While I found Helene Cixous' writing to be both compelling and beautiful, I have to disagree with her overall argument. My largest problem resides with her introduction to the entire essay.
"Woman must write herself: must write about women and bring women to writing, from which they have been driven away as violently as from their bodies...Woman must put herself into the text--as into the world and into history--by her own movement."
It is my personal opinion that this very statement is deconstructive and contradictory. The language used by Cixous undermines her very objective. To say that a woman must do anything is to place her in fetters yet again. Yes, if a woman were to write about women she would certainly "bring women to writing," however, I feel that no woman should be forced to do anything. Also, if all women are supposed to put themselves into the texts, this will only set them further apart in the world of writing, "from which they have been driven away as violently as from their bodies." for a woman to make herself not only a writer, but rather a "woman writer" is to simply make another category. A writer who strives only to be a "woman writer" will only make it as far as the outskirts of the literary world. A woman should not have to hide her womanhood in order to become a great and acknowledged writer, nor should she have to flaunt it.
I could not really tell if Cixous was calling for equality or not and this is what I struggled with during my reading of her essay. If her call was in fact, one for equality, then I think she may perhaps have missed her mark. To differentiate women writers from the rest of the writing world is to place them in a box, set them apart, almost negate their very existence. Perhaps my feelings about this are too strong, though I cannot help but wonder why on earth a woman would strive to be defined by her gender. Shouldn't the ultimate goal be indifference to gender and for that matter ethnicity. It can or can't matter. I am simply arguing that it is unfair to assert that it should matter.
A woman is a woman, but a writer, well, should we define writer by gender conventions? Perhaps this is a situational concern, but I feel a pull to say no.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Androgyny
While I find Virginia Woolf's conjectures about the androgyny of the mind and creativity to be very fascinating, I am not quite so sure that I buy into them. It seems strange to think of the mind as purely masculine or purely feminine, considering the mind is rarely looked at as gender specific. What is even more fascinating though, is how Woolf asserts that perhaps the wholly masculine mind cannot create, and so likewise the wholly feminine mind cannot create. It is only with a fusion of the two that creation can occur.
Lately in Romantic Literature we have been discussing the concept of thesis, antithesis and synthesis. All of which ultimately unite to form a new thesis and the process begins anew. In the case of Woolf I can see that the masculine mind is the thesis, the feminine mind the antithesis and the androgynous mind is the synthesis of the two. Through the androgynous mind the dichotomy of the thesis and antithesis is resolved.
When Woolf begins her discussion of her delight at reading Mr. A's reading I began to have more questions immediately. Is a man's writing truly more direct and straightforward than the writing of women? This started me thinking about everything I had ever read, wracking my brain trying to disprove her point. There are two male author's in particular who come to mind in this case. Oscar Wilde and Nathaniel Hawthorne. Both men, but neither one very direct and straightforward. Hawthorne uses superfluous language that borders on tiresome, and Wilde's exquisite attention to detail is a marked quality of his authorship. These are male authors who thrive on details, on extras, on beauty. There are certainly elements of direct and straightforwardness in both author's work, but I highly doubt that any reader, when asked to come up with direct and straightforward writers, would come up with Wilde and Hawthorne. Likewise, on the opposite end of the spectrum, George Eliot, though the pseudonym may be slightly misleading, is a woman writer with a knack for the straightforward and direct. Her prose often nears the realm of biting and trite. Her social commentary in Middlemarch could not be more clear or direct. The only problem with this argument resides in norms. By this I simply mean that these three authors lie somewhat on the outskirts. They are absolutely individuals, and so perhaps it is not fair to judge them in comparison to other authors. Perhaps these three authors are simply deviants rather than a part of the norm. We can never really know though, so Woolf's question remains alive and well.
Lately in Romantic Literature we have been discussing the concept of thesis, antithesis and synthesis. All of which ultimately unite to form a new thesis and the process begins anew. In the case of Woolf I can see that the masculine mind is the thesis, the feminine mind the antithesis and the androgynous mind is the synthesis of the two. Through the androgynous mind the dichotomy of the thesis and antithesis is resolved.
