Theorists of Orientalism and postcolonialism argue that novelists betray political and cultural anxieties when characterizing "the Other." Shameem Black takes a different stance. Turning a fresh eye toward several key contemporary novelists, she reveals how "border-crossing" fiction represents socially diverse groups without resorting to stereotype, idealization, or other forms of imaginative constraint. Focusing on the work of J. M. Coetzee, Amitav Ghosh, Jeffrey Eugenides, Ruth Ozeki, Charles Johnson, Gish Jen, and Rupa Bajwa, Black introduces an interpretative lens that captures (...) the ways in which these authors envision an ethics of representing social difference. They not only offer sympathetic portrayals of the lives of others but also detail the processes of imagining social difference. Whether depicting the multilingual worlds of South and Southeast Asia, the exportation of American culture abroad, or the racial tension of postapartheid South Africa, these transcultural representations explore social and political hierarchies in constructive ways. Boldly confronting the orthodoxies of recent literary criticism, Fiction Across Borders builds upon such seminal works as Edward Said's Orientalism and offers a provocative new study of the late twentieth-century novel. (shrink)

Survey of the reception history of E.L. Doctorow, the controversial American author.

This e-book written in Hungarian seeks to reconstruct “the aesthetic” in the modern sense of the word, from the mid-17th century to the 1730s, through the texts of mainly British authors such as John Dennis, Lord Shaftesbury, Joseph Addison, Richard Steele, Francis Hutcheson, George Berkeley, sometimes using their Spanish and French predecessors for contextualization. It assumes that “the aesthetic” is an unprecedented type of experience that had to be discovered, or rather invented; it is therefore more than a discussion (...) of some old, always existing quality or sensibility in a new theoretical guise. If the words “(school) philosophy”, “art” and “criticism” can be associated with the mostly systematic theories of aesthetics that emerged in the wake of Alexander G. Baumgarten as a loose characterisation, then the words “(popular) theology”, “nature” and “exercise” are even more so with the earlier texts that are on the table here, which played a role in the formation of “the aesthetic”. It seems that in this period, “the aesthetic” is understood above all as a new and intimate link between the sensual and the supernatural or spiritual, in which the former is not just an apropos or disposable means to the latter, but an indispensable and ever-present component that provides a constitutive framework for experience. Its unprecedented modernity lies in its nisus to capture the divine in the sensual and to make it present as sensual. In this new experiential form, both the “nature” of the transcendence and the spiritual economics of the beholder are reconfigured. The new “aesthetic” is connected to and associated with the full experience of life, the joy of existence, the openness to the transcendent through the sensuality of the natural or everyday world, the interplay of external determination and internal spontaneity, the enchanted state of mind experienced in a waking dream, the reinterpretation of the relationship between reality and fiction, the intense existential experience of spiritual and emotional movement provided by walking, wandering, boating or cheerful imagination. (shrink)

"El XI Encuentro Internacional de Escritores de Monterrey organizado por el Consejo para la Cultura y las Artes de Nuevo León , tuvo como invitados a autores de México, Ecuador, Cuba, Estados Unidos, Perú, Uruguay, Costa Rica, Venezuela, Argentina y Nueva Zelanda. La sede del encuentro fue el Area Tierra del Museo de Historia Mexicana durante el 5, 6, y 7 de octubre de 2006"--Page 4 of cover.

This study represents a comparison between two radical gestures of literary self-reflexivity: romantic irony and postmodernist metafiction. It examines the impact of early German romantic theory and its central concept of irony on German and English romantic narrative fiction and relates the same to postmodernist self-reflexive novels, including its British and American variants. A primary objective of this comparison is to account for the radical skepticism that postmodernist metafiction voices with respect to the paramount philosophical question of truth (...) and reality. The immanent tension between an absolute idealistic and a radically skeptic position which romantic irony articulates and enacts is conceived of as an important and instructive link to the understanding of postmodernism. (shrink)

As new ideas arose during the Enlightenment, many political thinkers published their own versions of popular early modern "absolutist" texts and transformed them into manuals of political resistance. As a result, these works never achieved a fixed and stable edition. Publishing The Prince illustrates how Abraham-Nicolas Amelot de La Houssaye created the most popular late seventeenth- and eighteenth-century version of Machiavelli's masterpiece. In the process of translating, Amelot also transformed the work, altering its form and meaning, and his ideas spread (...) through later editions. Revising the orthodox schema of the public sphere in which political authority shifted away from the crown with the rise of bourgeois civil society in the eighteenth century, Soll uses the example of Amelot to show for the first time how the public sphere in fact grew out of the learned and even royal libraries of erudite scholars and the bookshops of subversive, not-so-polite publicists of the republic of letters. Jacob Soll is Associate Professor of History at Rutgers University. Cover art courtesy of Annenberg Rare Book Room and Manuscript Library, University of Pennsylvania Jacket Design: Stephanie Milanowski "Jacob Soll traces the origins of Enlightenment criticism to the practices of learned humanists and hard-pressed literary entrepreneurs. This learned and lively book is also a tour de force of historical research and interpretation." ---Anthony Grafton, author of Cardano's Cosmos and Bring Out Your Dead "Brilliant. How the printed page changed political philosophy into investigative reporting, and reason of state into the unmasking of power." ---J. G. A. Pocock, author of The Machiavellian Moment "Soll's path-breaking study is a 'must read' for all those interested in the history of political thought and early modern intellectual history." ---Barbara Shapiro, University of California Berkeley "Soll has done [Amelot] and his context justice, writing as he does with a clear, singular, and welcome voice." ---Margaret C. Jacobs, American Historical Review. (shrink)

