Cultural Studies: After Theory By Terry Eagleton

CULTURAL STUDIES THEORY

Cultural studies is an academic field of critical theory and literary criticism initially introduced by British academics in 1964 and subsequently adopted by allied academics throughout the world. Characteristically interdisciplinary, cultural studies is an academic discipline aiding cultural researchers who theorize about the forces from which the whole of humankind construct their daily lives. Cultural Studies is not a unified theory, but a diverse field of study encompassing many different approaches, methods and academic perspectives. Distinct from the breadth, objective and methodology of cultural anthropology and ethnic studies, cultural studies is focused upon the political dynamics of contemporary culture and its historical foundations, conflicts and defining traits. Researchers concentrate on how a particular medium or message relates to ideology, social class, nationality, ethnicity, sexuality and/or gender, rather than providing an encyclopedic identification, categorization or definition of a particular culture or area of the world.

Cultural studies combines feminist theory, social theory, political theory, history, philosophy, literary theory, media theory, film/video studies, communication studies, political economy, translation studies, museum studies and art history/criticism to study cultural phenomena in various societies. Thus, cultural studies seeks to understand how meaning is generated, disseminated, and produced from the social, political and economic spheres within a given culture. The influential theories of cultural hegemony and agency have emerged from the cultural studies movement as well as the most recent communications theory, which attempts to explain the cultural forces behind globalization. Unique academic approaches to cultural studies have also emerged in the United States, Canada, Australia, South Africa and Italy.

SYNOPSIS

Being at once a leader and a rebel is a good trick. Mrs Thatcher managed it brilliantly, speaking as if she were a dissident in the government of which she was in fact head. The ordinary fudges of political life took place despite her. Terry Eagleton has always done something similar, a soi-disant intellectual outsider who was once the country's "top" literary professor. When he was Warton professor of English at Oxford he styled himself "a barbarian inside the citadel". (Now he is professor of cultural theory at Manchester University, the self-image is a little less defensive.) Travel the campuses of Britain, however, and you will find that for many he is the orthodoxy. His Literary Theory: An Introduction , a punchy synopsis of other writers' ideas first published 20 years ago, must be the best-selling work of lit crit ever.

Characteristically, this book for students of literature argued that there was no such thing as literature and that literary criticism was but a conservative political ideology: "Departments of literature in higher education are part of the ideological apparatus of the modern capitalist state." The arrival of literary theory from France was broadly welcome, for it crushed with its rigour the effete mutterings of bourgeois humanism. Yet while he was theory's ambassador, he always managed to signal his own distance from it. Literary Theory ended with what became his signature declaration of the hidden significance of politics in intellectual life (hidden from most theory buffs, too).

Now here he is again, calling us away from the herd. In a prefatory note he declares that his new book "argues against what I take to be a current orthdoxy". Other early theory enthusiasts have, in effect, recanted. Eagleton leaves no room for the admission of his own involvement in error or folly. Theory has gone astray, but not because it has encouraged academic obscurantism and grim reductiveness. It is because it has not been political enough. So, as a "radical", Eagleton is necessarily out of step with even the intellectual fashions for which he once seemed cheerleader. "It is not pleasant to be out of line," he says, contentedly.

He senses that the campus campaign against traditional lit crit has been won. Nowadays "quietly-spoken, middle-class students huddle diligently in libraries, at work on sensationalist subjects like vampirism and eye-gouging, cyborgs and porno movies". Hooray! But no, the postmodernism that has made deviancy the norm has disengaged us from political conflicts. There is no hypocritical respectability to rail or rebel against. He rather misses the "old-fashioned bourgeois values" that underpinned "liberal humanist" approaches to reading and teaching. At least the battle lines were clear.

He is caught between two attitudes to the academic business. On the one hand, he rather wants to laugh at all those earnest undergraduates (and lecturers) attaching the same arguments about sexual transgression to whatever they are studying. Here he speaks in a voice familiar from his literary journalism, a wry commentator on academic habits. "Students once wrote uncritical, reverential essays on Flaubert, but all that has been transformed. Nowadays they write uncritical, reverential essays on Friends." He is jokey, roguish, strictly jaundiced. He is still in love with the supposedly comic similes and illustrations that were such an odd part of his style in his memoir The Gatekeeper.

He is always good for a laugh at the habits of academics, and there are plenty of side-swipes here at crusty dons. Indeed, he still depends a good deal on his convenient fiction of what "traditional" critics are like. They study flower-imagery in Tennyson or emote about Keats. "The belle-lettristic gentlemen who ran the critical show some decades ago" are his adored opponents. "Conservative critics" turn up frequently as a type, always spouting simple-minded pieties. You wonder if he has ever met an intelligent antagonist.

At an imagined distance from the currents of intellectual fashion, he effortlessly encapsulates decades and sums up intellectual movements with the droll wisdom of hindsight. Yet, for all his reflections on academic self-delusion, never has there been a critic so rooted in academic habits. He credits academia as the source of intellectual progress and preserver of values. He flatters his students with being subversive idealists, who study arts subjects because they are "morally conscientious". He believes that "the grey-bearded guardians of the state" have always been "rattled" by those who study only for the delight of it.

