Tag: T.S. Eliot

Limiting Genius with the New Criticism Method

On By jsmith26washcollIn Jacquelyn, Professor MeehanLeave a comment

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/.

Originality and the Historical Sense

On By sabowdenwritesIn SarahLeave a comment

Eliot describes a poet’s originality as the places where “the dead poets, his ancestors, assert their immortality most vigorously.”  In other words, everything in art has been done, no matter how original it seems, and this isn’t something to be ashamed of. (I get this a lot as a writer.)  He emphasizes the “historical sense,” an understanding of how the past is present today (clever pun). But a historical sense cannot be passively absorbed. It must be obtained by “great labor.”  

I agree with much of what Eliot said.  His argument on dead poets asserting their immortality in living poets’ work reminded me of a surprising discovery I made while revising a YA mystery.  I considered my protagonist Silas pretty original—he’s a seventeen-year-old butler—but I realized he has things in common with a much older protagonist: Jesus.  Silas is conceived out of wedlock to a low-class couple. He lives a life of service and obedience. He walks on (frozen) water and serves at the story’s last supper.  He puts the lives of others before his own to confront great evil (the killer), who drags him to a graveyard. There, he’s wounded in the hand and side but (miraculously?) walks out of the graveyard alive.  

Contrary to Eliot’s argument, I wasn’t aware of all this when I wrote the story.  Not all echoes of past literature are consciously inserted by the writer through great labor.  First, we’re born into cultures that carry assumptions, stories, and ideals, which influence our thinking.  Second, the story (or other art) always has connections, references, and ideas the writer isn’t immediately aware of.  However, I doubt it’s a coincidence that I, a Roman Catholic author who read various stories with Christ figures and Biblical allusions, wrote a story about a boy with Christ figure characteristics.  

At the same time, becoming aware of our culture’s assumptions, stories, and ideals that we absorb is important not just for writers but also for thinkers.  This is the “great labor” to acquire a “historical sense.” It helps us understand why we believe what we believe and gives us room to consider other cultures’ assumptions, stories, and ideals.  

The historical sense and the “immortality” of dead writers puts a wrinkle in new criticism, though.  New criticism cuts out any context a writer is born into and the influence of previous writers, but Eliot claims both of these must be considered by a writer with the historical sense.  A new critic could get around this by pointing out that historical sense is directed at writers, not readers, and new criticism is a way of reading, not writing. Arguably, a writer doesn’t have to think about new criticism and can consider all the context they want when writing.  A new critical reader just won’t factor any of that in. But ignoring the historical sense means ignoring influences that guide the work. Those influences may give a new way to see the work as a whole. For example, if I think of Silas as a Christ figure, that suggests the killer embodies Satan and human wickedness, or Silas’s friends represent disciples, which opens a new line of analysis into their roles in the story.  

Reference

Eliot, T. S. “Tradition and the Individual Talent.”  The Sacred Wood: Essays on Poetry and Criticism, 1920.  

The Cost of Cutting the Context

On By vaxjonesIn VaxLeave a comment

I find many aspects of New Criticism contradictory and un-objective, but what created the most conflict for me is the New Critic perspective on psychological, sociological, and philosophical parts of works. In Critical Theory Today, Lois Tyson describes this perspective: “…New Critics addressed these elements, but they did so for the purpose of examining how such elements operate to establish the texts’ theme… they aestheticized them” (142). To look at psychological, sociological, and philosophical parts of a work and disregard them or only look at them aesthetically seems disingenuous. True distance from those three areas is impossible for a human, who is made of subjectivity and bias, and more so for the specific group of humans – rich, white, educated, abled, cisgender, heterosexual men – who dominated this theory in its heyday.

T.S Eliot writes in “Tradition and the Individual Talent” that “the emotion of art is impersonal.” This ties into his commentary on the separation of the of the “personality” of the author, as he describes it, and the medium. This implies a vast distance between a poet and their writing. I understand him to mean that emotional distance is required to produce effective poetry, and I agree that some is useful. However, his description of the distance is too extreme. It is as if the poet is merely a robot that has no experiences, feelings, or thoughts that can – intentionally or unintentionally – influence the resulting poem. Or, those influences are irrelevant to the quality of the poem.

The New Critics reduce writing to the formal qualities, and Eliot furthers this notion of intratextual examination when he distances the author. Neither, however, are the problem inherit with this theory. Its claims of ‘single best interpretation’ and ‘objectivity’ create the issue. As I have touched above, there are alternatives to the rigidness of New Criticism, which can hold more weight based on the work.

Consider “On Being Brought from Africa to America” by Phillis Wheatley:

‘Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land,

Taught my benighted soul to understand

That there’s a God, that there’s a Saviour too:

Once I redemption neither sought nor knew.

Some view our sable race with scornful eye,

“Their colour is a diabolic die.”

Remember, Christians, Negros, black as Cain,

May be refin’d, and join th’ angelic train.

A New Critic would talk about the organic unity in certain aspects in this poem (“Pagan” balancing “Saviour,” the contrast of a physical land and a soul). But they would be missing what I find of the utmost relevance, because context is required. It was written by an enslaved African woman in the United States at the beginning of the 19th century. Phillis Wheatley was published by white people for white people, and her master encouraged her to write. She could neither cut herself off completely, because she had things she needed to say, nor directly convey what she needed to tell them. New Critics may say, “Well, we can aestheticize some of that from within the poem.” And to that, I say, if we do, we miss the integral part of this poem. This poem does not exist simply to be art. It is a message. In an elegant and poetic form, but the purpose is to convey a specific message in a non-threatening yet impactful way that comes directly from her personal circumstances. It is openly as Phillis Wheatley can say to that her enslavement is wrong: “Remember, Christians, Negros, black as Cain / May be refin’d, and join th’ angelic train.”

This portrait comes from one of Phillis Wheatley’s poetry books.

Works Cited

Eliot, T. S. “Tradition and the Individual Talent.” Poetry Foundation. 13 Oct. 2009. www.poetryfoundation.org/articles/69400/tradition-and-the-individual-talent. Accessed 6 Sept. 2019.

Moorhead, Scipio, Engraver. Phillis Wheatley, Negro servant to Mr. John Wheatley, of Boston. Retrieved from the Library of Congress. http://www.loc.gov/item/2002712199/. Accessed 6 Sept. 2019.

Tyson, Lois. Critical Theory Today. 3rded., Routledge, 2015.

Wheatley, Phillis. “On Being Brought from Africa to America.” Poetry Foundation. www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45465/on-being-brought-from-africa-to-america. Accessed 6 Sept. 2019.