For my present purposes, and in terms of my immediate concerns, the problem of ideology in American literary history has three different though closely related aspects: first, the multivolume American literary history I have begun to edit; then, the concept of ideology as a constituent part of literary study, and, finally, the current revaluation of the American Renaissance. I select this period because it has been widely regarded as both the source and the epitome of (...) our literary tradition; because it has become, accordingly, the focal point of the critical revision now under way in American studies; and because, from either of these perspectives, literary or critical, it seems to me a particularly fitting subject for the occasion. For one thing, we owe the idea of an American Renaissance to F. O. Matthiessen, who was a prime mover of the Salzburg Seminar, and a member of its first faculty in 1947. Moreover, American Renaissance was a classic work of revisionist criticism. It reset the terms for the study of American literary history; it gave us a new canon of classic texts; and it inspired the growth of American studies in the United States and abroad. It is not too much to say that Matthiessen, American Renaissance, and the Salzburg Seminar brought American literature to postwar Europe. What followed, from the late forties through the sixties, was the flowering of a new academic field, complete with programs of study, periodicals, theses, conferences, and distinguished procession of scholarly authorities, including many graduates of the Salzburg Seminar.Matthiessen figures as a watershed in this development. For if American Renaissance marked the seeding-time of a new academic field, it was also the harvest of some three decades of literary study. I refer, first of all, to the dual legacy that Matthiessen acknowledges of T. S. Eliot and Vernon Parrington—which is to say, the partnership in American Renaissance between the terms “literary” and “history”; or, in the words of Matthiessen’s subtitle, between Art and Expression in the Age of Emerson and Whitman: “art,” meaning a small group of aesthetic masterpieces, and “expression,” meaning representative works, reflecting and illuminating the culture at large. It was the remarkable achievement of Matthiessen that his book yokes these concepts gracefully together. Somehow, one concept seems to support the other. The historical designation American seems richer for its association with an aesthetic renaissance; Emerson’s and Whitman’s art gains substance by its capacity to express the age. Matthiessen himself did not feel it necessary to explain the connection. But we can see in retrospect that what made it work—what made it, indeed, unnecessary for Matthiessen to explain the connection—was an established consensus, or rather a consensus long in the making, which American Renaissance helped establish. I mean a consensus about the term “literary” that involved the legitimation of a certain canon, and a consensus about the term “history” that was legitimated by a certain concept of America. Sacvan Bercovitch is Carswell Professor of English and American Literature at Harvard University. He is the Author of The Puritan Origins of the American Self and The American Jeremiad, among other works. He has also edited several collections of essays, most recently Reconstructing American Literary History. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Birth-Mark: Unsettling the Wilderness in American Literary HistoryC. S. SchreinerThe Birth-Mark: Unsettling the Wilderness in American Literary History, by Susan Howe; 189 pp. Middletown: Wesleyan University Press, 1993, $40.00.In the interview which concludes The Birth-Mark, Susan Howe says that during childhood her Boston household was visited by such pioneers of American studies as Perry Miller and F. O. Matthiessen. Career-wise, however, Howe’s path (...) to academia has be en indirect: born in 1937, she gained her first professorship in 1989 in the Poetics Program at SUNY Buffalo. A visual artist by [End Page 192] training, Howe veered into a genre of writing in the 1970s that seeks to “install certain narrativ es somewhere between history, mystic speech, and poetry” (p. 44). Her poetry includes Secret History of the Dividing Line (1978), Pythagorean Silence (1982), and Defenestration of Prague (1983). In 1985 she published an original criti cal study, My Emily Dickinson, which criticized editors for having homogenized the format and typography of Dickinson’s manuscripts, taming the unruly rigor of poems which were originally “multifaceted visual and verbal productions.” Howe also argu ed that the Amherst poet should not be viewed as a victim of repression, as many feminists see her, but as a refuser of congregations, a powerful will-to-reclusion in art—“One unchosen American women alone at home and choosing.” Emily’s home was a nomadi c space between orthodoxies.An understanding of Howe’s kinship with Dickinson’s poetic daring is helpful for reading The Birth-Mark, whose prose is poetic, and whose protagonist, Mary Rowlandson, shared Dickinson’s “stubborn strength in isolation.” The captivity narratives ar e portals into the antinomian controversy of New England, which was “the primordial struggle of North American literary expression” (p. 4). It is not Gilbert and Gubar to whom Howe has recourse in her analyses of hostage consciousness. She cites the philo sophy of Emmanuel Lévinas. As with feminism, which she extends rather than follows, Howe takes up the philosophy of alterity without its orthodoxy. (In the face of frontier brutality she cannot discern the “Father of orphans and defender of widows” of Psalm 68.) Encounters in the wilderness of tribes, woods, and waters aroused an immodest otherness within the American literary unconscious, unsettling the styles of expression and selfhood which the puritan colonies were trying to instantiate. The literary awakening of Dickinson, Rowlandson, Melville, Hawthorne, and other writers was not due to the Great Awakening urged by churches, but to the traumatic transfer of sovereignty from God to frontier, a permanent revolution to which these writers’ imaginations would remain exposed.Howe’s new foray into criticism tracks the textual marginalia which yield the visionary utterances of Rowlandson and Hutchinson. A self-confessed “library cormorant,” Howe gathers a quiet spectacle of testimonies, those of separated loved ones dragged int o “Removes” by tribes of Native Americans. These resonant texts from New England village libraries and major collections at Harvard, are melded together by Howe’s intuitive, almost telepathic sensibility into a kind of spiritual drama informed by critical acumen. Howe takes her bearings from Patricia Caldwell’s essay “The Antinomian Language Controversy,” which appeared in the Harvard Theological Review in 1976. The dislocating frontier experience for Hutchinson, Rowlandson, and others forced the c reation of a different language. It is with this antinomian language that Howe develops a sensitive rapport, echoing its myriad haunting voices in her commentaries. What Gadamer calls effective history broods and rustles inside her [End Page 193] writing with lyrical unease. Indeed, Howe’s work is a creative example of the fusion of horizons which Gadamer says epitomizes the hermeneutic event. Howe’s personal method as revealed in her interview: “Not to explain the work, not to trans late it, but to meet the work with writing... Not just to write a tribute, but to meet her [Dickinson] in the tribute. And that’s a kind of fusion” (p. 158). Some scholars will find her method obscure. But it’s hard to find anything negative at this height. Howe would have us meet others at their most exposed, delicate point, where their vulnerability... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:A History of American Music EducationSondra Wieland HoweA History of American Music Education, 3rd edition, by Michael L. Mark and Charles L. Gary. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield Education, 2007, 500 pp., $95.00 cloth, $44.95 paper.Mark and Gary's editions of A History of American Music Education are indispensable reading for every music education student, practicing professional music educator, and the general reader (...) who is interested in the development of music teaching in American public schools. Based on excellent secondary sources, this history presents an overview of music education from Colonial America, through the development of textbooks in the nineteenth century and the growth of professional organizations in the early twentieth century, to the expansion of the curriculum and the role of government in education since 1950.This third edition is written by Michael L. Mark, professor emeritus at Towson University in Maryland, and dedicated to the memory of his friend and coauthor, Charles L. Gary.1 Mark has written two other books that complement the history editions. Contemporary Music Education surveys various reform projects since the 1950s, trends in the philosophy of music education, government policies, and the development of new methods.2Music Education: Source Readings includes writings about music education from both the European and American perspectives.3 There are many recent articles and dissertations on the history of music education, but the only recent book is Terese Volk's Music, Education, and Multiculturalism, which describes school programs and materials emphasizing multiculturalism in the twentieth century from a historical perspective.4 Publications in musicology add to our knowledge of the history of music in American society, but musicologists rarely write about music in public schools. Publications on the history of education are helpful in understanding trends in music education, but these publications do not discuss music.The third edition of A History of American Music Education is expanded to 500 pages from the approximately 400 pages of the earlier editions, largely because of new formatting and [End Page 115] spacing that make the third edition easier to read. Each chapter has a reference list in APA style in contrast to the Chicago Manual style of the earlier editions, with endnotes plus a bibliography at the end of each chapter. The material in Mark's third edition is basically the same as the earlier editions, with some expansion of the history of music education after 1950.This book, based on secondary sources, is an overview of the history of music in American public schools, showing the response of education to societal needs during various historical periods. There is an emphasis on the role of national music organizations, especially MENC: The National Association for Music Education (MENC), in advocating for the importance of music for every child. The historical account includes the various justifications for teaching music and discussions of the meaning of music. There were times when music educators were interested in aesthetics, but there were also many times when they were mainly interested in a practical understanding of music and extrinsic motives for including music in the school curriculum.5The first section on "The Western Heritage" (chapters 1-3) briefly covers music in Jewish traditions through the Greek and Roman cultures because the insights of these ancient thinkers influenced all Western societies. The chapter on the Middle Ages through the Reformation shows the role of music as a practical subject, part of the quadrivium with arithmetic, geometry, and astronomy. As music became an integral part of the church, musicians developed methods of teaching note reading. Martin Luther promoted the singing of "good music" in schools and education in the vernacular for the middle classes. With the development of Italian conservatories and the patronage of music by the elite classes of the Renaissance, music training became specialized for musicians working in the church and courts. These various conflicting European opinions of the role of music in society influenced American education.The second section on "The New World" (chapters 4-5) emphasizes the use of music as a means of praising God. Spanish musicians established successful music education programs in Peru and Mexico to promote Christianity. The French brought Christianity to... (shrink)

A partir de un abordaje plural a los temas del sujeto, la modernidad y la decolonización, este volumen ofrece una imprescindible reflexión sobre aspectos pujantes de nuestro tiempo: ¿cómo redefinir la noción de sujeto de cara a los procesos de globalización, que incluyen dinámicas migratorias, flujos fantasmáticos de capitales reales y simbólicos y proliferación de mundos virtuales? ¿A partir de qué principios se negocia la relación entre contingencia y universalidad, ética y política, cultura y mercado? ¿Qué alcances tienen los proyectos (...) decolonizadores en un mundo marcado por la desaparición de la utopía? ¿A qué formas inéditas de hegemonía y subalteridad nos enfrenta el nuevo (des)orden global? Finalmente, ¿cuál es el lugar de América Latina en el espacio post o trans-nacional? Reconocidos pensadores entregan en este libro elaboraciones fundamentales para la comprensión de estas cuestiones, en las que se resume buena parte del pensamiento filosófico de nuestro tiempo. (shrink)