When Woolf begins her discussion of her delight at reading Mr. A's reading I began to have more questions immediately. Is a man's writing truly more direct and straightforward than the writing of women? This started me thinking about everything I had ever read, wracking my brain trying to disprove her point. There are two male author's in particular who come to mind in this case. Oscar Wilde and Nathaniel Hawthorne. Both men, but neither one very direct and straightforward. Hawthorne uses superfluous language that borders on tiresome, and Wilde's exquisite attention to detail is a marked quality of his authorship. These are male authors who thrive on details, on extras, on beauty. There are certainly elements of direct and straightforwardness in both author's work, but I highly doubt that any reader, when asked to come up with direct and straightforward writers, would come up with Wilde and Hawthorne. Likewise, on the opposite end of the spectrum, George Eliot, though the pseudonym may be slightly misleading, is a woman writer with a knack for the straightforward and direct. Her prose often nears the realm of biting and trite. Her social commentary in Middlemarch could not be more clear or direct. The only problem with this argument resides in norms. By this I simply mean that these three authors lie somewhat on the outskirts. They are absolutely individuals, and so perhaps it is not fair to judge them in comparison to other authors. Perhaps these three authors are simply deviants rather than a part of the norm. We can never really know though, so Woolf's question remains alive and well.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Literary Criticism as a Microcosm
Throughout the course of this class, as I have been blogging and thinking about all of our readings I cannot help but notice a general trend. Literary criticism seems to closely parallel many of the larger concerns and questions in the world today. So far I have observed connections with social hierarchies, psychology, capitalism, questions of life and death etc. Some people might scoff at the study of literature, but it is become more and more apparent every day just how relevant this type of criticism is. It goes far beyond books and text and into the world itself.
Oh Mann!
"Ohmann shows that aesthetic judgements are inflected by capitalist criteria" (1878). This idea is insane to me. It rings absolutely true, but I wish that were not the case. What we find beautiful in a book has more to do with what sells than what is actually quality writing. Capitalism, while it is very much a part of our everyday life, should not affect our appreciation of literary beauty. It is extremely sad to realize that Ohmann is correct in saying that advertising is important to the shaping of the canon. Perhaps I am too much of an idealist, but I like to think of the canon as some pure thing untouched by human vices. I see it similarly to how I view the Bible (although there are obvious differences here). I don't like to think that capitalism and advertising are at the root of our great works of literature. The literature should speak for itself. It's beauty and greatness should be self-evident rather than man-made. This is just my little rant for the day.
On a completely separate note I was struck by the section in Ohmann's essay, "The Shaping of a Canon: U.S. fiction, 1960-1975" that discussed liking works of literature. He asserts that "it doesn't matter that Norman Podhoretz hates Updike novels, so long as he takes them seriously enough to argue with his peers about them" (1887). This is interesting to me because it indicates that the canon has more to do with discussion and popularity than likeability. It matters more how much a text is talked about than how much readers like it. I am not sure how much I agree with this statement. I am sure that the worst book of all time would get talked about a great deal, but would such popularity reserve it's place in the canon? I should hope not.
Originally, I had never really taken the time to look at literature from a perspective of class structure. After reading Ohmann though, I have come to the conclusion that class does play a role in the construction of the canon. All of this discussion regarding the canon and its subjectivity has got me rather frustrated. Is there any such thing as a purely good work of literature?
Monday, April 14, 2008
Speech Act Theory
While reading the introduction to Richard Ohmann's essay I was struck by the fact that he was "one of the first American scholars to introduce speech act theory" (1877). I decided to look this up on the Internet to find out what it was all about. I'm not quite sure why it caught my attention, other than the fact that I had never before heard of it.
I came across a website that was a chapter out of someones dissertation. The site was entitled Rhetorica. Here is the link: http://www.rhetorica.net/speech.htm.
