Peter at the Gate!?!?!?!

So, is it really that obvious: PETER at the Gate to paradise, listening to people's stories in order to let them in or not? We are judged by our story. It doesn't matter if it is really our story, just that it is a good story.

"Question: It's nothing terrible. Everyone tells his story the best he can.
Answer: I didn't make anything up. That's how it all was. Do you believe me?
Question: It makes no difference whether I do or don't." p. 47

I love this. We all tell our story the best we can, and in by the end we just hope it comes out well. The story we are telling is our life. We incorporate others stories because those stories have become a part of our lives, thus they have become our story as well. "In short, everything everywhere is this story." p. 49 And eventually the story the answer is telling is being told as well by the question in a collaborative storytelling.

Even within the first 100 pages the strands of narrative are unravelling as they are being woven and then rewoven again.

the "truth" comes out in the liminal zone of culture: (just to bring us back to bhabha).

 Lovely Lovely fun.

Email exchange between Carl and Kelly or Texting in the Grocery Line

On Jul 15, 2012, at 7:42 AM, "Carl C. Trovall"

>> wrote:

>> Critical Tools and Theoretical Machines

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/theamericanscholar/yaSQ/~3/rQP9MBS9bj8/

>> “Critical tools” was a phrase I’d hear from time to time, back in the

>> academy. No one ever said exactly what it meant, but you got the idea.

>> Analyzing narrative structures, tracing patterns of...

> On Sun, Jul 15, 2012 at 9:43 AM, Kelly Neal wrote:

>

>> Yes, but the separation of criticism From theory is specious. One has a

>> theory behind the criticism always. Once at Breadloaf the profs held an

>> impromptu panel, where they took an Emily Dickinson poem and ran it through

>> various theories: deconstruction, feminist, Marxist, new historicism, New

>> criticism; the result was each opened the poem in a different way,

>> revealing a deeper understanding of the work overall. And ultimately the

>> poem survived the various vivisections and still read in a beautiful way. I

>> think most attacks on theory come from A basically conservative view of

>> literary analysis which is comfortable with only one "correct"

>> interpretation which everyone will come to if only they use the "right"

>> tools. We make meaning happen through our living talk about "texts"

>> whatever those texts are; when those meanings become orthodox, we run the

>> risk of not having a meaning at all, or a life for that matter.

>>

>> Thanks for the article, sorry if i ranted.

>>

>> Kelly

>>

>> Sent from my iPhone

> On Jul 15, 2012, at 11:50 AM, "Carl C. Trovall"

> wrote:

>

> No worries about ranting. When we are in dialog, it is just a very nice,

> vigorous and passionate discussion, no? Besides, I rant a lot, too.

>

> I wouldn't say the distinction is specious--that is too strong, in my

> opinion (if by specious you mean that it looks good on the surface, but is

> false). I don't think the distinction is false. It is actually helpful

> and true to some extent.

>

> At the same time, I fully agree that everything (definitions, language,

> criticism, even theory creation and maintenance itself) is theory-laden and

> so the distinction falls apart and clouds thinking. And, I like the

> Breadloaf story...I do that exercise with Biblical texts in class all the

> time and explain the role of presuppositions (which are constantly being

> modified in a hermeneutical circle). That's why the biblical text, along

> with all great literature, is so wonderful...it just keeps opening up

> worlds rather than shutting them down (though there are plenty of shutter

> downer interpreters, esp. in theology, though I have noted that nearly

> every field and politic has its closed minded dogmatists. Thank God, I am

> not one! : ) ).

>

> I suppose my anxieties always arise because I think there are better and

> worse ways of interpreting texts...some people's interpretations are

> pure transference with little apparent relation to the text (just sit in a

> Bible study...oh, boy). But, I also hate the theologian who says 'this is

> what the text means.' Somehow there is a balance between anything goes

> (which is uncritical) and tying the meaning down into a forced meaning of

> the expert (which is uncritical at another level).

>

> That's why I liked this piece....it seemed to bridge those worlds.

>

> Thanks for the opportunity to dialog!

>

> 100 today in MN! Whew....

>

> Oh, yes, thanks for the wonderful time and quiche and wine and discussion

> at your house. Always a joy.

