All the world's a production (with apology to Will)

The Eagleton reading confirmed my speculation that Marxist theory relates to art as a product, and the interplay of history/ideology and text/production serves to identify the "internal relations to its 'world' ." As I read, I could not help but envision this relationship in terms of the Greek drama mask. The mask was both the signifier and, to some degree, the signified. It served to give the audience a point of reference. Beneath the mask was the human actor. If this person had removed the mask, the audience would have been at least a little confused. They would not immediately understand the intention or the message behind the action. The threads of the play would be lost, and the actor would not be recognized because he had been know only as that entity signified by the mask. In reference to Balzac,"..his art drives him to transcend his reactionary ideology and perceive the real historical issues at stake" (172). Perhaps all ideologies are merely masks that lend meaning to the cosmological audience. In that case, theoretical constructs are intended to be predominately referential . Maybe.

In search of an adequate umbrella

In the realm literary criticism and theory, it is rare that anyone creates anything new. Most of what we have been reading is based on theorists looking at existing phenomena and attempting to explain the foundations, origins, basis, or "essence" behind the works of others and behind social structures. In the most extreme speculation, there is a denial that such things even exist. There is no real structure or essence. All ideas about reality are artificial constructs that serve a limited and transient purpose. In Marxism, there is a shift back to finding that root/causal element which will explain a number of different--apparently unrelated--phenomena. That base was economy. All social interaction throughout history was to be viewed from the singular perspective of a struggle to control "production" in all of its aspects. The effects on the artistic world are a little blurry because, other than the move by the Communist government to suppress art that didn't toe the party line, Marx seemed to have thought very little about that. Perhaps art was simply another product to be controlled by a fluctuating hierarchy. There are a number of other isms seeking a base that is progressively more eccentric. The definition of a universal philosophy or cosmology based on single group perspective is the aim of many current theoretical approaches. Feminism is simply one more. However, there has been a not so subtle shift in the place and purpose of theoretical speculation. Marxist aims were to change the material world by changing the power base controlling the means of production. The more that people were "schooled" to see this perspective, the harder it would be for the old structures to stand. Unlike previous theorists who sought to understand and to explain, the Marxist sought to actively intervene. A part if this intervention involved the creation of a recognizable enemy of the "cause"--the Bourgeoisie.
The Hooks reading identifies the enemy as the sexist and the purpose of feminism/feminist cultural criticism is to identify and eradicate sexism (against women primarily). The sexist enemy can be either males coming from the old patriarchal structures or the privileged "white"(?) woman who has lost interest and identification with feminist theory because she now has access to the money and the power structures formerly in the tight grasp of the male controllers (are we back to Marxism here?). It is the purpose of feminist criticism and politics to educate the people to recognize the various forms of sexism that may manifest in all aspects of our shared existence. Unlike Marxism, feminism is acutely aware of the influence of the arts and makes them a focal point, as hooks points out in her exuberant proclamation at the beginning of the article. It seems to me that theory as a discipline and as pursuit into deeper meanings (or non-meaning) is becoming both more eccentric and more adversarial in nature. It almost seems that there is an attempt to regress to an "us v. them" mentality. Perhaps some of the earlier vagueness in the course was a good thing.

A loss for words

I really don't know what to say. These readings seem to be starting to rehash everything we have been talking about from the beginning. Issues of form and the purpose of literature and rhetoric (revealing the author, concealing the author, ignoring the author) are still with us. Marxist theory (in its various forms) seems more proactive than most with its stated purpose of not just understanding but changing reality. At least it acknowledges the existence of reality. It is paralleling the more spiritual Greeks who explain the ideal in the guise of the caste system of the utopian philosoper king. Marx denies the ideal and replaces it with the somewhat more mobile and material caste system of class struggle--more mobile in the sense that up sometimes winds up being down and vice versa. Then Althusser brings us right back to a decentered structure without essence or focus. It is all very much like a tail chasing its dog.

So, that's all folks. I am going to sign off now and go read the book that I have selected to review. It really is more interesting for me than this week's assignments, and I suspect it is more original, too.

Tech trouble

I do not know what is going on with the Jameson post. It is supposed to be below this one. It shows partial text, and if you left click after the last letter and drag the mouse, it does show the rest of the text. I have done everything I can to fix it, but nothing is working. If you all see a different screen, let me know.

