Critical Concepts
Objectivity
and Reasoning in Interpretation
For some of you it may seem strange to think of works of art
(like short stories) to be something that we would reason
about. After all, we sometimes hear it said that
appreciation of art (as opposed, say, to understanding the
sciences) is "subjective" - a matter of
"feeling" (which is the prerogative of
"individuals"), and of "taste" (about which
there is "no disputing"). Three things need
to be said to this.
- One is that in this course
we are not concerned with procedures for evaluating works
of literature. (Of course, it will not be out
of bounds for us to talk about what strikes us as
worthwhile about what we are reading. But
grades, in any case, will not be awarded on the basis of
arguments about the value of works under
discussion.) I have of course assumed that the
works we study are worth studying, and you are welcome to
challenge that view on whatever occasion you
wish. But getting skillful at figuring out how
to conduct these kinds of arguments is not what this
course is designed to be helpful with). Rather
we will be concerned with making sense of
stories. This is something that, after all,
logically comes before deciding whether a work is
fascinating, informative, broadening, ennobling,
degrading, subversive of the good, subversive of the bad,
liberating, mind-closing, etc.
- That is, before we can determine whether
something is good or bad (by this measure or
that) we at least need to know precisely what
it is that we are proposing to
judge. And our business in this course
will be to increase your powers of figuring out
what the work implies (madly or sanely) about the
way things are in the world we have to live
in. Our job, in other words, is
interpretive rather than evaluative, as regards
the works we will be studying.
- Of course, the works themselves will almost
always invite us to make value
judgments about people, about
institutions, about situations and social
arrangements. And part of reading such works is
a competence in reflecting on what is at
stake in making such judgments in
life. So we will be constantly
engaged in trying on points of view, in
seeing where they lead, in asking how we
might decide whether we would want to end up
there or not. But, again, what you will want
to concentrate on is picking up what are the
appropriate moves in thinking through the
"thought experiment" the author has
constructed for readers. These sorts of moves
are what I will be expecting you to show me
in the exams you write in the course.
- Another point we need to
keep in mind is that the idea that interpreting
works of art is a rational enterprise is an enabling
assumption of the course, and of your own
decision to enroll in it. If it were not
possible to improve your interpretive powers there
would be no sense in making something called
"Introduction to the Short Story" a university
course. It would belong, rather, among the
private pastimes, like selecting the wines or pale India
ales that most flatter your particular
palate. There are many kinds of courses at the
university courses that aim to acquaint students
with a more or less formalized body of knowledge, courses
that seek to impart a battery of skills (for example of
dance, or of analyzing medical symptoms or of carrying
out laboratory experiments), courses that invite students
to reflect on the assumptions that they tacitly bring to
bear in behaving the way they do in making and defending
their moral judgments, etc.. But all proceed
on the assumption that, if the course succeeds in its
aims, students will leave it in a better condition (of
knowledge, of skills, of reflective awareness), than what
they were in when they entered it. In other
words, genuine improvement is supposedly
possible. But how do we know that an
improvement is genuine? Reason is the
judge. Reason is something we all share, or at
least have the potential to develop.