For there is also Marxist Terry, who sees the duty of intellectuals to be revealing the depredations of capitalism. In this voice he speaks solemnly of the shortcomings of "cultural theory". We inhabit "a social order which urgently needs repair" and we are told that "theory must be harnessed to practical political ends". Yet it is not quite clear what he thinks is to be done. How is the study of culture to effect the revolutionary changes he dimly sketches? He talks about "fashioning a world in which the hungry could be fed", but takes it for granted that this is not something that would ever concern those professionally involved in politics or commerce. He is superciliously dismissive of all politicians. He likes to use the word "democratic" about what he likes, "the whole idea of cultural theory is a democratic one", and so on. Yet his only word for the state in which we live is "capitalist".

This will sound like the Terry of old, yet the truth is that he is tiring of the revolutionary rhetoric. In the latter part of this book, he starts deviating from stern Marxism. He has been reading Aristotle, bits of the Bible and the philosopher Alastair MacIntyre. He wrangles with those who deny that there is any such thing as human nature. He begins audaciously to bruit the notions that there is an objective reality and that morality is not just ideology. You can imagine the news spreading through the seminar rooms. He ends up musing amiably about what is wrong with fundamentalism and why thinking about our mortality is salutary. The old rogue begins to sound quite human.

ANALYSIS

Darwinism: Creation By Jon Amiel

DARWINISM

Darwinism originally included the broad concepts of transmutation of species or of evolution which gained general scientific acceptance when Charles Darwin published On the Origin of Species, including concepts which predated Darwin's theories, but subsequently referred to specific concepts of natural selection, the Weismann barrier or in genetics the central dogma of molecular biology. Though it usually refers strictly to biological evolution, the term has been misused by creationists to refer to the origin of life and has even been applied to concepts of cosmic evolution which have no connection to Darwin's work.

The meaning of "Darwinism" has changed over time, and varies depending on its context. In the United States, the term "Darwinism" is often used by creationists as a pejorative term in reference to beliefs such as atheistic naturalism, but in the United Kingdom the term has no negative connotations, being freely used as a shorthand for the body of theory dealing with evolution, and in particular, evolution by natural selection.

SYNOPSIS

Charles Darwin was born on February 12, 1809, in Shrewsbury, England and died at the Down House in Kent on April 19, 1882. He was born to Robert and Susannah Darwin. Robert was a successful physician whose father, Erasmus Darwin, had also been a physician but had made his name as a poet of the natural world. Susannah Wedgwood came from a family of potters; her father, Josiah Wedgwood, had made a small fortune making high-quality pottery. Both sides of Darwin's family were liberal in their politics and indifferent in their religion.

Darwin spent his childhood playing at The Mount, the Darwin home and estate in Shrewsbury. He was schooled at home by his sister Caroline until he was eight years old and Susannah died. He then spent a year at a day school and transferred to a boarding school, the Shrewsbury School, only a mile away from The Mount. There he studied, getting acceptable but unremarkable grades, until age sixteen, when his father sent him to the University of Edinburgh to study medicine. Darwin focused on collecting, hunting, and naturalizing instead of medicine. It was there that he first learned to study and collect beetles. The marine biologist Robert Grant took him under his wing. After two years, it was obvious that Darwin would not become a doctor, so with the help of his father Darwin transferred to the University of Cambridge to study for the clergy of the Anglican Church. There he became friends with the older botanist John Henslow.

Soon after graduating, in 1831, Darwin was offered a position on board the HMS Beagle, a ship that was mapping the coast of South America on a two or three year voyage around the world. He eagerly accepted the opportunity and spent the next five years on board the Beagle, taking copious notes and sending thousands of samples and specimens back to Henslow in England for safe- keeping.

When Darwin returned to England he found that Henslow and other geologists, zoologists, and botanists were fascinated by the specimens he had collected. He spent the next ten years cataloging and describing the discoveries he had made on his journey. He wrote books on coral reefs and volcanic islands, various papers, and a journal of his voyage. While working on these, he also started to think about a deeper, more important problem: the origin of species. He opened his first notebook on the topic in 1837, more than twenty years before he would finally be confident enough of his new theory of "evolution by natural selection" to publish it.

In 1839, Darwin married Emma Wedgwood, his cousin, and they moved in to a house in London where Darwin could focus on his work. Unfortunately, his health started to fail mysteriously, so they moved to the country. They lived in a small village where Darwin could find peace and quiet. After completing his work on the results of the Beagle voyage, still not ready to publish his thoughts on evolution, Darwin turned to what seemed at first like a small, insignificant problem: the classification of different kinds of barnacles. Darwin soon became entangled in the enormous project of dissecting and describing all of the barnacles of the world for what eventually became a four- volume work. Eight years later, in 1854, he finally finished, and was able to turn back to the problem of evolution.

