Building with old and new bricks

I agree with dr. m. that theory at its best presents a set of questions rather than definitive answers. Throughout this semester I have found, that each theory we studied in fact has fewer and fewer answers to offer and instead, asks you to question yourself and take stock of what assumptions you are making about literature, about words, texts, people, and reality itself. This can seem a daunting task sometimes, especially when one has to move beyond simply the reading stage—a stage of input—into the writing or response stage, which requires output from oneself. It is at this stage where the assumptions one is making, whether one is assuming the existence of a fixed, stable identity or individual control over one’s thought and freedom.

Throughout this semester I have been fascinated by the way each theory builds upon the one which came before. Even those theories which disagree with their predecessors owe some debt to that predecessor for giving them specific premises with which to disagree. This principle, however, has been most interesting to me within the example of structuralism and poststructuralism. As dr. m. said, I felt like I understood structuralism best through the lens of poststructuralism. The scientific approach of structuralism seemed a little clinical and foreign to me—understanding the arbitrary relationship between signifier and signified was interesting but a little sterile. However, poststructuralism uses that idea of arbitrary relationship between signifier and signified as a building block and applies in on a grander scale, pointing out the arbitrary center of a structure, its endlessly deferred string of supplements AND the inevitable absence of the center in the end. This broader application makes the focus of structuralism much more relevant—I can see it now as a necessary part of the poststructuralism viewpoint.

While taking this course in theory, I have also been doing a directed study on postcolonial theory and literature. At the beginning of the semester I was concerned about the two courses overwhelming me, especially since I had very little direct exposure to theory prior to this semester. However, it became clear to me early on that these two courses would strongly inform each other, and it worked out very well because one would always help me understand the other and vice versa. For example, reading Homi Bhabha’s description of the colonial hybrid helped me understand Derrida’s concept of play. For Homi Bhabha, the colonial hybrid is the indigenous person who symbolizes colonial power in the colonized space. Even though this person contains all the symbols of colonial authority, he can never fully embody that authority because he will always be indigenous (usually this difference is very visible, in the form of racial difference). Therefore, his existence as indigenous while symbolizing the colonial authority inevitably destabilizes the colonial authority, which partly depends upon one race being powerful and the other submissive. This is the play within the structure of colonial power, which according to Homi Bhabha is always already present. That is, the hybrid, or the play, which is that which disrupts structure is a built-in part of the structure. It is always already there. Thus, the structure is inherently unstable.

This example which I learned reading about postcolonialism greatly helped me understand important elements of poststructuralism because it gave me a more concrete example. This may indicate that I have a more simplified understanding of the concepts because I see them through more concrete—rather than purely theoretical—examples, but I think that is a worthy step towards building a more complex understanding of theory.

This leads me to think about the discussion of the relationship between theory and practice. I think this relationship is one that weighs heavily on postcolonial critics and theorists, as well as feminist theorists and critics (another area in which I am interested). I am still struggling with this quite a bit. On the one hand, I understand the need to separate theory from practice to allow it to be thought out in its own real, and to allow ideas to be fully developed without concern for practical consequences (I am thinking about Derrida’s discussion of forgiveness—true forgiveness cannot be asked for and apologies cannot be demanded; they must be freely given, without prompting, or it is not forgiveness. This is separate from the idea of reparations or reconciliation). I also see the danger in thinking one’s theory is revolutionary enough, and that action is not required, even when there are clearly great wrongs in the world which require actual political action, rather than politically charged theorization. However, I do think that theory is inevitably political, as almost everything is. And I do think that the social ills in the world, such as imperialism and patriarchy as clearly enforced by a backing theory. Therefore, changing the theory behind them—exposing the patriarchal discourse as the cause of sexism—seems a necessary part of political change. This of course raises the question is political change possible at all? And we are back to the beginning—good theory raises more questions. It does not give answers.

And so I exit, with many thanks.

And the inquisition infinitely continues.

