As Plato and Aristotle began the course they are at the top of the diagram. Interactions between the two are not represented because the focus of the diagram is the imparted theory from the start of the class to its currents place, which, including all intricacies, would render the diagram even more convoluted. Aside from Plato and Aristotle, only Maimonides is represented as foundational (no arrow leading to him) because the Norton did not cover, or I did not find, any major influences on him from another theorist already covered. This visualization of theoretical lineage accurately displays the complex, interwoven nature of Literary theory. The chronological progression through theorists exhibits increasing connections between new and previous thinkers. Ultimately, the continuation of such a diagram would become quite muddled as the pool of knowledge theorists draw upon increases through the years.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Theory Web
My diagram is in essence a flowchart visualizing the movement of important ideas between theorists and their predecessors. I have cataloged all the concepts that I represent on my diagram for clarity's sake as the visual itself displays the complexity of theoretical lineage making labeling impractical. The clutter that formed in the visual reveals the permeating nature of ideas as Literary Theory progressed. The arrows while not very informative in themselves serve to demonstrate the connective currents in our studies. Naturally, I did not include every concept shared between theorists, but I included as many as I thought plausible for the space and time I had.
Western Philosophy Family Tree Breakdown
Since the course started with Plato, he is the head of this family tree. Aristotle’s writings dealt directly with Plato’s philosophy, so he is Plato’s descendant, and Augustine Christianizes Aristotle, so he is Aristotle’s descendent. So far so good. Maimonides dealt with some of the same ideas as Augustine and the classical philosophers, but he had his own, less declarative take on it all. He married into the western philosophy family tree. Both Sidney and Hume descend from Augustine, as Sidney continued to explore the power of symbolism and Hume embodied the rationalist, empirical systems used by Augustine and previously by Aristotle. Christine de Pizan wrote around the same time as Sidney and also dealt with Renaissance subject matter, but her ideas are more focused on education and the abilities of the individual (woman). She married into the Renaissance philosophy branch of the family tree.
Kant and Schleiermacher are descended from Hume because they appropriate rationalism into their own hybrid rationalistic romanticism. Wollstonecraft is descended from de Pizan; she expanded the idea that women should be educated and paved the way for feminist critics. Hegel and Nietzsche are both descended from Kant. Hegel expands Kant’s German romanticism, and Nietzsche explores the subjective. A combination of Nietzsche’s understanding of the subjective nature of information and Wollstonecraft’s defense of the underdog resulted in Marx’s and Engels’ renunciation of socio-economic structure. Nietzsche and Wollstonecraft also opened the door for Freud, who interpreted Wollstonecraft’s feminism as penis envy, and Freud’s will to power as an Oedipus complex. Lacan is descended from Freud, but that branch of the family tree dead-ends out of sheer boredom. Marx and Engels however, give rise to Horkheimer, Adorno, and Althusser, who interpret society as the all-encompassing controller of everything.
Meanwhile, Hegel’s romanticism is taken and run away with by his descendants, the English romantics and the American transcendentalists. They had fun for a while. Eliot is descended from Emerson, attempting to transform his forebears’ romanticism into a more objective understanding of art. He has some ideas in common with Wimsatt and Beardsley, the fathers of New Cristicism, because they read his poetry as an independent, aesthetic text. They in turn, pave the way for Barthes and de Saussure, who dig even deeper into the idea that the text is all there is.
Theory Town
I organized my theorists into neighborhoods, adding some stylistic elements to particular houses (note: the poesy on Sidney’s house, the English vines on Eliot’s, and Plato’s giant house perched atop a cloud, signifying his theoretical godliness.) Rather than organizing the theorists into strict categories of influence or strict movements, I decided to group theorists who were in conversation with one another. For example, Augustine, Saussure, Eliot, and Maimonides all deal with ambiguity, multiplicity of meaning, and the consequent implications for language. Freud and Lacan live in smaller houses next to one another, denoting that the strongest ties of influence lie between Lacan reacting to Freud’s theories. However, they have Kant and Hegel as neighbors, theorists who connect to a much larger scope of theory.
I utilized Plato and Aristotle as founding members of Theory Town, and branched theorists out accordingly. The theorists are not grouped chronologically, though many end up with neighbors from their own period, like the Romantics, housed in the forest. Emerson, Coleridge, and Wordsworth, and analogously Nietzsche and Schleiermacher, all produced work in the 1800’s that speaks to one another, developing the context of Romantic understandings of the poet, poetry, and experience. This group more neatly fits into a chronological grouping. However, Maimonides and Eliot are in the same neighborhood, though they exist more than seven hundred years apart. The stone paths between neighborhoods stand less as a walk through history than as an exchange of ideas. Moving from Augustine to Saussure to Barthes results not in a strict expansion upon Augustine, but instead contains the common thread of language as a series of signs, with each theorist having a specific orientation to that commonality, at once being quite individual and also part of a growing web of discourse.
