ground. (Not that it doesn’t bear repeating in an environment where cogitation has become disconnected from reality.)
Perhaps I’m just expecting too much from what this form of inquiry can provide, and I need to look elsewhere to find out how, in concrete terms, intent is so reliably conveyed between the ‘speaker’ and the ‘listener’. Neuroscience may have some interesting things to contribute. Recently, for example (and I apologize for not having a link), I remember reading a study of how the brain handled reading and reacting to other emotional cues. If I recall correctly, the brain in effect attempts to mimic the emotional state that may trigger a specific facial expression. There was also a study about a year (?) ago about how the brain is capable of deciphering, with little or no slowdown, scrambled words so long as the first and last letters are intact; this suggests that the brain is largely capable of extrapolating the likely direction of a thought even when the symbols used to convey them are incomplete or jumbled.
I suspect, if we were able to visualize the process of interpretation, that the brain actually does a lot of extraordinarily complex modelling of the potential mental states of the author (using the self as the frame of reference, naturally) and derives intent from what is essentially a mock-up of the author’s mental states compared against key mental states indicated by a symbolic code(ie, communication). In a sense this is like the emulation of another operating system within a given operating system. My impression is that the brain is largely able to fill-in and correct jumbled communications because once a sufficient amount of the code has been deciphered we’re able to model the mental states of the speaker so well that we can subconsciously determine the “inertia” of a given thought pattern. Confusing code (in the form of jumbled or incorrect symbols) is predicted according to this path, deciphered, used to assess whether the n-1 model state was correct or not, and then rejected or confirmed.
This model suggests to me a strong link between facility at interpretation and sympathy/empathy, which I would argue is largely born out by women’s overall verbal and emotional aptitude. It also makes sense to me in how literature is frequently talked about or reacted to—When reading literature from outside of our immediate experience we [ought to] try to place ourselves in the perceived experience of the author by learning about the history of that environment. On the flip side, if we come to a book with expectations of finding the author to be a bigoted bourgeois oppressor our mental model of authorial mental states is going to be similarly crude and confirmation bias will prevail.
I also feel that a lot of the “struggle” I see in of modern literary criticism supports this idea. There aren’t many so-called theorists that I’ve read (granted, I’m not widely read in this field) that actually try to completely decouple symbols from intent—To do so would be self defeating, as without intent symbols are no longer symbols at all. It seems more likely to me that the goal is to twist the mental model the critic creates of the author into completely untenable but ingenious mental knots while still managing to draw blood from the stone, so to speak, of the text. The more convoluted the mental model of the author it requires to grasp the interpretation of the symbolic code the better. I suppose this all is intended as some sort of status display and fitness indicator, but from the looks of things it’s one whose evolutionary cost has grown too high.
Note that I am not a neuroscientist, literary theorist, or any other -ist that would grant me more than tangential credibility on this subject matter. Grains of salt required.
No, that’s not what’s stumping me…
If the goal of one’s interpretive efforts is to approach, as closely as possible, “the essential fixed nature of meaning, formed when a signifier is signified by some agency,” then it surely matters how Ric (or whomever) goes about “privileging” Thersites’ intent.
I’m assuming the goal here is to interpret Thersites successfully (if only to refute him effectively). I don’t think Ric did this when he claimed that Thersites is “arrogating to himself the ability to construct it [i.e., meaning, I assume] from the symbols without reference to the author.” At least, I don’t see how he infers it. Maybe I missed something.
Well, that’s obviously a huge point of contention between you and Thersites. I’m willing to listen to both sides, though I do have my prejudices (e.g., I’m not convinced that signification in music is identical to signification in a literary work).
OK, fair enough. I’ve been popping in and out at both sites, and so far have only dealt with the back and forth (and the comments). If I can’t wrench myself away from this debate – and I have a piss-poor record, as far as that goes – then yeah, I’ll need to read your notes in full.
Meanwhile, thanks for the response.
geoduck2 sez:
Response doesn’t affect the writing. Reading Lolita in Tehran means that you get Nabakov in your head in a place where such things are not allowed. Lolita remains unchanged.