In 1857, Alfred Russell Wallace sent Darwin a paper regarding the evolution of species. Wallace's theory was very similar to Darwin's. Wallace's paper and a sketch of Darwin's theory were presented at the Linnean Society. Darwin decided to produce an "abstract" of a longer book on evolution that he was working on, so as not to let anyone else take credit for an idea he had been developing for more than twenty years. The abstract was published in 1859 as On the Origin of Species, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life. It was an immediate sensation, selling out the first printing within a day. Debates over the meaning of the theory for the nature of humanity began, though Darwin himself remained above the fray in his self-imposed isolation at Down House. His friends Joseph Hooker, the botanist, and especially Thomas Henry Huxley, the zoologist, defended his theory to the world while he continued to do research.

In the 1860s, Darwin worked on three books. One was about variation under domestication, which he saw as being parallel to variation in the wild. Another was about the evolution of humanity and the role of sexual selection. The final one regarded the expression of emotions. The book on humanity and sexual selection, The Descent of Man, was published in 1871. Darwin expected it to cause a sensation with its claims that humans were descended from other animals, but most of the thunder had been stolen twelve years ago by the Origin. In 1872, The Expression of Emotions in Animals and Man was published.

In his last decade, Darwin turned away from evolution and focused on the garden. His research on climbing plants and the geological role of earthworms turned his workshop into a virtual greenhouse and resulted in several books. The illness that had plagued Darwin throughout his life began to abate somewhat, so that although he was still not strong, he was able to enjoy his old age. By 1877, his theories were still controversial, but he was so well respected that the University of Cambridge gave him an honorary doctorate. In 1882, he weakened. Darwin died on April 19, 1882, at the Down House. He was buried in Westminster Abbey.

ANALYSIS

Logo-Centrism: Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

LOGO-CENTRISM

Logocentrism is a term coined by the German philosopher Ludwig Klages in the 1920s. It refers to the tradition of "Western" science and philosophy that situates the logos, ‘the word’ or the ‘act of speech’, as epistemologically superior in a system, or structure, in which we may only know, or be present in, the world by way of a logocentric metaphysics. For this structure to hold true it must be assumed that there is an original, irreducible object to which the logos is representative, and therefore, that our presence in the world is necessarily mediated. If there is a Platonic Ideal Form then there must be an ideal representation of such a form. This ideal representation is according to logocentrist thought, the logos.

Inherent in Saussure’s reasoning a structuralist approach to literature began in the 1950s to assess the literary text, or utterance, in terms of its adherence to certain organising conventions which might establish its objective meaning. Again, as for Saussure, structuralism in literary theory is condemned to fail on account of its own foundation: ‘...language constitutes our world, it doesn’t just record it or label it. Meaning is always attributed to the object or idea by the human mind, and constructed by and expressed through language: it is not already contained within the thing’.

There is therefore no absolute truth outside of construction no matter how scientific or prolific that construction might be. Enter Derrida and post-structuralism. Other like-minded philosophers and psychoanalysts in the vein of post-structuralism include Nietzsche, Heidegger and Freud. Literary critic Roland Barthes (1915–1980), with his essay The Death of the Author (1968), converted from structuralism to post-structuralism.

For the post-structuralist the writer must be present in a kind of absence, or ‘dead’, according to Barthes; just as the reader is absent in a kind of presence at the ‘moment’ of the literary utterance. Post-structuralism is therefore against the moral formalism of the Western literary tradition which maintains only The Greats should be looked to for literary inspiration and indeed for a means of political control and social equilibrium.

Modernism, with its desire to regain some kind of lost presence, also resists post-structuralist thought; whereas Post-modernism accepts the loss (the loss of being as ‘presence’) and steps beyond the limitations of logocentrism.

SYNOPSIS

A group of men are aboard an English ship that is sitting on the Thames. The group includes a Lawyer, an Accountant, a Company Director/Captain, and a man without a specific profession who is named Marlow. The narrator appears to be another unnamed guest on the ship. While they are loitering about, waiting for the wind to pick up so that they might resume their voyage, Marlow begins to speak about London and Europe as some of the darkest places on earth. The narrator and other guests do not seem to regard him with much respect. Marlow is a stationary man, very unusual for a seaman. The others do not understand him because he does not fit into a neat category in the same manner that the others do. He mentions colonization and says that carving the earth into prizes or pieces is not something to examine too closely because it is an atrocity. He then begins to narrate a personal experience in Africa, which led him to become a freshwater sailor and gave him a terrible glimpse of colonization. With the exception of two or three small paragraphs, the perspective shifts to Marlow, who becomes the main narrator for the rest of the novel. Marlow has always had a passion for travel and exploration. Maps are an obsession of his. Marlow decides he wants nothing more than to be the skipper of a steamship that travels up and down a river in Africa. His aunt has a connection in the Administration Department of a seafaring and exploration company that gathers ivory, and she manages to get Marlow an appointment. He replaces a captain who was killed in a skirmish with the natives. When Marlow arrives at the company office, the atmosphere is extremely dim and foreboding. He feels as if everyone is looking at him pityingly. The doctor who performs his physical asks if there is a history of insanity in Marlow's family. He tells Marlow that nothing could persuade him to join the Company down in the Congo. This puzzles Marlow, but he does not think much of it. The next day he embarks on a one-month journey to the primary Company station. The African shores that he observes look anything but welcoming. They are dark and rather desolate, in spite of the flurry of human activity around them. When he arrives, Marlow learns that a company member recently committed suicide. There are multitudes of chain-gang types, who all look at him with vacant expressions. A young boy approaches Marlow, looking very empty. Marlow can do nothing but offer him some ship biscuits. He is very relieved to leave the boy behind as he comes across a very well-dressed man who is the picture of respectability and elegance. They introduce themselves: he is the Chief Accountant of the Company. Marlow befriends this man and frequently spends time in his hut while the Accountant goes over the accounts. After ten days of observing the Chief Accountant's ill temper, Marlow departs for his 200-mile journey into the interior of the Congo, where he will work for a station run by a man named Kurtz.