According to this website, speech-act theory was proposed by J.L. Austin. In the simplest terms this theory states that "to say something is to do something." Austin breaks this down into two categories: performative and constantive. An example of a performative speech act would be a wedding, during which the priest says "I now pronounce you man and wife." According to the essay this proposition creates a social reality, and thus the speech is achieving something beyond itself. Constantives are statements that can be judged as true or false and attempt to "describe reality.
I think (if I am grasping the concept speech-act theory correctly) that even the "simplest statement" has much large implications. One cannot simply look at a sentence, but must instead look at it's many layers to find the action it elicits.
I think that the reason Ohmann might have been a proponent of the speech-act theory could be its ties to studying words and sentences within a social context. This clearly has connections to Marxism the the stress it places on society and cultural relevance.
I came across a website that was a chapter out of someones dissertation. The site was entitled Rhetorica. Here is the link: http://www.rhetorica.net/speech.htm.
According to this website, speech-act theory was proposed by J.L. Austin. In the simplest terms this theory states that "to say something is to do something." Austin breaks this down into two categories: performative and constantive. An example of a performative speech act would be a wedding, during which the priest says "I now pronounce you man and wife." According to the essay this proposition creates a social reality, and thus the speech is achieving something beyond itself. Constantives are statements that can be judged as true or false and attempt to "describe reality.
I think (if I am grasping the concept speech-act theory correctly) that even the "simplest statement" has much large implications. One cannot simply look at a sentence, but must instead look at it's many layers to find the action it elicits.
I think that the reason Ohmann might have been a proponent of the speech-act theory could be its ties to studying words and sentences within a social context. This clearly has connections to Marxism the the stress it places on society and cultural relevance.
Storytelling and Death
When reading Benjamin's essay I was fascinated by the section about death and storytelling. I had never before thought about the connections between storytelling and the general consciousness about death. It is very true in today's society that people have made it possible "to avoid the sight of dying" (6). Death is a subject that is almost taboo in American culture. It had never occurred to me that our fear and inability to cope with death could stem from our lack of discussion and storytelling.
Here is a practical application of literature (spoken literature). Why should we read? Why tell stories? Instead of hiding death we should learn to cope by talking about it. This is where I think the Marxist aspect of Benjamin's essay really begins to shine through. Death should be imbued in culture, it should be talked about. Discussion of death is much healthier than avoiding the sight of it altogether.
I think too that talking about things and telling stories is a very human way of working through life's problems and mysteries. It is our attempt at explaining the unexplainable. When we stop discussing death, and stop bequeathing our knowledge from generation to generation then death becomes a mystery one more. Something more feared than revered.
This again brings to light our culture's current fascination with solitude. Death is too big of a mystery to tackle alone. It is one of those fundamental ties between all of humanity, and we should treat it as such. A powerful combining factor rather than something to be hush-hushed. The unknown is always scarier than the known.
Storytelling may seem obsolete in this day and age, but this small section of Benjamin's essay proves this wrong. In certain areas of culture a novel simply will not suffice. Human interaction has its benefits. We were not made to be solitary creatures who sit and read alone, reveling in our individual experience. Some things are collective, such as death, and they can only be truly dissected in a collective manner such a storytelling.
Here is a practical application of literature (spoken literature). Why should we read? Why tell stories? Instead of hiding death we should learn to cope by talking about it. This is where I think the Marxist aspect of Benjamin's essay really begins to shine through. Death should be imbued in culture, it should be talked about. Discussion of death is much healthier than avoiding the sight of it altogether.
I think too that talking about things and telling stories is a very human way of working through life's problems and mysteries. It is our attempt at explaining the unexplainable. When we stop discussing death, and stop bequeathing our knowledge from generation to generation then death becomes a mystery one more. Something more feared than revered.
This again brings to light our culture's current fascination with solitude. Death is too big of a mystery to tackle alone. It is one of those fundamental ties between all of humanity, and we should treat it as such. A powerful combining factor rather than something to be hush-hushed. The unknown is always scarier than the known.
