Showing posts with label critical theory. Show all posts
Showing posts with label critical theory. Show all posts

Tuesday, 22 May 2012

How education works

My colleague @MsEmentor found this on @SeanFail's Twitter page - apparently it's English Lit GCSE day, and the peons are rebelling against close reading:


Obviously there are occasions on which even I find myself exclaiming 'FFS' or worse, when faced with a particularly adventurous interpretation, but on the whole, this amusing graphic is utterly wrong. It's like this:

It doesn't matter what the author thinks

He or she may be dead, and is certainly not present at your reading. You have a complicated and rich cultural context which isn't the same as the author's, and so you'll interpret things differently. Good authors know this, and are fine with it. Bad ones work extra hard to make sure you see things his or her way. It doesn't work, because bullied readers rebel or give up. 

A decent teacher wouldn't talk about what the author meant - they'd talk about the possible interpretations of the words on the page. 

I hope I've successfully ruined the joke now. Further reading: 'The Death of the Author' (Roland Barthes) and Susan Suleiman's Authoritarian Fictions

Tuesday, 13 April 2010

Anti-Pleasure Dissertation

I'm marking essays, so obviously I need to channel my rage by listening to Riot Grrrl: Bikini Kill, Babes in Toyland and Huggy Bear, leavened only by the occasional twee Heavenly track and some Talulah Gosh.

If you're in The Hegemon tomorrow, I'm giving an extended (though still short) version of my Anne of Green Gables paper tomorrow. Don't worry, I've cut out the Kristeva.

1.15, MC224.













Tuesday, 16 February 2010

Henri Lefebvre, where are you now?

OK, I'm feeling slightly manic. I've just given a lecture on the philosophy of the quotidien (the Everyday) to a first-year group. It's a hard sell: we give them Anglo-Saxon Cultural Studies (Williams etc, which I love), and then I turn up and say 'all that categorisation stuff - never mind it - too structuralist. Here's some weird French people talking about ephemerality, collective memory and the intangible'.

I have no idea whether they got it, but hopefully I'll have raised some questions about epistemology and modernity…

And now for escape to the mountains…

Thursday, 14 January 2010

Ich bin Frankfurter

If you're not familiar with Melvyn Bragg, he's a soi-disant public intellectual with massive hair and a smug air of false humility. To me, he rivals Jools (Julian really) Holland in the slappability stakes.

However, his Radio 4 show about the history of ideas, In Our Time, sometimes comes up trumps. Today's discussion was about the Frankfurt School (Benjamin, Adorno, Horkheimer and others), from whose ideas my own critical theory approach is descended. They were a bunch of radical post-Marxist Germans in the 1930s who tried to work out why the proletariat couldn't see they obvious oppressiveness of capitalism (they weren't keen on the Soviet Union either). They were horrified by the uses to which popular culture could be put (having observed Nazi propaganda) and by the popular culture they found when they fled to the US: to them, popular culture (the Culture Industry as they called it) generated false consciousness, leading the proletariat to consider their lives under capitalism perfect, or at least natural.

They despised pop culture because it wasn't oppositional: true art, they believed, should remind us what's missing, what life could be like. So they were connected with Freud on regression and to the avant-garde literary and musical movements. Like those creative groups, they believed that 'pretty' or sentimental art was conservative and dishonest: how could a composer write pretty tunes after the Somme, or Auschwitz? To do so was to deny reality on a cultural and personal level.

It's a hard message. It suggests that we should never settle for comforting or relaxing cultural products: no It's a Wonderful Life, no Notting Hill (no great loss), no Clueless, no Elgar nor Gilbert and Sullivan. They were for 'high' culture: Berg, modern art and the like. I confess to being an unrigorous Frankfurtian: I'm postmodern enough to enjoy popular culture in some of its forms, but I'm uncomfortable enough to distrust the lazy assertion that pop culture = democracy and high culture = reactionary. I'll certainly be taking a Frankfurt approach for my upcoming Anne of Green Gables paper.

If you're still with me: you can see what they're on about if you consider 'celebrity' culture. The Frankfurters had come from Germany, where film was the primary mode of propaganda, creating an idealised image of a dictator who would solve all Germans' problems. Arriving in Hollywood, they found an art form which wasn't oppositional but seemed to be a conformist dream factory. Central to this was the creation of 'stars' from fairly ordinary people - stars who persuaded audiences to endorse the values of conventional consumerism.

