Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
CULTURAL CRITICISM
a now global culture" ( 197). The global reach of the material covered in
Clayton's essay certainly fits that definition, but, more important,
50
does the form of its first paragraph. There Clayton adopts the "dead Ian.
guage" characteristic of Dickens's journalistic essays in his magazines
Household Words and All the Year Round-elaborate evocations of con.
temporary social scenes from the London slums to the central post of.
fice, all embellished with the statistics and details that Victorians sore].
ished. Central to Dickens's journalistic writings was the stance of the
observer, the individual who, in seeing such scenes, gives them signifi.
cance and coherence. Although the fiction of such an observer may no
longer be tenable-was Clayton's "observer" really at that train station
in Nashville?-his essay delineates the ways in which Dickens's fiction,
in its multitudinous afterlives, continues to do its cultural work now as
effectively as it has in the past.
Janice Carlisle
Works Cited
Baudrillard, Jean. Simulations. Trans. Paul foss, Paul Patton, and
Philip Beitchman. New York: Semiotext(e). 1983. Rpt. in Easthope and McGowan, 202-05.
Easthope, Anthony, and Kate McGowan, eds. A Critical and Cultural Theory Reader. Toronto: U of Toronto P, 1992.
Jameson, Fredric. Postmodernism or, The Cultural Lo._qic of Late Capitalism. 1984. Durham: Duke UP, 1991. Rpt. in Easthope and
McGowan, 196-201.
Lyotard,
The Postmodern Condition: A Report on
Knowledge. Trans. Geoff' Bennington and Brian Massumi. 1979.
Manchester: Manchester UP; Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P,
1984.
JAY CLAYTON
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end of the platform to the other without endangering human life. But
this evening the depot was astir: the powerful locomotive-a renovated 1952 model E8A, weighing 318,000 pounds and developing
2,250 horsepower- hissed and vibrated, pulsing with anticipation;
porters beckoned anxiously to late-arriving passengers, while men in
white sequined suits, with bushy sideburns and hair swept forward
over their brows, escorted ladies in tight-skirted red dresses toward the
elegant dining cars. One couple in particular drew the observer's attention, as they paused before a poster of the Roy Acuff movie Night
Train to Memphis. This couple, although dressed as creatively as the
other passengers, appeared more shy than most, as though this were
their first date, and perhaps a blind one at that. Hoping to discover
what had occasioned the unwonted bustle at the depot, the observer
moved closer; and, happily, the gentleman's first words dispelled the
entire mystery. Tonight, the Elvis Love Train was offering another of
its "Great Expectations Specials."
Every Thursday during the month ofFebruary 1994, Great Expectations Services for Singles, the nationwide video dating company, offered its members tree tickets on the two-and-a-half hour dinner excursion on the rails, a $42.95 value. An Elvis Menu of his personal
favorite foods-hamburger steak, mashed potatoes, and corn breadwas available f(Jr dinner. Alas, this attractive package no longer exists.
Shortly after the Elvis Love Train began running, the company received notice from Graceland that their use of Elvis's name represented an unauthorized infringement of trademark. But, tor a few brief
weeks, inquisitive observers had the chance to view firsthand what few
perhaps had ever imagined: the marriage of Elvis and Estella.
This union brings together some of the most marketable cultural
commodities from two different centuries. It nicely evokes the emotional appeal, the sentimentality, the promotional genius, the commercial crassness, and the legal maneuvering that surrounded both Dickens and Elvis in their respective eras. That it should all take place at
trainside, a principal symbol of nineteenth-century technological
progress, adds the finishing touch. My purpose in recording this
ephemeral conjunction, however, is not to compare these very different figures but to register one instance of Dickens's continuing presence in contemporary popular culture. Like it or not, this sort of phenomenon is a way in which Dickens lives on at the end of the
twentieth century. A grotesque, misshapen afterlife, one might say, as
llnsettling as the manias that animate some of Dickens's own
Cl'LTURAL C:RITICISM
JAY CLAYTON
creations: Miss Havisham in her decaying bridal dress, or Pip fantasizing about his great expectations.
There is a logic in this afterlife, however, a logic not entirely alien
to the patterns in Dickens's own stories, as my last comparison is
meant to suggest. Another way of putting this point is to say that
Dickens anticipates some of the characteristic features of postmodern
life. The term postmodern means different things to different people,
but in the current context, it is as good a word as any to name the
dominant cultural practices of today's consumer society. It encompasses, in ways that I will outline, a whole range of contemporary phenomena, including "high" cultural forms such as art, literature, music,
and architecture; popular forms such as film, television, comics, and
advertising; social developments such as consumer practices and
lifestyle choices; and even belief patterns, such as the subcultural belief
that Elvis is alive. 1 If Dickens did anticipate some of these phenomena,
then tracing the misshapen forms of his survival in today's world will
tell readers something about themselves-and about Dickens too.