>

> Carl

On Sun, Jul 15, 2012 at 1:16 PM, Kelly Neal wrote:

> I don't see a lot of difference between the person who sees what they want

> to see, and the "expert" who uses outside textual "authorities" to see what

> they want to see. There is no "pure" objective way to interpret text. To

> speak of "criticism" as if it is some rational method beyond the taint of

> theory is what I call specious. We create meaning through our social

> interactions with the text and the societal contexts in which we encounter

> these texts. There is a constant play between the standard, possibly

> repressive, interpretations, and the counter / resistant narratives of

> meanings. As William Burroughs said: language is a virus from outer space.

> Theory is a way to differentiate the various strains of viral outbreaks.

>

> Sent from my iPhone

From: "Carl C. Trovall"

Sent: Jul 15, 2012 2:01 PM

To: Kelly Neal

Subject: Re: Critical Tools and Theoretical Machines

I certainly don't think that criticism stands apart from theory, as an

objective view from nowhere. But, not every interpretation of a text is a

good one. Would you say that whatever interpretation of a text by any

reader are all equally valid and good? Or, are there 'better' and 'worse'

interpretations of a text? Because if there are better and worse, then one

has to justify why that is so. And, I hope that it is just more than

simply power relations (I am teacher, you are student)...that there are

tools to use to help us meaningfully interpret texts better than having no

critical tools at all. For example, if someone interprets the Pauline

texts on homosexuality as reason to kill and punish homosexuals, and

another interprets those texts in a liberative way, I personally think that

the second is a better interpretation than the first. And, I have my

reasons, my critical theory for choosing that. It is purely objective?

No. But I would argue that it is not purely subjective either. I think

I can offer reasons why it is better to love than hate.

Further, while I know that reader makes meaning, and texts take on their

own lives apart from the author's intent, I still think the writer's intent

and purpose ought to be considered in fairness to the author. It is the

standard of humility before the author. No, the author is not omniscient,

but we at least owe the author some form of charity and respect to

understand what they are trying to say, and ask, "is that true, or good or

beautiful?" That is, I think that while I don't have control over how

others interpret what I write, I still think that the meaning(s) I intended

deserve to be privileged in some sense. That's why I speak and write, to

make sure that others understand what I am trying to say, and I want my own

interpretation of my own words .

Thanks for a wonderful discussion...I suppose we should be discussing it on

the RFB blog. I plan to respond to Steve and you sometime today...

Carl,

To step back a bit:  my main concern with the article was with the dismissal of theory, almost out of hand.  I do not think that one interpretation of text is as good as another, but that is where theory comes to play in force.  A theory helps explain what the person is seeing in a text that is not just, "Oh, the inferno was an allegorical description of Dante's summer vacation."  Theory gives some validity to the interpretative critique a reader is employing as they read the text.  I tend to read, when people say, "Well then anything goes" to mean (my interpretation here),  "anything" meaning any other interpretation other than mine which I disagree with. (I am not saying you are saying this Carl, just that over the years I have read that anything goes phrase as dismissive and condescending to any interpretation other than the status quo).  I have found that for the most part, different theoretical critiques do more to open up a text than they do to undermine the text.  A Marxist reading of Dickens is fairly profound, as is a feminist reading comparing the Wife of Bath's tale to the Clerks Tale in Chaucer. And there is doubtful any way that Chaucer can be seen as a feminist writer. And even when they do undermine a text, I think that helps us to understand how the text is making meaning in the current context, thus guaranteeing the continuing value of a text over time.  When the meaning of a text becomes fixed is when it has become a dead text of no value to the society which is reading it.  Why are we reading this text?  What does it say now?  Is that different than what it said when it was written?  How can meaning change?  When we look at a text in the context of the time it was written and the context of the author's life, how much can we project our own understandings of the time period onto the text? Quite a bit I would venture. Should we use Freud and Jung on anyone writing before Freud and Jung?  Why not? Why?  All of these questions come under the pervue of theory.  Theory is just the grounding in a fairly open manner the perspective from which the critic is applying his critical skills.  I have thought of choosing for RFB this book 

The Function of Criticism (Radical Thinkers) by Terry Eagleton 

Just because it is a fairly wild interpretation of criticism.  Eagleton is a marxist theorist and makes no attempt to disguise that.  But I probably want do that because I would rather read something of beauty.