Storytelling may seem obsolete in this day and age, but this small section of Benjamin's essay proves this wrong. In certain areas of culture a novel simply will not suffice. Human interaction has its benefits. We were not made to be solitary creatures who sit and read alone, reveling in our individual experience. Some things are collective, such as death, and they can only be truly dissected in a collective manner such a storytelling.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
The Ipod Generation
There is no better testament to Benjamin's Storyteller than today's society. Personal interactions have been minimized more than ever before. Emails, IMs, text messages take the place of interpersonal communication. Even in everyday life, walking from point a to point b, so many of us pop in our Ipod headphones and zone out. We distance ourselves from the world around us, discouraging any type of communication. Ear buds give the signal, "stay away" and indicate the intent not to talk at a particular moment. It's no wonder that art forms such as storytelling are slowly dying out. There is too much hustle and bustle, too much impersonality to afford time for such an activity.
Benjamin seems to argue that the novel has begun to take the place of storytelling. While this may be true, I think that a number of other things have contributed to the demise of storytelling. In our rushed world, there is really no time set aside for listening to the stories of experience or legend. We schedule no times into our days for that. However, there is something to be said for the communication of this day and age. It is efficient and it is accessible. The way we communicate may be different, but it is communication nonetheless.
There is a wealth to be had in storytelling though. There is a richness in a story that has been carefully handed down from one generation to the next. When someone relates a story to an audience they add so much to it that a text alone could not deliver. With oral delivery comes inflection, emotion, explanation, and group response. In this respect, storytelling is akin to theater. It is active, living literature.
Currently, even the novel seems to be an art form that has slowly begun to die out. Children display a decreased interest in reading. The high tech world of video game entertainment is much more thrilling and captivating. Slowly but surely, it seems as though the novel has fallen to the wayside. I cannot help thinking that storytelling could be the answer to this dilemma. Storytelling breathes live to a story. for example, stories told by the fireside at night are always spookier and morbidly fascinating. Perhaps the way to get youth back into stories, is to tell them aloud. Novels can seem very flat and limp in comparison to many things in this world today. It seems that we should try a little harder to keep storytelling alive not only for the sake of storytelling, but for the sake of literature in all forms.
We were talking in class about the misrepresentation of the lower classes that would and has resulted from the decline of storytelling. Who will tell the stories of the lower classes if they are not spread by word of mouth. Who writes novels, gets them published, reads and discusses them? The middle and upper classes. The decline of storytelling could also result in a silencing of the lower class. It could contribute even more to the oppression felt by these individuals.
Benjamin seems to argue that the novel has begun to take the place of storytelling. While this may be true, I think that a number of other things have contributed to the demise of storytelling. In our rushed world, there is really no time set aside for listening to the stories of experience or legend. We schedule no times into our days for that. However, there is something to be said for the communication of this day and age. It is efficient and it is accessible. The way we communicate may be different, but it is communication nonetheless.
There is a wealth to be had in storytelling though. There is a richness in a story that has been carefully handed down from one generation to the next. When someone relates a story to an audience they add so much to it that a text alone could not deliver. With oral delivery comes inflection, emotion, explanation, and group response. In this respect, storytelling is akin to theater. It is active, living literature.
Currently, even the novel seems to be an art form that has slowly begun to die out. Children display a decreased interest in reading. The high tech world of video game entertainment is much more thrilling and captivating. Slowly but surely, it seems as though the novel has fallen to the wayside. I cannot help thinking that storytelling could be the answer to this dilemma. Storytelling breathes live to a story. for example, stories told by the fireside at night are always spookier and morbidly fascinating. Perhaps the way to get youth back into stories, is to tell them aloud. Novels can seem very flat and limp in comparison to many things in this world today. It seems that we should try a little harder to keep storytelling alive not only for the sake of storytelling, but for the sake of literature in all forms.
We were talking in class about the misrepresentation of the lower classes that would and has resulted from the decline of storytelling. Who will tell the stories of the lower classes if they are not spread by word of mouth. Who writes novels, gets them published, reads and discusses them? The middle and upper classes. The decline of storytelling could also result in a silencing of the lower class. It could contribute even more to the oppression felt by these individuals.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
More thoughts on Personal Economy
I was thinking today about just how "personal" a personal economy really is. Is it ever possible for two people to share the exact same personal economy? Or can two people's economies eventually converge when their experiences begin to overlap?
