In My Opinion: The Memoir as History

In this week’s reading on new historicism, I found the keywords of discourse, interpretation, and self-positioning the most interesting in relation to the literary theory. In Lois Tyson’s Critical Theory Today, she explains that “new historicism views historical accounts as narratives, as stories, that are inevitably biased according to the point of view, conscious or unconscious, of those who write them” (271). If this statement is to be taken at full value, how can we, as humans, researchers, etc., legitimize retellings or accounts of anything that has happened in history? In thinking about this question further, the definition of a discourse as something created “by particular cultural conditions at a particular time and place” (270) that then illuminates some aspect of the human condition or experience partially legitimizes the understanding that new historicism regards history as a narrative instead of concrete facts, but I still wonder about the full impact a biased account can have on an audience. 

As interpretation plays a huge part in new historicism, my additional question of how this literary theory can be applied to a memoir seems fairly straight-forward. After all, the memoir as a genre is inherently biased as the author and audience seem to share an understanding that the text is written from a specific perspective and only tells about certain events from the author’s perspective. In this way, looking at memoirs from a new historicism lens seems entirely appropriate: the narrative is universally understood to be a snapshot of a particular moment in time. I would like to further pursue in my application how Ehrlich’s personal narrative can be useful—even if it is not objective—and how the memoir’s subjectivity in general can open realms of interpretation that allow readers to understand the context in which the text was written. In my application of new historicism to Gretel Ehrlich’s memoir The Solace of Open Spaces, I will explore how the genre of the memoir can be seen as a form of self-positioning and how looking at Ehrlich’s interpretation of events may not be totally accurate, but it still a useful lens through which readers can view certain moments in history. 

Perhaps the most useful way to apply new historicism to Ehrlich’s memoir is to look at the chapter titled “To Live in Two Worlds: Crow Fair and a Sun Dance.” In this chapter, Ehrlich discusses several rituals, including a Native American religious ceremony called the Sun Dance. She starts her description with seemingly objective details: “Every man wore beaded moccasins, leaving legs and torsos bare. Their faces, chests, arms, and the palms of their hands were painted yellow” (108). In the next scene where the men start dancing, Ehrlich’s depiction is clearly more subjective, as she comments that “in the air so dry and with their juices squeezed out, [the men] looked weightless, their bodies thin and brittle as shells. It wasn’t the pain of the sacrifice they were making that counted but the emptiness to which they were surrendering themselves. It was an old ritual: separation, initiation, return” (112). With the genre of memoir as a whole, the text is acknowledged as being inherently biased, and yet accepted by the audience as such. In terms of self-positioning, I think it is unique that readers are aware that they are reading about experiences through the author’s lens, but that does not discredit the text itself. Much like new historicism argues, it is the reader’s interpretation of Ehrlich’s narrative that really matters. Because the reader knows the limitations out-right, there is room to balance Ehrlich’s objectivity when she talks about the body paint on the men with her interpretation of what the Sun Dance means in terms of Native American culture. We can still value Ehrlich’s outsider view of the Sun Dance because it gives us a glimpse into the historical culture of Wyoming in the 1980s, but reader’s must be aware that this is just one interpretation of the event from one person’s perspective. Therefore, one limitation of applying new historicism to the memoir is that the reader would have to do extra research to find out if Ehrlich’s narrative of Native American culture is accurate to this time period, because perhaps this biased content is not the best example of the culture of that time period. I think that this literary theory works when thinking about the memoir as a genre and the biases that are presented to the reader, but it lacks the concrete-ness needed to really construct an argument around the text. Perhaps attaching this theory to formalism, structuralism, and reader-response theory would help to construct an argument that looks at the subjective-ness of a text as being beneficial to convey authorial experiences while also imparting wisdom onto the reader. 

Ehrlich, Gretel. The Solace of Open Spaces. New York, Penguin, 1985.

Tyson, Lois. Critical Theory Today. 3rd ed., Routledge, 2015. 

Limiting Genius with the New Criticism Method

The New Criticism model of literature evaluation forces us to compare a text against itself. It constrains us to what has been provided for us by the author. All arguments must stem from what is on the page, all evidence to support those arguments must come from that same page. We are asked not to consider the author’s background, their intent in writing the text, or the impact the artifact has had upon the reader.

The effect of this model of criticism is to limit the brilliance of some pieces of literature, by removing from their merit the huge emotional response a reader may have to the piece to avoid the “affective fallacy” (Tyson, 131). Removing the author’s background or purpose in writing to avoid the “intentional fallacy” (130) can also hobble appreciation of the piece; by not including their experiences or lack of experiences, we don’t fully appreciate what they’ve accomplished with the text.

The piece “Incarnations of Burned Children” by David Foster Wallace is a piece that suffers from the avoidance of the two fallacies Tyson describes. The text is a visceral stream of consciousness narrative from the internal dialogue of a father whose child has just been critically injured. The text itself does not follow many of the traditions that Eliot espouses authors building upon. Wallace’s concept is not a new one. The words he chooses, while well chosen, aren’t especially academic or inventive. What is new, or “temporal” (Eliot) about the piece is the effect the structure and words chosen have upon the reader.

If the reader is limited solely to the text, they will find little formal structure here. Even punctuation often goes by the wayside to accomplish the frantic, pell-mell feeling of the text. The piece is so appallingly real that many parents struggle to read the piece or listen to the work being read. When reading this piece, the reader fights to get through the piece quickly, desperately seeking resolution to the horrors unfolding before them, much as the father himself is trying to remedy his child’s distress. Wallace forces the reader to become the parent. The reader’s urgency is evidence of the brilliance of the piece. If we remove their response to the piece, we miss out entirely on the genius of the structure.

Where Wallace’s work might please Eliot is in his depersonalization. Eliot describes depersonalization as “a continual surrender of himself as he is at the moment to something which is more valuable” (Eliot). Wallace, who had no children of his own, steps into the shoes of a parent on the worst day of their lives. He surrenders himself to the experience that many parents have experienced to varying degrees. He fully explores the helplessness and rage and frustration a parent cast into those circumstances feels, with little personal experience to draw from.

To remove the reader’s response to “Incarnations of Burned Children” and to remove the incredibly real way Wallace explored a situation he had no experience in is to detract from the genius of the piece. Wallace’s ability to cast the reader into the same emotional crisis as the protagonist of his work using commonplace words arranged and paced in a deliberate way detracts from the piece’s value. His ability to conceptualize the emotional state of the man without having experienced it himself is remarkable.

For these reasons, the New Criticism model of evaluating literature cannot effectively assess the merits of some works. In works such as this, the New Criticism model becomes merely a starting point to look at the structure of the piece, its patterns, and overall tone. We as scholars must then step outside the model to truly evaluate the whole of the piece.

https://www.esquire.com/entertainment/books/a500/incarnations-burned-children-david-foster-wallace-0900/

Works Cited

Eliot, T. S. “Tradition and the Individual Talent by T. S. Eliot.” Poetry Foundation, Poetry Foundation, 13 Oct. 2009, https://www.poetryfoundation.org/articles/69400/tradition-and-the-individual-talent.

Tyson, Lois. Critical Theory Today: a User-Friendly Guide. Routledge, 2015.

Wallace, David Foster. “Incarnations of Burned Children.” Esquire, Hearst Magazine Media Inc., 11 Oct. 2017, https://www.esquire.com/entertainment/books/a500/incarnations-burned-children-david-foster-wallace-0900/.