While there are areas I differ with John Gardner, and I’m still trying to thoughtfully digest his debate-provoking book, On Moral Fiction, I can resonate with this sentiment from early on in the work:
The language of critics, and of artists of the kind who pay attention to the critics, has become exceedingly odd: not talk about feelings or intellectual affirmations — not talk about moving and supporting twists of plot or wonderful characters and ideas — but sentences full of large words like hermaneutic (sic), heuristic, structuralism, formalism, or opaque language, and full of fine distinctions — for instance those between modernist and postmodernist — that would make even an intelligent cow suspicious. Though more difficult than ever before to read, criticism has become trivial.
The iconological criticism of S.T. Coleridge, Ruskin, MacDonald, Tolkien, Lewis, L’Engle has gone exactly the way of all belief about supernatural and religious thought: keep it private, or else. More than that, this way of approaching literature has been so sidelined that it’s about as noticed as the water boy (i.e., not at all). Instead of transformative story, a book is that thing over there, and the words are those objects to be dissected and laid against our enlightened views of science and justice, and separated from anything sacramental that might point to a reality greater than our five senses can perceive.
Christians are as guilty, and the practice of reading and responding to story on a spiritual level has been lost, and trite systems of belief have won the day. As such, the Christian faith in America has lost much of its depth and ability to think and relate to other human beings. Great literature trains us in morality; it teaches us to love and receive love. Current criticism teaches us to criticize.
In the university, “This text is oppressive because…” is the basic operating thesis of the approach to literature. In the church, “This text is dangerous/Satanic/should be avoided by Christians because…” is the approach. Both miss the symbols pointing to the greater reality.
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Hey Travis,
This is all right on I think. I’m wondering though, what you see as the way out of this pit we’ve dug ourselves into? I wonder because I’m trying to figure it out myself.
Voices like Doug Wilson say that the only way to redeem this mush is right worship, starting with our own church and working through the culture like yeast. (While at the same time pumping alot of energy into reviving classical education and literature).
More specifically though, perhaps it is just refusing to follow this mold of trivial criticism and writing criticism like they used to, being unashamed of it. When someone comes along to pop your balloon by deconstructing the text into meaninglessness, you calmly give them the finger.
I guess that’s what you and others are trying to do with your Harry Potter analysis. Some people dismiss it because it’s popular fiction, others because you dare to insist on attaching supernatural, religious, and moral implications to it. They would say that make’s your analysis irrelevant. Keep it private please. I would say it’s the only reason it could possibly BE relevant.
Anyway, I’m rambling here. It’s late. “This text is oppressive because…” is SUCH a drag. What can we do to most propel the ship against this wind?
Matt, excellent questions. You’re definitely right that iconological critics need to simply do their thing, and yes, the work being done on Harry Potter is a good example. Bottom line: We’re in the conversation! Since that’s happening, it gives the few of us who are doing it the opportunity to talk about iconological criticism, the weaknesses of other types of criticism, and why ultimately that’s not just a question of how one reads a text, but of epistemology in the first place.
I think it helps me that I actually do happen to think that some texts uphold oppressive ideas, and that those ideas should be deconstructed. So I’m able to find a place of commonality with some postmodern critics. It’s just that I don’t think a book is only or even primarily a tool for societal oppression, especially in a democracy where freedom of speech and press is a given.
In other words, we might be able to say, “The foundation of this story contains a racist element, and we need to be careful about that” without completely abandoning a story and anything in it that might be good. My problem is when books are treated only as cultural artifacts, or even worse, treated as playgrounds where “scholars” can simply do anything they want with the words contained in there in the name of social justice. It’s a total breakdown of meaning in the name of advocating one’s particular view of society, rather than a search for meaning beyond our own brains.
I’m not sure how much sense I’m making. I haven’t had my coffee yet.