As John Keats wrote: 

'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,' - that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

Kelly

First Quarter of the Marriage Plot

In the first hundred or so pages of The Marriage Plot, I am seeing themes of  identity formation, meaning (obviously with all the semiotics talk, but also through the action of the people), and how we make meaning out of ourselves and others through a complex interchange of social and personal constellations.  Madeline is busily trying to define herself in a time when the definition of who she can be is changing.  She is reacting against the norms of her parents expectations, her own expectations, the tropes inbued in the nineteenth century novels she reads, the semiotics class she is a part of, and her attempts to rationalize falling in love through the writing of Barthes.  Much of her identity and the identity of the other characters is wrapped up in the tropes of literature.  Both overtly stated in the book, but additionally in the almost stereotypical literary stock figure descriptions that the author uses as he is writing the Marriage Plot.  ( I suppose you could say this is post-modern in the sense that he is “ironically” using cliché to make his overall point come out.  Look I am a writer who is writing a story about meaning and language and how it is stereotypical and I am using language and stereotypes to make my point.  I am so clever. And he is clever, but not in a tiresome way)  None of the characters seem to have any agency of their own, but are all driven by the interpretations they are given and then they act within those parameters. Even the ones who think they outside looking in like Thurston. This is not to say I don’t like the book, because I am enjoying it greatly.  I read the first quarter of the book Wednesday afternoon, enjoying all of it; I only stopped because I had a meeting to attend.  I like the interplay of the narrative and the themes I am seeing so far; he uses the mechanics of storytelling to make his points without becoming mechanical.  

I look forward to watching it unfold (or should I say unpack itself, to be "deconstructive").  

Your Story is Never About You

I liked the stories inside of stories and the never-ending quality of the stories. I assumed that the stories were going to be interrelated by the end, so I just trusted that assumption and plowed along even when i could not make a direct connection. I liked that the connections were not obvious, if there at all. I am not sure there were direct connections. It took me most of the novel to realize (i am slow) that the Hakawati was the son. Duh, he was telling the story, the only first person narrator in the book. And the story was about him, since the story was about everyone else. (See title of entry, which came from the novel).

I also liked that the stories were over the top mythologized, even or especially the contemporary "true' ones. "The only true event in that whole story, in all its versions, is that the man existed." No one's story is ever true, or complete, in and of itself. We retell, revise our own stories constantly as we re-shape, re-cast our identities and justifications for our interpretations of those stories. But it is not just our personal stories that matter. It is every story we here. They all inculcate themselves into our lives, helping to give it meaning through the interpretations we take from the stories we hear. Early in the novel, the narrator's grandfather, the hakawaiti, is fussing at Osama, "Here I am trying to infuse you with culture, my flesh and blood, my own kin." But Osama doesn't want to listen, to take the story as his grandfather is giving it to him. Yet the story still takes hold. Perhaps not in the way the grandfather intended. Later in the novel speaking about the Baybars story-line, "in almost al the remaining versions of the story, none of them are about Baybars. You see, the hakawaitis' audience is the common man who couldn't really identify with a royla, almost infallibel hero, so early on the hakawaits began to introduce characters that their audience could empathize with (p.441). The story is never really about the hero of the story, but more about the listener. What we take from the story that we are listening to, as well as the one we are making. The repetition of the word "listen" as the first and last words of the novel, as well as being repeated multiple times throughout the novel, I think, emphasizes the role of the listener/reader in the making of the story and the meaning that can be derived from the the story.

I also found it interesting, at one point (which I cannot find right now) there is a direct quote from Macbeth's witches from the beginning of Macbeth. When shall we three meet again, and what not which brings the idea of fate. Are we destined to live out our lives, as in a novel? Or do we have some agency? Or does the way we interpret the storylines that are given to us determine our fate, and in that act of interpreting lies our agency?

Overall, the book has caused me to think about things. Not necessarily in a new way, but it is still resonating with my thoughts/life since I finished it this morning. I imagine it will for awhile yet. That is if I am aware enough to listen.