Let me begin by mentioning a few other examples of Dickens's aftcrlife.2 Once one starts to look f(x him, this author pops up at every
turn. Through 1992, at least sixty-three movies have been made from
his works, five from Great Expectations alone (DeBona 78). In the
course of my inquiries, I have been told of or have seen television
episodes of The Donna Reed Show, Cheers, Wings, Quantum Leap, and
6o8
1 fur a more extended account of the various ways in which this term is used in cui
rural studies, sec Clavton.
2 As is only
in a paper about postmodernism, I have made usc in my research
of the electronic bulletin board VICTORIA (listserv@iubvm.ucs.indiana.edu). In response to my query about references to Dickens in popular culture, I received wonderful, quirky, occasionally inspired suggestions. Some items I had already thought of my
self, of course, but others were completely new to me. In the next five paragraphs, I
incorporate many of the references that turned up in that forum. In addition to the
postings cited individually in the text, let me acknowledge the suggestions made by
Steve Bernstein, Andrea Broomfield, james Bucanek, Dennis Denisoff, Sandy Donaldson, Brad Gadberry, Sheldon Goldfarb, Libby Gruner, Kathy Holliday, Emily
Devoney Looser, james McKeown, Deborah McMillion, Theresa Muir, Chnsona
Rieger, Meri- jane Rochelson, Linda Schulze, Dave Smith, Herbert Tucker, TimothY
Watson, and Alan Winston. Alison McKee and Andrea Kalas responded individually to
my request for assistance in locating archives of television serials. In addition, I am gratef
0
ful to Janicc Carlisle for encouraging me to undertake this project; to Louise Graham
Tulane University tor her intelligent questions and assistance; to Jamie Adams ofVanderbilt's Learning Resource Center for help with preparing slides; and to my
0
Julie Fesmire, Greg Hecimovich, and Mark Schoentield for their comments on a dr
this essay.
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worth underscoring, such as the mixture of sentimentality and commercialism in the Dickens Christmas, or the combination in academia
of idealism and love of literature with an institutional apparatus requiring professional credentialing, publication tor tenure, and the ranking
of universities. This kind of irony, I am arguing, characterizes Dickens's presence in contemporary culture. Incongruity, contradiction,
the juxtaposition of mismatched signifiers and ill-assorted valuesthese are the tokens by which Dickens travels today. And tor this reason, if for no other, Dickens is perhaps the most postmodern nineteenth -century writer.
Dickens was aware that his vision went well with the commercial
spirit. Many VIctorian writers worked hard to make money from their
fiction, but Dickens was extraordinarily fertile in devising new ways to
capitalize on his imagination. Perhaps his greatest coup was his invention of a new genre, the Christmas tales, which were increasingly successful as specially printed seasonal books and which later were carefully orchestrated to prop up circulation of the magazines he ran.
These works did so much to transform the nature of the holiday that
the novelist's most recent biographer has remarked that "Dickens can
be said to have almost single-handedly created the modern idea of
Christmas" (Ackroyd 34 ). Many aspects of contemporary society
might surprise Dickens, but the commercialization of Christmas-and
his part in it-would not be one of them.
Dickens was prescient in recognizing the economic shift that was
occurring in his lifetime. In the middle 0f the nineteenth century,
England underwent a transition from an industrial economy, driven by
the production of coal, iron, heavy machinery, and railroads, to a consumer economy, with its investment in advertising, marketing strategies, and household goods. As historians and cultural critics such as
Martin J. Wiener, Jennifer Wicke, and Thomas Richards have demonstrated, in the decades after the Great Exhibition of 1851 a "new commodity culture dominated by advertising drew on and ultimately supplanted any alternatives to it" (Richards 1 ). This change helped foster
a booming secondary market tor Dickens's creations. In his own lifeGamp Umtime, Dickens saw the Little Nell Cigar, Pickwick
brellas, and a host of other products bearing his characters' names; he
Went out of his wav to visit a tavern named after his novel Our Mutual
Friend (Dickens, Speeches 349). Although there was no provision for licensing such spin-offs, he understood the publicity value that came
&om their wide diffusion. From Pickwick onward, the green monthly
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After suggesting the name, Ullman's father remarked that the title
came into his head because he was old enough "to have gone to
school with Boz"; his son, having never heard of Dickens's pen name,
thought his father must be referring to Boz Scaggs. The cultural markers that adorn this dating service are scarcely less disparate than these:
fledgling Victorian novelist meets blues guitarist.