Rupture and Redoubleing across Wide Sargasso Sea

I am working with Jane Eyre and Wide Sargasso Sea, a twentieth century re-writing of the story of Bertha Rochester (crazy wife of Rochester locked in the attic in Jane Eyre who eventually burns down the house and is the cause of Rochester's blindness and permanent injuries). Jean Rhys writes the story of Antoinette Cosway-Mason-Rochester, a women raised in the West Indies during the waning of colonial rule in the islands. Rhys writes Antoinette/Bertha's madness (as well as the madness of her mother) as a construction forced upon her by circumstances, particularly the manipulation of the circumstances of her life by the men who had control over her money and by her husband.

Antoinette's situation is always difficult: she is the in-between person--the liminal figure, the hybrid (although, to be clear, not exactly by the specific definition laid out in certain postcolonial theory by Homi Bhabha). I will call Antionette the hybrid in that she occupies the space between the binary opposition of colonizer and colonized. This space allows for play, which inherently breaks down--ruptures--the stability of the binary, which depends on absolute values of opposition. Antoinette is the hybrid by nature of her Creole birth (the term 'Creole' is interesting within a poststructuralist discussion because it has multiple meanings, and any use of it is always ambiguous therefore, even when expressly confined to one of it's meanings or the other. 'Creole' can refer to a person born in the islands, but usually it is a person of mixed descent who was born in the islands. This can be a person of mixed French and English background, or it can mean a person of mixed racial background--usually one 'white' and one 'non-white'--however, Creole can also be used to infer a person who is technically of purely English background (for example), who has lived in the islands and has adapted to the islands in a way which makes them certainly not 'English' although they are not definable as anything else). She is unrecognizable as English to Rochester, yet neither is she indigenous or descendant from the slave population. It is a Catch-22: that Antoinette cannot be defined as English, yet neither can she be defined as anything but that.

The landscape of the islands in Wide Sargasso Sea comes to symbolize the ambivalence and liminality of Antoinette. She identifies with it, she is at times characterized by comparison it, and she is at once comforted and afraid of it. Antoinette's attitude toward the landscape is directly contrasted to her husband's (Rochester, although he is never named as such) reactions to it, which echo his reactions to her. At first, Rochester is enchanted and really overcome by the beauty and richness of the landscape of Antoinette's childhood summer house, which represents the space between civilization (man-made things) and nature. He sees the landscape as foreign and overwhelming, but approaches it with wonder and pleasure. Eventually, however, the colonialist Rochester is and represents (on the symbolic scale) takes over (along with certain other forces), and he sees the island's wilderness as menacing, its beauty maliciously manipulative, separating him from his 'natural' English coolness and rationalism. He views his wife and the island as extensions of one another, and moves to reestablish colonial dominance over both of them. This is when Antoinette's madness begins its construction in earnest. Antoinette is reinscribed by her husband as crazy, right down to the changing of her signifier--her name--from Antoinette to Bertha. She is taken out of the islands (a context in which she is not stable, by any means, but in which her ambivalence is somewhat more acceptable), and she is confined out of site in England, where she can be entirely controlled by Rochester (or so he thinks).

This represents strongly how the process of colonial discourse works--when you, the colonizer, name something (especially with a name you chose and understand), you put it into your terms. You give it a set list of characteristics and definitions, which you take out of its context and place in your own (so you define yourself in terms of the other--the colonizer reaffirms his dominant image of himself by placing himself in opposition to the negative characteristics he has attributed to the colonized, such as irrationality and madness); and by naming and defining, you claim knowledge, and by claiming knowledge, you claim control.

This seems to work well enough for colonialists and for Rochester, but the rupture, which is always already built into this process of constructing identity of the other within colonial discourse eventually shows itself. In this case the rupture is Birtha/Antoinette, who seems to be well confined, and then bursts out and burns down the house. Thus, she embodies the space between the binary--the site of play which proves the instability of the colonial structure.