Volume IV in the series "New Testament Tools and Studies" edited by Metzger, this book is chiefly a collection of essays that he has produced in the last fifteen years. Thoroughly scholarly and impeccably objective, the book contains chapters on the Lucianic recension of the Greek Bible, the Caesarean text of the Gospels, and Old Slavonic version of the Bible, Tatian's Diatessaron and a Persian Harmony of the Gospels, recent Spanish contributions to the textual criticism of the New Testament, (...) trends in the textual criticism of the Illiad and the Mahabharata, and an appendix on William Bowyer's contribution to the textual criticism of the New Testament.—E. A. R. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Surviving American Culture:On Chuck PalahniukEduardo MendietaIn an age in which American culture has become the United States' number one export, along with its weapons, low intensity conflict, carcinogenic cigarettes, its "freedom," and pornography, it is delightful and even a sign of hope that there are writers who have taken on the delicate and perilous task of offering a prognosis of what ails this culture. In the following (...) essay I argue that Chuck Palahniuk's works ought to be read as a mortician's report on American culture. Chuck Palahniuk broke into the literary world by way of the movie version of his first novel: Fight Club (1995). He has gone on to write six other novels: Survivor (1999), Invisible Monsters (2000), Choke (2001), Lullaby (2002), and Diary (2003). He also has published an interesting travel book, Fugitives and Refugees; A Walk in Portland, Oregon (2003), but since this is not properly fiction, I will not discuss it in this essay.1Clearly, Palahniuk has already produced a corpus worthy of careful consideration and analysis. Yet, as a west coast writer, far from the literary circles and brokers of the east coast, indeed far away from the clubs of self-promotion and self-monitoring that censure and hold in tight grip the monopoly of criticism that highlights "worthy literature," Palahniuk has not attracted a lot of critical attention. It is only with his most recent work Choke that he has began to be widely reviewed and commented on. In the following I provide a thematic reconstruction of each one of the six published novels, in chronological sequence. I will argue that Palahniuk is not trying to write the "great American novel," although he is profiling himself as a quintessential "American" writer in the midst of post–Cold War megalomania and celebrated Pax Americana. He has taken on a culture that has become so gargantuan, [End Page 394] fragmented, and differentiated but at the same time so rich, so self-reflexive, so historicized and also so mimicked that one novel cannot tell its story in one narrative with one dramatic thread. Many novels, many short cuts, many vignettes, are necessary: one polyphonic, asynchronous, temporally bi-directional, hyper-textual, and cyber-encyclopedic novel made up of individual novels, where each novel is the Bildungsroman of an American hero but told in reverse. These heroes, I will argue, are testimonies to the resilient power of individuals to resist even the most invasive and persistent onslaughts by culture on the physic life of freedom and individuality. I will also argue that he is neither a commercial nor academic writer; that is, he is not the kind of writer who writes either in order to maintain a living or secure tenure. He is a writer with a mission, a vision, and a very distinctive style. The stories that Palahniuk tells are stories that begin at the end, and end at the beginning: they are turned around Bildungsromans. They are, in other words, about unmaking, uncoupling, and disentangling our selves from the normal self into which we have been socialized. These stories are, thus, about the discovery of moral resources that lay dormant in the very simplicity of human solidarity and trust in our will to survive morally untainted, or at least redeemable. I will conclude by arguing that Palahniuk's novels are about surviving American Culture, and about how deviance is the health of the individual in a sick society.One could characterize Fight Club as the intelligent man's response to Robert Bly's Iron John (1990),2 or the fictionalized version of the Michael Kimmel's Manhood in America: A Cultural History (1996).3 Alternatively, one could argue that Fight Club is the fin-de-sieclé response to Barbara Ehrenreich's prognosis in her The Hearts of Men: American Dreams and the Flight from Commitment (1983) of 1970s and 1980s narcissistic and hedonistic masculinity.4 Chuck Palahniuk's first novel is a biting and poignant look at men in American culture after the end of affluence and the simultaneous "feminization" of masculinity. It is at the same time about the struggle for a viable sense of masculinity in an age in... (shrink)

This book brings the history of Latin American philosophy to an English-speaking audience through the prominent voices of Mauricio Beuchot, Horacio Cerutti-Guldberg, María Luisa Femenías, Jorge J. E. Gracia, Oscar R. Martí, León Olivé, Carlos Pereda, and Eduardo Rabossi. They argue that Spanish is not a philosophically irrelevant language and that there are original positions to be found in the work of Latin American philosophers.

In Alice Walker’s vignette “The Flowers,” a young black girl’s walk in the woods is interrupted when she treads “smack” into the skull of a lynched man. As her name predicates, Myop’s age and innocence obstruct her from seeing deeply into the full implications of the scene, while the more worldly reader is jarred and confronted with a whole history of racial violence and slavery. The skeleton, its teeth cracked and broken, is a temporal irruption, a Gothic “smack” that (...) shatters the transience of the pastoral scene with the intrusion of a deeper past from which dead matter/material de-composes the story’s present with the violent matter/issue of racism. Walker’s story is representative of an important trope in fiction, where the pastoral dead speak through the details of their remains, and the temporal fabric of text is disrupted by the very substance of death. Against the backdrops of Terry Gifford’s post-pastoral and Fred Botting’s Gothic understanding of the literary corpse as “negative[ly] sublime,” this essay explores the fictional dead as matter unfettered by genre, consistently signifying beyond their own inanimate silences, revealing suppressed and unpalatable themes of racial and sexual violence, child abuse and cannibalistic consumerism. Along with Walker’s story, this study considers these ideas through new readings of Stephen King’s novella The Body, Raymond Carver’s story “So Much Water So Close to Home,” and The Road by Cormac McCarthy. While these writers may form an unlikely grouping in terms of style, each uses pastoral remains as significant material, deploying the dead as Gothic entities that force the reader to confront America’s darkest social and historical matters. (shrink)

_ Source: _Page Count 19 The theory of possible worlds has been minimally employed in the field of theory and philosophy of history, even though it has found a place as a tool in other areas of philosophy. Discussion has mostly focused on arguments concerning counterfactual history’s status as either useful or harmful. The theory of possible worlds can, however be used also to analyze historical writing. The concept of textual possible worlds offers an interesting framework to work (...) with for analyzing a historical text’s characteristics and features. However, one of the challenges is that the literary theory’s notion of possible worlds is that they are metaphorical in nature. This in itself is not problematic but while discussing about history, which arguably deals with the real world, the terminology can become muddled. The latest attempt to combine the literary and philosophical notions of possible worlds and apply it to historiography came from Lubomír Doležel in his _Possible Worlds of Fiction and History: The Postmodern Stage_. I offer some criticism to his usage of possible worlds to separate history and fiction, and argue that when historiography is under discussion a more philosophical notion of possible worlds should be prioritized over the metaphorical interpretation of possible worlds. (shrink)

