Why Study Literature? Part One

Why Study Literature?

And What Not to do When Studying Literature

1. Misconceptions about Studying Literature

One of the popular misconceptions about studying literature in school is the concept of ‘the right answer’.  You have probably had teachers who have tried to teach one reading of a literary text as though it were the gospel truth, whilst others who proclaim that ‘there are no wrong answers in studying literature’.  Both of these viewpoints are unhelpful.  

The first method - that there is an ‘authorised version’ of reading any canonical text is unhelpful because literature is designed to be a ‘living’ text.  What is meant by this is that its interpretation varies depending on the person reading it and the values and morals and worldview that they bring with them.  Take, for example, Frankenstein.  A reader in the early 19th century may read the text as a warning against the rejection of religion over science, as they would likely have had some form of religious upbringing (although we must avoid generalisation - there are always exceptions to this).  Another reader from this time, may, however, view Frankenstein, as a reflection on the wave of revolution that was sweeping across Europe at this time.  A Marxist reader may view the creature as a physical representation of working class man (as he was stitched together from the bodies of a number of working class men).  His violent destruction of the bourgeois Frankenstein family, then, could be seen as symbolic of the Marxist revolution that Marx claimed was one day inevitable.  A feminist reader may point to the sidelining of female characters and their violent deaths at the hands of vengeful men as symbolic of their position within a patriarchal society.  Furthermore, the whole novel could be seen as May Shelley (the author) communicating directly with Margaret Saville (the recipient of Waltons letters) as a story about men and their need to prove their masculinity.  There are any number of other ways the text can be viewed, and as society changes and develops, new readings emerge all the time.  Consider, for example, the cyborgisation of the human body, the fluidity of gender and sexuality, and human cloning and consider how these ideas may alter our impression of this 200 year old story.  An ‘authorised’ reading of the text clearly will not do.  This is true of any text, and it is, in fact, the whole point of literature - it encourages to think about ourselves and about the world in which we live; in other words - the ‘human condition’ (more on that later).

So why then is the view that ‘there are no wrong answers in literature’ also unhelpful?  There are two reasons for this.  The first problem with this is that there clearly are wrong answers in literature, and this stems from one source - misreading.  If you claim that Frankenstein killed Elizabeth, or Macbeth pushed Lady Macbeth or that Animal Farm was an allegory about the Nazis, I am afraid you need to read a bit more closely.  Closely linked to this is taking a controversial theory and stating it as fact.  For example, ‘Frankenstein created the monster because he wanted a doppelgänger to kill Elizabeth as he was secretly in love with his mother.’  Now, even if you can find evidence that might support such a view, you still need to express this as a tentative suggestion of a possible reading - interesting, but by no means certain.  Stating such theories as fact, again, suggests that you don’t understand the difference between a fact and a theory and this will be regarded as an error.  

The second reason why ‘there are no wrong answers in literature’ is unhelpful, is the mistake some critics make in differentiating between authorial intention and reader interpretation.  For this I will turn to the words of J.R.R. Tolkien who, frustrated by the number of critics who tried to second guess his intended meanings when writing The Lord of the Rings, stated:

 “I think that many confuse applicability with allegory, but the one resides in the freedom of the reader, and the other in the purposed domination of the author.”

In other words, you might think when reading The Lord of Rings that the One Ring was an allegory for the hydrogen bomb, but Tolkien certainly wasn’t.  Literature is not riddle with a specific answer, it is not code to broken.  Whilst it might be interesting to know what a writer may have been thinking when writing a novel, it is virtually impossible to know precisely what they meant - they probably don’t even know themselves, as much of the meaning behind the ideas will be subconscious.  Furthermore, it probably isn’t all that important - the text is there for all to see, it is up to reader to decide what to make of it.  We must always avoid, however, forcing those interpretations on the writer themselves.  As a side note, it can sometimes be interesting to consider what a text reveals about writers themselves, but we must approach this cautiously.  Writers often adopt personas within novels and picking through the narrative voice and the authorial voice within a novel can be as dangerous as tiptoeing through a minefield (not literally of course).

Literature rarely presents us with straightforward situations and opinions about themes and ideas can vary from reader to reader.  Consider the examples presented by moral dilemmas.  For example, in the ‘trolley dilemma’ a train is hurtling towards a group of two adults and their children who are walking on the track.  They cannot see the train approaching but you can.  Next to you, there is a lever; if you pull the lever you can switch the direction of the oncoming train and divert it away from the family.  However, there is a problem - if you change the direction of the train to the alternate track it will hit a single adult walking on the other track.  The dilemma is illustrated in the diagram below:      

                                                                          

                            

Often, the first reaction to this dilemma is that the answer is obvious - pull the lever and save four people and sacrifice one.  However, how do we know that this is definitely the right decision? Maybe the person that would be killed might have discovered the cure for cancer.  Furthermore, there is a difference between being a bystander to a tragedy occurring and making an active decision to divert the train into the path of someone - are we not effectively making a decision to kill someone, regardless of the reasons behind our decision?  Might not the family of the dead man disagree with our decision?  Might they not claim we have committed murder?  In this case there are no ‘right’ decisions, only an awful choice which we must live with.

Literature can present us with similar moral issues.  Consider, for example, Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure.  Several moral dilemmas are presented within this play, the most memorable of which is the one that Isabella is confronted with.  Isabella, who is seeking to become a nun, is given an opportunity to save her condemned brother’s, Claudio’s, life (he has been convicted for sex outside of marriage).  However, in order to do so she must have sex with the ‘acting’ Duke, Angelo (clearly a man who does not ‘get’ irony).  Isabella is, therefore, given the choice of preserving her honour, but condemning her brother to death to do so; or, saving her brother’s life and losing her honour, as well as sacrificing her vocation as a nun.  To a modern, and largely, secular audience, the choice might seem fairly clear - her brother’s life should come above her virginity (although, again, this is highly debatable and depends greatly on one’s point of view).  However, to a seventeenth century audience, this would be a very difficult choice.  In agreeing to Angelo’s demands, Isabella is committing a sin, and, if she is doing it at the behest of her brother, whilst she may be saving his physical body, she would be condemning his eternal soul to damnation.  We may scoff at these notions as outdated theological arguments, but surely the point is that Isabella, and most likely the majority of the audience at the time, would believe these notions.  Furthermore, there are problems from a modern perspective.  To suggest that Claudio’s life is more important than Isabella’s virginity is, in itself, problematic.  Claudio is a convicted criminal, according to the laws of the day - we may argue that the law is harsh, or that it should be abolished, but, according to the laws at this time, Angelo has not done anything that the law does not give him the right to do.  Therefore, his punishment is lawful, and even Claudio admits to his own guilt.  Isabella, however, is being blackmailed into consenting to being raped by Angelo (in that she is agreeing to sex under duress - sexual coercion); how can we say that choosing this could ever be the ‘right’ choice?  Furthermore, Claudio, knowing the potential consequences for her life afterwards, even asks her to do it, which makes it clear to us that this is no heroic character.  Under these circumstances, is it really such an easy choice?  Shakespeare is clearly attempting to create a much more complex moral question than might appear on the surface, and throughout the play we are frequently asked to question the moral choices that most of the principle characters in the play make.  Significantly, the play’s ending is left open-ended, surely an indication to the audience by Shakespeare that there are no clear decisions to be made when considering moral choices.  It also makes audience members question themselves about their own values, particularly as our opinions about characters and situations change and develop as the story unfolds.  This is one of the main reasons to read, and study, literature - it allows us to learn about ourselves and makes us question the values and convictions we hold, which is a vital part of being a fully functioning human being.