Jameson and the Order of the Comfy Chair

I have to admit to an appreciation of the reading from "On Interpretation: Literature as a Socially Symbolic Act." It had an almost anti-climatic, post- resolution sense of ease after weeks of butting our heads against Truth (big "T", little "t", CAPITALIZED, italicized, bolded, and "quoted "T"). It was like a cool refreshing drink after the parching desert where nihilist "monks" chanted a decentralizing mantra of "Nada, Nada, all is Nada." I found myself reveling in phrases that identified a principle as "the absolute horizon of all reading and interpretation" (181). I rejoiced in the resurrection of the author in the forms of Dante, Milton, and Joyce. I, too, believe that "even archaic moments of the cultural past...do not go away just because we choose to ignore them" (182). To grasp this cultural past is to behold a mystery. This mystery not only possesses a center, it requires a unified "human adventure" in order to be truly comprehensible. I stood up and cheered the formula, "Our presupposition, in the analyses that follow, will be that only a genuine philosophy of history is capable of respecting the specificity and radical difference of the social and cultural past while disclosing the solidarity of its polemics and passions, its forms, structures, experiences, and struggles, with those of the present day. ..." (182). The extreme graciousness of Jameson was impressive in noting that other perspectives, though having merit, are in fact, "more specialized interpretive codes whose insights are strategically limited as much by their own situational origins as by the narrow or local ways in which they construe or construct their objects of study" (183). I almost wept with relief after so much energy has been expended over the futility of words and the ethereal nature of language when I read, "Indeed, no working model of the functioning of language, the nature of communication or of the speech act, and the dynamics of formal and stylistic change is conceivable which does not imply a whole philosophy of history. ..." (184). All is not truly relative; there really is a mysticism implied in language that transcends mere formulas. As Telleyrand is credited with observing: "language ... having been given to us in order to conceal our thoughts" (184). Ahh! This is incredibly warm and comfy. Can I please have some marshmallows with my hot chocolate?

Blinded by Science--or Something

In class last week, there was a lot of talk about things that seemed to appear in triads. The readings regarding structuralism and post- structuralism appear to continue this theme. In the mix is the presence of religion, even though not so conspicuously as in past readings. Religion strives to prove that there is "something" that centers the universe, and that man possesses an essence that is immutable and eternal. Philosophy (at least the philosophies discussed in the text which are firmly in the nihilist camp) frequently appears to argue that there is in fact nothing and that there is no center, no essence. Science tries to prove whether or not something either is or is not using a set of standards; however, even these standards are occasionally the subject of scientific inquiry. Religion fosters and expands its control through guilt and promises of reward. We are creatures of a god that is able to place at least a part of his word in us, and who gives us access to definitive powers. Philosophy removes the element of guilt from the occasion, and as the text states, replaces it with post-structuralist anxiety. We are not the creative word, but created by the word, and therefore, not in command of its powers. The reward is a relativistic euphoria where all is free-floating and unattached (60). Where there is no gravity, there is no real fear of falling. Science , or structuralism, attempts to remove both guilt and anxiety by examining that which may be known and identifying its "essence".
The two ends of the scale both require a great deal of faith in "the word". The world and all in it were spoken into being by a personified word. To believe this, an attitude of mind called faith is required. Philosophical post-structuralism
has a Big Bang theory that talks about language exploding "into multiplicities of meaning" (70). Post-structuralism is also described as an attitude of mind. This attitude of mind requires us to believe that a text possesses a "textual subconscious." A group of words that have no real meaning, always in a state of flux, contained within the confines of a piece of paper has a "subconscious" state--but no essence? That's one heck of a Credo. All the while the structuralists are trying to determine whether our texts (and ourselves) bang, wheeze, fizzle, or simply float away in the light of parallels, echoes, balances, patterns, symmetries, etc. Have we moved past the attempt to define and control truth into the more simple endeavor of trying to define and control reality?

Everything old is new again (?)