One of the more telling symptoms of the postmodern condition is the tendency of criticism to renounce any claim to explanatory or evaluative competence vis-à-vis its objects, and in some cases even to deny that it differs from those objects. This is especially evident in American deconstructionists of the Yale school, who have, with Derrida, rediscovered Nietzsche's insight that all language, whatever the genre, is inescapably metaphorical. From the admitted difficulty of drawing absolute ontological distinctions between the language of (...) literature and that of criticism, these critics infer that the attempt to maintain even a generic division between the two languages is at best a convenient fiction, at worst a repressive one. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Against Ethical CriticismRichard A. PosnerOscar Wilde famously remarked that “there is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.” He was echoed by Auden, who said in his poem in memory of William Butler Yeats that poetry makes nothing happen (though the poem as a whole qualifies this overstatement), by Croce, and by formalist critics such as (...) Cleanth Brooks, a doyen of the New Critics, who insisted that edification was the function of religion but not of poetry. 1 George Orwell, though himself a didactic novelist, was of this view as well, 2 and it is one that most critics adopt when the issue is censorship. I accept Wilde’s thesis—the creed of aestheticism, of art for art’s sake—if understood to mean that the moral content and consequences of a work of literature are irrelevant to its value as literature; or as the critic Helen Vendler has put it, that “treating fictions as moral pep-pills or moral emetics is repugnant to anyone who realizes the complex psychological and moral motives of a work of art.” 3 This is not to deny that reading can have consequences, including moral and political ones. Information affects people’s outlook and behavior, and reading is a source of information. Imaginative literature conveys ideas, opinions, and information, often with great power. Think of the role that novels by Turgenev (Fathers and Sons), Dostoevsky (The Possessed), Conrad (The Secret Agent, Under Western Eyes), Koestler (Darkness at Noon), Orwell (Animal Farm, Nineteen Eighty-Four), and, of course, Solzhenitsyn played in exposing the horrors of anarchism and communism. Of A Passage to India it has been said that “as an account of the social conditions of British India it was powerful enough to have influenced events.” 4 Upton Sinclair’s novel The Jungle is thought to have incited federal regulation of food processing; and few doubt the effect of Uncle Tom’s Cabin (1852) on the abolitionist cause. [End Page 1]At the core of the aesthetic tradition, which I shall be defending in this essay particularly against its opponents in the “law and literature” movement, are three theses. First, immersion in literature does not make us better citizens or better people. One might be able to pick out some works of literature that would have such an effect because of the information they convey or the emotional state they induce, but they would constitute a skewed sample of literary works. Second, we should not be put off by morally offensive views encountered in literature even when the author appears to share them. A work of literature is not to be considered maimed or even marred by expressing unacceptable moral views; by the same token, a mediocre work of literature is not redeemed by expressing moral views of which we approve. The proper criteria for evaluating literature are aesthetic rather than ethical. Third, authors’ moral qualities or opinions should not affect our valuations of their works.The insistence, in short, is on the separation of the moral from the aesthetic—but with two qualifications. Some literature has little interest or value apart from the didactic and for it the proper criticism is didactic. And the separation of moral from aesthetic values is not a rejection of the former. The aesthetic outlook is a moral outlook, one that stresses the values of openness, detachment, hedonism, curiosity, tolerance, the cultivation of the self, and the preservation of a private sphere—in short, the values of liberal individualism.The counter tradition in literary criticism to the aesthetic originates with Plato and insists upon the importance, in some versions to the near or even total exclusion of anything else, of the ethical or political content and effects of works of literature, and less commonly of the author’s own morality. Martha Nussbaum, for example, deems Greek tragedies and Anglo-American realistic novels a part of moral philosophy. 5 Reading novels, she argues, “develops moral capacities without which citizens will not succeed in making reality out of the normative conclusions of any moral or political theory, however excellent.” 6 Wayne Booth, disagreeing with his illustrious... (shrink)

Finding Oz tells the remarkable story behind one of the world’s most enduring and best-loved books. Offering profound new insights into the true origins and meaning of L. Frank Baum’s 1900 masterwork, it delves into the personal turmoil and spiritual transformation that fueled Baum’s fantastical parable of the American Dream. Before becoming an impresario of children’s adventure tales, the J. K. Rowling of his age, Baum failed at a series of careers and nearly lost his soul before setting out (...) on a journey of discovery that would lead to the Land of Oz. Drawing on original research, Evan Schwartz debunks popular misconceptions and shows how the people, places, and events in Baum’s life gave birth to his unforgettable images and characters, from the Yellow Brick Road to the Emerald City to the dual view of witches that reflected the life of Baum’s mother-in-law, the radical women’s rights leader Matilda Joslyn Gage. A narrative that sweeps across late-nineteenth-century America, Finding Oz ultimately reveals how failure and heartbreak can sometimes lead to redemption and bliss, and how one individual can ignite the imagination of the entire world. (shrink)

Argues that there are original positions to be found in the work of Latin American philosophers. This book brings the history of Latin American philosophy to an English-speaking audience through the prominent voices of Mauricio Beuchot, Horacio Cerutti-Guldberg, María Luisa Femenías, Jorge J. E. Gracia, Oscar R. Martí, León Olivé, Carlos Pereda, and Eduardo Rabossi. They argue that Spanish is not a philosophically irrelevant language and that there are original positions to be found in the work (...) of Latin American philosophers. Part I of the book looks at why the history of philosophy has not developed in Latin America. A range of theoretical issues are explored, each focusing on specific problems that have hindered the development of a solid history. Part II details the complex task of writing a history of philosophy for a region still haunted by the specter of colonialism. Arleen Salles is Assistant Professor in the Department of Art, Music, and Philosophy at John Jay College of Criminal Justice, The City University of New York. Elizabeth Millán-Zaibert is Assistant Professor of Philosophy at DePaul University and the coeditor (with Jorge J. E. Gracia) of Latin American Philosophy for the 21st Century: The Human Condition, Values, and the Search for Identity. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reflections on Beardsley's AestheticsProblems in the Philosophy of CriticismDonald Crawford (bio)Monroe Beardsley's Aesthetics was published the year I was a junior philosophy major at the University of California, Berkeley, and by the end of that academic year, I had completed semester courses in the history of ancient as well as modern philosophy, logic, ethics, and the philosophy of religion. The requirements remaining for me in philosophy in my (...) senior year were a course in either epistemology or metaphysics, plus five elective philosophy courses. I had fairly developed interests in literature, especially poetry, classical music, film, and the visual arts, so it seemed natural for me to select a course in aesthetics as one of my remaining electives. Nonetheless, I had no idea what aesthetics was. When I looked up the word in the dictionary, I found the following definition: "The branch of philosophy dealing with beauty or the beautiful, especially in the fine arts." Even today, the Berkeley philosophy course catalog entry for aesthetics simply says, as it did then, "Aesthetics: Visual arts/literature and music. Form, expression, representation, style; interpretation and evaluation."Interpretation and evaluation sounded worth pursuing. At that time I had no doubt that almost any music by Bach was better than that by Offenbach, that Van Gogh's Starry Night was in a different class than Norman Rockwell's covers for the Saturday Evening Post, or that Bergman's The Seventh Seal (1957) was a far better film than Attack of the Crab Monsters of the same year. And I was fully convinced that some poems lent themselves to more interesting and profound readings—that is, interpretations—than others and therefore were better poems. So a course that dealt with the interpretation and evaluation of the visual arts, literature, and music was enticing. The class lectures were rather dull, however, and I began to have regrets for enrolling. Besides, the required text was brand new and had several drawbacks: there were no used copies available so it was expensive ($7.50!), and its 591 pages were bound in hardback and heavy. [End Page 19]Yes, the text was Beardsley's Aesthetics, and my now well-worn copy is complete with my original revealing and indelible underlines that remind me of my naiveté. I recall being immediately struck by the book's epigraph—a quotation from David Hume: "I am uneasy to think I approve of one object, and disapprove of another; call one thing beautiful, and another deform'd; decide concerning truth and falsehood, reason and folly, without knowing upon what principles I proceed." This encouraged me to think that this book and course would teach me the principles that underlay my unreasoned critical comparative evaluations of poems, films, and other works of art. Was this false optimism? After glancing at the table of contents, I quickly turned to chapter 10, "Critical Evaluation," where I read on page 454: "The problems to which we now come have been put off as long as possible in the hope that a circumspect approach would make them more vulnerable." I wasn't quite sure what that meant ("vulnerable" to what?), but it seemed to imply that it was necessary to start at the beginning of the book.1 So I did just that. To my delight, almost immediately, on page 3, Beardsley provided his definition of "aesthetics," saying: "[A]esthetics consists of those principles that are required for clarifying and confirming critical statements. It can be thought of, then, as the philosophy of criticism, or metacriticism" (3-4; emphasis in the original). Unless by "critical statement" Beardsley meant judgments of beauty, this didn't really correspond with either Webster's definition or the course description of aesthetics. Beardsley's concept of a critical statement was much broader than that in common use today, and it reflected the attitude of the founders of the American Society for Aesthetics, who named their journal the Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism (JAAC). Beardsley said he would be "using the term 'critical statement,' very broadly, to refer to any statement about a work of art" (3) and that a critical statement "need not be a value judgment at... (shrink)

Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke, was the mastermind behind the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713 that ended the War of the Spanish Succession, and a lifelong rival of Britain’s first Prime Minister, Sir Robert Walpole. He is also known for his political use of history based on the saying of Dionysius of Halicarnassus: ‘history is a philosophy teaching by examples’. While much scholarly attention has been paid to Bolingbroke’s historical criticism of Walpole’s Whig oligarchy, his discussion of (...) European international history has been treated as a mere vindication of the Treaty of Utrecht, thus not meriting further investigation. This article reconstructs Bolingbroke’s writings on European politics as a history of British foreign policy. Arguing that his focus was on Britain’s role in maintaining the balance of power, this article demonstrates that, contrary to popular belief, Bolingbroke attacked the Hanoverian government not for its involvement in European politics per se but for its abandonment of the Old System of William III against France. Bolingbroke believed history was repeating itself. As the Stuarts had helped France achieve hegemony half a century ago, the Hanoverians enabled France to regain supremacy in their pursuit of private interests, re-disrupting the European balance of power. (shrink)

This ambitious literary history traces the American novel from its emergence in the late eighteenth century to its diverse incarnations in the multi-ethnic, multi-media culture of the present day. In a set of original essays by renowned scholars from all over the world, the volume extends important critical debates and frames new ones. Offering new views of American classics, it also breaks new ground to show the role of popular genres - such as science fiction and (...) mystery novels - in the creation of the literary tradition. One of the original features of this book is the dialogue between the essays, highlighting cross-currents between authors and their works as well as across historical periods. While offering a narrative of the development of the genre, the History reflects the multiple methodologies that have informed readings of the American novel and will change the way scholars and readers think about American literary history. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Identifying (with) the Queerness of Melville’s PierreNeill Matheson (bio)James Creech. Closet Writing/Gay Reading: The Case of Melville’s Pierre. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1993.James Creech’s Closet Writing/Gay Reading is a remarkable book in several ways. First, it offers a significantly new interpretation of Melville’s enigmatic novel Pierre; or, The Ambiguities (1852), which has increasingly been viewed as marking a crucial turning point in Melville’s career, gaining the status of (...) a major if equivocal work of nineteenth-century American fiction. Creech’s reading of Pierre adds much to previous work on homosexuality in Melville’s writings, making an important contribution to the history of Melville criticism. Supported by a shrewd, detailed analysis of the novel, and some surprising extratextual evidence, he argues compellingly that Pierre is preoccupied with the closeting of gay identity and with the tenuous possibilities for homosexual self-expression in a repressively heterosexual culture. Nevertheless, as its subtitle suggests, Pierre is a work that advertises its own ambiguity with a high degree of ironic self-awareness. Creech’s claims about it, made with a certain bravado, though accompanied by many hesitations and caveats, seem at times to diminish the complexity with which the novel itself explores the problem of identity.In addition to its interest as a reading of Pierre, Closet Writing/Gay Reading also represents a provocative statement within the wider context of critical and theoretical work on homosexuality, staking out a position that resists both the problematizing of identity performed by queer theory and the historicizing aims of much recent gay studies work. Creech elaborates the notion of “identificatory” or “camp reading” with great self-consciousness about its place in the critical landscape, so that it is as much a reaction to various theoretical positions as a stance in its own right. It is the combination of this critical hyperawareness, as if continually looking over one’s shoulder, and a kind of willed innocence with respect to interpretive problems that is most extraordinary, and it is worth exploring further.If one of the book’s aims is to add to a theory of the closet, it is also concerned with describing a poststructuralist theory that is in complicity with the suppression or emptying-out of homosexual meaning. Creech’s argument that deconstruction in particular has been blind to homosexual content contains in its margins a personal narrative of his own emergence from a theory closet. One of the strategies of Creech’s reading is to make his coming-out story converge with the one that he attributes to Pierre: his unambiguous claim for Pierre’s gay identity is simultaneously an avowal of a critical approach no longer in conflict with his own sexual identity. He alludes to his early and lingering attraction to deconstruction, the subsequent discovery that its influence, inhibiting unequivocal identity claims, prevented him from affirming his sexuality, and his tentative, incomplete, but increasingly assured rejection of that influence. Creech [End Page 30] asserts more than once that an analysis of Pierre’s impossible mourning would be valuable, but the story of his own critical history begins to sound like an account of the identifications, losses, and self-reproaches typical of melancholia. In this light Closet Writing/Gay Reading is interesting not because it is itself representative of recent gay criticism, but because it is a highly original, idiosyncratic, and suggestive response to a representative set of critical pressures surrounding the problem of identity.The central methodological claim of Closet Writing/Gay Reading is that identification is the form of reader response necessary to bring closeted homosexual meaning to light. Creech argues that the task of gay literary criticism is to counter the reductiveness of traditional, straight criticism by “putting homosexuality back in its rightful place, reimagining the text from which it has been censored, within which it has only been allowed an encrypted and ciphered status, or out of which it has been abstracted” [29]. Gay literary criticism faces the interpretive problem of recovering homosexual meaning that may have become nearly invisible through the combined effects of the restrictive cultural imperatives under which the author was writing and the reductiveness of later criticism... (shrink)

Introduction : the middle is everywhere -- Towards an ideal limit : linguistic authority in the work of Iris Murdoch -- From apophasis to aporia : William Golding and the indescribable -- Verbal sludge : the ethics of instability in Patrick White's prose -- Bliss from bricks : Saul Bellow's moral phenomenology -- Conclusion: drawing circles in the sea : un-defining the 'mystical novelist' -- Endnotes.

As a critic, Virginia Woolf has been called a number of disparaging names: "impressionist," "belletrist," "raconteur," "amateur." Here is one academic talking on the subject: "She will survive, not as a critic, but as a literary essayist recording the adventures of a soul among congenial masterpieces. . . . The writers who are most downright, and masculine, and central in their approach to life - Fielding or Balzac - she for the most part left untouched....Her own approach was at once (...) more subterranean and aerial, and invincibly, almost defiantly, feminine." In other words, Virginia Woolf is not a critic; how could she be? She is a woman. From its beginning, criticism has been a man's world. This is to say not only that males have earned their living as critics but, more importantly, that the conventionally accepted ideals of critical method are linked with qualities stereotypically allotted to males: analysis, judgment, objectivity. Virginia Woolf has had a poor reputation as a critic not merely because her sex is female but because her method is "feminine." She writes in a way that is said to be creative, appreciative, and subjective. We will accept this descriptive for the moment but will later enlarge on it, and even our provisional acceptance we mean to turn to a compliment. Barbara Currier Bell has written articles on critical theory and modern poetry and has served as a consultant on women's education at both Vassar and Hampshire Colleges. She is assistant professor of English at Wesleyan University. Carol Ohmann is the author of Ford Madox Ford: From Apprentice to Craftsman and several articles on English and American fiction. She coedited Female Studies IV: Teaching about Women with Elaine Showalter and is chairman of the Department of English at Wesleyan University. She has contributed, with Richard Ohmann, "Reviewers, Critics, and The Catcher in the Rye , and "CRITICAL RESPONSE: Universals and the Historically Particular" .See also: "The Masculine Mode" by Peter Schwenger in Vol. 5, No. 4; "The Robber in the Bedroom: or, The Thief of Love: A Woolfian Grieving in Six Novels and Two Memoirs" by Mark Spilka in Vol. 5, No. 4. (shrink)

