The Madness of Literary theory
New Criticism: The history book is the facts about what really happened written by people who were not there to witness it happen.
New Historicism: No. That's no quite right. How can they know what really happened if they were not there to see it? The history book is the interpretation of that event, by the author who lives in a world outside of the event he/she is writing on; Therefore, history (outside of primary sources) is just the interpretation of what happened. Not "Fact" per se. It may be true for this particular author, but it's not to be accepted as THE facts.
Student A:So that means I can read A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis and write the meaning of the text and it can be accepted by academia?
Student B: Well not really...I mean you should have to have some sort of expertise on a subject that you're about to thrust into the world of academia.
Student C: So wait. We should require someone to have a Bachelors degree before they can write about what they think? That doesn't seem right...
Student B: Well I dont think we can limit it so strictly.
Student D: I dont think we should limit it at all! I mean after all, the goal of literary THEORY is to learn to see things from a new perspective. To view a text or a movie or a news story or a political argument from another angle so we can try and figure out where that person is coming from. SO if we limit who can and cannot write, we defeat it's purpose in the first place.
Student A: Yeah I agree. And if i'm looking at A grief observed from a new historicism lens, If what I'm writing is going to be considered Academic, then I should want to do it the best I can. I should write to the most accurate degree that I'm able to! But to do that, I need to read everything he's written, consider every possible angle, read his thousands of pages of personal letters. Because New Historicism says that the text is a summation of everything C.S. Lewis has ever thought, or felt. It's a product of the culture. Because Lewis was just a sponge. He absorbed everything that was happening around him, and then squeezed it out into a preconceived bowl that christians happen to take communion out of. He focused everything he's ever breathed into a work that had the purpose of speaking to a distinct subject. The beauty of it is, his sponge wasn't a rectangle that only squeezed out soap for adults. Lewis's Sponge was lion shaped when need be. It was whatever shape this reader needed it to be, or that reader needed it to be. Lewis squeezed soap onto everyone about the one thing that everyone needed to hear in the way that they needed to hear it. The cleansing message of the Gospel of Christ.
To my Literary Criticism professor, whom I greatly respect, appreciate and love:
You want to know why I don't come to this class? Because it's dangerous! I could dedicate my life to these thoughts and attempting to share what knowledge I get here by educating myself in all languages, majors, minors, all schools of knowledge, so I can liberate all of freaking humanity into the light of Literary Theory where we ask different questions, analyze from a different perspective so we can relate to each other. So we can love one another the way God has called us to love one another. Selflessly. How do we love in a way that's truly selfless? Empathy. How do we empathize? By understanding! How do we understand? By being able to recognize; via literary theory.
And as a young, vibrant, passionate christian It is my duty to speak love to the world. To create love with my words for everyone. By being able to speak to their heart. Whether it's a French engineer or a spanish code writer or a welder from Ohio or a single mother in Houston, I want to be able to speak their language.
I cant do it all. Only God can.
That's why I don't come to this class. I'm scared of the fire it's going to cause In me. The fire to learn all to speak to all about what all need to hear; the gospel. And I end up going through this process of realizing these things and at the end of a day of passionate writing and fevorishly searching for answers and franticly learning everything I can while there is still time to access all of this knowledge I realize that I CAN KNOW ALL if i just want to know all and I do! SO I TRY AND I TRY AND I fail... because in the glory that I was pursuing I forgot to write a fictitious Memorandum for technical writing or my midterm in communication ethics. I realize I cant do it all, I realize I haven't done any my other homework. And after the dust from all the books that I tore through falls, and I realize that i'm surrounded by people whom I owe mundane assignments. I realized that in my pursuit to liberate all, i've failed to meet my obligations as a student. I've failed. And I just want to go fishing.