If two twins are raised together with the exact same conditions, and they spend the entirety of their lives together and share the same experiences, then would their personal economies be the same? Or does personal economy have something to do with personality as well?
I feel as though Herrnstein Smith's arguments regarding literature, could easily carry over into the psychology field. It seems to me that Herrnstein Smith is correct in her assumptions about personal economy though, in the sense that one can learn to like certain works of art. Many school children detest "the great" authors such as Shakespeare, but learn to like them as they grow older. Their experiences shape the value they assign to the text itself. A lot of this rests on the shoulders of society, however. If one does not share an apreciation for the works of Shakespeare then one is considered uncouth and uncultured in some way. Ideas about value hinge on social stature. One can really only climb the social ladder if and only if they appreciate the right wine, music, art, books etc. So do we really like the art, or the benefits it affords us?
On another note, there was something in her essay that confused me. I don't understand why, if our "purposes are continuously transformed and redirected" (1915), we have classic works of art. If our ideas about value are fluid things, and values is not, in fact, inherent, then why don't our ideas about the most "valuable" works of art change as well? As our personal economies change, so should our standards for what makes art valuable.
If two twins are raised together with the exact same conditions, and they spend the entirety of their lives together and share the same experiences, then would their personal economies be the same? Or does personal economy have something to do with personality as well?
I feel as though Herrnstein Smith's arguments regarding literature, could easily carry over into the psychology field. It seems to me that Herrnstein Smith is correct in her assumptions about personal economy though, in the sense that one can learn to like certain works of art. Many school children detest "the great" authors such as Shakespeare, but learn to like them as they grow older. Their experiences shape the value they assign to the text itself. A lot of this rests on the shoulders of society, however. If one does not share an apreciation for the works of Shakespeare then one is considered uncouth and uncultured in some way. Ideas about value hinge on social stature. One can really only climb the social ladder if and only if they appreciate the right wine, music, art, books etc. So do we really like the art, or the benefits it affords us?
On another note, there was something in her essay that confused me. I don't understand why, if our "purposes are continuously transformed and redirected" (1915), we have classic works of art. If our ideas about value are fluid things, and values is not, in fact, inherent, then why don't our ideas about the most "valuable" works of art change as well? As our personal economies change, so should our standards for what makes art valuable.
Personal Economy
How high society aesthetes must detest Barbara Herrnstein Smith. To propose that art has no inherent value seems to be a type of heresy in such circles. Herrnstein Smith proposes that "all definitions of art and all evaluations of specific "artworks" depend on a complex set of changing variables" (1910).
I believe that Hernnsetin Smith's argument resides within the confines of a larger argument. Questions of cultural relevance seem important here. How much are we affected by our culture? Does our culture make us who we are? It all comes back to the all important (and elusive) question of Nature vs. Nurture.
To say that there is an intrinsic value to art simultaneously seems like commonsense and silliness. Don't we all appreciate the works of Da Vinci, or Michelangelo, or Van Gogh? If our appreciation of art is not intrinsic then why are there "classic" works of art?
It seems to me that Herrnstein Smith argues for the "Nurture" side of things. We are conditioned by our surroundings and this builds our "personal economy" (1914). Our experiences with the world and with our culture shape who we are and what value we assign to things. We are told that Michelangelo and Da Vinci are the greats. from the get-go we are taught to assume that their art is some of the best. No child would go to a museum pick out a painting by either artist and assert that it had the most value of all the art in the museum. Though we like to think that we are autonomous, we are clearly possessed by our own personal economies.
This is where things get dicey. In terms of the canon (of great works of literature) we tend to assume that writers like Shakespeare are and have always been the greatest. But why? Here is where I think we are in danger of being blinded to just how much culture shapes our way of thinking. We have been taught to read Shakespeare's works through the lens of greatness. And how else can you view something then? It must be great. This almost seems to hinder the literary world though. Because everything must be weighed and measure against the greats. If a work has no echoes of Shakespeare or his greatness, then its value is diminished slightly. Our personal economies eat away somewhat at the value to be placed in individuality and creativity. One cannot deviate too much, for fear of alienating oneself from the canon.