What does it mean if you read Lolita in Tehran but instead of being Azar Nafisi you’re oh…let’s say Sean Penn? Does Tehran have anything to do with it or is it just the intrepid ship’s captain and Nabkov?
You’re talking about interpretation. I’m not. I’m asking if a message, before interpretation by an addressee, means what its author intends? If so, why and how?
No, I was not talking about interpretation, you are and so is geoduck. I specifically said that I was not. I was talking about nuance. Without the caveat that meaning can be shaded or graduated the core message means what it’s author intends. The ‘message’ in Lolita may be completely lost if you read it to an audience in Tehran, but the reaction of the audience does not alter the authors intent. The audience is free to suggest all sorts of alternative meanings and is safe in doing so if the author isn’t around or inclined to refute them.
Dissecting literature to discover the author’s message is best left until the author is dead and gone. You may even get it right. But right or wrong it’s still the reader’s interpretation of meaning and not the author’s intent. Suggesting that the author’s message is determined by the audience is something that date challenged college sophmores in their cups argue late at night.
Again, this is an engineer down the end of the bar eavesdropping but in my world communication between author and audience requires more than the supposition that communication is an observer choosing some random and transient pattern from white noise and assigning it coherency.
That first paragraph was a quote.
Sure. But what you are arguing is that Ric misinterpreted Thersites’ intent. Both you and Ric will rely on any number of textual and metatextual clues to interpret what Thersites’ wrote and ascribe to him the intention you think appropriate; and ultimately, the most persuasive interpretation will hold sway with readers deciding for themselves.
Which is only to say, you have each “decoded” and then “re-encoded” Thersites’ assertions—a snapshot of what you believe his intent to have been.
Where you run into trouble is when you begin to argue that it matters not what Thersites meant; his “words” say such and such, whether he intended them to or not. Which is just another way of saying, “I can re-signify the signifiers Thersites provides—stripping them of their original signifieds (by virtue of not appealing to his intent) and attach my own signifieds.”
But then the question becomes, how, in any way, is the text you now have Thersites’ text at all? Sure, the signifiers are the same. But signifiers are only marks, and without the assumption of agency behind them are not even language (though context and convention have taught us to look at them as language, precisely because we assume agency behind them).
Signification in music uses the same processes, presumably—just a different series of marks. Similarly, one can intend and not have mastered the means of signaling intent through conventional language. A child, for instance, may desperately want a bottle but lack the linguistic knowledge to make her intentions known conventionally (asking for a bottle). Instead, the child cries, or get a certain look on her face, etc. In either case, what the child “means” is “I want a bottle.” And so long as we are able to divine that, we will have interpreted the child’s wishes—understood the child’s intent. If the child makes the same face each time she wants a bottle (vs. wanting a diaper change, say), then we can begin to put together a system and use “convention” to guide interpretation.
This is in keeping, I think, with the observations Cineris offers above, which I think are largely spot on, with the exception of this:
Unfortunately, Cineris gives many lit theorists too much credit: there are several critical theories that HAVE actively tried to decouple the signifier from its moorings. And it is these theoretics that I am always combatting—precisely for the reasons Cineris notes: namely, without intent symbols are no longer symbols at all [in lit theory, you’d hear “marks” in place of symbols oftentimes].
Cineris is also correct, I suspect, about status displays, but I think the project goes deeper: by untethering the mark from its intentional moorings and claiming one is still “interpreting” is to free the signifiers to do the work of the reader while (incoherently—but one can see the benefits), when necessary, ascribing those readings to the original author.
This formalist / textualist procedure—the idea that the “words” exist somehow apart from intent—is dangerous. Most of the people who say such things (and this includes Scalia, for instance—though he is saved by simply mis-describing his own interpretive procedure) have not understood that they are simply replacing the author’s intent with their own, and then ascribing that intent to the author. Or, if they are not, they are simply saying that they can do things with a set of squiggles differently than the original author(s) did.
geoduck —
You write:
This is precisely why I think it would help if you read the notes first.