The journey is arduous. Marlow crosses many paths, sees deserted dwellings, and encounters black men working. Marlow never describes them as humans. Throughout the novel, the white characters refer to them in animalistic terms. Marlow finally arrives at a secondary station, where he meets the Manager, who for now will oversee his work. It is a strange meeting. The Manager smiles in a manner that is very discomfiting. The ship on which Marlow is supposed to set sail is broken. While they await the delivery of the rivets needed to fix it, Marlow spends his time on more mundane tasks. He frequently hears the name "Kurtz" around the station. Clearly everyone knows his future boss. It is rumored that he is ill. Soon the entire crew will depart for a trip to Kurtz's station.

The Manager's uncle arrives with his own expedition. Marlow overhears them saying that they would like to see Kurtz and his assistant hanged so that their station could be eliminated as ivory competition. After a day of exploring, the expedition has lost all of their animals. Marlow sets out for Kurtz's station with the Pilgrims, the cannibal crew, and the Manager. About eight miles from their destination, they stop for the night. There is talk of an approaching attack. Rumor has it that Kurtz may have been killed in a previous one. Some of the pilgrims go ashore to investigate. The whirring sound of arrows is heard; an attack is underway. The Pilgrims shoot back from the ship with rifles. The helmsman of the ship is killed, as is a native ashore. Marlow supposes that Kurtz has perished in the inexplicable attack. This upsets him greatly. Over the course of his travels, he has greatly looked forward to meeting this man. Marlow shares Kurtz's background: an English education, a woman at home waiting for him. In spite of Marlow's disappointment, the ship presses onward. A little way down the river, the crew spot Kurtz's station, which they had supposed was lost. They meet a Russian man who resembles a harlequin. He says that Kurtz is alive but somewhat ill. The natives do not want Kurtz to leave because he has expanded their minds. Kurtz does not want to leave because he has essentially become part of the tribe.

After talking for a while with the Russian, Marlow has a very clear picture of the man who has become his obsession. Finally, he has the chance to talk to Kurtz, who is ill and on his deathbed. The natives surround his hut until he tells them to leave. While on watch, Marlow dozes off and realizes that Kurtz is gone. He chases him and finds Kurtz in the forest. He does not want to leave the station because his plans have not been fully realized. Marlow manages to take him back to his bed. Kurtz entrusts Marlow with all of his old files and papers. Among these is a photograph of his sweetheart. The Russian escapes before the Manager and others can imprison him. The steamboat departs the next day. Kurtz dies onboard a few days later, Marlow having attended him until the end.

Marlow returns to England, but the memory of his friend haunts him. He manages to find the woman from the picture, and he pays her a visit. She talks at length about his wonderful personal qualities and about how guilty she feels that she was not with him at the last. Marlow lies and says that her name was the last word spoken by Kurtz—the truth would be too dark to tell her.

ANALYSIS

Narratology: Masculin/Feminin

Narratology

Narratology refers to both the theory and the study of narrative and narrative structure and the ways that these affect our perception. While in principle the word may refer to any systematic study of narrative, in practice its usage is rather more restricted. It is an anglicisation of French narratologie, coined by Tzvetan Todorov (Grammaire du Décaméron, 1969).Narratology is applied retrospectively as well to work predating its coinage. Its theoretical lineage is traceable to Aristotle (Poetics) but modern narratology is agreed to have begun with the Russian Formalists, particularly Vladimir Propp (Morphology of the Folktale, 1928).

The origins of narratology lend to it a strong association with the structuralist quest for a formal system of useful description applicable to any narrative content, the analogy being to the grammars by reference to which sentences are parsed in some forms of linguistics. This procedure does not however typify all work described as narratological today; Percy Lubbock's work in point of view (The Craft of Fiction, 1921), is a case in point

In 1966, a special issue of the journal "Communications" has been highly influential and considered a program for research into the field and even a manifesto. It included articles by Barthes, Claude Brémond, Genette, Greimas, Todorov and others, which in turn often referenced the works of Vladimir Propp.