So then , is there any way to set aside one's personal economy just long enough to objectively look at a new work?
I believe that Hernnsetin Smith's argument resides within the confines of a larger argument. Questions of cultural relevance seem important here. How much are we affected by our culture? Does our culture make us who we are? It all comes back to the all important (and elusive) question of Nature vs. Nurture.
To say that there is an intrinsic value to art simultaneously seems like commonsense and silliness. Don't we all appreciate the works of Da Vinci, or Michelangelo, or Van Gogh? If our appreciation of art is not intrinsic then why are there "classic" works of art?
It seems to me that Herrnstein Smith argues for the "Nurture" side of things. We are conditioned by our surroundings and this builds our "personal economy" (1914). Our experiences with the world and with our culture shape who we are and what value we assign to things. We are told that Michelangelo and Da Vinci are the greats. from the get-go we are taught to assume that their art is some of the best. No child would go to a museum pick out a painting by either artist and assert that it had the most value of all the art in the museum. Though we like to think that we are autonomous, we are clearly possessed by our own personal economies.
This is where things get dicey. In terms of the canon (of great works of literature) we tend to assume that writers like Shakespeare are and have always been the greatest. But why? Here is where I think we are in danger of being blinded to just how much culture shapes our way of thinking. We have been taught to read Shakespeare's works through the lens of greatness. And how else can you view something then? It must be great. This almost seems to hinder the literary world though. Because everything must be weighed and measure against the greats. If a work has no echoes of Shakespeare or his greatness, then its value is diminished slightly. Our personal economies eat away somewhat at the value to be placed in individuality and creativity. One cannot deviate too much, for fear of alienating oneself from the canon.
So then , is there any way to set aside one's personal economy just long enough to objectively look at a new work?
Thursday, April 10, 2008
from work to text
http://www.brocku.ca/english/courses/4F70/lisa_smith.barthes.html
After discussing Roland Barthes' essay "from work to text" in class I was inclined to look up more information regarding this subject. To be honest, I was hoping to come across something more explanatory in order to help me better understand Barthes' essay. However, i came across something much more interesting. There is an essay online by a writer named Lisa Smith. She is a member of the English Department at Brock University and her her essay was entitled "from Work to Text?"
Smith begins her essay by attempting to explain the distinctions Barthes makes between "work" and "text." She admits that the main purpose of her essay is to "explore how Barthes delineates a methodology of reading." for the purposes of introduction, Smith then proposes to look at Barthes' own essay as a work and as a text. This is the part of her essay that caught my attention. What better way to attempt to understand Barthes meaning of work vs. text than to apply it to his own essay. Here is an excerpt:
"In this context, it would be interesting to look at Barthes' own essay as a work and as a text. In many ways, Barthes signals his own separation from the "Newtonian" texts that claim to be works (Barthes 192). In other ways, however, the philosophy of the work inevitably permeates his own claims to avoid its dictates. As a work, as an entity which is separable from the discourse surrounding it, Barthes can claim that his essay is in conformation with the view of the text. Paradoxically, when viewed as a text, this separation from those texts which claim to be works is not achieved.
If I were analyzing Barthes' essay from the point of view of the theory of the work, I would accept his authorial claims to place "text" at the critical centre of attention and to throw the concept of "work" onto the periphery. At the beginning and at the end of his essay, Barthes clearly indicates his intention to separate his own critical formulations from critical formulations of the work. Since meta-language employs logic in order to set its own string of signifiers apart from the text, he will avoid doing so. He sets up the "arguments" and the "logic" which others employ in opposition to his "propositions" which are to be "understood more in a grammatical than in a logical sense" (Barthes 192). During the course of the work, he attempts to maintain the distance between the binary opposition of "work" and "text" by defining each term in contrast to its Other. At the end of his essay, he again insists that his "few propositions . . . inevitably" fail to form a meta-language which would dictate how a text should be read (Barthes 197).