Of course we each bring unique experiences and expectations to a text—none of which changes the original text. All it does is impact the way we are likely to interpret it.
For instance, if we believe we don’t have to appeal to the original author’s intent, we have freed ourselves to make the “text” under examination our own. Which is fine. But what we haven’t done is “interpreted” the text.
And the answer to your question is implicit within it: “Audience response must be taken into account, if you are interested in their response to a text.”
When I’m interpreting a text, I’m interested in reconstructing its meaning. What you are describing is an interest in a given text’s interpretive history. Two different goals—though you can certainly use the interpretive history of a literary text as a clue toward authorial intent (for instance, if nearly all of the interpretations agree on a particular reading, it is easier to conclude that the reading in question is likely correct; though it is not necessarily so).
Reader-response criticism is all well and good, as long as it’s added-value.
It’s not incompatible with intentionalism. The intended meaning can be refracted through the prism of the reader/audience/environment . . . then it becomes an argument over which end of the process you want to focus on.
Analogy to supply/demand-side economics?
Jeff, how does parapraxis, the ol’ Freudian slip, jibe with this?
Clearly there are instances where the text as written (or spoken, or ASL-ed) does indeed “say such and such, whether [the author] intended it to or not.”
TW: “because”: BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO WORK ON MY DISS!
I don’t understand alot of the jargon, but I have tried to have a discussion with Mona, and I am pretty sure I am on JG’s side on this one.
Response doesn’t affect the writing. Reading Lolita in Tehran means that you get Nabakov in your head in a place where such things are not allowed. Lolita remains unchanged.
Yes, but how Lolita is received in Tehran is significant for someone who is researching Tehran in the late 20th and early 21st century.
The interaction of the text with the audience produces valuable evidence for scholars. I am arguing that that type of scholarship is legitimate and valuable.
Take, for example, the reception of Uncle Tom’s Cabin in 19th century America. The reception of that book tells us valuable information about the culture and politics of the 19th century United States.
Furthermore, this book was transformed into plays and a very, very early form of a movie. The translation of this text into various forms, is, in itself interesting. Why the obsession with this particular text? How does the meaning and reception of the text change when it is consumed in a play or movie format? Why was this particular story so popular in 19th century America?
The ways in which people consume or receive texts is important in understanding the significance of those texts in various times and places.
One last thing —
Recent work about the history of the book might be relevant to this discussion.
The way a text is read (or consumed) changes the reading experience.
For example: the oral recitation of the Iliad is a different experience then a silent reading of the text. Or a group reading of the Bible is a different experience then a silent reading of that text.
Group readings of texts provides a different experience of language. A group recitation of, for example, the Nicean creed is its own experience. And a oral group reading is a different experience then a silent reading of the creed. (or a silent reading of, say, the Song of Songs.)
High literacy rates are recent in the course of human history. And the popular practice of the silent reading of novels is a very recent phenomenom in human history.
Until now, I never realized how grateful I am that I got my degree in math. And to think that I struggled with Boolean set operations and logic. Childs play compared to sorting through all of this shit.
“I knew I shouldn’t have made that left turn at Albuquerque.â€Â
No shit, dude. There ain’t nothin’ to do in Pismo Beach. If you don’t get here soon with the tequila and the Red Lebanese, I’m gonna hafta hunt you down and kill ya.
Spamword, “meeting.” Go figure.
None of which changes the intrinsic meaning of the text.
Worse, in my opinion, is that there doesn’t seem to be a distinction between fiction and non-fiction. It’s possible, I suppose, to argue about different meanings of a poem or a piece of art; to even pretend that this sort of thing can be done to a political speech or argument strikes me as being insane.
Knemon —
There are a couple of ways to look at parapraxis. First, if an author says something “unintended” (and we’ll assume here that the slip does not go toward unconscious intent—the typical understanding of a Freudian slip), then s/he has simply misspoken. This is akin to a malapropism. The author intended to signal one intent but s/he simply failed to do so. This makes communication difficult—and, if the sound that is issued matches a conventional sound, makes it difficult to prove that your intent has been misunderstood.