Midterm - Flowchart
Here is a link to the atrocious flowchart I created: https://www.lucidchart.com/invitations/accept/83133dc4-4437-4314-974b-507f449c34a0
I kind of went all over the place with this flowchart. I was interested in categorizing each theorist by their respected lines of criticism. For example, I wanted to have all of the medieval and classical theorists connected together, and all of the Marxian theorists connected as one group. In addition to this, I tried to make connections between groups of thinkers who were influenced by one another. This was extraordinarily difficult to do; for one, many of the connections I made were slightly arbitrary. By this, I mean that some of the connections I tried to make between theorists from separate groups were based on whether one theorist utilized another's ideas (accurately or inaccurately), or if one theorist seemed to resemble another theorist in any sort of way. For example, I connected Coleridge to Eliot, because Eliot suggests that poetry is synthetically composed by past traditions, and this way of thinking sounds reminiscent of Coleridge's secondary imagination, in which the ideas and truths from the primary imagination are interpreted in a synthetic manner in order to generate one complete understanding of the primary imagination.
A few of the connections I made turned out to be mere guesses so that I could connect them to someone else on the chart. For the most part, I found that Kant, Plato, and Wordsworth seemed to be the most influential figures to other theorists, and I think this is because they each were the first in line in their respected groups of criticism.
I kind of went all over the place with this flowchart. I was interested in categorizing each theorist by their respected lines of criticism. For example, I wanted to have all of the medieval and classical theorists connected together, and all of the Marxian theorists connected as one group. In addition to this, I tried to make connections between groups of thinkers who were influenced by one another. This was extraordinarily difficult to do; for one, many of the connections I made were slightly arbitrary. By this, I mean that some of the connections I tried to make between theorists from separate groups were based on whether one theorist utilized another's ideas (accurately or inaccurately), or if one theorist seemed to resemble another theorist in any sort of way. For example, I connected Coleridge to Eliot, because Eliot suggests that poetry is synthetically composed by past traditions, and this way of thinking sounds reminiscent of Coleridge's secondary imagination, in which the ideas and truths from the primary imagination are interpreted in a synthetic manner in order to generate one complete understanding of the primary imagination.
A few of the connections I made turned out to be mere guesses so that I could connect them to someone else on the chart. For the most part, I found that Kant, Plato, and Wordsworth seemed to be the most influential figures to other theorists, and I think this is because they each were the first in line in their respected groups of criticism.
Monday, March 30, 2015
Lockean and Marxist Political Philosophies
I recently read chapters 1-7 of John Locke’s Second Treatise on Government for my
History of Modern Philosophy class. Before my reading, I had an understanding
of Locke’s metaphysics and epistemology— my understanding of his political
philosophy was quite cursory (what you might call a Core 250 understanding).
The extent of my knowledge was that the United States government was highly
influenced by Locke. You can imagine how surprised I was to find connections
between Locke, the inspiration of the oh-so capitalistic USA, and Marx/Engles!
Let us first note the similarities between Locke and
Marx/Engles concerning the materials of labor. The following are passages from
Locke’s Second Treatise on Government
and Marx/Engles Economic and Philosophic
Manuscripts of 1844.
“The earth and everything in it is
given to men for the support and comfort of their existence. All the fruits it
naturally produces and animals that it feeds, as produced by the spontaneous hand of nature, belong to mankind in
common; nobody has a basic right—a private right that excludes the rest of
mankind—over any of them as they are in their natural state. But they were given for the use of men;
and before they can be useful or beneficial to any particular man there must be some way for a particular man to
appropriate them.” (Locke)
“The worker can create nothing without nature, without the sensuous
external world. It is the material on
which his labor is manifested, in which it is active, from which and by
means of which it produces” (Marx/Engles 653)
It is as if Marx/Engles pulled directly from Lockean political
(economic) philosophy when constructing their own political philosophy. The right of man to his property, however,
might be an instance where Marx/Engles would diverge from Locke.
