Category: Reading

10 Reasons Why I No Longer Study Literature

This semester, I’m enrolled in a class on using literature in the language classroom. Consequently, I’ve re-plunged, for the moment, into the theories and conventions and that marked my undergraduate degree in English.

And ick.

I’m taking my masters in second language teaching, a social science and welcome reprieve. The social sciences, I’m finding, are a disciplined, problem-based search for knowledge. The academic study of literature, in contrast, is generally a playground for politically-charged ideologies and obscurity.

This ought not to be.

Of course, not all branches of literature are so tangled. The literature as medicine movement, for example, has established some legitimacy, thanks to scholars like Arnold Weinstein. Cultural studies also have their virtues. Nonetheless, I decided to study literature no longer, and here are my personal reasons why:

10. I don’t care anymore about what Freud thought. Psychologists don’t, either.

9. If a novel, play, short story, or poem doesn’t speak to me, I maintain the right to stop reading.

8. Nietzsche was right — poets lie too much.

7. Hamlet was nuts. Must we beleaguer the point?

6. I don’t get Faulker.

5. Transcendental signifiers do exist. Sorry, Derrida.

4. The GRE subject test for literature is arbitrary, and the English professorship is super-saturated.

3. The literary present defies physics.

2. I’ve developed a horrible allergy to the prefix “post-.”

1. Reading’s supposed to be fun.

In short, I no longer study literature. I simply enjoy literature, and I hope my students will, too. We’ll read it, discuss it, respond to it, but study it? “Marry, heaven forbid.”


Ann Coulter on Sarah Palin

Ah, the old-fashioned marketing plug, which aired on CBS News on November 13.

Writer’s tip: Get others, especially those with media prominence, to plug your stuff.


You Betcha! Sarah Palin’s Going Rogue

You can learn something about writing from Sarah Palin. Well, not writing actually, but marketing, which is tantamount in the boom-and-bust world of commercial book publishing.

Her plan of attack (or, as one editor rightly calls it, her “media blitz“):

Interview with Barbara Walters. Check.

Interview with Oprah. Check.

Stoke subdued outrage in the McCain camp. Check.

Counter the leak to the Associated Press. Check.

Voice outrage over a Runner’s World shot that became Newsweek’s front cover. Double check.

Complete month-long book tour that deliberately avoids big cities. Underway.

Sarah Palin’s not an author. She’s a brand–but a brand that sells.

Writer’s Tip: Be a brand.

A Post on the Inevitable Sarah Palin

CBS News on Going Rogue: An American Life (I apologize if there’s a commercial–it’s CBS’s financial opportunism, not mine):

Writer’s Tip: If you wanna be president in 2012, publish a book. Writing it optional.

Barbara Kingsolver: The Lacuna

Ms. Kingsolver’s thirteenth and latest novel, The Lacuna, has hit shelves, and its publicity campaign is full speed ahead.

It’s her least favorite part of the writing process. Though reportedly animated and engaging during interviews, Kingsolver shies away from limelight. She told The Age, an Australia-based publication,

”I’m much too shy to be a public person. But I think shyness goes with writing. I am the person standing by the wall, watching the person who is dancing with the lampshade on his head, and I am taking it all in and wondering, ‘What happened to him? I bet his mother didn’t love him.”

Writer’s tip: Observe your own environment shrewdly. Your eye for detail will transfer to your writing.

In that same interview, Kingsolver shares her views on novel writing, which must center around a big idea. That big idea may take years to incubate. She explains,

“It’s an audacious act to create something that you are going to ask people to take into their lives. It requires a degree of reverence. It also requires a lot from me… so I want to make sure it’s a big idea that I think is very important, that I think is worth my time and, more importantly, worth yours.”

Writer’s tip: Write about big ideas. Anything less is a waste of time.

Life of Pi Gets Presidential Nod.

What’s President Obama reading these days? A prize-winning adventure novel about a boy living in a lifeboat, says Reuters. But it’s not your typical castaway story. The Swiss Family Robinson and Tom Hanks never had to share a lifeboat with a tiger, hyena, orangutan, and zebra.

“It’s a wonderful book,” Obama said of Life of Pi, which was penned by the Canadian author Yann Martel. “There are whole…chapters that really have to do with talking about Hinduism and Christianity and comparing it…”

Life of Pi snagged the Booker Prize for fiction in 2002. Its follow up, Beatrice and Virgil, will hit shelves this June.

More info on Beatrice and Virgil here.

As a student who’s seriously considering

a career in rhetoric, I was struck by this John Locke quote:

“If we speak things as they are, we must allow that all the art of rhetoric, besides order and clearness; all the artificial and figurative application of words eloquence hath invented, are for nothing else but to insinuate wrong ideas, move the passions, and thereby mislead the judgment; and so indeed are perfect cheats.”

A premature dismissal or a harsh reality? Indeed, rhetoric allows propaganda and coercion, yet it also underpins science, the arts, and all other fields of knowledge. My opinion is that, in itself, rhetoric is neither good nor bad. It’s simply a tool, and like any other tool, it has the potential for misuse.

My favorite scholars.

This past semester, the transition from undergraduate to graduate studies began. Although my personal character remains fundamentally unchanged, I’ve noticed that, even off campus, thoughts of language and language use have become increasingly magnetic. Scholarly journal articles, once a bore, are now a fascination, and certain scholars can be named as favorites:

1. Paulo Freire

2. Lev S. Vygotsky

3. Elvira Souza Lima

4. David “Dave” Bartholomae

5. Rebecca Moore Howard

This list will likely change over the years, but at present, it accurately reflects my interests.

Water makes me feel at home,

and I suppose it always has. A strange thought, given my Colorado upbringing and Utah residence. Except for two years in China, I have never lived very close to water, but nonetheless, I have long felt water’s pull. My childhood journal is filled with sketches of rafts, and during the school year, I would dream of visiting my great grandmother, who lived on the shores of Bear Lake. I love water still today — its sound, its sparkle, its coolness, its magic:

“Say, you are in the country; in some high land of lakes. Take almost any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it. Let the most absent-minded of men be plunged in his deepest reveries–stand that man on his legs, set his feet a-going, and he will infallibly lead you to water, if water there be in all that region. Should you ever be athirst in the great American desert, try this experiment, if your caravan happen to be supplied with a metaphysical professor. Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded for ever.”

This passage from Moby Dick reminded me why I was drawn, at first, to comparative literature and psychology. Like “the most absent-minded of men,” I’m fascinated by the basic symbols that characterize the human experience, water certainly included, and I could devote a lifetime to their study.

One of the great themes of literature

is the balance between the secular and the sacred, the temporal and the eternal, the vulgar and the divine.

Today I understood, more than ever before, how this balance is beyond literary. It’s absolutely fundamental to the human condition.

My own life included.