Wide Sargasso Sea (WSS) as a whole can be seen as a Derridian "rupture and a redoubling" of the canonical text of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. Wide Sargasso Sea serves as evidence of the rupture which occurs within Jane Eyre due to the text's own ambivalence and breaking down of traditional power binaries normally reinforced by the hierarchical canonization of texts, such as economic and social constrictions placed on women in the setting of the English "country house" or upper class, country society. Wide Sargasso Sea redoubles in that it both returns to the site of Jane Eyre to retell/rewrite the story of Jane Eyre (an act inherently deconstructive because it suggests multiplicity of meaning through its very existence as an alternative telling of the tale); but it also redoubles in the sense that is multiplies or increases the rupture of traditional discourse which is begun or ambivalently treated in Jane Eyre.

More News from the Airport

Numerous feminist blogs this week are commenting on American Airlines' launching of their new website tailored just to women. This seems to me to be a ridiculous idea from the start, but I can understand it running through a marketing department's collective brain: We need more women customers! How can we possibly bring them in? I know, give them their own website!

Alright. I think this is stupid and sexist, but that is the way marketing works--it is seeking to reach the greatest number of people so it makes sweeping generalizations which it thinks will appeal to the most 'generalized' American woman who is likely to utilize air travel.

Then, however, I saw the comparison of the search engine portion of the "men's" American Airlines website and the new "women's" American Airlines site. Multiple blogs have posted this visual, which makes it very clear how American Airlines views the capabilities of women versus those of men. Obviously, according to AA, not only do women clearly prefer pink, but they also require a much more simple module in order to search for their flights because women aren't smart enough or complex enough or technologically savvy enough to use the regular module. The site also has links to information about health, families, and the charities AA supports, assuming that women are essentially nurturing, more health conscious, have a family, are expected to give of themselves (focus on charities).

Most importantly, however, this new website establishes male as normal, rational, expected, and primary, and it designates female as secondary, less than rational, and other. The primary American Airlines website is this traditional "male" website. It does not designate itself as the "Men's" website--dedicated to connecting men via their weekend golf getaways, as the women's web site includes links to "Girlfriend Getaways" and "Travel Smart and Chic"--rather it excludes women by the very creation of a women's site.

The existence of this website and its contents is disturbing, albeit not entirely surprising. However, what is most disturbing is that the website was undoubtedly launched after multiple surveys, market tests, and focus groups. There were most likely many "real" women who gave their opinions and suggestions for such a website. This is a symptom of entrenched patriarchy--how much women perform their gender (as do men, of course) to its prescribed characteristics. On the blogs there seem to be several voices who consider this site ridiculous, but I will be surprised if anyone outside the fringes of the media will have a problem with it.

The Impossible Exchange Barrior...is that at the airport?

First, many thanks to Ken Rufo for taking the time to introduce us to Baudrillard, especially in such a clear, digestible manner. To be perfectly honest, it was a welcome respite from the intense work we have been doing all semester. It is certainly not that Baudrillard's ideas are in any way less complex than any of the theorists we have previously encountered, but Ken's conversational style (and the nature of blogging) made this lecture feel like a chat--in fact I read it with a cup of tea. Many thanks.

One aspect of the Guest Lecture I enjoyed was that it illustrated Baudrillard's evolution of thought throughout his life. I find this encouraging as a young person trying to take in all that we have been studying (and many other things--theories, philosophies, perspectives--that I have studied or thought/talked about throughout my life) to be reminded that theory and the thought process behind theory is indeed a process, and it is one which is constantly changing and evolving. I enjoyed Ken Rufo's description of Baudrillard's work from the mid '70s:

I mean it's tough to announce that pretty much most forms of critical thought invent the stuff they purport to discover, that they support the things they fight against, and then still offer a coherent and useful alternative to all of that. So a lot of Baudrillard's work from '76 on is an attempt to try to tease out different possibilities...but at various points in time he suggests: symbolic exchange, seduction, pataphysics, fatal theory, radical theory, impossible exchange, nihilism, yada yada. They're all thought experiments, so it's not really fair to harsh on their inadequacies too much.