Here is yet another instance of how Marx/Engles and Locke
relate. Locke gives the following account of how one’s labor is the impetus to
one’s gaining property:
“Though men as a whole own the earth
and all inferior creatures, every individual man has a property in his own
person; this is something that nobody else has any right to. The labour of his
body and the work of his hands, we may say, are strictly his. So when he takes
something from the state that nature has provided and left it in, he mixes his
labour with it, thus joining to it something that is his own; and in that way
he makes it his property.” (Locke)
It seems as if this understanding of labor is supplementary,
if not foundational, to a Marxist understanding of labor. If one’s alienation
from labor leads to a devaluing of said individual (Marx/Engles 653), then it
follows that one’s uniting with labor leads to valuing. This idea, based upon
the above quote, is essentially Lockean.
Friday, March 27, 2015
Midterm Portfolio: Spirally Theory Stuff
I encountered a substantial amount of issues while formatting this diagram and found that the best way to post it would be through a link. If you could excuse the minor inconvenience, you'll find my diagram here. Click at your leisure.
In some ways, I've attempted to complicate notions of a linear dialogue through my representation of the theorists we've read so far. By this, I mean to say that, rather than attempt to construct a dialectical space (as we'd see in a family tree or March Madness bracket), I've placed each theorist on a circular plain. Why this space, as opposed to a more convenient and traditional linear timeline? The hope is that, when reviewing this diagram, one gets the sense that theorists are not engaged in a struggle of wills. No one theorist is better than another (you're welcome, Wordsworth), though some may have better concepts and arguments than others (sorry, Wordsworth). I would argue that the critical theory is still relevant to readers of text because we are not working towards a singular truth. It would be ridiculous to maintain that Plato leads to the final theorist in the Norton and we reach the end (or pinnacle) of theory through this progression. On the contrary, these theorists are utilized in a wide array of dialogues, meaning that a dialectic is arbitrary (though advantageous).
For the purpose of classifying each theorist, I've structured movements and theoretical concepts within designated areas (the specter of Hegel, it seems, is everywhere). Each of these groupings has been given a tiny, color-coded theorist, where:
Orange represents Classical theory
Gold represents Hermeneutic theory
Turquoise represents Medieval theory
Red represents Enlightenment theory
Green represents Romantic theory
Gray represents Marxist theory
Purple represents Structuralist theory
Blue represents New Critical theory
Yellow represent Freudian theory
Pink represents Feminist theory
The first five designated areas (from Classical to Romantic) pay more attention to time than the other five (Marxism to Feminism), which is why the latter areas have been spaced out and given a haphazard order. Though this may seem to undermine my diagram, I believe it brings to light the complexities inherent in a structured idea of theory. de Pizan, for instance, obviously belongs within a Medieval sphere, but her movement is far outside of said sphere. Emerson, Coleridge, and Wordsworth, though each employ Romantic arguments, write on subjects that are not intrinsically linked to Hegel or Schleiermacher (the last of which probably deserves to be in the second area, anyway). See how convenience can complicate?
This is not to say that groupings are completely unreasonable. Indeed, many of these theorists possess a casual relationship to one another, and will often comment upon or reference the work of their counterparts. Yet, to view them only in this light does a great disservice to theory. What is presented, then, is a depiction of these theorists in a cyclical conversation, one where theory is consistently revolving and deferring. What is at the center of this vortex? Perhaps it is inspiration, or truth, or whatever you'd like to call it. Personally, I'd like to think that the center represents our attempt to best understand the world.
Feel free to comment on what you think of this diagram. I'd be interested in hearing opinions on whether or not the representation works or if there are ways to better our understanding of theory outside of a progressing dialectic.
In some ways, I've attempted to complicate notions of a linear dialogue through my representation of the theorists we've read so far. By this, I mean to say that, rather than attempt to construct a dialectical space (as we'd see in a family tree or March Madness bracket), I've placed each theorist on a circular plain. Why this space, as opposed to a more convenient and traditional linear timeline? The hope is that, when reviewing this diagram, one gets the sense that theorists are not engaged in a struggle of wills. No one theorist is better than another (you're welcome, Wordsworth), though some may have better concepts and arguments than others (sorry, Wordsworth). I would argue that the critical theory is still relevant to readers of text because we are not working towards a singular truth. It would be ridiculous to maintain that Plato leads to the final theorist in the Norton and we reach the end (or pinnacle) of theory through this progression. On the contrary, these theorists are utilized in a wide array of dialogues, meaning that a dialectic is arbitrary (though advantageous).