Created during a certain time period of the world’s art development, fictional history embodies not only a set of individual authorial creative acts, but it is the only "artistic-historical model" conditioned by a number of objective aesthetic and non-aesthetic factors. As such, fictional history represents an integral part of the national worldview. Its exploration requires a combinatorial unity of methods. The article proposes a set of modern methodological principles for studying the processes of artistic modelling of history (...) in the aesthetic consciousness on the synchronous level and their representation in literary works. The methods of academic literary criticism are combined with the advanced methods of modern interdisciplinary humanities that are based on postmodern philosophy. Thus, in the chosen combination of the scientific approaches, the heuristic potential of the structural-semiotic and structural-typological methods, mythopoetics and myth-restoration, imagology, hermeneutics, and receptive aesthetics, correlates with the methods of systematic and descriptive analysis. Such diverse theoretical combinations, the existence of a kind of "methodological sinusoid" within the study, do not contradict but complement each other. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Ideas 62.1 (2001) 1-16 [Access article in PDF] The Plot of History from Antiquity to the Renaissance Eric MacPhail In the Poetics Aristotle introduced the notion of plot or mythos as a distinctly poetic form of rationality and coherence absent from history. In the course of antiquity and the Renaissance Aristotle's notion of plot underwent a curious inversion by which (...) class='Hi'>history came to supplant poetry as the main literary form of emplotment. To account for the readjustment or even reversal of Aristotle's distinction between history and poetry, we will examine the notions of order, causality, and chance expounded by classical historians and literary theorists before tracing their influence to Renaissance writers. In the Renaissance the transmission, conflation, and distortion of Aristotelian doctrine exerted a profound influence on historiography and literary criticism, particularly in the latter part of the sixteenth century. It is even possible to understand some of the new and hybrid forms of Renaissance fiction as a reaction to this transference of the idea of plot from poetry to history. While history may indeed possess no coherent plot, as Aristotle speculated, literary history can nevertheless reconstitute the genealogy of competing notions of plot and order in Renaissance narrative.We can situate Aristotle's definition of plot in the context of his inquiry into cause and coincidence. In book two of the Physics Aristotle proposes a rigorous typology of cause, distinguishing between formal, material, efficient, and final causes, and he also considers the status of chance and fortune as accidental causes or aitia kata symbebekos (197a5-6). 1 The Metaphysics takes up the question of to kata symbebekos, translated alternately as accident or coincidence, and in doing so develops several arguments that pertain to the treatment of plot in the Poetics and to the larger issue of the coherence of fiction and history. As Richard Sorabji points out, the key to Aristotle's notion of coincidence is the [End Page 1] paradox of existence without genesis or without coming into being. 2 Metaphysics VI, 2 maintains that "of things which are in other senses there is generation and destruction [genesis kai phthora], but of things which are accidentally [kata symbebekos] there is not" (1026b24). Metaphysics VI, 3 argues that if this were not so, if nothing existed without genesis, then everything would be of necessity in the sense that every future event could be traced back to a present cause. Genesis thus seems to signify an unbroken chain of causes while to symbebekotos, the coincidental, represents a break in the causal chain. For Aristotle the coincidental or the fortuitous "goes back to some starting point (arche), which does not go back to something else" (1027b12-14). A coincidence is an uncaused cause.Aristotle's Poetics furnishes a definition of plot or mythos that provides a link between the metaphysical discussion of cause and the fictional inquiry into chance. For Aristotle the dramatic plot is the integration of various actions, or synthesis ton pragmaton (1450a5), into a whole or olon consisting of a beginning, a middle, and an end (1450b27). The unity of action does not admit of any accidents within the plot as it moves continuously from beginning to middle to end, and yet the plot as a whole exemplifies the metaphysical notion of a coincidence. Aristotle defines the beginning of the plot or the arche as "that which does not itself follow anything by causal necessity but after which something naturally is or comes to be" (1450b28-29). Thus the mythos, like the coincidence, originates in an uncaused cause, that scandal abhorred by rationalism. Aristotle further complicates the question of causality when he denies to historical events the type of probability or necessity that he associates with dramatic actions. Chapter 23 of the Poetics exhorts the epic poet to emulate tragedy and shun the example of histories (1459a17-22), for while historical events may possess a chronological unity, they do not form any causal chain and thus do not exhibit any unity of action.In chapter 9 of the Poetics Aristotle... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:An Undeleter for CriticismSimon Jarvis (bio)Is there experience of beauty, or is it only that we sometimes choose to sort and name certain experiences by using a set of terms, originating often in ancient and medieval philosophy and theology and by a long process of mutation and manipulation arriving under the disciplinary heading of "aesthetics"? This question asks for at least two kinds of information. It does not only (...) ask for information about the history of the formation of the concepts of aesthetics; it also asks for information about experiences. But information about experiences is hard to come by. This is not only, perhaps, for the large reason that "information is concerned with alien objects," rather than with experiences,1 but also for the more local one that "aesthetics" does not often attempt to describe any experiences with determined fidelity.2I can illustrate this with reference to a branch of aesthetics in which I have a particular interest, the aesthetics of prosody. A good deal of subtle and sometimes brilliant work exists in this field. It is rare, however, to find writing which describes in any detail the particular experiences which a particular living individual has had in relation to a line of poetry.3 One is much more likely to find such descriptions in works of fiction (or, rarely, in brief reviews) than in professional writing on the topic of prosody. There seem at first to be some obvious and good reasons for this. Professional writing demands not that we merely report our own subjective experiences, but that we produce knowledge. Critics are not paid to be artists but to be a kind of scientists of art. But what if there is no such science? What if "there is no science of the beautiful" [Kant, CJ 172]? Would that mean that the whole subject area should simply be—deleted?That this is a possibility is confirmed by the fact that in one area of thinking about aesthetic experience, it has almost happened already. While there are still a number of paid professionals who understand part of their vocation to be bound up with investigating the experience of the beauty or other value of works of art, there are few paid aestheticians of nature.4 There have been historical periods in which numbers of printed nonfiction [End Page 3] texts were devoted both to experiences of natural beauty and also to the relative propensity of natural appearances to occasion such experiences. Such descriptions are now thought to be, insofar as they are of interest at all, the province of artists.5 This is indeed a consequence of something like an acceptance that, in the sphere of experiences of nature, at least, "there is no science of the beautiful." Most agree that "an ideal of a beautiful view is unthinkable" [CJ 80]. Yet few, perhaps, would now argue that an ideal of a beautiful poem is quite thinkable either.We are thus returned to the question posed above. If there is no science of the beautiful, must claims to experiences of beauty be treated as fictional—in the specific sense that they are matters for fiction, and not for science? Why should the concept not be altogether eliminated?Perhaps for this reason. Let us imagine that I think I have had an experience. I have been walking along a street at night, say, head down as though scrutinizing the quite complex surface of tarmacadam, kerbstone, painted parking and motoring instructions, drain covers and grilles, although perhaps in distraction I may have been allowing my eyes simply to pass lightly over all this while I think about a mortifying remark addressed to me at a recent committee meeting, or attempt to identify the catalogue number relevant to a fragment of piano music which has come into my head; may, for example, as if startled by a call or a cry of pain have raised my look from the wet pavement—which I now possibly "see" for the first time (since it is the soul which sees, and not the eye [Descartes 1: 172])—and now indeed see at a great distance ahead of me, almost at the horizon of... (shrink)