I think this reinforces the awareness that one of the limitations (and perhaps also one of the strengths of theory) is that it is theory--it is not fact, doctrine, or truth. This is evident in theory's tendency to deny the existence of or at least the ability to access truth or source/origin or meaning. However, despite theory's disavowal of truth, it is not uncommon for theorists or (as relates to the notion of 'author function' over 'author') critics who use and interpret theory to use its assertions and conjectures dogmatically--to forget that theory should be evolving, changing, disagreeing with its predecessors and itself.

The biography of Baudrillard's work seems to embody this ideal of theory. It begins trying to reinforce and improve Marxist theory. It then disavows Marxism, claiming Marx had it backwards. After that is disavows the majority of theory altogether, saying that it does not discover and theorize, but rather that it creates discourse through its theories. Then it searches from one idea to the next--trying them out as "thought experiments" and finally settles on a few more concrete theories where it will stay, to be reinforced or criticized or rethought in the theory continuum.

Finding Freud, Fighting Freud?

I have tried this whole semester to be as open as possible to everything we have been studying--to try to examine my first thought to root out what assumptions I am making based on previous conditioning and education which may have been less critical and analytical--but psychoanalysis is one stumbling block I am having. Although I can understand some of the validity in the theory and how it makes sense to view the unconscious as a language (which is specifically articulated by Lacan, not necessarily by Freud humself), I am having trouble accepting the method of the interpretations of dreams--especially the somewhat arbitrary focus on minute details which become extremely important which is explained away by the identification of the process of condensation in dreams. I think it may be possible for one to accurately interpret dreams this way, but there is absolutely no way of knowing.

I can see that perhaps that is the key to being able to accept this type of practice--remembering that we are talking about discerning the content/nature of the unconscious which Lacan, especially, asserts is unknowable. I suppose that this comes back to one of the roots of good theory, which is theory that remembers it is theory, not fact, not authority, and certainly not practice.

Here I think is one of my problems with entertaining psychoanalytic theory--it is related directly to the practical application of therapy. This I think is why I find myself uncomfortable looking for the Oedipus complex and penis envy (even in the most abstract sense) in literature--because I am constantly preoccupied by the notion of these ideas being practiced within the realm of actual therapy. I realize that I am allowing my own emotional reaction to such strongly misogynist language and concepts to cloud my analytic thinking on this matter, and I think with time I will be able to integrate some of these ideas into my critical thinking (or recognize those which are already there for what they are), but for now, they make me very uncomfortable.

To be exposed and exposing

It is interesting--although in many ways not surprising--that in a documentary about Derrida, which is a form of biography of him, Derrida addresses the nature of biography both directly and indirectly in several different instances. One of the most interesting things for me was the scene in which Derrida talks about the up and down relationship he has had with the production of his own image.

Partly, as Derrida explains in the interview, his refusal to have his image published in any way was to resist buying into the cult of the author and automatically be viewed in such a way in which authors are typically represented--in such a case, various attributes could automatically be applied to him based on the stereotype of an author's photograph (at his desk writing or shown as a polished, serious head shot) which do not necessarily apply to Derrida and could take away from his scholarly work. However, Derrida also says that part of his refusal to be photographed was a certain "narcissistic horror" at the sight of his own face--partly, the feeling that there is death in one's own image.

As Derrida got older and his career advanced it seems that he realized the inevitability of living a public life (he was indeed becoming an academic celebrity and more importantly an activist, who is someone whose purpose requires publicly speaking out and being recognizable) without having one's picture taken and published. Eventually, he even allowed aspects of both his public and his private life to be filmed in the documentary with which we are all now familiar. However, in doing so, Derrida constantly made sure he called attention to the framing--the confining and manipulating of images--which necessarily occurs in the production of film or photographic images.

Derrida called attention to this framing in his resistance to answering interviewers' questions, to illustrate the framing which occurs in the interview process (he even comments on the editing process--that he can sit an talk for two hours but it will be boiled down to ten seconds for what the filmmakers want to use in the finished product. Derrida says that the film is as much autobiographical for the filmmakers as it was biographical of him). The film reinforced his point when it included shots of Derrida watching footage of himself on a monitor, and shots of Derrida watching footage of himself watching footage of himself.

