Not rock star status, but one of my heroes, the mind and heart behind Reader Response theory. For those who, like me, had the meaning of the symbolism of the green light in The Great Gatsby pounded into me in high school, or the “one true meaning” of any literary work held up above other interpretations, Rosenblatt was a great liberator. Her main premise is that reading is a transaction between the reader and the text, that the meaning of a work does not reside in the text alone but is instead constructed in that sensitive and exquisite transaction to which each reader brings unique life and literary experiences.
A personal note: I really didn’t experience the liberation of this kind of literary experience until I was plunged into preparation for my comprehensive exams for my master’s degree in English. The candidates had a long book list to cover and, for the first time in our educational career, no teacher to guide us. Three other women and I formed a study group which always began with food, talk about men, and high laughter, and then moved to the discussion of these mysterious works on our list. I remember how tentatively we started out, even after all that experience in our literature courses, and how, a few months later, we were all so exhilarated at our shocking revelation: we knew how to discover–actually create–meaning and we knew a new depth of literary pleasure. I didn’t know anything about Louise Rosenblatt then, and when I learned of her some years later when I was researching the teaching of writing and literature in middle and high schools, I recognized everything she was describing. Fortunately her influence has been profound.
Many years ago,I can remember getting into serious trouble with the Headmaster and my English teacher over my claim that Yeats famous line “Beauty like a tightned bow..” could have been about a fiddle bow and not as is usually assumed,an Archers bow. My theory being that Yeats was fond of a tune or two - Sally Gardens,Song of Wandering Aengus etc - and would have known that a fiddle bow is useless until tightned up.The English teacher pointed out that Yeats was not known for his fiddle playing and when I retorted that neither was he known for his geronimo impressions the trouble started.
I had never heard of the Reader Response theory up till now but it makes perfect sense to me,especially since poetry has always been closer to my heart than novels.
That Louise Rosenblatt has brought this concept firmly into the heart of teaching English is a wonderful thing. She had a very long and productive life throughout many decades when her gender would have made her work so much more difficult.
An inspiration to those of us who like to peer beneath the cracks and an even greater inspiration to those who help us understand that we may do so without being made to feel that we do not “get it”.
May she rest in peace.Her spirit will live on through her influence.
That’s art. It’s a mirror; most artists are more interested in what YOU get out of it than defining things, as “received pronunciation” kills the breadth of possibilities available.
FWIW, Dubhlinn, I think you’re on the better money about the “tightened bow”. A bow for archery usually isn’t tightened, which is a rather strange term in that context: it is strung, drawn, released, or unstrung. A fiddle bow IS tightened or loosened; it is also drawn, but across strings. Nevertheless, ambiguity is the bread and butter of poetry, and the archer’s bow gives us additional dimension if we want it.
Loved your rejoinder about Yeats not being known for his Geronimo impressions! Too bad for your teacher and his mental rigidity.
Thanks for the post, Carol. May Louise Rosenblatt rest in peace.
Dead right. I’ll bet he also tuned up and played in Eb sessions as well.
Seriously, the archery interpretation is beginning look just a bit silly. Where do they find these teachers? Well, I suppose when you’re stringing an archer’s bow you do have to tighten it but it’s not as though you go out of tune mid-battle.
Thanks for the post, too, Carol. Sad, and illuminating.
Apparently not all art/poetry/prose/music teachers have gotten the message. That kind of pigeonhole thinking has engendered many arguments even on C&F.
I agree that the interpretation that one generally finds with the tightened bow image is that of an archer’s bow (drawn back with arrow ready to fly). But, I’ve also heard the other fiddler’s bow interpretation as well – so you’re not alone Dubh. In reading the entire text of “No Second Troy,” I suppose an argument could be made for the allusion to Nero’s fiddling while Rome burned, with the different references to “fire” and “burning.” But what are we to make of the rest of the phrase in question: “With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind that is not natural in an age like this . . .” How common were archers in the age of firearms during the early 20th century? How common were fiddlers? While I can respect the fiddler’s bow interpretation, I have a hard time discounting the archer’s bow. I suppose that both could work simultaneously within the context of the poem.
A third kind of bow is the bow adorning a gift, as in the gift of the Trojan Horse – but I think that’s stretching it a bit.
No Second Troy
by: W. B. Yeats
Why should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great.
Had they but courage equal to desire?
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this,
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have done, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?
The discussion here about “No Second Troy” brings up another aspect of Reader-Response theory. Other thinkers, in this case especially Stanley Fish, extend the idea of meaning-making to the social realm, so that yes, a reader responds in his or her personal way and then, through discussion or writing or some other kind of social interaction, negotiates meaning with other members of the so-called “interpretive community.” In other words, Reader Response theory isn’t a free-for-all, anything-goes kind of approach to literary criticism (nor is it with Rosenblatt), but rather a framework for responding to and understanding (or creating) meaning in a work of literature that acknowledges and uses the cultural and socially agreed upon, more or less, “rules” for understanding. Dubhlinn expresses his musical sense of the meaning, Will O’B argues that in the context of the rest of the poem the military association seems most compelling…Each view enriches the other, and of course multiple meanings are certainly the stuff of poetry anyway. The interpretive community is the place/space where you can test out your ideas, bump them up against others’, reflect, rehash, regroup, and in all cases at the very least enrich and deepen your understanding. I certainly experienced all of that in abundance in my study group, or for that matter anytime I’ve ever had a conversation that began, “So what did you think of that [movie, book, article…].” We do it all the time here on C&F.
So the comment about a possible parallel to discussions about the relative value of musical interpretations made earlier in this thread needs to be tempered, it seems to me, with the idea that there is still an interpretive community to test ideas out in, to have them weighed and evaluated both by the originator of the idea and those holding different views. Reader-response theory does not hold that all interpretations are equally meaningful and valuable. All responses are, but the intepretations those responses engender tend to be richer and more meaningfully literate when the responses are mediated by a cultural framework/community. I have many times thought one thing, felt one thing, about a character or turn of plot or line in a poem or image that, on further reflection, further scrutiny of the text, and most important, interactions with others I have come to rethink, and I must say the analysis of why I responded as I did given more compelling evidence of some other meaning has yielded very interesting insights into both my personality and my reading of literature. Interesting “mistakes” help you grow a lot.
I really should be working. sigh
Ornette Coleman, the inventor (more or less) of free jazz, once remarked, ‘I knew I was onto something when I realised it was possible to play my way and make mistakes.’ I wish all of the musicians he inspired had exercised the same descipline.
My concern about the school of deconstruction in literature, at least the more extreme cases, is that I simply can’t discern the criteria for simply getting it wrong.