An example. I pass you the salt. You say “fuck you” instead of “thank you.” Now, you meant to say thank you. But you misspoke and “fuck you” came out. What is the “meaning” of “fuck you” here?
The answer is, you added to the marks that make up “fuck you” the signified “thank you”, creating an unconventional sign that I am likely to misinterpret. But that doesn’t change your meaning. It simply makes it more likely that I will be misinterpret that meaning.
Another example. Same situation: I pass you the salt. Only this time, instead of saying “thank you” you say “glidicallatorator.”
Now, you’ve just spoken nonsense, but again, what you meant was “thank you.” You have once again simply failed to signal your intent, which was to show your appreciation for my gesture.
Convention might give me a clue as to your “meaning” though. I am of course accustomed to hearing “thank you” in that context, so I might be able to divine your intent even though you’ve signalled it uncoventionally. In this case, convention gives me clues to your intent, which helps me interpret your remark. But what is important, from an intentionalist perspective, is that when you said “glidicallatorator” (abstracted from intent, merely a collection of sounds), what you meant was “thank you.” And that’s true because the signified you attached to the nonsensical signifier made the sign “glidicallatorator” mean “thank you.”
In the case of a true Freudian slip, what we’re talking about is akin to irony, which attaches meaning to a sign that purposely (when it is the author’s intent to use irony, and not simply the reader’s attempt to create irony out of the situation) relies upon the rub of seemingly competing meanings. But an author can have many intentions (including, in some cases, the intent to leave a signifier unsignified or “open”), all of which are part of the meaning of a sign once it has been signified.
geoduck —
And no one is disagreeing. What it is not, however, is “intepretation” of the text. It is instead scholarship that can provide clues to interpretive assumptions over a period of time (or for a given culture, etc), because it’s concern is with response.
Which doesn’t at all change the fact that the original author signified the text in a particular way, and that within that signification lies originary meaning—what we are after when we claim to be “interpreting” a text.
As for the Hirschean idea of “significance,” well, again, that is fine and dandy. But it is does nothing to problematize the intentionalist paradigm.
Again, read the notes.
Heh.
mojo – priceless!
Here’s a dandy of a quote from the onion:
… [a] sprawling, 38,000-word dissertation, titled A Hermeneutical Exploration Of Onomatopoeia In The Works Of William Carlos Williams As It May Or May Not Relate To Post-Agrarian Appalachia
synchronicity.
Man, I had the comment window open for about 20 minutes before I came back and hit submit. Thanks alot for scooping me, mojo.
As for the Hirschean idea of “significance,†well, again, that is fine and dandy. But it is does nothing to problematize the intentionalist paradigm.
My questions and aim are a bit more general.
For the purposes of scholarship – the utility of authorial analysis is of limited interest versus the circulation of that text. (The utility of this type of interpretation is particularly restricted for cultural or social historians. Although if one is writing a historical biography it’s obviously quite significant.)
The aim and intent of the author is interesting when analyzing the author and the time and circumstances in which he produced the text. The historical circumstances of that particular time and place are quite compelling if that is your point of study, and your goal is to understand the author and his intent.
However, if the text circulates beyond that very specific time and place, if it circulates beyond that point of original production, then the context of the textual consumption becomes crucial to understanding the significance of that text. (In other words, to understand the signficance of Shakespeare in 1850s New York City, you have to place the text within that historical context.)
(Once the author releases his text into the world, it begins to circulate and is, of course, subject to the consumption of others.)
I do not think it’s a good idea for scholars to ignore the interaction of the text with the audience.
Isn’t this debate, at its core, a question of what kind of analysis and scholarship is more interesting and useful?
What is one’s goal when studying literature at the graduate level? For example, should a Shakespeare scholar study how Shakespeare’s audiences responded to his plays? Should a 19th century specialist examine why New Yorkers rioted in response to the Astor Opera House’s production of Macbeth in 1849?
