A Hazy Shade of Structuralism

In Literary Theory: An Introduction, Terry Eagleton hits the nail when he writes that "Structuralism scandalized the literary Establishment with its neglect of the individual, its clinical approach to the mysteries of literature, and its clear incompatibility with common sense" (94). Structuralism is scandalous, and it is not only incompatible with common sense, but offends it-at least initially.

How could it not? While a study of semiotics or paradigms or even synchronicity can be "fun" to "dabble" in, structuralism goes ten thousand steps further as it removes meaning entirely from the picture and places language at the forefront of everything. Gone, charges Saussure, are mere "referents," and chaos it seems ensues. Indeed, the orthodox Structuralist reading baffles the mind, trained as we all are to account for and understand not only one, but multiple shades of meaning. In its entire dismissal of theoretically seminal concern with meaning, Structuralism effectively alienates many people; Eagleton concurs: "Structuralists appeared to constitute a scientific [elite], equipped with an esoteric knowledge far removed from the 'ordinary' reader" (98).

For the typical English graduate student, "text," "theory," and all the things surrounding those terms, have hopefully been serious areas of years' worth of study, thus positioning the graduate student closer to Eagleton's "scientific elite" than his "ordinary reader." And yet even as a member of the former class, I find my own mind spinning, not from a failure to understand the tenants of structuralism, but an inability to firmly grasp the point.

I acknowledge that an author cannot dictate the reader's reception of a text-if the author writes "a-p-p-l-e," Jane will see green and Joe will see red; Mary will think of a ripe piece of fruit warmed by the summer sun, and Mark will think of a poisonous treat, perhaps frothing with worms. Here is where meaning fails, here is where and why Structuralism can even exist.

But I am a writer, and while I acknowledge this inability to make perfect meaning, I still must strive to deliver to my reader the closest production of the image in my head. I cannot throw away meaning and write on a whim, asking my reader to analyze structure and structure alone. Reading would be a tedious affair were that the case; literature within the most stringent Structuralist realm becomes little more than science.

I use science here as a pejorative, though Saussure, who famously held that language should be studied as if it were frozen in time and cut transversely like a leaf, most assuredly wouldn't. Eagleton propones that Structuralism's attempt to turn the Romantic mysticism of literary interpretation, what with its symbols and attempt to engender feeling, into something mathematic or scientific has to do with, what else, religion; "Structuralism," he writes, "is among other things one more of literary theory's series of doomed attempts to replace religion with something as effective: in this case, with the modern religion of science" (104).

While I staunchly deny the possibility of Structuralism successfully replacing religion, I do, however, support its attempt to objectify that which was large subjective. Subjectivity serves vary little purpose, allowing those that hold to it false beliefs of their own importance and superiority. Objectivity, especially in terms of truth, is the intellect's only viable recourse, and imposing the parameters of objectivity onto what was at one-time seen as a willy-nilly "women's pursuit"-namely, English-seems a step in the right direction, and away from that very notion (discusses in my previous blog) that all English would be was 'an untaxing sort of affair, concerned with the finer feelings rather that the more virile topics of bona fide academic 'disciplines'" (24).

In this way, Structuralism gains merit, as well as in its project of analyzing of the various systems that transform ordinary speech into literary prose or poetry; obviously systems are at work, otherwise there would be no difference between dinner conversation and Donne, girl talk and Goethe. But these systems are not all that are of value; call me old-fashioned, but I still want to refer to the referents and make meaning of a text, not just a geometric proof.

English for Dummies

In his essay, "The Rise of the English," Terry Eagleton describes the unfavorable attitude of society toward the study of English in the late 19th century. He quotes a Royal Commission witness as saying that English literature "might be considered a suitable subject for 'women...and second- and third- rate men (24)'" Eagleton goes on to explain that English studies were considered inheritantly feminine, in their attempts to "soften" and "humanize" the working class. Eagleton writes "the rise of English in English ran parallel to the gradual, grudging admission of women to the institutions of higher education; and since English was an untaxing sort of affair, concerned with the finer inner feelings rather than with the more virile topics of bona fide academic 'disciplines', it seemed a convenient sort of non-subject to palm off on the ladies (24)."

Science, math, philosophy, even philology, were considered worthy of serious intellect, of meaningful pursuit--of men. But English was seen as the silly little niche for the inferior class (women, of course, amongst them). But that Royal commissions quote was from 1877...surely attitudes are not the same. English studies must be considered something other than trivial, mustn't they? Eagleton propones that there were far fewer Sir Walter Raleighs after Wilfred Owen. While this is true, and there are far less credible sources lambasting English as a sort of willy-nilly study, I would argue that there is a prejudice against literary studies in general that is deep-seated in the minds of many people, even those at university.

I have encountered, throughout undergraduate and graduate studies, many students, even English majors themselves, who regard science and math as "hard" majors, and English as a relatively "soft" one, sometimes even touted as "useless." Indeed, holytaco.com lists "The Ten Most Worthless College Majors"; though Religion is number one, English is up there at number four (Dance, incidentally, is number five). Holytaco.com can't understand the point of being an English major when "someone can spend a weekend with a box of Cliff’s Notes and have only a slightly less conversational knowledge of what you spent 4 years studying."

This goes to show how deep-seated some prejudices are, and that the dogma of 1877 still exists, among the ignorant, today.

Barbie Feminism

Heidi Montag.

Dr. Wexler mentioned her for like, a second, as a possible topic change, during last week's class. She was promptly dismissed from the conversation, though I wish she hadn't been. I am very interested in discussing her from a true feminist perspective, so, since in the spirit of writing about whatever for the week, I choose her.

Is feminism not, at its most fundamental level, a movement concerned with not only equality for women, but moreover, a woman's right to be whatever she want to be--to free her, as it were, from roles dictated by the hegemony and patriarchy (which are, of course, usually one in the same)? Indeed, no feminist would argue with this; in the feminist's theoretical framework, the woman is the oppressed and she needs to be freed from this oppression; feminism, in large part, hopes to give women voices of their own and allow them liberty to pursue their own dreams.

Why, then, would a feminist balk at the sight of Montag? Yes, Montag has had more than her share of cosmetic surgery, and, in truth, largely resembles a Barbie doll, but what gives anyone the right to criticize her choices? Even if she is molding herself to what the arguably male and popular standard of beauty, it's still her choice to do so. Sure, feminists can rail against this standard, but not Montag herself. That is wrong, and that is the antithesis of true feminism.



Recently, the cosmetic company MAC came out with an ad campaign promoted by, who else, Barbie. Personally, these ads had appealed to me when I saw them at Macy's; they asked, simply, Want to look like Barbie? And to a degree, I did. And do. Imagine my surprise, however, when leaving dance class one day, I saw the same ad plastered on a bulletin board; it seems that a local "feminism club" had violated copyright and taken the image for themselves. At the bottom of the ad, in addition to the question "Want to look like Barbie?" was "If you don't, meet us at [time and place]."

I, dare I say it, hated this poster and everything it represented. That poster effectually othered any woman who would seek to look like Barbie. If that poster was to be believed, I, who do desire to look like Barbie, do not belong in the feminism club. That poster was, when it came down to it, prescribing a role for me (the role of not desiring to look like Barbie) which is obviously in violation of feminism itself.

In any event, Montag, and the storm of media criticism that has surrounded her, is a topic very much worth discussing theoretically. I, for one, think she is beautiful; she was beautiful before her surgeries, and is still beautiful now. I am very much against the way the media has attacked her for her struggle to find herself and find beauty--neither of which are simple tasks.