In other ways, however, the essay belongs to the textual world consisting of texts conceived as works. For instance, though he claims to avoid formulating a Theory of the Text, he cannot in fact escape the need to understand language through theorizing. Though he signals his aversion to logical constructs by attempting to assert rather than attempting to explain what constitutes a work and what constitutes a text, he cannot do so without operating according to the dictates of a meta-language. "
To the best of my understanding I think that what Smith is saying is undermining what Barthes was trying to do in his essay. Essentially, because it is difficult to compartmentalize Barthes' essay into either a work or a text his own theories about the two fall flat. The distinctions between the two seem almost abstract and cannot be applicable even to his own essay. Yes, there are elements of both in his writing, but when it comes to choosing the one that best fits his essay, one runs into some difficulty.
This is where Barthes' essay confuses me. I absolutely understand the distinctions he is making between the work and the text. We outlined them in class, and they are very logical distinctions. The problem however, arises when the attempt is made to apply these distinctions to a sample of writing. It is not so cut and dried then.
After discussing Roland Barthes' essay "from work to text" in class I was inclined to look up more information regarding this subject. To be honest, I was hoping to come across something more explanatory in order to help me better understand Barthes' essay. However, i came across something much more interesting. There is an essay online by a writer named Lisa Smith. She is a member of the English Department at Brock University and her her essay was entitled "from Work to Text?"
Smith begins her essay by attempting to explain the distinctions Barthes makes between "work" and "text." She admits that the main purpose of her essay is to "explore how Barthes delineates a methodology of reading." for the purposes of introduction, Smith then proposes to look at Barthes' own essay as a work and as a text. This is the part of her essay that caught my attention. What better way to attempt to understand Barthes meaning of work vs. text than to apply it to his own essay. Here is an excerpt:
"In this context, it would be interesting to look at Barthes' own essay as a work and as a text. In many ways, Barthes signals his own separation from the "Newtonian" texts that claim to be works (Barthes 192). In other ways, however, the philosophy of the work inevitably permeates his own claims to avoid its dictates. As a work, as an entity which is separable from the discourse surrounding it, Barthes can claim that his essay is in conformation with the view of the text. Paradoxically, when viewed as a text, this separation from those texts which claim to be works is not achieved.
If I were analyzing Barthes' essay from the point of view of the theory of the work, I would accept his authorial claims to place "text" at the critical centre of attention and to throw the concept of "work" onto the periphery. At the beginning and at the end of his essay, Barthes clearly indicates his intention to separate his own critical formulations from critical formulations of the work. Since meta-language employs logic in order to set its own string of signifiers apart from the text, he will avoid doing so. He sets up the "arguments" and the "logic" which others employ in opposition to his "propositions" which are to be "understood more in a grammatical than in a logical sense" (Barthes 192). During the course of the work, he attempts to maintain the distance between the binary opposition of "work" and "text" by defining each term in contrast to its Other. At the end of his essay, he again insists that his "few propositions . . . inevitably" fail to form a meta-language which would dictate how a text should be read (Barthes 197).
In other ways, however, the essay belongs to the textual world consisting of texts conceived as works. For instance, though he claims to avoid formulating a Theory of the Text, he cannot in fact escape the need to understand language through theorizing. Though he signals his aversion to logical constructs by attempting to assert rather than attempting to explain what constitutes a work and what constitutes a text, he cannot do so without operating according to the dictates of a meta-language. "
To the best of my understanding I think that what Smith is saying is undermining what Barthes was trying to do in his essay. Essentially, because it is difficult to compartmentalize Barthes' essay into either a work or a text his own theories about the two fall flat. The distinctions between the two seem almost abstract and cannot be applicable even to his own essay. Yes, there are elements of both in his writing, but when it comes to choosing the one that best fits his essay, one runs into some difficulty.
This is where Barthes' essay confuses me. I absolutely understand the distinctions he is making between the work and the text. We outlined them in class, and they are very logical distinctions. The problem however, arises when the attempt is made to apply these distinctions to a sample of writing. It is not so cut and dried then.
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