(ie – And of course, all debates about scholarly methods are in some ways about who gets the jobs—Who should English departments hire to teach courses? ect.)
geoduck sez:
Sure it is, in an awfully minor way. But it doesn’t do anything for anyone trying to comprehend Nabakov’s book. We’re talking about the text, not where in the world Matt Lauer might pop up reading it.
If Neil Armstrong read Lolita on the Moon, that might be interesting for someone studying moon landings. Still, it tells you nothing about Nabakov or Lolita. It doesn’t tell you much about the moon, either.
Any book will evoke a different response in virtually everone who reads it. That does not mean that a bestseller is actually several million different books.
I think that most would agree that the epistemological nut is very tough to crack, but rational discourse requires us to state our assumptions.
Jeff, as far as I understand his argument, privileges authorial itent. He presumes that meaning exists as determined by its author, as signified, and that it is knowable. Those assumptions are completely rationale but impossible to prove. Regardless, I think most of us see the merits of the argument, and have experienced the benefits of interpreting accordingly. For example, I find it more worthwhle to pursue an understanding of Shakespeare by attempting to understand him as a 16th Century man writing in English. I’ve read interesting and clever interpretations that presume no such thing, but I find Shakespeare infinitely better.
Thersites’ sneer at New Criticism is certainly fashionable, but give me a great new critic any day.
I find much post modern criticism to be a shell game, sliding from context to context, the point being to demonstrate the intellectual dexterity of the critic. The text is immaterial. But “that way madness lies.”
SJG: The early bird gets the Wyrm, yannow…
So stop dragon yer ass.
The text does not interact. Reading a book is not an interactive experience, aside from that you ideally bought the sucker and put some cash in the author’s pocket.
I think it’s a fine idea to ignore the interaction, because it doesn’t exist.
I don’t understand why people want to make communication so very, very difficult.
Is it fun to 1) render oneself incomprehensible and 2) throw a spanner into every conversation worldwide?
Sure it is, in an awfully minor way. But it doesn’t do anything for anyone trying to comprehend Nabakov’s book. We’re talking about the text, not where in the world Matt Lauer might pop up reading it.
I don’t know about that. Check out the reviews on Reading Lolita in Tehran on Amazon. In the first couple of reviews a reader talks explicitly about how that book helped her understand Nabokov. It also filters the experience of Lolita through the repression of Tehran and makes Nabokov relevant in a specific 21st century way.
For example—here is a review on Reading Lolita at Amazon by a commenter named Ronald Scheer:
“‘Lolita,’ we discover, becomes a story of a girl who finally escapes from the clutches of a man who wants to erase who she is and turn her into a figment of his imagination. It’s not an allegory of Iran, Nafisi insists, but it’s hard not to see the parallels. The contamination of personal relationships between men and women and its impact on love and marriage inform their readings of James and Austen. Meanwhile, even as her classes meet to argue the merits of these authors, their books are disappearing as one bookstore after another is closed down.”
Reading a book is not an interactive experience, aside from that you ideally bought the sucker and put some cash in the author’s pocket.
Is this a joke, or are you being serious?
1)
“For the purposes of scholarship – the utility of authorial analysis **is of limited interest** versus the circulation of that text.”
Sez who?
2)
“**I do not think** it’s a good idea for scholars to ignore the interaction of the text with the audience.”
Oh, sez *you*!
3)
“Isn’t this debate, at its core, a question of what kind of analysis and scholarship is more interesting and useful?”
Of course.
For a long time, people who agree with statement #2 have been in the driver’s seat.
TW: lately, I see signs that it’s been COMING back around again … even in Berkeley, the belly of the belle-lettriste beast.
For example, I find it more worthwhle to pursue an understanding of Shakespeare by attempting to understand him as a 16th Century man writing in English.
I don’t think anybody is arguing this. (I certainly am not arguing it—I’m all for historical contextualizaton.)
