In a post today on the Indie Wire blog, Academy Award-winning director Steven Soderbergh lists everything he watched and read in 2014. I like this challenge and plan on keeping my own daily log of every film and book I consume this coming year. Join me and keep me updated as your list grows as quickly as mine surely will. Be sure to check out Soderbergh's list, as well as his many excellent films. Enjoy!
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In a new article, "The New Modesty in Literary Criticism," posted today at The Chronicle of Higher Education, Jeffrey J. Williams presents his take on how the fascination with literary theory by a previous generation of English scholars has evolved into new forms of literary criticism in the 21st century. While offering a cursory overview of trends in literary analysis, particularly in the last 50 years, there is plenty of depth here to give those newer to such scholarship an adequate grasp on where we as a profession have been and where we seem to be going.
Williams describes this shift as "a new modesty." He writes, "Literary critics have become more subdued, adopting methods with less grand speculation, more empirical study, and more use of statistics or other data. They aim to read, describe, and mine data rather than make interventions of world-historical importance." With my own interests in economic readings and other interdisciplinary methods, this portends, I hope, a continued pursuit of a more well-rounded form of literary study. This leads to a much more open-minded approach in which readers can investigate seemingly contradictory interpretations with equal interest, seeking truth wherever it may lead, regardless of personal ideologies. Williams writes, "In the theory years, you were what your reading was—Marxist, feminist, deconstructionist, queer. It was an era of manifestoes more than mere commentary." As someone who abhors most forms of literary theory and has battled most of his professional career with activism advocates, those who place priorities on vague social constructions and perceived power dynamics over seeking inherent truths about humanity in literature, I'm glad to see this stylistic shift. My particular views on literary criticism have often made me unpopular, which is a position I whole-heartedly embrace. To my surprise, Williams's analysis seems to indicate emerging critics are challenging those status quo theorists that have long dominated college English departments. What I've always contended, and what a new generation appears to be now recognizing, is if you are seeking a platform simply to politicize texts and voice cultural grievances, you are missing out on a variety of interesting levels of literary critique and opportunities for true understanding of the larger picture of humanity's complexity. In addition to the older method being narrow and often achingly redundant, current generations are just not that into it. As Williams notes, "if your aim is activism, literary criticism may not be the best way to do it." Take a look at his article for yourself, and let me know what you think. I have devoured a buffet of books over this holiday break, but perhaps the one that will stick with me the longest is Stonewalled by Sharyl Attkisson. Those of us in the English world should have a special affinity for the value of proper journalism. As someone who daily works with students to become great writers--seeking facts, researching diligently, chasing the truth wherever it leads--I was dismayed and disgusted at the lack of integrity that Attkisson exposes in our nation's newsrooms. Attkisson's account of her time as a reporter at CBS News is a harrowing tale of deception, censorship, and abuse of power at the highest levels in our country. From prominent newspapers to nightly television broadcasts, the institution that is responsible for holding politicians and corporations accountable to the public has lost its way, allowing corruption and deceit to affect not only our daily lives, but the course of history. Stonewalled is a dense book at 400 pages, but I couldn't seem to put it down and zipped through it in just three evenings. It's a riveting page-turner that has echoes of the famous book and film from the 1970s, All the President's Men. Attkisson has won numerous awards for her investigations into both Republican and Democrat scandals, and the best compliment I can offer her (and this book) is that I can't tell what her personal political views are, which is the way it should be. For anyone with an interest in journalism, writing, or simply seeking truth, Stonewalled is definitely worth checking out. And I encourage everyone to engage in a vociferous and vigilant version of her "Substitution Game" as often as possible.
Yes, music is part of English! A fun branch of English literary studies deals with adaptation theory, where original texts are reinterpreted and repurposed as new texts, often in different forms or genres. We most often see this when a book gets turned into a movie, but altered texts can be found anywhere. I first saw the video below after seeing a link to it posted on a respected math professor's twitter feed. When middle-aged math professors in the Midwest are posting Taylor Swift cover songs on twitter, you know it must be something worth talking about. The video has quickly gone viral, with several million YouTube hits this week. The artists, Louisa Wendorff and Devin Dawson, cleverly combine two songs into one, thereby changing their individual effects from sassy and poppy to stripped and achy as the listener is allowed to hear them almost conversationally, existing in a back and forth form of storytelling. If you haven't seen it yet, here it is. While I think it's wonderfully creative, I also wonder if it simply reveals the fact that Taylor Swift's songs all sound similar. Regardless, it's a great reinterpretation and nicely performed by Wendorff and Dawson. To her credit, Swift has stated that she loves the duet's twist on her songs. Wendorff has a variety of other song-combos to her credit as well, so check her out. What other songs and artists out there could be paired up for a deconstruction/reconstruction mash-up? We all remember our high school English classes, when we would flip open our Bella Swan-covered three-ring binders and alternate between writing down the symbolic representations of Hemingway’s fisherman and frantically scribbling dialogue for our Twilight fan fiction. Oh, how I envied Edward’s carefree hair and brooding gaze. But it was those tedious lessons in extended metaphor from authors long dead that typified literature for much of our formative years. We wrestled with why we should still care about a minister’s affair 150 years after Hawthorne wrote about that shameful letter A, or why it matters to a 16 year-old hopped up on Spree candies and Mountain Dew that George and Lennie just can’t seem to make their farm dreams come true. So what we learned was books are good because older people tell us they are. Trust that teacher. The frazzled, middle-aged lady with coffee-stained teeth and hair dripping out of her bun, leaning not so subtly on that government-granted tenure, surely knows what she’s talking about.
