As I read through this week’s posts so far, I started to feel a bit like the odd woman out. I did NOT love Crosman’s article. For me, the most troubling aspect of this article was Crosman’s tone and obvious disdain for Hirsch’s perspective. Isn’t it odd that Crosman (so intent on pluralism) penned an article that is at times arrogant, “hipper than thou,” and decidedly firm in its own correctness? Is it just me, or could this article be subtitled “Why E.D. Hirsch is a Giant Fascist”?
Granted, I haven’t read Hirsch’s writings on the topic of interpretation and where meaning lies. And true, Crosman’s discussion of Hirsch’s terminology (for example, “verbal meaning vs. “significance”) reveals an overemphasis on semantics–though not necessarily the “contradiction” claimed by Crosman (151).
The specific section of Crosman’s analysis that most bothered me was his insistence that Hirsch’s perspective was the literary equivalent of Hobbes’s Leviathan. This analogy follows a short passage in which Hirsch comments on the development of modern approaches to interpretation:
When critics deliberately banished the original author, they themselves usurped his place, and this led unerringly to some of our present-day theoretical confusions. Where before there had been but one author, there now arose a multiplicity of them, each carrying as much authority as the next….If a theorist wants to save the idea of validity, he has to save the author as well. (Hirsch 5-6, quoted in Crosman 157).
Now, this passage strikes me as an entirely logical way to approach literature. Sure, Hirsch uses the language of politics—but is that not appropriate to a discussion of interpretive “authority”? More importantly, would any of us argue that the author isn’t an authority on what he or she intended?
Crosman takes Hirsch’s political language and runs with it. In Hirsch’s world, asserts Crosman, “meaning is either singular or absolute, or it does not exist (the author = the king)” (157). This statement is inflammatory not only because it misrepresents Hirsch’s comments, but also because it alludes to a political text that is commonly read as a justification for absolute, ruthless, dictatorial rule.
But Crosman does not stop there. He continues to portray Hirsch and his ilk as the old guard, wary of “ignorant” and “arrogant” usurpers of authority—and not just of the literary kind. According to Crosman, Hirsch longs for a world in which there is only ever one Truth, a world in which “decent [decent!!!] regard for hierarchy and order is maintained and the state is at peace” (158). As a writer concerned with words, meaning, and connotations, Crosman clearly knows what he’s doing here. He might as well have called Hirsch a “square.”
Despite Crosman’s insinuations and exaggerations, Hirsch’s perspectives on interpretation struck me as entirely appropriate and well-suited to most poetry written before the 20th century.
By Crosman’s own admission, “the convention that authors make meaning arose from a desire to think of truth as single and univocal” (161). For much of history, this was the main frame through which scholars in all fields perceived the world. Most poems were written with a specific plan, purpose, or with “philosophy” in mind. Would anyone honestly argue that there are multiple valid interpretations to a poem like Jonson’s “On My First Son” or Dryden’s “Song for St. Cecilia’s Day”?
Despite what I’ve written above, I do not completely reject critical theories that locate meaning with the reader. I especially liked Crosman’s point that “authors make meaning…in the sense that we all do—as interpreters, as readers” (162). Likewise, the final stretch of Crosman’s argument against Hirsch (during which he drives home the point that “we make the author’s meaning!”) is very compelling.
In a larger, more philosophical sense, Crosman is also entirely correct that we live in an era in which few people except or believe in one singular truth or authority—in anything, never mind literature.
It makes sense, therefore to read most modern poetry with a pluralistic approach. I’d even venture to say that it should be applied (sparingly) to older texts. That being said, those who overuse such tactics run the risk of missing out on interesting and pertinent historical and biographical factors that can bring a deeper understanding to most texts.
Then again, maybe I’m just a square.
Sara