Jonathan Culler (2001) describes narratology as comprising many strands 'implicitly united in the recognition that narrative theory requires a distinction between "story," a sequence of actions or events conceived as independent of their manifestation in discourse, and "discourse," the discursive presentation or narration of events.'This was first proposed by the Russian Formalists, who employed the couplet fabula and sjuzet. A subsequent succession of alternate pairings has preserved the essential binomial impulse, e.g. histoire/discours, histoire/récit, story/plot. The Structuralist assumption that fabula and sujet could be investigated separately, gave birth to two quite different traditions: thematic (Propp, Bremond, Greimas, Dundes, et al.) and modal (Genette, Prince, et al.) narratology. The former is mainly limited to a semiotic formalization of the sequences of the actions told, while the latter examines the manner of their telling, stressing voice, point of view, transformation of the chronological order, rhythm and frequency. Many authors (Sternberg, 1993, Ricoeur, 1984, and Baroni, 2007) have insisted that thematic and modal narratology should not be looked at separately, especially when dealing with the function and interest of narrative sequence and plot.

SYNOPSIS

Masculine Feminine was Jean-Luc Godard's first (but not his last) foray into the burgeoning "Children of the Sixties" generation -- or, as Godard described it, "the children of Marx and Coca-Cola." Impressionable teenager Paul (Jean-Pierre Léaud) tries to make sense of the world by working as an interviewer for a research firm. Meanwhile, Paul cohabits with aspiring singer Madeleine (Chantal Goya), with two additional young ladies joining the nocturnal festivities. Paul jumps or is pushed from a window, leaving a pregnant Madeleine to move on to the next aimless youth she meets. While the nominal hero has failed to find fulfillment in personal relations, another male protagonist (Michel Debord), a political activist, is luckier -- an indication that the director favored revolutionary politics over simple emotionalism at this point in his career. Though Godard's free-form style is usually opposed to linear storytelling, Masculine Feminine has solid literary roots, having been inspired by two Guy de Maupassant stories.

ANALYSIS

Neo-Classicism: The Rape of the Lock by Alexander Pope

Neo-Classicism

Neoclassical literature is writing from a period spanning roughly 150 years, covering 1660 - 1798. Relying on the classic styles of the ancient Greeks and Romans, its main characteristic is an emphasis on logic, common sense, properness and adequate performance in society. Largely a response to the previous chaos of the Renaissance, the writings of this time included a variety of genres, including novels, diaries, essays and satires. Grammar and word study became more formalized, with authors preferring simplicity. Although writing eventually transitioned to more Romantic concepts, the influence of Neoclassical thought is still evident today.

Experts divide Neoclassical literature into three major sections: Restoration, Augustan and Johnson. The first section spans approximately 1660 - 1700, while the second, referencing the original Augustan writers such as Horace, covers 1700 - 1750. The generally accepted years for the Johnson division are 1750 - 1798.

This period in literature, and other forms of art, was largely a response to the Renaissance. During this earlier time, people focused on invention and experimentation, using science to explain the world around them. This was a dramatic shift in thought, because the Roman Catholic Church long had been the primary source of information. The Neoclassicists generally didn’t want to abandon this study entirely, but they thought that the Renaissance methods were too chaotic, so they stressed a return to ancient Greek and Roman classicism. Much of this was because, after a period of considerable political instability and conflict, Europe — especially Great Britain — wanted to redefine itself, with many people rethinking what roles they had and whether they were playing them the right way.

With people generally looking more closely at the part they played in society, the main themes of the Neoclassical period were restraint and order. Each person was expected to do what was “proper” and to show that he or she had good taste, the idea being that, given the flawed nature of mankind, putting some limits on what someone said or did was better than trying and failing at the outrageous. It became very important to prove that someone had a decent level of intelligence. Writers often used their works not only to express rules about etiquette and decorum, but also to demonstrate brilliant skills of wit.

The emphasis on order, reason, etiquette and wit made certain styles of literature more popular than others. Diaries, essays, letters and first person narratives were extremely successful, because they concentrated at what a single person thought or accomplished, which was in line with the Neoclassical idea of analyzing and reforming a person’s social role. Moral fables were a favorite, as well, as were parodies and burlesques. Novels in various styles developed rapidly, becoming a main entertainment for women in the home. The rhymed couplet — specifically, the heroic couplet — dominated poetry, and in the theater, audiences flocked to sentimental comedies, comedies of manners and heroic dramas.

Journalism became well accepted and significantly shaped society during the period. Writers in this field frequently used their talents to promote “proper” goods, services and events. They also reported on weddings, because these were often primarily unions of convenience that were closely tied to the flow of money and the general economy.

SYNOPSIS

In the beginning of this mock-epic, Pope declares that a "dire offence" (Canto 1 line 1) has been committed. A lord has assaulted a "gentle belle"(line 8), causing her to reject him. He then proceeds to tell the story of this offence.