Again, this is reaction to Nabakov’s work. And “Reading Lolita in Tehran” (which I bought for my niece, but have not yet read) doesn’t really fit the frame you’re trying to hang here, as it’s about Lolita and reactions to it in a particular situation. So, while I might gain a deeper appreciation for the work by reading it or reviews, interviews, or even a good old book report, none of these change the original work. They are works of their own, and each has its own intent imputed to it by the writer. They may manipulate our understanding of Nabakov, but they do not change him.
Nabakov isn’t moved by any of this, and the book hasn’t changed since he wrote it.
As a heart attack. Why would you think otherwise? How do you think you affect either the book or the author by reading it? What is it you think you’re interacting with?
If you’re not capable of making an effect, it’s not an interactive experience. It’s a one way street.
“**I do not think** it’s a good idea for scholars to ignore the interaction of the text with the audience.â€Â
So go ahead and ignore it.
But I though you were studying ancient Greece? I would think the audience would be particularly interesting to you because of the importance of theater & performance in the ancient Mediterranean world. (And I’m sure you know the arguments about the importance of oral recitaiton before the printing press: Oral recitation was more important before the printing press, ect…)
Whoops, have to backpedal a little:
Of course, scholars shouldn’t *ignore* that interaction … but it’s a lot easier to go off context-hunting than to first lay the foundation of reading and understanding the work (to the extent possible) on its own terms.
This is particularly crucial when you’re dealing with dead languages. The younger generation of classicists – and I’m as guilty of this as anyone – simply doesn’t read the text as much, or as well, as the Giants in Days of Yore.
I think we (big, collective, pompous We) should tack back a bit to the Golden Mean here. I think we’ve gone a bit too far in the cultural-poetics direction. We shouldn’t throw away the lenses of Theory, but we shouldn’t waste time genuflecting to the clay idol of Barthes (or whoever) either.
Camille Paglia (boo! hisssss!) said it best: “Wanna do something really revolutionary? Try reading Shakespeare.”
[Of course, geoduck, I don’t mean to imply that *you* don’t read the text first. But I’ve seen too many who skip that first crucial step.]
As a heart attack. Why would you think otherwise? How do you think you affect either the book or the author by reading it? What is it you think you’re interacting with?
Let’s say somebody is reading a fiction book. One’s eyes and mind see the words. The mind interprets these words into pictures & symbolic meaning. (I see a series of pictures. It looks like a movie in my head.) The indivdual responds to the experience of reading the text. They might laugh at a joke, or cry at a sad part of the book.
I try to get out, but they keep pulling me back in!
It’s funny – my diss. is, in fact, *totally* in the freaky theory cultural poetics vein, very much into performance and all that good stuff. Normally, I’m the one arguing your side!
I find it easier, more enjoyable and more useful to do that, than positivistic/biographical/ text-bound research.
But I always wonder: have I come to this preference honestly, or am I just aping what’s been fashionable lo these past few decades?
Hmmm. Maybe I should spend less time arguing and agonizing over it, and more time reading and writing.
…
….
Naaaahhhhhh!
in·ter·act ( P ) Pronunciation Key (ntr-kt)
intr.v. in·ter·act·ed, in·ter·act·ing, in·ter·acts
To act on each other
***
Reaction is not interaction. To confuse the two is to mangle the English language.
But then, I guess that is the point.
It’s funny – my diss. is, in fact, *totally* in the freaky theory cultural poetics vein, very much into performance and all that good stuff. Normally, I’m the one arguing your side!
If you’re studying Greek Lit, it just makes sense that you’re looking at performance.
I actually love doing straight textual analysis. I think it’s the best way to teach Jr. High school students how to read at that next level of complexity. (love the Jr. Great Books collection.) For me the isolated text analysis is easier then audience response. (&, obviously, there is less historical research.)
Reaction is not interaction. To confuse the two is to mangle the English language.
ok. I do not think that everyone reacts to a book in the same way. I might love a book that somebody else hates.
(I don’t think people react to books in the way that a computers react to the same set of data. I think people have the ability to process the same information in different ways.)