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A CURSE ON MEAN-SPIRITED INTELLECTUALS

  • critics
  • Literature

AND LITERARY SCHOLARS ABOVE ALL

Philip Davis, the editor of The Reader, is fed up with seeing literature treated as fodder for convoluted academic analysis. He leaps to the defence of a like-minded critic attacked in the Times Literary Supplement ...

Special to MORE INTELLIGENT LIFE

It is probably because when I was a young beginner, trying to write about literature, I did not feel encouraged or appreciated. Those were days of high theory in literary studies: it was naïve to be interested in realism, in emotion, in the human content of literature as I was. "Nobody came," says Thomas Hardy of the plight of his own young idealist, "because nobody does."

But I was very pleased when a friend recently sent me a book of literary criticism that he said I would like, and I did. This is rare: I am sick of university teachers treating literature as though it were a branch of something else--Social Studies, Gender Studies, Post-Colonial Studies, Political Studies. The book was by Brigid Lowe and is called "Victorian Fiction and the Insights of Sympathy".

It is a brave book, with one big simple message: all too often literary scholars merely use books (they call them "texts") for the sake of their own agendas and careers. Here's the novel; here's the ideological agenda to which it is to be fitted; and here's the critical mallet to whack it into shape. For example, here is the opening of another recent book on Victorian Sympathy from Stanford University Press which goes something like this: "The Victorians were very interested in sympathy - which was all about consolidating the male sense of identity, and an early example of interpellation in action." So that's what it's all about.

Instead Ms Lowe offers a vision of sympathy--both within Victorian novels and in the reading of them--that is too generous and too complex for prescriptive and self-righteous narrow-mindedness. A character in Mrs Gaskell will have a prejudice, a theory, a plan or a principle--and then suddenly, when confronted by a particular person in a specific human situation and moved or pained, will give it all up. That's what the novel does, and it is what novel reading helps to foster.

I was really looking forward Dr Lowe's book making a stir. But in the Times Literary Supplement on Sunday, her book was loftily dismissed by a foremost American literary scholar. Ms Lowe is a member of the "younger generation" of literary scholars, the reviewer argues, but the book is rather "dated". Apparently, all of Ms Lowe's targets in the world of literary theory--Terry Eagleton, Mary Poovey, Catherine Gallagher, Roland Barthes, Edward Said and J.Hillis Miller--are not a problem any more. We have "gone on" to new ideas.

Well, you could have fooled me. But then the reviewer does one of those sneaky scholarly things designed to make fools of people. Lowe quotes with interest an argument from "In A Different Voice", by Carol Gilligan: in tests to measure ethical development, where a moral person is (so narrowly) defined as one who can "effectively apply abstract principles of justice and fairness", women did far worse than men because they got too interested in the particular case. Good for them! But our reviewer notes that Lowe quotes from the 1998 reprint of this "landmark book", and, actually, "In A Different Voice" first appeared in 1982. Therefore Lowe too is "dated" (--and the Victorians, poor souls, presumably even more so).

I say to this distinguished reviewer as I said in my last posting: A Blog On You! Somebody had something important to say, but you did not want to hear her say it. You didn't really offer an argument. Instead you made something true, regardless, into someone "dated" instead, just by being clever. It wouldn't be morally good were you a scholar of Roman drainage systems (as I wish you were). But it is worse if you are a literary scholar, because literature should have made your intelligence more sympathetic. Let the curse stand on all such failures of university education: A Blog On All Your Houses.

(Philip Davis, author of "Bernard Malamud: A Writer's Life", is a professor of English literature at Liverpool University and editor of The Reader magazine. He will be speaking on Malamud at the 92nd Street Y in New York on October 31st.)

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A distant epigone writes

Submitted by Robert Cottrell on November 14, 2007 - 19:40.

