Every text I read, I read as an individual with a history, aesthetic likes and dislikes, and generic preferences. When I finish the text, I analyze my reactions. If I liked it, I note a few details that might explain why (for example, strong feminist themes and decent mechanics in writing), and usually don’t pursue it beyond that, unless larger themes develop, usually in tandem with another text that I liked. However, the texts I don’t like are almost more academically challenging or interesting, because I force myself to think WHY I don’t like them – it is a lot easier to enumerate the things I don’t like about a text that I have a tepid reaction to as opposed to a text that I adore. By this logic, I should study modern poetry. I have more to say about it. But I care about the things I like to read. And there is where I can connect themes. Random novels that share historical figures; views of a specific urban space in the last 15 years in fiction; the mechanics of narrative, between novel and short story; film adaptations, or stories that mirror films that the author has seen/acted in/directed/studied.
My father, while musing upon his own experience in graduate school in (a different foreign language), said something to the effect that success in literature in academia is more learning the crazy theory than actually ruminating on the texts at hand. I certainly felt that way in my lit classes when I studied abroad as an undergraduate. These students, who studied literature and nothing else (there is no equivalent for “area requirements” or a general liberal arts education there) had such a specialized jargon, and in my second language, that I felt intimidated at first. I read Theodor Adorno in translation – in my second language. But when it came time to leave the theory, after the first few weeks, and talk about the actual texts, my native speaker classmates were lost, and only parroted back theory that had no application to the text at hand. Now, I admit that I use Scarry’s
Body in Pain, Foucault, etc. when it actually has an application to the theme that I am exploring. It is hard to talk about urban spaces in narrative as space and aesthetic without reading about urban planning theory. I can’t talk about Colonial or Viceregal anything without a historical background, both from contemporary texts to particular events and current scholarship. But to treat a text as if its only importance is the way we can apply Foucault or Butler or Derrida destroys the text as an entity in and of itself, in my opinion. A text is valuable for itself, just as as individuals we are worth a great deal. To limit the interpretation of a text, or contacts it might have with other texts or fields, to one narrow theoretical outlook does not only the text a disservice but also the theory upon which the criticism is based.
It’s like the New Yorker Cartoon with the punchline: “
And just how do you expect to become a made man, son, without a solid liberal-arts education?” While specialization is important in my field, you have to keep the bigger picture in mind. And in my own studies, the texts themselves are infinitely more important that the theoretical approach I employ.