It begins with Belinda still asleep. Her "guardian Sylph"(line 20), named Ariel, warns her while she sleeps that "some dread event [impends], Ere to the main this morning sun descend; But Heaven reveals not what, or how, or where; Warned by the Sylph, oh pious maid beware!"(line 109-110). Belinda then awakes and proceeds to get ready for the day with the help of her maid, Betty. The Sylphs, though unseen, also contribute. "These set the head, and those divide the hair, some fold the sleeve, whilst others plait the gown"(line 146-147). Belinda appears so beautiful that as she journeys to Hampton Court (canto 3 line 1-10) "every eye was fixed on her alone"(Canto 2 line 6). Here Pope also describes Belinda's two locks of hair "which graceful hung behind"(line 20). The Baron, one of Belinda's suitors, greatly admires these locks and conspires to steal one. He builds an altar and on it places "all the trophies of his former loves"(line 40), sets them on fire, and fervently prays "soon to obtain, and long posses"(line 44) the lock.

Ariel, disturbed by the impending event, though he does not know what it will be, summons many sylphs to him and instructs them to guard Belinda from anything that may befall her, whether she "forget her prayers, or miss a masquerade, Or lost her heart, or necklace, at a ball"(line 108-109). These spirits hover over Belinda, anxious to protect her as she arrives at Hampton Court. Here she is invited to play a game of ombre, which game she wins.

The Baron still conspires to get her lock. He acquires a pair of scissors and tries to snip it off. The Sylphs sent to watch over her, intervene by blowing "back the hair" and twitching "the diamond in her ear"(canto 3 line 136-137), causing Belinda to look around, and stopping the Baron in his plans. This happens three times, but in the end the Baron manages to cut off the lock (also cutting a Sylph in two, but Pope reassures us that "airy substance soon unites again [line 152]). When Belinda discovers her lock is gone, she falls into a tantrum, with "living lightning" flashing in her eyes"(line 155). The Baron celebrates his victory.

A gnome name Umbriel journeys to the Cave of Spleen and from the Queen receives a bag of "sighs, sobs, and passions, and the war of tongues"(canto 4 line 84) and a vial filled "with fainting fears, soft sorrows, melting griefs, and flowing tears"(line 85-86) and brings them to Belinda. He finds her dejected in the arms of the woman Thalestris, and pours the bag and vial over them both. This causes all the emotions from the bag and vial to fill them.

Many people, moved by Belinda's grief over her lock, demand it back, but the Baron is unrepentant and refuses. Clarissa admonishes them to keep their good humor, but they don't listen and "called her prude"(canto 5 line 165), and instead a court battle ensues between the nobles. Their weapons are glares, songs, and wits. Belinda fights with the Baron and throws snuff up his nose to subdue him. She threatens to kill him with a bodkin (a sharp hairpin). She demands that he restore the lock, but they soon discover that it has been completely lost. They search everywhere for it, but cannot find it.

At the end, Pope tells us to "trust the Muse--for she saw it upward rise...A sudden star, it shot through liquid air, and drew behind a radiant trail of hair"(canto 5 line 252-257). Belinda's lock of hair became a star and "this lock the Muse shall consecrate to fame, and 'midst the stars inscribe Belinda's name"(line 280). Even when we are all dead and gone, Belinda's lock of hair shall live on forever.

ANALYSIS

Archetypal Criticism: The Wizard of Oz

ARCHETYPAL CRITICISM

Archetypal literary criticism is a type of critical theory that interprets a text by focusing on recurring myths and archetypes (from the Greek archē, or beginning, and typos, or imprint) in thenarrative, symbols, images, and character types in a literary work. As a form of literary criticism, it dates back to 1934 when Maud Bodkin published Archetypal Patterns in Poetry.

Archetypal literary criticism’s origins are rooted in two other academic disciplines, social anthropology and psychoanalysis; each contributed to the literary criticism in separate ways, with the latter being a sub-branch of the critical theory. Archetypal criticism was its most popular in the 1940s and 1950s, largely due to the work of Canadian literary critic Northrop Frye. Though archetypal literary criticism is no longer widely practiced, nor have there been any major developments in the field, it still has a place in the tradition of literary studies.

Archetypal criticism argues that archetypes determine the form and function of literary works, that a text's meaning is shaped by cultural and psychological myths. Archetypes are the unknowable basic forms personified or concretized in recurring images, symbols, or patterns which may include motifs such as the quest or the heavenly ascent, recognizable character types such as the trickster or the hero, symbols such as the apple or snake, or images such as crucifixion (as in King Kong, or Bride of Frankenstein)--all laden with meaning already when employed in a particular work.

Archetypal criticism gets its impetus from psychologist Carl Jung, who postulated that humankind has a "collective unconscious," a kind of universal psyche, which is manifested in dreams and myths and which harbors themes and images that we all inherit. Literature, therefore, imitates not the world but rather the "total dream of humankind." Jung called mythology "the textbook of the archetypes”

.

Archetypal critics find New Criticism too atomistic in ignoring intertextual elements and in approaching the text as if it existed in a vacuum. After all, we recognize story patterns and symbolic associations at least from other texts we have read, if not innately; we know how to form assumptions and expectations from encounters with black hats, springtime settings, evil stepmothers, and so forth. So surely meaning cannot exist solely on the page of a work, nor can that work be treated as an independent entity.

Archetypal images and story patterns encourage readers (and viewers of films and advertisements) to participate ritualistically in basic beliefs, fears, and anxieties of their age. These archetypal features not only constitute the intelligibility of the text but also tap into a level of desires and anxieties of humankind.