It never ceases to annoy me a little when I turn on the radio and a supposedly "new" hit is announced by the DJ, and once I hear the opening chords, I recognize instantly that this "new" smash hit was something I heard when I was twenty something. I have had several arguments with my sons about this, and it isn't until I dust off an old tape or find an oldies site with the original piece that they will believe that their music is more and more a product of remake. They do, however, make a valid point. The music isn't really the same. Sure, some of the words are the same, and there is a related structure in the melody, but there are substantial differences, too. The voices are different; the rhythm is altered, and the instruments are modern; same basic idea maybe, but a different framework for a different audience. This is the image running through my mind with Conley's discussion of the rediscovery of the Greek and Roman texts that had be sent into disuse, or never known after the fall of the Western Empire. An excitement over ideas is always energizing, and even after more than a half a millennium since the Renaissance, I can sense the impact that the discovery and translation of the texts had on the academic and philosophical communities of the day. And they really weren't the same. The "rhythms" changed in response to the times. As Conley points out, global discovery, along string of wars and wars continuing, religious upheaval--not to mention the population-reducing effects of the Black Plague--had altered human perception of some of the basic concepts discussed by the old Greeks and Romans. The voices being lifted in tribute to this new interest in eloquence carried a different pitch, if not a different message. The reinterpretation of a revered text is almost a certainty when it passes through multigenerational filters. The discovery of the unknown texts and the text thought to be lost added the illusion of newness to the discussion. I have a friend who is a Rabbi, and we were discussing the book of Deuteronomy in the Torah. He informed me that there were several written deuteronomies, and this was simply the most ancient of the preserved documents. The basic law and cultural had to be revisited and revised by each generation in order to keep it applicable to the current setting and meaningful to the people living throughout time. The law and the culture had to be "rediscovered" in a modern context. This seems to be what the Renaissance scholars did with the concepts of rhetoric. They seem to have melded some of the Greek fascination with eloquence for its own sake with the Roman (Cicero and Quintilian) recognition that rhetoric must have a practical end as well. Augustine in his discussion of styles for the purpose of "entertainment and delight" as well as for catechises was in harmony with the Greek schools and was true to his background as a classical educator. He does introduce the concept of the importance of the moral character of the speaker in relationship to the persuasive power of his words: "But the life of the speaker has greater force to make him persuasive than the grandeur of his eloquence. . . " (Matsen 376). Erasmus, also an educator, claims that "the end of education was the development of eloquent persons of character" (Conley 121). In Folly
the stress is on wisdom rather than the search for Truth. In this, Erasmus is in line with the other Renaissance scholars. In his refutation of Luther's claims against the existence of free will, Erasmus is Socratic, not stating or arguing facts, but asking questions about what might be reasonable to believe. His admiration of Agricola may be evident here, too. Agricola's claim that dialectic is superior to rhetoric because dialectic deals with invention and rhetoric only deals with delivery is curious, because he also claims that this separation is merely apparent in many ways. "Dialectic is at its heart rhetorical, able to invent arguments that move audiences as well as instruct them--that is, which persuade them" (Conley 127). Erasmus --even though never claiming to be or being recognized as a professional rhetorician-- appears to do both --invent and persuade. The humanistic themes in rhetoric that are found in Folly continue throughout his work, as does the combining of ideas about dialectic/rhetoric which is found in many works even in the 18th century.

Last week another student made a speculative comment about the right of the educated and privileged minority to make decisions about the morality to be practiced by the masses. That was being done throughout the period covered by the readings. The only true shift appears to have been in the population that was considered to be the educated and privileged minority. It shifted from the philosopher and statesman to cleric. Priests and members of various religious orders claimed the right to interpret both wisdom and Truth for the people. As far back as Cicero, the thought that "rhetoric is an alternative to the use of force" (Conley 110) was expressed by those who saw it as a tool to humanize the rather inhumane conditions of the common man. It is interesting that Conley also points out that for the majority of people during the time of the Renaissance, the common occupation was fighting--for conquest or for survival--and not the more productive activities of commerce and agriculture. What difference did all the fine words bandied about under porticoes, from porches and pulpits really make? How significant were men who were perhaps more focused on impressing their cronies than on changing the lot of the world for all those unwashed masses? Who was listening to them amid the burnings and flayings inflicted by both the Catholic and the Protestant communities on their opponents? Who evaluated the fine delivery of lofty phrases while dying on a battlefield in one of the countless wars spanning the centuries? How truly significant are all their theories about form and delivery today when it comes to using "rhetoric as an alternative to force"? "Oh," the argument goes, "without them and their ideas, their endless ponderings, and continual episodes of philosophical bombast, the world would be in much worse shape." And we know this, how? Because someone told us so while we were sitting in a classroom? Because we read about it in a well-documented, scholarly book, and therefore, it must be true? I have always harbored the suspicion that if all the orators, philosophers, and theologians had invested as much time in teaching the common folk how to read learned works for themselves as they did in their good- old - boy BS sessions--well--there might be less BS to deal with. If they had written down the ideas and shared them with those newly literate masses, the social advances attributed to them and their ideas may have occurred more quickly than they did. Treating knowledge as the property of an educated few can only cripple true progress. The Renaissance could have happened five hundred years sooner. Every semester I walk into several classrooms and look out on many faces. It doesn't take long for me to realize that educated old me, going into the 6th comfortable decade of life, has forgotten more than my students may ever know. This is not because I am super smart or because my students are in any way intellectually inferior. It is because so much of their energy is being directed to fighting: fighting against the decline of family structures in which they are either the baby born to babies, or the baby raising babies alone; fighting against the growing violence and abuse that threatens to blow our globe apart; fighting against the temptation to easy money in crime and gangs; fighting against the momentary solace of substances; fighting against the humiliation of having to wait for 10 hours in an emergency room and then facing the contemptuous attitudes of health care providers who simply see them as "the uninsured. What use will all my fine words and well-turned phrases be to them? Looking through the rosy colored lens of my humanistic cosmology, I would like to believe that their presence in my classroom means that they are on the ladder up and out of all of that. I do not know if that will really happen or not. All I know for a certainty about my students is that they will surely keep on fighting. Everything that is old is new again. Such is my soapbox.