“Where is this context which literary historian used to invoke as a matter of course to “explain” the distinctive features of the poetic text and to anchor it in an ambience more solid than words?...The text-context relationship, once an unexamined presupposition of historical investigation, has become a problem.”[1]
This problem of text and context has become a critical issue for me in the last few weeks. Like White signaling a new consciousness amongst historians of the problematic of text and context in 1982, I too am moving away from a precritical state. What is the relationship between text and context? What is text? What is context? What used to be such simple ideas ‘text’, a manuscript, and ‘context’, the time, location, date etc. in which the text was written, have now become extremely messy concepts for me. However, in the midst of all this confusion and despair regarding these questions with regard to my own project, Babak mentioned in class the idea that context can be viewed as fluid. This idea has got me thinking not only about the definitions of text and context but about the relationship that exists between the two.
Clark cites Gerard Genette’s notion of ‘transtextuality’. Genette argues that all texts exist in relation to other texts; they imitate and transform each other and new meanings are fashioned out of old ideas.[2] This idea is echoed in the works of Jacques Derrida, who argues that no text exists untouched by another text.[3] ‘Text’ in this understanding is like a knot of threads in a larger net(work) of texts/ideas/thoughts. A text cannot be viewed as a standalone document; rather, it is a weaving of various threads from a host of different sources. Given this definition of ‘text’, it is easy to see how authorial intention is thrown out the window. With so many different threads cropping up within one text it is impossible to discern what the author intended. The text, then, to those who subscribe to this view, takes on a power of its own separate from its author within this network of ideas. It becomes ‘productive’.[4]
This idea of the text being ‘productive’ is confusing to me. Is it what the reader brings to the text through a certain mode of reading that makes the text ‘productive’? Meaning, every reader will take away something new and different and so in this way the text can be seen as ‘producing’ some new thread in the larger web? Wouldn’t that really be ‘provoking’ the creation of a new thread in the mind of the scholar reading the text? Surely the text is not ‘producing’ anything of its own, or is it? Clark cites John Mowitt who argues that ‘text’ is a name for what “a certain model of reading produces when it approaches texts (in the precritical sense) as though the discourses which comprise them obstruct as much as facilitate expression.”[5] Does Mowitt mean to say that we are so influenced by our own intellectual baggage that we are handicapped in terms of understanding all that the text has to offer? In the end are we forced into the position of the strong textualist?
Mowitt’s comment also made me reconsider the relationship of text, context, and the reader. In the quote I cited above he argues that ‘text’ is the name for what a certain model or reading produces when it approaches texts in the precritical sense, which I understand to be documents. The reader, who necessarily has a context by the sheer fact of their physical existence in the world, creates a ‘text’ out of a document by approaching it through a certain methodology. A collision of reader, context, and document creates ‘text’. If this is the case then text and context are constantly reproduced for every reader and every reading. Text and context are inextricably linked to one another, the instrument of this link being the reader. There is a limit to the number of interpretations that might be produced, the limit being set by the limitations of the language of the document. Some interpretations must be better than others. The whole idea though is that there is room for multiple interpretations. This concept is interesting to me because it allows for the scholar to approach and re-approach a document each time gaining fresh insight. We are forced into the position of the strong textualist but we have the opportunity to overcome some of our limitations by being able to re-approach the text as our context changes to learn something new.
[1] Clark, p 130.
[2] p. 132.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Mowitt as qtd. in Clark, p. 132.
This problem of text and context has become a critical issue for me in the last few weeks. Like White signaling a new consciousness amongst historians of the problematic of text and context in 1982, I too am moving away from a precritical state. What is the relationship between text and context? What is text? What is context? What used to be such simple ideas ‘text’, a manuscript, and ‘context’, the time, location, date etc. in which the text was written, have now become extremely messy concepts for me. However, in the midst of all this confusion and despair regarding these questions with regard to my own project, Babak mentioned in class the idea that context can be viewed as fluid. This idea has got me thinking not only about the definitions of text and context but about the relationship that exists between the two.
Clark cites Gerard Genette’s notion of ‘transtextuality’. Genette argues that all texts exist in relation to other texts; they imitate and transform each other and new meanings are fashioned out of old ideas.[2] This idea is echoed in the works of Jacques Derrida, who argues that no text exists untouched by another text.[3] ‘Text’ in this understanding is like a knot of threads in a larger net(work) of texts/ideas/thoughts. A text cannot be viewed as a standalone document; rather, it is a weaving of various threads from a host of different sources. Given this definition of ‘text’, it is easy to see how authorial intention is thrown out the window. With so many different threads cropping up within one text it is impossible to discern what the author intended. The text, then, to those who subscribe to this view, takes on a power of its own separate from its author within this network of ideas. It becomes ‘productive’.[4]
This idea of the text being ‘productive’ is confusing to me. Is it what the reader brings to the text through a certain mode of reading that makes the text ‘productive’? Meaning, every reader will take away something new and different and so in this way the text can be seen as ‘producing’ some new thread in the larger web? Wouldn’t that really be ‘provoking’ the creation of a new thread in the mind of the scholar reading the text? Surely the text is not ‘producing’ anything of its own, or is it? Clark cites John Mowitt who argues that ‘text’ is a name for what “a certain model of reading produces when it approaches texts (in the precritical sense) as though the discourses which comprise them obstruct as much as facilitate expression.”[5] Does Mowitt mean to say that we are so influenced by our own intellectual baggage that we are handicapped in terms of understanding all that the text has to offer? In the end are we forced into the position of the strong textualist?