For the purpose of classifying each theorist, I've structured movements and theoretical concepts within designated areas (the specter of Hegel, it seems, is everywhere). Each of these groupings has been given a tiny, color-coded theorist, where:
Orange represents Classical theory
Gold represents Hermeneutic theory
Turquoise represents Medieval theory
Red represents Enlightenment theory
Green represents Romantic theory
Gray represents Marxist theory
Purple represents Structuralist theory
Blue represents New Critical theory
Yellow represent Freudian theory
Pink represents Feminist theory
The first five designated areas (from Classical to Romantic) pay more attention to time than the other five (Marxism to Feminism), which is why the latter areas have been spaced out and given a haphazard order. Though this may seem to undermine my diagram, I believe it brings to light the complexities inherent in a structured idea of theory. de Pizan, for instance, obviously belongs within a Medieval sphere, but her movement is far outside of said sphere. Emerson, Coleridge, and Wordsworth, though each employ Romantic arguments, write on subjects that are not intrinsically linked to Hegel or Schleiermacher (the last of which probably deserves to be in the second area, anyway). See how convenience can complicate?
This is not to say that groupings are completely unreasonable. Indeed, many of these theorists possess a casual relationship to one another, and will often comment upon or reference the work of their counterparts. Yet, to view them only in this light does a great disservice to theory. What is presented, then, is a depiction of these theorists in a cyclical conversation, one where theory is consistently revolving and deferring. What is at the center of this vortex? Perhaps it is inspiration, or truth, or whatever you'd like to call it. Personally, I'd like to think that the center represents our attempt to best understand the world.
Feel free to comment on what you think of this diagram. I'd be interested in hearing opinions on whether or not the representation works or if there are ways to better our understanding of theory outside of a progressing dialectic.
Marxism in Tulip Town
For the beginning of Spring Break I had the luxury of spending a few days in Anacortes, WA with one of my housemates. A native to the San Juan Islands, housemate suggested that we travel a little inland to visit Tulip Town, a flower field in Skagit Valley. Though we only stayed for about half an hour, this visit proved to be one of the oddest tourist encounters of my life.
Obviously meant to be a beautiful, natural artifact, Tulip Town attracts (from what I could tell from the information plaques) thousands of visitors from around the world. Indeed, the scene is stunning, and almost seems to exist as a representation of the Kantian sublime. Just looking at this picture, one gets a sense of the grandeur and immensity of nature. To quote Kant: "That is sublime which even to be able to think of demonstrates a faculty of the mind that surpasses every measure of the senses" (433). Standing among the tulips, I looked across the valley at storming clouds as they moved across the mountains and far-off islands and felt totally overwhelmed.
Yet, one can easily notice a stark difference between the background of the scene (which I argue is where the sublime can be observed) and the foreground. The tragedy of this setting is that the tulips, with their systematized rows and flawless forms, are the essence of commodification. If we were to extend Horkheimer and Adorno's theories on the culture industry to this scene, it would be clear that their ideas are entirely applicable to Tulip Town. I'll quote a passage that, when read in conversation with this photo, is incredibly eerie: "Every detail [of products in the culture industry] is so firmly stamped with sameness that nothing can appear which is not marked at birth, or does not meet with approval at first sight" (1114). I believe this Marxist perspective is what caused me to feel so uneasy during my visit. For there is a great injustice, in my opinion, done to nature when we rip its sublimity from it, when our desire to participate in capitalist culture extends to the flora present in our environment.
You may be thinking at this point that my unease is a tad unwarranted. After all, the desire to commodify nature stems from a yearning to participate in beauty and take pleasure from its natural form. But consider the hundreds of years of genetic engineering that have gone into producing these flowers and you will realize that they are mimetic reflections created through human hands. Recognize what will certainly happen to these flowers: their bulbs will all be harvested to sell, a process that will leave the flower's roots intact (and allow for another harvest during the next season). Such is the mechanical life of these tulips, a commodity that is a perversion of nature and sublimity.
Obviously meant to be a beautiful, natural artifact, Tulip Town attracts (from what I could tell from the information plaques) thousands of visitors from around the world. Indeed, the scene is stunning, and almost seems to exist as a representation of the Kantian sublime. Just looking at this picture, one gets a sense of the grandeur and immensity of nature. To quote Kant: "That is sublime which even to be able to think of demonstrates a faculty of the mind that surpasses every measure of the senses" (433). Standing among the tulips, I looked across the valley at storming clouds as they moved across the mountains and far-off islands and felt totally overwhelmed.
