This is, indeed, a quintessential dilemma, of how to account for mistaken or misguided readings which seem so 'wrong' to us and yet how not to fall into the "deus ex machina" as
doug platypus so humorously phrased it, of quoting chapter and verse of the Letters, unexamined for any of the issues of reliability which hamper letters of all writers. And I particularly like the way
Mr. Hedgethistle has droitly picked up the distaff side in order to help us consider all the angles. Do you do this for a living, sir? A lawyer or some such shark?
(Looks over shoulder worrying about Mith.)
One answer, of course, is to ask readers to be self-aware, reflective readers, conscious of their own desires, willful expectations, and particular points of view which they bring to bear, consciously and unconsciously, upon the text, and of the cultural, social and polical matrix which informs them as readers. This, to me, is part of the process of learning to read, not simply the letters on the page, but becoming aware of how we conspire to create the text
and what we learn about ourselves in the process. Inexperienced or naive readings will always give way, in a discussion forum as in a classroom or a reading club, to greater understanding and appreciation. And sometimes, too, "wrong" readings will, willynilly, end up becoming the ocassion for much greater understanding.
The point remains, I suppose, on whether one wants to give up the idea of an absolute, unchanging meaning for a text or whether one wants to understand literatue as an activity. It's how you make the journey that matters as much as the getting there, isn't it? (And while I make that claim, perhaps I should ask
Mr. Hedgethistle why he has conjoined author and text in his dichotomy. To me, the text is separate from the author--and, indeed it is the text which "holds supremacy", for both author and reader, although that text is an ephemeral thing.)
Take, for example, a discussion some of us had back a year or so ago, on the question of the English mythology impetus behind LOTR. This discussion was brought back to mind now by
Helen's most recent post. Helen characterised as a "Wild Theme" the statement, "Frodo degraded Sam by calling him a servant." The discussion was mainly between
Child and
Rimbaud, with Rimbaud suggesting that the relationship between Sam and Frodo was slightly or barely above the level of parody of the master servant relationship. Rimbaud is far more acutely aware of the English social class structure--which still to this day informs English society--than any of we North Americans, even those who have visited England for some time. To think of how that historical situation is mediated in the text of LOTR is, to me, fascinating, particularly as Sam is the one who is left Mayor of The Shire. That a reader could so little understand English class structure as to ask that kind of question seems to me to provide a perfect example of the benefit of asking such "wild themes."
To those readers who are made uncomfortable by such questions as Rimbaud's point or that concerning Tolkien's depiction of women or even Tolkien's depiction of evil and Saruman, I would echo
Sharkey's point early on in this thread:
Quote:
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If a reader refuses to acknowledge certain parts of a work of fiction (or actual fact, for that matter), there's nothing I can do about it, but that person's position in a discussion forum is difficult to say the least. Conversely, I doubt someone with a clear idea of his own which one is unwilling to give up would ask such a question anyway.
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Hmm. And I haven't got around to
Child's post yesterday.