Mowitt’s comment also made me reconsider the relationship of text, context, and the reader. In the quote I cited above he argues that ‘text’ is the name for what a certain model or reading produces when it approaches texts in the precritical sense, which I understand to be documents. The reader, who necessarily has a context by the sheer fact of their physical existence in the world, creates a ‘text’ out of a document by approaching it through a certain methodology. A collision of reader, context, and document creates ‘text’. If this is the case then text and context are constantly reproduced for every reader and every reading. Text and context are inextricably linked to one another, the instrument of this link being the reader. There is a limit to the number of interpretations that might be produced, the limit being set by the limitations of the language of the document. Some interpretations must be better than others. The whole idea though is that there is room for multiple interpretations. This concept is interesting to me because it allows for the scholar to approach and re-approach a document each time gaining fresh insight. We are forced into the position of the strong textualist but we have the opportunity to overcome some of our limitations by being able to re-approach the text as our context changes to learn something new.
[1] Clark, p 130.
[2] p. 132.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Mowitt as qtd. in Clark, p. 132.
3 comments:
Amy,
I am not sure I entirely agree that authorial intent should be “thrown out the window.” I acknowledge, as most do, that there are a seemingly infinite number of contexts and factors influencing the development of a text, be they social, psychological, political, etc., as well as the issue of texts influencing other texts. Yet, I do not agree that exploring the nature of authorship should be completely abandoned. I think that if we completely sever a text (regardless of its complex and multifaceted nature) from the notion of authorship, we risk isolating it within our own context and ignoring a significant aspect of its historical existence.
This is not to say that there is any correct or authentic interpretation or reading of a particular text, but rather, that the meanings derived from recognizing the direct relationship between a text and its author(s) is something that should not be ignored. I agree that a text can have multiple readings and interpretations and that a wide variety of understandings can come about from approaching a text in various ways. However, I would argue that many productive interpretations and meanings may be derived from understanding the nature of the author(s) and their interactions with the particular text in question. Hence, I do not think that the fluidity of texts and contexts should cause us to abandon the historical relationship between producer and production.
Also, although I agree that a text can have multiple interpretations and readings, such a view accompanied with a radical abandonment of the issue of authorship may lead to a sort of “textual infinity”, in which case a given text could be seen as saying almost anything, depending on the method in which it is approached. In my view, this seems to ignore the peculiarities and distinguishing features of a text and thus overlooks its unique character.
- Adam
Hi Amy,
I enjoyed reading your entry this week. It’s not easy for people to approach such revolutionary problematizations of entrenched notions with the openness that you do! I liked how you appropriated the movements of these thinkers for yourself and showed with facility how traditional notions such s ‘text’, ‘reader’, ‘context’ and ‘author’ become problematic the moment we cease taking them for granted.
Perhaps the limit of possible interpretations is not only set by the language of a text, which may actually be infinite when we consider that it interacts with the infinitude of other texts and the flow of context, but equally by the finitude of a distinctive or special kind of text with which it interacts more ‘consciously’, I mean the reader here. I imagine the reader as just another text, a unique and fascinating one, but a text nevertheless – I’ve been developing this for a few years now and I’m still working it out, so I can’t be pushed too much on explicating this notion of reader as text. All texts are finite, context infinite and so their interaction, their interpenetration an infinite flow (perhaps of love and repulsion). I don’t know, I’m still thinking through this complex and rich problematic.
One last thing, at the end you say “Some interpretations must be better than others.” I see what you’re getting at, but why can’t we just cast out any hierarchy of valuation, of judgment, which often leads to condemnation? I agree that all interpretations are not created equal, but couldn’t we think of it as being the case that some interpretations are simply ‘richer’ or ‘more fruitful’ than other? Some readings are just richer and so open more and more diverse paths for thinking.
See you tomorrow!
babak
Amy,
I disagree with your current position. Similarly, to Adam, I believe that we must not stray too far away from authorial intention when trying to understand the genesis/geneses of a text. Certainly, there can be fruits from studying the history of interpretation of a text (as I discussed in my response to Adam’s blog this week), but there is still merit to be had in regards to studying the authorship(s) of a text. I spend some time arguing this point in my blog this week (although I do concede to the problematic of always being certain about the identity of an author). I take great issue with nearly everything you wrote about this week, however, I will focus on what you said about interpretation.
You wrote that there is, seemingly, a new ‘text’ (or what I would term interpretation) each time a reader approaches a document. To uphold such a position would render communication between any two people impossible (similar to what Babak maintained to be the case in his response to Adam this week when upholding his notion of the concealed heart). However, I will ask you to consider a stop sign for a moment. If we call this a document and the one driving a car a reader, then the collision between the stop sign and the driver will produce what you call a new text. How many different ‘texts’ might arise from this sort of collision. Nearly everyone (including many children) knows that a red sign with the letters “S T O P” means that we must momentarily discontinue movement. Failure to adhere to this sort of convention or misinterpretation of this document will result in another type of collision (i.e. a more physical sort of collision).
I concede that we may not know who the ‘author’ of this Stop Sign document is, but we still know this author’s intention. Moreover, if we fail to recognize the authorial intention in this case and ‘the truth’ of the matter here (that is if we do not acknowledge the true interpretation of the stop sign in contrast to alternative interpretations), we place ourselves in grave danger. Might this not be the case with other documents we approach? Do we place ourselves in danger by divorcing ourselves entirely from the author?
Let me know what you think,
Andrew
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