Yet, one can easily notice a stark difference between the background of the scene (which I argue is where the sublime can be observed) and the foreground. The tragedy of this setting is that the tulips, with their systematized rows and flawless forms, are the essence of commodification. If we were to extend Horkheimer and Adorno's theories on the culture industry to this scene, it would be clear that their ideas are entirely applicable to Tulip Town. I'll quote a passage that, when read in conversation with this photo, is incredibly eerie: "Every detail [of products in the culture industry] is so firmly stamped with sameness that nothing can appear which is not marked at birth, or does not meet with approval at first sight" (1114). I believe this Marxist perspective is what caused me to feel so uneasy during my visit. For there is a great injustice, in my opinion, done to nature when we rip its sublimity from it, when our desire to participate in capitalist culture extends to the flora present in our environment.
You may be thinking at this point that my unease is a tad unwarranted. After all, the desire to commodify nature stems from a yearning to participate in beauty and take pleasure from its natural form. But consider the hundreds of years of genetic engineering that have gone into producing these flowers and you will realize that they are mimetic reflections created through human hands. Recognize what will certainly happen to these flowers: their bulbs will all be harvested to sell, a process that will leave the flower's roots intact (and allow for another harvest during the next season). Such is the mechanical life of these tulips, a commodity that is a perversion of nature and sublimity.
Monday, March 23, 2015
Literary Theorists Web (Portfolio 4)
Upon making my diagrammatic outline, I found that I was much
more interested in how the theorists we’ve studied thus far invoke one another.
Yes, each theorist comes within (more or less) a larger movement; we can, for
example, name Coleridge as a “Romantic” and Barthes as a “Structuralist”.
However, I have valued our discussion of how many theorists overstep the
boundaries of those movements they are associated with. Eliot, although a “New
Critic” who criticizes Romanticism, invokes Coleridge’s secondary imagination.
Freud and Marx & Engels, fathers of Psychoanalytic and Marxist theories
respectively, have connections to Saussure and Structuralism. We gain a richer,
more complex understanding of the evolution of literary criticism when we view
theorists as individuals within unique movements and as pieces of an interdependent milieu.
I therefore decided to place the theorists we’ve studied
thus far in relation to one another by making a web. Theorists within movements
are grouped together, but the names of these movements have been omitted in
order to emphasize other aspects of connectivity; if we needed to know who
belonged to, say, Marxist critique, we could just look at the syllabus!
I think that my diagram will be helpful for the second
portion of Portfolio 4, the critical analysis of “The Los Alamos Museum” by
Arthur Sze, and other critical analyses to come. My diagram visually represents
how some theorists from different movements (or, in Portfolio 4’s case,
different columns) relate and speak to each other about a text. But, the
diagram also shows where contentions easily arise; outlier Sir Phillip Sydney’s
notion that art’s purpose is to “teach and delight” could provide unique
readings and challenges to other theorists.
Please comment below if you think of any other connections
between the theorists and I will add them! I also considered using red lines to
show where theorists reject one another, but I’m afraid it is beyond my
tech-savvy to do so. I am also aware and “so-sure” that I spelled Saussure
wrong on my diagram… I framed each picture and inserted names on an online
software and I can’t make changes. Whoops!
Thursday, March 19, 2015
Christian Church as Commodity
As we discussed Horkheimer and Adorno, we covered the notion of "pornography" in pop culture, and how it resembles anything that offers a relationship, but never delivers. I first understood this notion from a sort of Marxist perspective--which could be one plausible reading of it. From a Marxist reading of "pornography," I understand it to mean that commodities and products such as art, books, music, clothing apparel, etc. all are marketed in a way that tries to convince the public that said product will enhance the consumer's life in some way--it offers a solution to solving a certain issue or problem. The way that these commodities and products never deliver is indicated in the fact that there are always new and improved versions of them being released on the market, which are also propagandized in such a way to convince consumers that they need the updated model of a product. Granted, I don't think that artists and musicians necessarily have this marketing mentality when they release new paintings or albums on the market, but I do think that consumers generate a mentality which persuades them to believe that if they purchase this art piece, or this new album by this band, they will finally be satisfied with whatever they have. And though consumers may very well be content with what they have for a while, there always comes a time when they realize that they're not fulfilled and need something else to fill the craving they possess.