Psychoanalytic literary criticism has always been something of an embarrassment. One resists labeling as a “psychoanalytic critic” because the kind of criticism evoked by the term mostly deserves the bad name it largely has made for itself. Thus I have been worrying about the status of some of my own uses of psychoanalysis in the study of narrative, in my attempt to find dynamic models that might move us beyond the static formalism of structuralist and semiotic narratology. And in general, (...) I think we need to worry about the legitimacy and force that psychoanalysis may claim when imported into the study of literary texts. If versions of psychoanalytic criticism have been with us at least since 1908, when Freud published his essay on “Creative Writers and Day-dreaming,” and if the enterprise has recently been renewed in subtle ways by post-structuralist versions of reading, a malaise persists, a sense that whatever the promises of their union, literature and psychoanalysis remain mismatched bedfellows—or perhaps I should say playmates.The first problem, and the most basic, may be that psychoanalysis in literary study has over and over again mistaken the object of analysis, with the result that whatever insights it has produced tell us precious little about the structure and rhetoric of literary texts. Traditional psychoanalytic criticism tends to fall into three general categories, depending on the object of analysis: the author, the reader, or the fictive persons of the text. The first of these constituted the classical locus of psychoanalytic interest. It is now apparently the most discredited, though also perhaps the most difficult to extirpate, since if the disappearance of the author has been repeatedly announced, authorial mutants ceaselessly reappear, as, for instance, in Harold Bloom’s psychomachia of literary history. Like the author, the fictive character has been deconstructed into an effect of textual codes, a kind of thematic mirage, and the psychoanalytic study of the putative unconscious of characters in fiction has also fallen into disrepute. Here again, however, the impulse resurfaces, for instance in some of the moves of a feminist criticism that needs to show how the represented female psyche refuses and problematizes the dominant concepts of male psychological doctrine. Feminist criticism has in fact largely contributed to a new variant of the psychoanalytic study of fictive characters, a variant one might label the “situational-thematic”: studies of Oedipal triangles in fiction, their permutations and evolution, of the roles of mothers and daughters, of situations of nurture and bonding, and so forth. It is work often full of interest, but nonetheless methodologically disquieting in its use of Freudian analytic tools in a wholly thematic way, as if the identification and labeling of human relations in a psychoanalytic vocabulary were the task of criticism. The third traditional field of psychoanalytic literary study, the reader, continues to flourish in ever-renewed versions, since the role of the reader in the creation of textual meaning is very much on our minds at present, and since the psychoanalytic study of readers’ responses willingly brackets the impossible notion of author in favor of the acceptable and also verifiable notion of reader. The psychoanalytic study of the reader may concern real readers or the reader as psychological everyman . But like the other traditional psychoanalytic approaches, it displaces the object of analysis from the text to some person, some other psychodynamic structure—a displacement I wish to avoid since, as I hope to make clear as I go along, I think psychoanalytic criticism can and should be textual and rhetorical. Peter Brooks is the Tripp Professor of the Humanities at Yale University, where he is also director of the Whitney Humanities Center and chairman of the French department. His most recent book is Reading for the Plot: Design and Intention in Narrative, which has recently been reissued in paperback. His work in progress concerns psychoanalysis and story-telling. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:BOOK REVIEWS 111 A Critical History of Western Philosophy. Edited by D. J. O'Connor. (Giencoe: The Free Press, 1964. Pp. x + 604. $9.95.) Professor O'Connor and his collaborators have, in their Critical History of Western Philosophy, produced a novel and, to my mind, unusually good textbook. The volume, which is designed primarily as a text for undergraduate philosophy students, is made up of twentynine essays, each (...) one devoted to a major philosopher in the Western tradition--or, in a few instances, to a philosophical movement. The essays (29) have been written by 25 persons and each includes a sho[t biography of the philosopher under discussion followed by a fairly lengthy presentation and critical analysis of his philosophical views, with particular attention to metaphysics and epistemology. The contributors to the volume are mostly British, although they include a sprinkling of Americans and one Norwegian. This reviewer was pleased to note several representatives from the new British universities among them. The philosophers selected for study in the book have, I believe, been well chosen. The standard greats, from Plato through Hegel, are all included. In going beyond this repertory, the editor has used good judgment in his selections. It is always possible to question individual choices, but this proves only that different editors would produce different books. In the present ease, it might be argued that in making his selections from the seco~td rank the editor showed some partiality in favor of the insular over the continental tradition. There is, however, a quite reasonable reply to such an objection: that the selection of philosophers was determined by the purpose for which the book was designed--namely, to serve as a text for students in British and American universities. One of the problems in a book of this type, containing essays by more than two dozen writers, is to maintain a measure of uniformity--of style, of method, of complexity, and so on. Once again, the result seems to me to be on the whole successful. The essays in general are clearly written; they approach their subjects at a level that avoids oversimplification on the one hand, yet should almost always be intelligible to the average, studious undergraduate on the other. One notes an occasional idiosyneracy of interpretation; however, because the essays are written by different people, such peculiarities do not repeat themselves long enough to become an annoyance. Indeed, if I have any criticism to make on this point, it would be that the editor has been too successful in achieving uniformity in his essays. The result is writing that strikes me as being somewhat on the bland side, as though each of the contributors had made a conscious effort to produce an essay indistinguishable in anything but its content from all the others. I shall not attempt in this review to discuss critically the separate essays contained in the book. That would be an endless task, of dubious value. Instead I should like to raise two quite general issues that seem pertinent to the book as a whole. The first concerns the editor's statement, in the Preface, of the purposes of the book: In his words: "The writers have tried to do two things: (1) to explain the principal philosophical concepts and theories in the order in which they were developed; and (2) to evaluate and criticize them in the light of contemporary knowledge and to bring out whatever may be in them that is of permanent philosophical interest." The first of these two aims raises no questions; the second, however, is a different matter. I am puzzled, specifically, by its first clause, that the essays will evaluate and criticize past philosophical theories in the light of contemporary knowledge. Is this really a meaningful task? If the book were a history of science rather than of philosophy, I could understand how the writers might go about criticizing earlier theories in the light of contemporary knowledge. In philosophy, however, the situation is quite different. On what contemporary knowledge can one base his criticisms? Most of us recognize the prodigious advances that have been made during our century in the accumulation of empirical knowledge. If by contemporary... (shrink)