- A little thought experiment will convince you how
essential reason is for our particular business
in this course interpreting words, and
the situations words (and film enactments) are
used to present for our
consideration. Imagine you overhear a
friend of yours, John, saying of someone else,
"She short-changed me." You
happen to know that the person complained of
works part-time at the convenience store across
from the Marlatt dorm complex, and is a classmate
of the speaker in a political science course in
which students work together in analyzing Supreme
Court cases dealing with the "equal
protection" clause of the Fourteenth
Amendment as it applies to gender discrimination
in the workplace. Imagine that your
initial reaction is to suppose your friend was
complaining about discovering he had been given
change for a $5 bill when he actually paid for
his daily donut with a $10. You might
still refrain from taking your friend to be
complaining about the person's honesty: after
all, he may be supposing that she was just as
absent-minded as he himself was when the money
was going back and forth. You thus
carry away a lingering curiosity about whether
Jane is dishonest, or terribly busy and
distracted at work, or merely bored with her
job. Suppose though that a couple of
days later you hear someone else in the
study-group complaining that some of its members
aren't carrying their part of the
load: they never come to sessions with
briefs prepared on the particular cases they've
been assigned to analyze, and as a result, the
members of the group as a whole got caught short
on the last exam. Since your friend
John is a member of the group, you can't help
being curious who the offenders
are. "Oh," says your new
informant, "there are a couple, but the
worst is a woman named Jane. It's
true, though, that she has to work long hours
over at Dara's to make ends meet, so lots of
times she's just too tired to study." A few
days later you run into your friend John munching
a donut at the Union. You ask him
whether the donuts are better at the Union or
over at Dara's. He looks at you,
puzzled, and says, "I don't
know. I never get over that
way." You recall his remark a few
days ago about being short-changed by
Jane. Now you figure what he meant was
that Jane wasn't getting her share done for the
study group. Your curiosity shifts
from whether Jane is bored or distracted or
dishonest at work to whether John is aware that
she's struggling under too big a load (bigger
maybe than the one he himself has to shoulder) or
whether he thinks she's just lazy.
- Now reflect: your new
interpretation is radically different from
your original one. (Consider in
how many ways.) But, if
interpretation is merely a matter of
subjectivity (in the sense that everyone's is
as good as everyone else's), then your
interpretation today is objectively no better
than your interpretation yesterday: each is
just as good as the other. That
is, there would be no reason to prefer
one to the other, and your change of mind
would be completely arbitrary. But
that's absurd. Of course your new
view is better grounded than
your earlier one. And this is so
even though your earlier one was itself
perfectly reasonable under the circumstances.
- This kind of thoughtful changing of mind will
happen over and over as we think our way
through the imaginary situations that writers
construct for our
contemplation. We will continually
find ourselves reasoning to understandings of
things (phrases, gestures, behavior, whole
predicaments, people's motivations and
character, the reason-for-being of the story
in the first place) that are importantly
different from the understandings with which
we (inevitably) began. Our job in
the course is to get more and more competent
at doing this. And for this to
happen, we cannot dispense with the idea
that some interpretations are more adequately
grounded in the relevant evidence than
others. This means that we must
always hear out the best that can be said on
behalf of this or that reading, and then make
up our mind on the basis of the fairest
reasoning we can muster.
- Finally, we sometimes hear
it said that "I just like to enjoy reading stories,
like I enjoy listening to music. All this
reasoning and analyzing and reflecting just gets in the
way of enjoyment. I guess I prefer reading
for enjoyment over reading for understanding."
When we find ourselves thinking this way, we should pause
for a little reflection on the implications of the
position we've taken. Surely this is a classic
false dilemma. We don't have to choose between
enjoying and understanding. Indeed, when we
are dealing with verbal arts, understanding what we are
reading or watching is surely a precondition for
enjoying. We feel like asking (of someone who
doesn't know a smidgen of, say, Chinese), "Well,
what's the novel you've most enjoyed reading in
Chinese?" After all, if understanding
gets in the way of enjoyment, the purest enjoyment should
be had in reading stories that are completely
unintelligible to us! But this is
screwy.
- What we may be trying so say instead is that
we've gotten used to pleasures available on the
basis of a certain sort (or "level"?)
of understanding of certain sorts of fiction, but
that we aren't practiced in arriving at a
different dimension or sort of understanding that
is available in the particular kind of work we're
being introduced to. Certainly
learning to do something competently isn't the
same experience as doing that thing with achieved
competence. If we want to develop that
more sophisticated level of competence, we need
to be patient with the frustrations that we will
inevitably go through from time to time. We need
to extend the faith that our stumblings will turn
into sound walking (and even perhaps into a
brisk and refreshing run). If we
aren't interested in developing that higher level
of competence, we should just go on reading what
we already like to read in the way that we like
to read it. For this, we shouldn't be
using our time in a university course!
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Contents copyright © 2000 by Lyman A.
Baker.
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This page last updated 30 April 2000.