What would the Frankfurters make of Big Brother, Pop Idol or any of the other 'reality' shows (and the papers and magazines which make a living amplifying these shows)? They'd be both unsurprised and horrified. They'd be unsurprised by the dominance of 'celebrity' (is there a single issue which hasn't had a 'celebrity' slapped on top of it and a TV show created?) and they'd be horrified by the extension of 'celebrity' culture to the populace via Big Brother and the like. There's no room for opposition, but there's also no room in popular culture for difference of any kind: we're all assumed to want the same things as 'celebrities' and we know how to get there - by acting the idiot for the amusement of the nation. Even the sporadic bursts of resistance are manufactured: so-called oppositional voices in the media use the same tactics of hype and outrage to get their points over, thus becoming part of the system rather than standing outside it.

Doomed, I tell you, we're all doomed. Just keep reading Heat and I'll go away. Or read Baudrillard, who thinks it's all a game and there's nothing we can (or should) do about it. You could listen to In Our Time though - the podcast will be available in a few days.

Wednesday, 2 December 2009

Yes, but what books?

I know, you're clamouring to discover. Well, the day before, I received Reimer's A Simple Little Tale, another anthology of Anne of Green Gables critical essays, as well as Wodehouse's Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves and Much Obliged, Jeeves, because Roderick Spode (Oswald Mosley) appears in them.

Yesterday, I added too many. I gorged. My eyes are bigger than my brain. I added Opened Ground, a collection of Heaney poems, Paul McAuley's Gardens of the Sun and Pasquale's Angel, because I like intelligent hard SF and steampunk, Brian Aldiss's classic Non-Stop, Margaret Atwood's essays on debt, Payback, Heaney's translation of Henryson's medieval Scots classic The Testament of Cresseid and Seven Fables, Tom Furniss's Reading Poetry, 4 maps of Wales and the Welsh/Shropshire border, and Spivak's translation of Derrida's Of Grammatology, because I've never read it in English.

Oh dear. I think I'm going to be sick. Greedy boy.

Here's Atwood talking to us about the recession:

Friday, 20 November 2009

Oh yes. My weekend starts here.

A goodly haul today:
Irene Gammel (ed.), Making Avonlea: L. M. Montgomery and Popular Culture (U of Toronto Press 2002)
Irene Gammel (ed.), The Intimate Life of L. M. Montgomery (U of Toronto Press 2005) - probably not as racy as you think it is
Siân James, A Small Country (Collins, 1979).

and finally

Star Trek (the new film). Man cannot live on Anne of Green Gables and Stephen Greenblatt alone.

Thursday, 15 October 2009

Guess who's back…

OK, I'm not feeling that cocky, but at least it's over. Turns out I'd prepared several more hours lecture material than the two scheduled, and I'm pretty sure I've sucked all the fun out of Much Ado About Nothing by the simple means of over-analysis (with a side-order of New Historicism), but the job's done, and they're a great bunch of students who are polite enough not to throw fruit when I assay a pun…

Damon and Naomi, amongst my very favourite melancholy singers, did a song called The New Historicism. They also did one on Lacanian psychoanalysis called The Mirror Stage. Neither are recorded on the web, but here's their version of Sandy Denny's No More Sad Refrains, which is lovely.

Tuesday, 11 November 2008

On Deconstruction… and Anne of Green Gables

This week, I'm reading two books, Jonathan Culler's On Deconstruction and L. M. Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables

Now, one might think that an interest in both texts is mutually exclusive, you snobs. But hold: Anne and Jonathan have a lot in common. They both reject the restriction and even the possibility of fixed meanings, both value the complexity and richness of words, and both are poor lost orphans. 

Anne wandered from family to family before ending up in the Hopeton orphanage, misunderstood and silenced, before mistakenly being sent to the Cuthberts' in Avonlea, where her gently anti-Protestant Romanticism and devotion to Imagination both shocks and thrills the buttoned-up community. Poor Jonathan had a glittering career at Cambridge, then Oxford, until the disapproving old conservatives decided that he was a just little too French for their New Critical tastes, with his interests in deconstruction and structuralism/post-structuralism, so they didn't give him a full professorship. 

So he wandered the cold world outside the dreaming spires, refusing to simplify his message for the slower minds of academe but earning their respect. In this, he's of one mind with Anne, who tells Matthew '…people laugh at me because I use big words. But if you have big ideas you have to use big words to express them, haven't you?' (p. 15).