Abstract

At first I thought Richard Berrong’s claim was only that I had misread Rabelais. My main point was not about Rabelais but about how, in general, we might deal with sexist classics. But it remains true that if Berrong has caught me misreading—and then condemning—“bits” torn from their context, I have violated my own professed standards. He and I both see Rabelais as a very great author, and we both hope to avoid the pointlessness of judging works, great or small, for faults that they do not exhibit. But I am not certain whether we agree that when, after careful reading, we find that a beloved author is in some way insensitive or unjust, we will want somehow to include that judgment in what we say about the author’s genius. When I consider his conclusion closely, I begin to suspect that we are engaged in a dispute not about Rabelais but about whether we are free to appraise a literary work in terms other than “its own.”I shall not attempt a detailed answer to the claim that I have misread Rabelais. Even if I chanced to persuade Berrong—an unlikely outcome now, since my long article failed to win him—we can be sure that many other modern readers would rise up to call Rabelais inoffensive. Disputes about his treatment of women have continued for more than four centuries, and they are not likely ever to be finally settled. So I shall just touch on four of our contrasting readings and then turn to the more important matter of how we view ethical criticism. Wayne Booth’s most recent book is Critical Understanding: The Powers and Limits of Pluralism. A version of his critique of Rabelais will appear this year in The Company We Keep: Ethical Criticism and the Ethics of Reading