Roger Gathman has an interesting response to this piece, finding the line of argument disagreeable but well-motivated:

Actually, I don’t see how either Barthes or Said would be opposed, in principle, to Lowe’s thesis. However, I can easily see why they – and me, a distant epigone – would be repelled by Davis’ tone. Or at least fascinated by the psychodynamics of quotation and quarantine here – starting with the quotation and quarantining of the word ‘texts’, as if this word had come from Mars instead of being firmly part of interpretive history, going back through the Church Fathers to the scholiasts. Then there is the oddity of the accusation of self-interested motive in the reading – apparently, self interest stops when one finds an interpretive school one likes. Then, at that point, self-interest turns into love, disinterested love. Indeed, there is something to that – the polemic against theory often does take on the tones of the angry lover, the stalker. Love, as every cop knows, so often leads to death threats.

But putting aside that bizarre stylistic quirk, I have a lot of sympathy for reading novels in terms of sympathy, which is Davis’ point. That is, I take them seriously – so seriously that there are a series of novels which, in a sense, mark the whole course of my inner life. If the TLS reviewer sees Lowe’s viewpoint as dated, he obviously hasn’t been reading the literature on sympathy which began to appear in the late 90s – the high point of neo-liberal triumphalism – that went back to the fons et origo himself, ladies and gents a big round of applause for Adam Smith. (I myself have been working around Smith’s book on sympathy (which incidentally was translated by Cordorcet’s widow) in my research on happiness. But this post is not another variation on my usual tune).

  • reply

Yes, this looks like a

Submitted by Philip Davis (author) (not verified) on December 11, 2007 - 11:40.
Yes, this looks like a reasonable response doesn't it? But when you click on Mr Gathman's name and see the original blog, he goes on to blame Mrs Gaskell for not dealing with the famine in Ireland which overlapped with the dates of her life. So it all turns out to be notional politics again (and forgive my tone if I say I am sick of this implicit assumption that the wider the theme, the more important it must be). That isn't what is meant by sympathy in a real sense. Of course, we will now go on to examine what 'real' means . . .
  • reply

Death By Theory

Submitted by Visitor (not verified) on January 7, 2008 - 17:25.
While theory as a construct within which to understand some larger and very difficult thing is helpful, my own experience learning and working in English Departments was that theory was most often part of the industry of education, and occasion for some of the worst writing imaginable (one must publish or perish, after all). Recently, I was having a conversation with my 9-year-old son in which he postulated that all of the theories of the extinction of dinosaurs probably killed the dinosaurs. He meant, of course, that parts of all of them might be right. My response to him was, You mean they all got so sick of the theories that they just died?
  • reply

Sympathy for the sympathizer

Submitted by Jon (not verified) on January 26, 2008 - 13:45.
I agree with Mr. Davis completely, but only because my "sympathy" allowed me to look past the flushable sentences written by this ??Professor of English??. Holy crap! A minimal concern for the reception of his argument ought to have tempted Prof. Davis to wipe away some of the misplaced commas, garbled subject-object agreement, and... Anyhow... literary theorists are, indeed, pricks with agendas. Ironically, their approach recommends the abolishment of literature as a distinct field of study and its absorption into other of the social sciences (which, alas, are also in need of absorption).
  • reply

literary theory

Submitted by Visitor (not verified) on January 29, 2008 - 15:22.
AFter I read a book, I sometimes like to see what others thought of it or the author generally. I have learned to avoid books when the back cover tells you that the critic/writer is a feminist, or that she has a new theory that shows how the victorians/georgians or whoever were foul hypocrites and evil to boot, or that the critic has a new theory of gender, or that uses the word hegemony or hermeunutic (whatever) or subversive or transgressive because I know the book will be dreadful. Instead of being about the book or the author, the criticism will be about the total evil of the white man or christians, how everyone in the world is oppressed by those people, how the oppressed in their turn have a right to live by their culture even if it means that they engage in the same acts that are oppressive when done by the white man, that a book never means what it says, but instead has a meaning that only an intellectual can descry, and a lot of other nonsense. I once picked up a book entitled Jane Austen and crime, and leafing through it came upon a paragraph about how Austen's work showed that she was sympathetic to criminals and she actually despised the morality of her day ... I put it down.
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