The way that Derrida treats his view of the film--as being inevitably limited and as potentially saying much more about the filmmaker than himself, the subject of the film--is not necessarily negative. He sees these aspects of film as inevitable, as necessarily characteristics of the medium, yet he allows and participates in the making of the film. Derrida asserts that to ask forgiveness or demand apology makes true forgiveness impossible, but he still believes that reconciliation is a valuable thing--it is just not pure forgiveness. Here Derrida differentiates between the practical and the theoretical, and believes that both have a place and a purpose. Along similar lines, lays out the limitations of film and interviewing, but he does not stop the film making or consider film inherently bad. Instead, he points out multiple sides to each issue and makes them apparent without clear value judgment. This seems to be an important aspect of post-structuralism (and point to the influence of Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil). Thinking in terms beyond/outside of strict binaries value judgments is characteristic of a theory whose purpose is to expose the illusion of overarching truths and reveal multiplicity of meaning.

Go to your cave and find your power animal

Sometimes I think my power animal is a tarantula on roller skates--I am afraid of it, yet it is ridiculous. But it doesn't do any good to be afraid of the tarantula. It is on roller skates. That's funny. And it slides (it's a spider. it doesn't know how to roller skate).


About Jacques Derrida upon his death:
"He was what Richard Rorty once called an edifying philosopher-- not a system builder, or a great fashioner of airtight arguments, but one whose work incited and inspired others. The task of such a philosopher is not to reach closure but to pry apart, explore, upset, and stimulate." JB

"It is probably appropriate that he defied categorization because his work is very much about the limits of categories." JB (http://balkin.blogspot.com/2004/10/jacques-derrida.html)

Gaining (at least a beginning) understanding of Derrida's thinking, of the openness and possibilities of meaning that deconstruction brings, seems to be a beginning of understanding the idea of theory and of complex thought in general. I think we get frustrated with theory for the same reason that theory, as well as certain more abstract or radical thinkers in philosophy, is often discredited by science and more classical and concrete branches of philosophy. That is that theory in general, and most specifically Derrida, cannot be pinned down (is "not a system builder, or a great fashioner of airtight arguments") to a concrete decision or argument; it requires a little intellectual sliding.

It is confusing and really disheartening to read (and read of) the obituaries of Derrida in the mainstream news media, including in the New York Times, which called Derrida and his work absurd and "robbing texts of truthfulness, absolute meaning and presence" (Kandell, NYT). On the one hand, this illustrates the hold of a metaphysics of presence on western thought, permeating through even popular news media and popular culture. I think this also brings up an issue with academic celebrity (and really any celebrity), in which the renowned person is easily simplified and demonized or trivialized when their name becomes well-known. However, in this case, specifically with academic celebrity, it is not just a person who becomes simplified, flat, and trivialized, but their complex ideas become simplified, trivialized, and demonized.

I think that particularly post-9/11 there is a pervading popular attitude which is both anti-intellectual and xenophobic. Within this climate, I suppose it should not be surprising that the mainstream media would be quick to discredit a complex philosopher/theorist (and an Algerian Frenchman!) as being merely obtuse and absurd. It also seems to fit that a post-9/11 climate, one which functions on the binary of black and white, good and evil, us and them, would not want to take the time to understand a man whose ideas sought to expose the limits of such binary structures--the limits of these categories.

There also seems to be an assumption that theorists and philosophers such as Derrida who expose the instability of truth--the constructed nature of truth-making--are callous, unfeeling beings, who believe in nothing (People often assume that not believing in essential or absolute truths means that a person doesn't believe in anything at all). In fact, Derrida was a passionate person, involved in political activism for multiple causes, and although by many reports he was quirky, he is also always said to have been kind, polite, and generous.

The point is, celebrity simplifies people. Academic celebrity simplifies ideas and sometimes simplifies people into those simplified ideas. This process may partly account for the multiple erroneous (or at least unfair), rather harsh articles written about Derrida upon the event of his death. The response of outrage on the part of many in the academic community (including UC Irvine which had to set up a website to accommodate all those who wanted to sign a letter of protest to the NYT obituary and leave their names in support and memoriam of Jacques Derrida) proved the limitations and consequences of the above process.

