As a former English major in university, I’m well acquaintance with the supposedly noble art of literary criticism. It’s a realm where words are dissected, meanings are invented, and authors are turned into unwitting co-conspirators in the critics’ elaborate game of “Guess What I Think You Meant.” If you’ve ever had the pleasure of reading these critiques, you’ll know that they can sometimes make you question whether you ever actually understood the book you just finished. Perhaps, you were just too naive to see the deep, symbolic meaning behind the protagonist’s preference for red apples over green ones.
It seems that to properly analyze literature, one must undergo a certain kind of academic indoctrination. You must subscribe to the belief that every single word in a novel, poem, essay, or otherwise is dripping with hidden significance, as if placed there with the precision of a Swiss watchmaker. Apparently, it’s not enough to simply enjoy a story; to take it “seriously,” you must also unravel the layers of metaphor and allegory that you probably didn’t even realize were there in the first place. As many critics profess, an author’s true genius lies in their ability to embed esoteric symbolism into the most mundane details, like the color of the curtains or the number of times a character sneezes.
But let’s get real here: sometimes these critiques seem to miss the forest for the trees. They get so caught up in the minutiae, so obsessed with their pet theories, that they overlook the big picture. In many cases, critics are so busy ranting and raving about their supposed insights that they ignore the actual story the author was trying to tell. Many critics seem more interested in hearing themselves talk than in understanding the writer’s vision. Honestly, why would you turn a perfectly straightforward narrative into a convoluted mess of abstract ideas and pretentious jargon? Perhaps, it’s all just to justify tenure or some other credentialism nonsense like that.
Now, don’t get me wrong; there’s nothing wrong with breaking down a piece of literature into its component parts. The problem arises when those parts are treated like the only things that matter. Some critics apparently believe that by focusing on a single thread, they can unravel the entire story and reveal deeper meaning. But often, these threads don’t lead anywhere meaningful. Instead, they leave you tangled in a web of overanalysis, wondering if you’re the one who’s missing something or if the critic is just taking you for a ride. I often lean towards the latter.
Then there’s the question of interpretation. We’ve all been there: staring blankly at a passage, trying to decipher its supposed significance, only to come up with nothing. Maybe the passage really doesn’t mean anything. But you’re told, no, you’re just not looking hard enough. Better yet, maybe you’re looking too hard. Heck, if there’s one thing literary criticism has taught me, it’s that overthinking is both an art and a sport. Seriously, when the critics themselves can’t agree on what a piece of literature actually means, it’s no wonder that the rest of us are left scratching our heads.
So, when it comes to university, after you’ve been thoroughly confused by the critics’ interpretations, you’re often asked to respond in a neat little box labeled “Response Area.” Here’s where the real fun begins. Do you parrot back the critic’s ideas, even if they make no sense to you? Or do you risk going rogue, offering up your own thoughts, knowing full well that they’ll likely be dismissed as naive or uninformed? It’s a no-win situation, really; it’s one that makes you question whether you even care about the so-called “meaning” behind the text anymore. At this point, you’re just trying to survive the assignment.
Ultimately, literary criticism often feels like an exercise in futility. It becomes little more than a game of intellectual one-upmanship where the real loser is anyone who still believes that stories should be enjoyed, not dissected to death. But hey, at least it keeps the critics employed, right? Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll finally crack the code and understand what they’ve been trying to tell me all along. More likely, I’ll just go back to reading for fun, and leave the deep analysis to those with a stronger stomach for nonsense.
~ Amelia Desertsong
