I first read from this textbook, a collection of essays from various key figures in eight different critical movements of the 20th century, in a post-grad lit class at UNC-CH in 1987. A recent re-reading of Frederic Jameson’s Prison-House of Language prompted me to retrieve Con Davis’ book from the back of my shelves and ponder what it was I was reading/thinking those many years ago. The markings and marginalia in my book indicate I read a little over one-third of the essays, one or two essays per critical movement. For no reason other than to be a completist, I decided to read the entire book.
A rare, salient comment from one of the later essayists, a reader-response critic, stated that one reason/prompt for criticism might be the reader’s desire to prolong the dialog she is having with the book/author, even after the work/text/book has been read. Up to this late point in my reading of the many essays Con Davis has included in this book, there had been little from these critics about why it is that a reader might want to analyze and critique literature. More striking to me was that none of the critics in this book even began to ponder aesthetics, even when discussing poetry rather than novels or other prose texts.
For half of the critics, the object of their analysis is merely text whose manifest meaning is immaterial. The attempt in structuralism and formalism, for instance, is to put the analysis of literature on par with the natural sciences, utilizing objective and standardized techniques to reveal patterns that advert psychological or social or historical issues that inform but lie outside the text. Such practices appear to work best with popular genre literature, again sidestepping aesthetics, technique, or quality. At the post-structuralist extreme, with the practitioners of deconstruction, the purpose of literary analysis is to observe the way in which the text has subverted and contradicted itself, to illustrate the point that language is ultimately incapable of an unqualified statement.
The critics who appealed to me most in this book were the reader-response critics, as they appeared to enjoy the books with which they interacted in a way that resembles what normal readers do. In particular, George Poulet’s suggestion that reading was entering into another consciousness resonated with me. The critics employing psychoanalytical methods that placed the text on the couch were only half convincing, and I wondered at how any such critic could determine whether they were mining the artist’s unconscious or simply following the trail of crumbs left by a very good artist. The Marxians—seeking in the text a manifest or latent dialectic with their social and historical environment—offer a moral perspective to literary analysis, but I found them too sweeping in their concerns, too little concerned with any particular work or author.
The best, most entertaining essays in this volume were those that showed their critical bent/practice with the reading of particular works: Isaiah Smithson’s psychoanalytic treatment of Iris Murdoch’s novel, A Severed Head; Umberto Eco’s structuralist approach to reading Superman; Stanley Fish’s reading of Milton’s verse; Barbara Johnson’s metacommentary on Roland Barthes’ reading of Balzac; and Gayatri Spivak’s feminist reading of To the Lighthouse. At the other extreme were the critics whose language was so abstruse that there were only glimmers of a concrete reality behind their fifth-level abstractions: Julia Kristeva’s poststructuralist abstract on an obscure 14th-century courtier’s novel; Neil Hertz’s discussion of a particular case of Freud (Dora) and its relevance to Henry James; and Jacques Derrida’s debut on the American stage with his reductio ad aporia deconstructive methodology.
Robert Con Davis introduces each of the critical schools objectively, with clarity and concision. Each of the critics is given a summative preface, with reference to academic credentials, publications, and some particulars about her/his critical stance. There’s nothing to fault in the book: it introduces, explains, and demonstrates sufficiently what it means to have been an academic literary critic in the 20th century. I imagine that the newer editions of this volume (mine was the first edition) contain sections on critical approaches to literature dealing with the broader concepts of gender, race, and ethnicity. While I appreciate the fact that I’ve no Mrs. Grundy telling me what is art, what is beautiful, and what is good, I do wonder how it is that contemporary literary criticism has so thoroughly sidestepped what’s entailed in elevating a text/book to the status of art.