Given this Marxist reading of Horkheimer and Adorno, I've been pondering whether Christianity (or any other religion for that matter) could be interpreted as a form of "pornography" that offers certain things (such as peace, comfort, salvation, community, wisdom, etc.) but often doesn't deliver. The reason that I raise this question is because I think that in the 21st Century the Christian church has in many ways put themselves out there on the market as a commodity. The Christian church, in many cases, advertises itself mostly through style and commodity; through the type of worship music played during the service, the aesthetics of their building, whether or not they have a coffee shop in the lobby, and even the style of preaching (i.e. is the pastor amusing). These are the things that, I believe, frequently determine the quality of someone's experience at a church, but these commodities don't always deliver. My point is that within the last couple of decades, I think many people have found that Christianity doesn't deliver on the promise of its doctrine, precisely because so many Christian churches are focusing on how to attract people to their congregation with these commodities, rather than on the importance of delivering and living out the gospel and ministry of Jesus Christ. In light of this, it seems as though the Christian church commonly advertises itself as an institution (perhaps an ISA?) rather than as the body of Christ.
I reckon that the Christian church has developed and changed significantly since Horkheimer and Adorno's time, and I'd be very interested to read their critiques on the contemporary Christian church of America.
Given this Marxist reading of Horkheimer and Adorno, I've been pondering whether Christianity (or any other religion for that matter) could be interpreted as a form of "pornography" that offers certain things (such as peace, comfort, salvation, community, wisdom, etc.) but often doesn't deliver. The reason that I raise this question is because I think that in the 21st Century the Christian church has in many ways put themselves out there on the market as a commodity. The Christian church, in many cases, advertises itself mostly through style and commodity; through the type of worship music played during the service, the aesthetics of their building, whether or not they have a coffee shop in the lobby, and even the style of preaching (i.e. is the pastor amusing). These are the things that, I believe, frequently determine the quality of someone's experience at a church, but these commodities don't always deliver. My point is that within the last couple of decades, I think many people have found that Christianity doesn't deliver on the promise of its doctrine, precisely because so many Christian churches are focusing on how to attract people to their congregation with these commodities, rather than on the importance of delivering and living out the gospel and ministry of Jesus Christ. In light of this, it seems as though the Christian church commonly advertises itself as an institution (perhaps an ISA?) rather than as the body of Christ.
I reckon that the Christian church has developed and changed significantly since Horkheimer and Adorno's time, and I'd be very interested to read their critiques on the contemporary Christian church of America.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Nietzsche and True Detective
I apologize for the swearing. Actually I take that back. I don’t apologize.
I meant to post this video a few weeks ago when we were covering Nietzsche because when I was first watching True Detective Rust Cohle instantly reminded me of Nietzsche’s philosophy. Cohle’s description of human consciousness reminds me of Nietzsche’s opening in his “Truth and Lies In A Nonmoral Sense,” when he talks about the arrogance of creating intellect. The difference is that Cohle attributes the creation of intellect to nature whereas Nietzsche attributes it to humans themselves.
The importance is not which of them is right because as Nietzsche goes on to say such stories are impotent to truly describe anything because of the sign-signifier problem. So what do we do with a theory that points out the powerless of language to really communicate stuff, while it uses language to say language is powerless?
Also we generally associate Nietzsche with nihilism and it seems there’s great difficulty in writing nihilist characters. As Woody Harrelson’s character asks, what’s the point of them getting out of bed in the morning? I think True Detective does a good job attacking this problem, though it might turn out Cohle isn’t as nihilist as he wants to be.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
A Victorian Viewpoint: Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s "Aurora Leigh"
In Laura’s
British Literature Before 1800 class, we’ve just transitioned from the Romantic
to the Victorian Era. One of the first pieces she is having us read is the
Norton’s selection of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s verse poem “Aurora Leigh”.
As a whole, “Aurora Leigh” is read as an emblem of Victorianism, which is most
likely why Laura is having us read it to start off the unit.
The verse poem
is a bildungsroman, illustrating the
development of the young poetess Aurora Leigh. In Book 5 of the verse poem,
Aurora digresses on the topic of “Poets and the Present Age”, wherein Aurora claims
poets should concern themselves with subjects of the Present Age. She also
makes the following claim about the poet’s vision:
But poets should
Exert a double
vision; should have eyes
To see near
things as comprehensively
As if afar they
took their point of sight,
And distant
things as intimately deep
As if they
touched them.
(Norton Anthology of
English Literature 1151)
Perhaps I’m
mistaken, but Aurora Leigh’s conception of the poet seems fairly Romantic. It
seems not too far removed from Coleridge’s “transparent eyeball”, or Emerson’s “imaginative
seer as liberating us from ordinary life” (Theory and Criticism 615). What
then do we do with those claims that “Aurora Leigh” is emblematic of the
Victorian Age?
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