From mid-2020 until early 2023, the Chronicle of Higher Education published a series of essays that, when summed up, represents a valediction for English and American literary studies as practiced during the last half century. Some of the Chronicle authors, enjoying the privilege of tenure, speak for the profession as it was in healthier times. Others, representing a younger generation of scholars, hold on to unstable teaching positions. All are disconsolate.The essays, collected on the Chronicle website, look back to (...) those earlier times to seek the reasons for today's dreary situation. In dirgelike recitations, external causes are named and excoriated: the drying up of state funding, the growth of administrative personnel at the cost of faculty positions, the reluctance of debt-ridden students to concentrate on studies not leading to jobs, and the general parental and public resistance to anything considered effete. But at least one contributor to the series, Michael Clune of Case Western Reserve University, will not permit his fellow teachers to escape whipping: “Our fuzziness about what we do raises in the minds of our publics the not unreasonable assumption that we don't know what we're doing. The crisis in the humanities requires that we be open and honest about our discipline's rationales.”What does such a call to action mean? Does Clune ask for more exacting curricular control, more agreement as to pedagogical mission, a greater consensus about certifiable merit in professional advancement? About specific alterations to the system, he is not forthcoming, and this generalization applies to most of the other contributors as well: the prognosis is clear but the cure beyond anyone's reach. Why? To propose radical changes to the humane disciplines, even when most necessary, invites deep resistance. If professors are largely political liberals, they are also pedagogical archconservatives. Clune is nevertheless right in asking fellow professors for candor about what they are doing. The one strategy that cannot work is rehearsing their woes in public. Nor can a focus on the theoretical skirmishes in which they entangle themselves create the kind of consumer demand—student demand—that is needed. Unless they can collectively devise (or recover) intellectual attractions to draw in a new generation of students and fill lecture halls and seminar seats with them, humanists will be even further shunted to the sidelines.Another essayist, herself determined to get matters straightened out and thereby save the discipline, imagines her colleagues uniting to establish a stricter definition of what they collectively should do. Hannah Walser of the Harvard Society of Fellows believes that professors teaching literary works have been all too satisfied with the wasteful art of praising or derogating the performance or rhetorical brilliance of their colleagues: “In literary studies’ more affirmative modes, elaborate assurances of our colleagues’ competence—those more-a-comment-than-a-questions that praise a talk as beautiful, brilliant, powerful, and so on—end up standing in for actual arguments about the rightness or wrongness of a claim.” Literary works do not function as truth-telling “claims,” however, but as imaginative creations entertaining both truth and falsehood, the “real” as well as the “unreal.” In order to read those creations, and to share those readings with others, teachers must agree on the empirical terms, the evidentiary tools, to use. Walser rightly wants everyone to play the same game with the same rules. Only then can teachers come to terms with literary objects whose ultimate value is determined by something direct and visceral—aesthetic pleasure. But while Walser is right to call for procedural agreement, such a call will not, by itself, entice students to return to the classroom.In another essay, Katie Kadue looks back nostalgically to a time when, in its modest way, the world of literary studies had “stars,” when the English Institute featured brilliant personages at well-attended meetings, when jobs were plentiful and seminal books about theoretical issues were everywhere discussed. To Kadue, a young scholar, such moments seem all the more dazzling and attractive by virtue of their absence today. Were “stars” again to capture collective attention, a sign would be given that the humanities could recover its health and make literary study attractive to students again.Hence the Chronicle publication concludes with portraits of two humanists, Sianne Ngai and Mark McGurl, who have gained some recognition and acclaim. Perhaps, as the Chronicle suggests, with them a new constellation of stars is coming into view.Ngai is the author of three impressive and widely discussed monographs, the most recent being Theory of the Gimmick (2020), which, with a complexity uniquely its own, asks the reader to study the mixed attraction and repulsion produced by the intrusion of a “gimmick”—something in a text that draws attention to itself and exposes the inner workings of the text. When we encounter a gimmick in a text, it provokes both suspicion and pleasure: “When we say something is a gimmick, we mean it is overrated and deceptive, that you would have to be a sucker to fall for it. Yet gimmicks exert a strange hold on us. As with a magic show, we can enjoy the gimmick even while we know we are being tricked.” Other gimmicks—arousing “small” or “minor” affects—have been overlooked or dismissed in conventional literary discourse. Ngai, entranced by them, also argues that, beyond suspicion, pleasure, and annoyance, gimmicks have the power to reveal deep cultural, economic, and political forces shaped by contemporary capitalism.Ngai's strategy is ingenious and idiosyncratic. Its apparent strength is that it can explain everything—literary, economic, political, and cultural—that comes within its range. But its very originality renders it inoperable by anyone, be it student or teacher, other than its inventor. Like Marshall McLuhan, Hugh Kenner, Leslie Fiedler, and Stanley Fish before her—each of them working with a home-grown methodology—Ngai herself is her theory. Her inimitability prevents her theoretical procedures from becoming a generally shared answer to the classroom problems of literary study.McGurl, a sociologist of textual production, readership, and consumption, is more conventional than Ngai. He is certainly more omnivorous. He is interested in everything out there for the reader or listener to acquire, high or low, bad or good, by way of book, podcast, recording, or any other means or genre. His recent book Everything and Less: The Novel in the Age of Amazon shows how the company “has created the psychological and temporal conditions that not only alter how fiction is bought, sold, distributed, and read, but also how it is produced.” Might it be possible—and attractive—for teachers and students to follow and extend procedures like those of McGurl? An immense panorama of verbal matter might thereby await classroom after classroom. With much to read and much to hear, professors and students could examine and evaluate data aplenty. Might classrooms and seminar rooms once again be filled, this time by sociologists of literature? Professor Clune's query—“Why should students listen to me? What claim do I have on the public?”—could then be answered: We and you hereby claim everything written as our province; we, a new generation of humanists, will thus have work enough.Alas, for universities and colleges to make such a move—to resolve that literary study should embrace all of writing—would be to forfeit the one inestimably valuable form of intellectual capital now and forever readily available to them: that unique body of works known as literature: poetry, drama, fiction. Some professors appear to believe that this capital asset is wanting, depleted as a source, and therefore impotent to generate exciting scholarly work or teaching—which is why, for the last four or so decades, “theory” in its many varieties has proved so seductive. But theoretical discourse, derivative and secondary, proves vapid without the fiction, poetry, and drama from which it derived and on which it survives. Recognizing the rare power to be found in the works themselves and nowhere else, it is to those works that teachers must somehow return. Only then will there be compelling reason to hope that students will follow. (shrink)

Until fairly recently, most of the attention of art historians and others in these debates has been paid to differences among the partisans of various disciplinary methodologies, or to the differential benefits of one or another school of thought or theoretical perspective in other areas of the humanities and social sciences as these might arguably apply to questions of art historical practice.1 Yet there has also come about among art historians a renewed interest in the historical origins of the academic (...) discipline itself, and in the relationships of its institutionalization in various countries to the professionalizing of other historical and critical disciplines in the latter part of the nineteenth century. These interests have led increasingly to wider discussion by art historians of the particular nature of disciplinary knowledge, the circumstances and protocols of academic practice, and the relations between the various branches of modern discourse on the visual arts: academic art history, art criticism, aesthetic philosophy, the art market, exhibitions, and musicology.2 What follows does not aim to summarize or characterize these developments but is more simply an attempt to delineate some of the principal characteristics of the discipline as an evidentiary institution in the light of the material conditions of academic practice that arose in the latter half of the nineteenth century in relation to the history of mueological display. In brief, this essay is concerned with the circumstances of art history’s foundations as a systematic and “scientific” practice, and its focus is limited to a single, albeit paradigmatic, American example. 1. An extended discussion of these issues may be found in Donald Preziosi, Rethinking Art History: Meditations on a Coy Science , pp. 80-121. See also The New Art History, ed. A. L. Rees and Frances Borzello .2. One important sign off these discussions has been a series of “Views and Overviews” of the discipline appearing in The Art Bulletin in recent years, of which the most recent has been perhaps the most extensive and comprehensive: Mieke Bal and Norman Byrson, ”Semiotics and Art History,” The Art Bulletin 73 : 174-208. Donald Preziosi is professor of art history at the University of California, Los Angeles, and, beginning in 1992, at the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales in Paris. He is the author of Rethinking Art History: Meditations on a Coy Science and is currently completing a book on the history of museums entitled Framing Modernity. (shrink)

Drawing on a variety of discourses, from religion, philosophy, and political thought, to cultural criticism, social theory, and the arts,The Ideas That Made America: A Brief History shows how ideas have been major forces in American history, driving movements such as transcendentalism, Social Darwinism, conservatism, and postmodernism.

The paper outlines the essential developments in Spanish philosophy of the 20th century. It shows the Spanish philosophy appering on the European philosophical arena as late as at the beginning of the 20th century and as related to the criticism of the project of the European modernity. The grounds of the marginalization of Spain in the frame of modern European philosophy are not to be looked for only in modern Spanish history, but also in one-sideness of (...) the European conception of the history of philosophy, which gave priviledges to philosophical systems and excluded a wide range of other forms od reflection transcending this context. Following from the two historical turning points four periods in the development of the Spanish philosophy of the 20th century are determined: 1. the philosophy of modernism and its criticism , 2. the philosophy in the "silent period" , 3. the philosophy in the period of transition to democracy and 4. the contemporary philosophy. (shrink)

A good feminist criticism . . . must first acknowledge that men's and women's writing in our culture will inevitably share some common ground. Acknowledging that, the feminist critic may then go on to explore the ways in which this common ground is differently imaged in women's writing and also note the turf which they do not share. And, after appreciating the variety and variance of women's experience—as we have always done with men's—we must then begin exploring and analyzing the (...) variety of literary devices through which different women are finding effective voices. As a consequence of this activity, we may even find ourselves better able to understand and to encourage women writers' continued experiments in language—in stylistic devices, genre forms, and image making—experiments which inevitably expand everyone's abilities to know and express themselves. Annette Kolodny, assistant professor of English at the University of New Hampshire, has been awarded a Ford Foundation Fellowship for the study of women in society. She has written articles on American literature and culture and a feminist analysis of American pastoral, The Lay of the Land: Metaphor as Experience and History in American Life and Letters. (shrink)