Where have all the centers gone?

In reading Barry's well ordered comparison of structuralism and poststructuralism I better understood structuralism's concerns about language, which supported some of the claims in my previous post about which I was a little uncertain. Structuralism believes in the inherently ordered nature of language. "After all, language is an ordered system, not a chaotic one, so realizing our dependence on it need not induce intellectual despair" (64). Therefore, structuralism (albeit most specifically the thoughts of Saussure) insists that "we are not in control" and that the chaos of thought is, indeed, reigned-in by language.

Structuralism believes words can only be defined by their opposites, and while poststructuralism admits this same notion of binary opposition within language, it takes more issue with this (structuralism makes this assertion without anxiety, as noted above). That is, poststructuralism takes structuralism's notion further, by stating more emphatically that words are not only defined by their opposites, but that they are "always contaminated by their opposites" (64); therefore, meaning can never be pure or pinned down.

This seems to be a major point of departure between the two camps--where the "post" becomes necessarily attached to the "structuralism." This is because, as Barry states, structuralism still believes in the possibility of knowledge, even though the word or sign is arbitrary (because the system of language is orderly and therefore stable); but poststructuralism (as is appropriate due to its roots in skeptical philosophy rather than scientific linguistics) doubts the accessibility of any knowledge because it doubts the stability of the system.

Enter decentering. Enter Derrida.

Reign In Your Chaos Please

"Signs function not through their intrinsic value but through their relative position" (39).
"In language there are only differences without positive terms (40).

These two statements are very much related to one another. My basic understanding of this concept is that words or signs (because they lack an essential value, but are instead, constructions of thought and sound which arbitrarily create contingent meaning) do not have any meaning in and of themselves. Rather, meaning can only be attributed to them based on comparing them to what they are not. In other words, a sign, specifically a word, can never be explained in positive terms, because it has no positive, concrete (pre-existing) value--it's only value is in its "relative position" to other words or signs--a word's only value can be defined by determining what it is not.

This idea (of words lacking essential meaning) emphasizes Saussure's assertion that language is constructed, rather than essential. Therefore, it is subjected to the influence of societal structures. Saussure states "The arbitrary nature of the sign explains in turn why the social fact alone can create a linguistic system. The community is necessary if values that owe their existence solely to usage and general acceptance are to be set up; by himself the individual is incapable of fixing a single value" (35). Thus, it is clear that the meaning of language (signs, words) is only possible within the system--or community--of other signs or words, constructing meaning based on a relation to other words which point out what one word does not mean. Along the same lines, this constructed meaning of words is only valuable if the arbitrarily designated meaning is agreed upon by a community.

That Individual We Are Trying to Banish:
The above seems to negate the value of the individual in terms of the creation or maintenance of language and the construction of meaning. Then, does it follow that because language is a necessity for thought, the individual cannot exist without language; and because language cannot exist without the structure of a community, then the individual cannot think independently of that community structure?

If this is true, the illusion of the author-in-control (an assumption which we are--less than consciously even--having tremendous difficulty shedding), driving her or his own text, is herein exposed because literature is clearly a product of language, which, according to Saussure, cannot possibly be controlled by the individual.

"Thought, chaotic by nature, has to become ordered in the process of its decomposition" (34).
Is it time to admit that we are not in control?

One Bit More

What I continue to chew on:

What is most interesting and most frustrating about Marxism--indeed what is frustrating about theory in general, I suppose--is that it is not at all a fixed entity. Instead, Marxists are on a sliding scale from the strict to the more liberal interpretations of the theory. This is seen easily in the juxtaposition of Marxists who focused on social activism and those who don't consider that the purpose of literature, or at least not something of their concern. It is also seen in the various sections of Marxism and their level of belief in determinism.