But as we get older, we discover that some literature actually was good and always will be (see To Kill a Mockingbird), and some really was awful and still is (see The Catcher in the Rye). There is, in some cases, some relative consistency from our teenaged selves to our wiser, college-aged versions. Yet, for many works, we truly must grow up to appreciate them. In no particular order, here are a few examples of literary texts that deserve a second look in college. 5. Moby Dick Teachers make the mistake of leading young students through this monstrous book by attempting to find meaning in a sea of meaninglessness—or, rather, an overabundance of meaning. This is not some modernistic excuse for bad writing; rather, we must have the maturity to look at the text as indicative of all texts. Following Ahab, Queequeg, Ishmael, and their wild cast of doomed sailors in the face of nature’s fury is an exploration of life itself. It’s fragmented, it requires all elements of worldly knowledge, and it shifts between beauty and terror with disorienting speed. Trying to go symbol hunting through the whiteness or the try-works or anything related to cetology is an exercise in wasted reading power. Like investing in the P90X, you will certainly work up a sweat, but you’ll end up bored, confused, and wondering, “Why does everyone recommend this?” By the time we reach our twenties, we can accept that Moby Dick is ultimately just a book. And that can help us understand that it is also the book. 4. Animal Farm Some claim that Orwell’s short satire is flawed because it bashes its readers over the skull with its message like a twitchy blacksmith playing Whack-a-Mole. While there is merit in that critique, the reply is simply, who cares? The point of satire or analogy or personification or any other literary device is to convey a message in a unique way. While high-schoolers may appreciate Orwell’s warning of Communism, by the time this book can be read in college, a reader has perhaps held a job, voted for public officials, and formulated a reasonable political perspective. Animal Farm is a story of power. When leaders seem like they are more compassionate or smarter than their constituents, a more experienced reader can hopefully grasp that politicians from every political stripe can end up being pigs. 3. The Great Gatsby I remember tackling the superficial Gatsby and the neurotic Daisy when I was fifteen, and I just didn’t get it. I mean, I got the American Dream stuff and the frivolity of the 1920s. But I never grasped Fitzgerald’s hype. Until college. With a few extra years under my belt, I was able to appreciate not only the exquisite prose that signifies Fitzgerald’s unmatched voice for details and tone, but also the confusion of Nick’s narration, the humanity and depravity of every single character, and the tension of that sweltering New York summer. Every name in the novel can be pitied and despised, many simultaneously. A college reader doesn’t need to get caught up in the ominous eyes of a dilapidated billboard and can, instead, spend time accepting that every person simply pursues what he or she wants, regardless of how misguided those aims may be. And the sooner college kids learn to stop pursuing a love or a dream that will never happen, by letting go of life’s Daisys, the better off we will be. 2. Death of a Salesman During a time of life when we are faced with the stresses of finding a career path and breaking away from parental influence, college students can appreciate Arthur Miller’s play much more than a younger reader can. The clash between parents and children defines many of our lives, and the search for fulfillment in a world of rapidly-changing economic conditions is as familiar as ever. Read Willy’s struggle not as a man slowly falling into madness, but as a man simply trying to understand himself, while trying to provide for his family. And notice Biff’s arc for its repressed frustration with his father as it presents itself through endless bouts of stupidity. These are men who can’t seem to get out of their own way. College is a perfect place for facing such realities within ourselves. 1. The Canterbury Tales Misguided teachers often assign portions of this 14th century text to memorize in a foolish attempt to get students to connect with medieval language. But all this does is make students hate one of the most hilarious and insightful works in literary history. Though it is useful to explain the importance of breaking tradition at that time by using vernacular English, as opposed to French or Latin, all students see is that Chaucer’s English makes Shakespeare look like Dr. Seuss. Get an edition with footnotes and dive in to some of the bravest storytelling in history. The Tales are disgusting and heroic, ribald and virtuous. Chaucer challenges the Church while still seeking morality, he flips gender roles upside down, and he stages the pilgrimage in a fragmented, yet unified, style that resembles many frame narratives with which we are familiar, but challenges our notions of what actually comprises a “story”. While teens may not be prepared to appreciate such complexity, a college student should revel in Chaucer’s joy at messing with his readers and all the institutions that define them. What other books can you think of that were disliked in high school but improved upon readings later in life? I love to hear! English Champion is a place for fun information and analysis related to the field of English and all things pop culture-y. A new post will be offered each day where viewers can find something interesting to apply to their own knowledge or pass along to others.
Too many of us have gone through school hating literature, writing, grammar, and other aspects of English studies. This is a place to start changing that attitude. And since English is so interconnected with countless areas of study, along the way, hopefully we can learn from other fields, as well. Whether you are still in school or already out exploring the real world, there will always be something fun to learn here. Keep checking back daily for articles, film reviews, videos, helpful academic tips, informative links, and much more. Feel free to contact me to share your ideas! Enjoy! |
AuthorDr. Spivey is a college English professor and lives in Scottsdale, Arizona. Archives
October 2017
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