SYNOPSIS

Dorothy Gale (Judy Garland) is an orphaned teenager who lives with her Auntie Em (Clara Blandick) and Uncle Henry (Charley Grapewin) on a Kansas farm. She daydreams about going "over the rainbow" after Miss Gulch (Margaret Hamilton), a nasty neighbor, hits Dorothy's dog Toto (Terry) on the back with a rake, causing Toto to bite her. Miss Gulch shows up with an order to take Toto to the sheriff to be euthanized, but Toto jumps out of the basket on the back of Miss Gulch's bicycle and runs back to Dorothy. Fearing that Miss Gulch, who does not know that Toto has escaped, will return, Dorothy takes the dog and runs away from home. She meets an itinerant phony fortune teller, Professor Marvel (Frank Morgan), who immediately guesses that Dorothy has run away. Pretending to tell her fortune and wishing to reunite Dorothy with her aunt, he tells her that Auntie Em has fallen ill from worry over her.

Dorothy immediately returns home with Toto, only to find a tornado approaching. Unable to reach her family in their storm cellar, Dorothy enters the house, is knocked unconscious by a loose window, and apparently begins to dream. Along with her house and Toto, she's swept from her sepia-toned world to the magical, beautiful, dangerous and technicolor land of Oz. The tornado drops Dorothy's house on the Wicked Witch of the East, killing her. The witch ruled the Land of the Munchkins, little people who think at first that Dorothy herself must be a witch. The Wicked Witch of the West (Margaret Hamilton again), who is the sister of the dead witch, threatens Dorothy. But Glinda (Billie Burke), the Good Witch of the North, gives Dorothy the dead witch's enchanted Ruby Slippers, and the slippers protect her. Glinda advises that if Dorothy wants to go home to Kansas, she should seek the aid of the Wizard of Oz, who lives in the Emerald City. To get there, Dorothy sets off down the Yellow Brick Road.

Before she's followed the road very far, Dorothy meets a talking scarecrow whose dearest wish is to have a brain. Hoping that the wizard can help him, the Scarecrow (Ray Bolger) joins Dorothy on her journey. They come upon the Tin Woodman (Jack Haley), who was caught in the rain and is so rusty he can't move. When they oil his joints so he can walk and talk again, he confesses that he longs for a heart; he too joins Dorothy. As they walk through a dense forest, they encounter the Cowardly Lion (Bert Lahr), who wishes for courage and joins the quest in the hope that the wizard will give him some. Dorothy's three friends resemble the three farmhands who work for Dorothy's aunt and uncle back in Kansas.

On the way to the Emerald City, Dorothy and her friends are hindered and menaced by the Wicked Witch of the West. She incites trees to throw apples at them, then tries to set the scarecrow on fire. Within sight of the city, the witch conjures up a field of poppies that cause Dorothy, Toto, and the lion to fall asleep. Glinda saves them by making it snow, which counteracts the effects of the poppies.

The four travelers marvel at the wonders they find in the Emerald City and take time to freshen up: Dorothy, Toto and the Lion have their hair done, the Tin Woodman gets polished, and the scarecrow receives an infusion of fresh straw stuffing. As they emerge looking clean and spiffy, the Wicked Witch appears on her broomstick and skywrites "Surrender Dorothy" above the city. The friends are frustrated at their reception by the "great and powerful" Wizard of Oz (Frank Morgan again) -- at first he won't receive them at all. When they finally see him (the doorkeeper lets them in because he had an Aunt Em himself), the Wizard declines to help them until they bring him the broomstick of the Wicked Witch of the West. Daunted but determined, they set off again.

The witch sends winged monkeys to attack Dorothy's party before they reach her castle; the monkeys snatch Dorothy and Toto and scatter the others. When the witch finds that the Ruby Slippers can't be taken against Dorothy's will as long as the girl is alive, she turns her hourglass and threatens that Dorothy will die when it runs out. Meanwhile, Toto has escaped and run for help. Dressed as guardsmen, the Lion, the Tin Man, and the Scarecrow sneak into the castle and free Dorothy. They're discovered before they can escape, however, and the witch and her guards corner them and set the Scarecrow on fire. Dorothy douses him with a pail of water, splashing the witch by accident. The water causes the witch to disintegrate ("I'm melting!"). The guards are happy to let Dorothy have the witch's broomstick, and Dorothy and her friends return to the Emerald City.

The wizard isn't pleased to see them again. He blusters until Toto pulls aside a curtain in the corner of the audience chamber to reveal an old man who resembles Professor Marvel pulling levers and speaking into a microphone -- the so-called wizard, as the Scarecrow says, is a humbug. He's abashed and apologetic, but quickly finds ways to help Dorothy's friends: a diploma for the Scarecrow, a medal of valor for the Lion, and a testimonial heart-shaped watch for the Tin Man. Then he reveals that he's from Kansas himself and came to Oz in a hot-air balloon, in which he proposes to take Dorothy home.