--Another thing I am learning about theory and theorists is it's/their habit of compartmentalizing topics which "are not my concern at this moment," which can be an incredibly frustrating thing. Part of the frustration is with coming to terms with the seeming contradiction of a set of ideas which believes in the significance of the historical and cultural context of a text, but at times refuses to discuss practical implications of that text or believe that it can effect change in a practical way. I feel like this statement is sometimes true and sometimes not--just as I feel as though I sometimes understand and agree with it and sometimes I don't--

Fists in the Air

I think that Marxism would consider Liberal Humanism an excellent cause for a fist fight--hopefully one that would spark spontaneous complete revolution (To be clear, although Marx and Engels believed in the ability of their theories to change the world, rather than just understand it, it is my understanding that that is not necessarily a given with Marxist theory and criticism. Some forms of Marxism attempt to correct oppression, while other forms are not necessarily concerned with social activism).

However, I do think that Marxism and Liberal Humanism are very much at odds with each other. Primarily, it is essential to the liberal humanist that good literature transcends the cultural and historical moment in which it was written, as well as transcending any cultural, historical, or economic biases or assumptions which the author may have personally held. This concept of the purity of the text--as a Teflon entity to which nothing sticks--is in direct opposition to one of the fundamental, and perhaps the most important, tenets of Marxist criticism. That is, Marxism maintains that literature is inevitably a product of the social, cultural, and historical context in which it is written. Marxism does not allow for the concept of an ideal world or set of forces beyond the material, which seems necessary to follow the Liberal Humanist line of thinking about literature's ability to transcend cultural-historical context and authors' ideological predispositions. Instead, in Marxist thought, because literature is a part of the superstructure which is shaped or at least influenced by the economic system (base) by which it is produced, it cannot escape influence of an author's ideology shaped by her or his class membership.

I find that the Marxist point of view is in some ways much easier to accept and understand than the Liberal Humanist point of view, because it seems logical that an author's assumptions and biases will influence what she or he writes (although I know that will be challenged as we continue on in the semester), and it also seems logical that the historical, cultural moment in which an author lives will influence her or his point of view. I think partly this is due to the fact that I have been raised and educated during the reign of theory (or perhaps even the post-theory world), rather than in a time still dictated by the Liberal Humanist-only regime, which dominated the study of literature for so long. I think this is also because I have grown up in a time skeptical of an ideal world, in which it has become at least more acceptable to distrust anything which claims to be pure.

The Inquisition Begins

I begin today my inquisition of the world of literary theory--and theory's place in the world outside of itself. I feel as though I have not yet much to say because I am still behind the glass looking into a world of concepts and jargon still seemingly unaccessible.

This speaks somewhat of a lack of confidence on my part because the image of theory as residing high up on a pedestal, away from the grittiness of a practical and political world, is at least in part illusory. Although the language of theory can be difficult and at times inaccessibly abstract, it does deal either directly or indirectly with political conditions and consequences as well as issues of common sense. Theory's insistence upon examining, questioning, and when appropriate, proving wrong commonly held beliefs in the areas of literature and cultural studies can be unsettling to some, especially at first exposure. However, I think it is just this unsettling practice which is the doorway of accessibility to the study of theory because common sense is common to most people, and is therefore available as a starting point for discussion.

Theory's willingness to consider cultural and historical context (as compared to the text-only close reading of liberal humanism which dominated English studies prior to the 1960s), as well as its distrust of liberal humanism's selection of worthy texts makes it in some ways significantly more democratic than the more exclusive, tradition-trumps-innovation practices of liberal humanism (such as Arnold's touchstone theory, judging the worth of texts based on a rubric consisting of a few works previously judged to be great). An assessment of theory as democratic sounds somewhat ironic because it is often theory which is considered to be elitist because of its use of jargon and frequent complexity of ideas and writing.

Additionally, I think many people consider the study of theory to be useless outside of quibbling over literature in the halls of academe because it has often been exiled to the realm of inaccessibility. I anticipate to discover that theory is indeed applicable to multiple realms of life because unlike its predecessor, liberal humanism, theory incorporates politics, culture, philosophy, and other disciplines, allowing for an application to human beings, rather than being obsessed with the construction of a rigid, confining view of a ruling human nature.