The wizard appoints the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion rulers of Oz in his absence. Just as the balloon is about to take off Toto runs after a cat and Dorothy follows him. Unable to stop, the wizard leaves without Dorothy. But Glinda appears and explains that Dorothy has always had the power to get home; Glinda didn't tell her before because Dorothy wouldn't have believed it. Bidding her friends a tearful good-bye, Dorothy taps her heels together three times, repeats "There's no place like home," and the Ruby Slippers take her and Toto back to Kansas.

Dorothy wakes up in her own bed with Auntie Em and Uncle Henry fussing over her. Professor Marvel and the farmhands Hunk (Ray Bolger again), Hickory (Jack Haley again), and Zeke (Bert Lahr again) stop by to see how she's doing. She raises indulgent laughter when she tells them about Oz, but she's so happy to be home she doesn't mind that they don't believe her. Miss Gulch is never mentioned again.

ANALYSIS

Genre Criticism: Paradise Lost by John Milton

GENRE CRITICISM

Genre criticism is a method within rhetorical criticism for analysing speeches and writing according to the symbolic artifacts they contain. In rhetoric, the theory of genre provides a means to classify and compare artifacts of communication and to assess their effectiveness and/or contribution to a community. By grouping artifacts with others of similar formal features or rhetorical exigencies, rhetorical critics can shed light on how authors use or flout conventions in order to meet their needs. Genre criticism has thus become one of the main methodologies within rhetorical criticism.

While genres have been used to classify speeches and works of literature since the time of Aristotle, genre did not emerge as a critical tool to describe and analyze texts until the 20th century. Since then, genre criticism has taken three turns. The first turn, represented by Mikhail Mikhailovich Bakhtin, among others, focused on the formal features of communication. The second turn, represented by Carolyn Miller, among others, focused on recurring socio-cultural circumstances. In the latest turn, critics have begun applying formalist and socio-cultural concepts to new media artifacts that tend to resist classification in traditional genre categories.

SYNOPSIS

The poem is separated into twelve "books" or sections, and the length of each book varies greatly (the longest being Book IX, with 1,189 lines, and the shortest Book VII, having 640). The Arguments at the head of each book were added in subsequent imprints of the first edition. Originally published in ten books, in 1674 a fully "Revised and Augmented" edition with a new division into twelve books was issued. This is the edition that is generally used today.

Milton's story has two narrative arcs: one is of Satan (Lucifer) and the other is of Adam and Eve. It begins after Satan and the other rebel angels have been defeated and banished to Hell, or, as it is also called in the poem, Tartarus. In Pandæmonium, Satan employs his rhetorical skill to organise his followers; he is aided by Mammon and Beelzebub. Belial and Moloch are also present. At the end of the debate, Satan volunteers to poison the newly-created Earth and God's new and most favoured creation, Mankind. He braves the dangers of the Abyss alone in a manner reminiscent of Odysseus or Aeneas. After an arduous traverse of the Chaos outside Hell, he enters God's new material World, and later the Garden of Eden.

At several points in the poem, an Angelic War over Heaven is recounted from different perspectives. Satan's rebellion follows the epic convention of large-scale warfare. The battles between the faithful angels and Satan's forces take place over three days. The final battle involves the Son of God single-handedly defeating the entire legion of angelic rebels and banishing them from Heaven. Following the purging of Heaven, God creates the World, culminating in his creation of Adam and Eve. While God gave Adam and Eve total freedom and power to rule over all creation, He gave them one explicit command: not to eat from the Tree of the knowledge of good and evil on penalty of death.

The story of Adam and Eve's temptation and fall is a fundamentally different, new kind of epic: a domestic one. Adam and Eve are presented for the first time in Christian literature as having a full relationship while still being without sin. They have passions and distinct personalities. Satan, disguised in the form of a serpent, successfully tempts Eve to eat from the Tree by preying on her vanity and tricking her with rhetoric. Adam, learning that Eve has sinned, knowingly commits the same sin. He declares to Eve that since she was made from his flesh, they are bound to one another so that if she dies, he must also die. In this manner, Milton portrays Adam as a heroic figure, but also as a greater sinner than Eve, as he is aware that what he is doing is wrong.

After eating the fruit, Adam and Eve have lustful sex, and at first, Adam is convinced that Eve was right in thinking that eating the fruit would be beneficial. However, they soon fall asleep and have terrible nightmares, and after they awake, they experience guilt and shame for the first time. Realizing that they have committed a terrible act against God, they engage in mutual recrimination.

Eve's pleas to Adam reconcile them somewhat. Her encouragement enables Adam and Eve both to approach God, to "bow and sue for grace with suppliant knee", and to receive grace from God. Adam is shown a vision by the angel Michael, in which Adam witnesses everything that will happen to mankind until the Great Flood. Adam is very upset by this vision of humankind's future, and so Michael also tells him about humankind's potential redemption from original sin through Jesus Christ (whom Michael calls "King Messiah").

Adam and Eve are cast out of Eden, and Michael says that Adam may find "a paradise within thee, happier far". Adam and Eve also now have a more distant relationship with God, who is omnipresent but invisible (unlike the tangible Father in the Garden of Eden).

ANALYSIS