Dickens's presence in the popular culture of this century has not
always been characterized by incongruity. At an earlier moment, during and just after World War II, when the great "modern" values of
democratic nations had been under severe challenge, Dickens's image
was more serious and coherent, an instrument of cultural consolidation, not consumerist expansion. I can bring out the difference by
contrasting two carefully marketed images of the author, the Classics
Illustrated comic book versions of Great Expectations. The first version
of this story was published in 1947, whereas the second, entirely new
version came out in 1990. 4 The first version rapidly became a collector's item-today, a copy in mint condition sells for over $800. Although this issue is number 43 in the series, it is the most valuable
Classics Illustrated ever published because it was never reissued once it
became the target of an attack in a best-selling book about comics by
Dr. Fredric Wertham, Seduction ofthe Innocent(1954). Here are a few
lines from Dr. Wenham's attack:
There is a comic book which has on its cover two struggling men,
one manacled with chains locked around hands and feet, the other
with upraised fist and a reddened, bloody bandage around his
head; onlookers: a man with a heavy iron mallet on one side and a
man with a rifle and a bayonet on the other. The first eight pictures of this comic book show an evil-looking man with a big knife
held like a dagger threatening a child who says: "Oh, don't cut my
throat, sir!" Am I correct in classifYing this as a crime comic? Or
should I accept it as what it pretends to be- Dickens's Great Expectations? ( 311)
A glance at the cover reveals that Dr. Wertham described the scene
4
I want to thank Joseph Witek for guidance and insight into the world of Classics
Illustrated comic books and to the work of Rick Geary. His excellent Comic Books as
History provided me with my first orientation to the criticism of this genre. Assistance
With locating copies of the 194 7 Classics Illustrated Great Expectations was provided by
Dan Malan, editor of Classics Collector Magazine; Hollis Lawrence O'Neal of Nashville,
Tennessee; and Rich Rostel of Louisville, Kentucky.
JAY CLAYT0;\1
615
fairly well, as tar as he went (Figure 1 ). His description of the succeeding pictures \vas equally accurate. My point, however, has nothing to
do with violence in comic books, a topic that today seems almost
quaint. Rather, I want to draw attention to the cultural markers embedded in this scene, markers of masculinity, power, legal authority,
and ultimately, national identity. An honest, square-jawed blacksmith,
a well-equipped soldier, and a boy dressed in his best Christmas suit
witness a struggle between determined adversaries, the free and gallantly bandaged Magwitch beginning to rise above the treacherous,
deservedly manacled Compeyson-a struggle between good and evil,
clearly enough, with the values of a nation's men at stake.
When one turns to the 1990 version of the same story, the first
thing one notices is the very different scene the artist has chosen as the
centerpiece of his interpretation (Figure 2). The cover of a comic book
is meant to grab the attention of the potential buyer, and these covers
employ very ditlerent strategies tor that end. Both covers dramatize
formative moments in a child's life, and both emphasize the impressible young boy's status as an observer. In each, he is outside the scene,
watching with rapt attention. But one is an action scene, full of violence, and involving only males; the other is a scene of stasis-indeed,
it symbolizes the deathly stasis of Miss Havisham-and features two
female characters. The visual dynamics of watching are present in both
covers, but the later version introduces a self-reflexive dimension that
is missing fi-om the earlier. The picture is an optical illusion, in which
Pip appears to be looking at a painting or a tapestry, framed by the
border of the carpet and by what may be a doorjamb to his left. Moreover, the spectatorial act is even more prominent, since the reader,
who is positioned behind Pip's head, sees what Pip is seeing and thus
shares what film theorists call his "gaze."
Lest one think I am reading notions of gender and self-reflexivity
into a work entirely innocent of such pretensions, let me provide a bit
of background on Rick Geary, the creator of the 1990 comic. Geary
first gained notice as a cartoonist for the National Lampoon, where his
strips were praised for their droll, deadpan humor and their interest in
the oddity of everyday life. Prior to working on Great Expectations, he
had published several collections of cartoons, two of which were A
Treasury of Victorian Murder and Rick Geary)s Oddities. After finishing
the Dickens story, he produced two original comic books titled
Blanche Goes to New York (1992) and Blanche Goes to Hollywood
(1993), both set in the early years of this century. The choice of a female heroine and a historical setting for these quirky mysteries indicate
614
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something of his interest in the topics of gender and history. Although
both comics display his fascination with what film theorists call "the
gaze," the second Blanche story makes this concern explicit by having
the heroine come under the patronage of the movie director D. W.
Griffith. (This director, it is \Vorth mentioning, was said by Eisenstein
to have learned the technique of montage from reading Dickens.) Finally, Geary's story also highlights the artist's political concerns, tor it
sympathetically recounts the struggle of the Wobblies to unionize the
film industry.
What should one make of the differences between the two comics,
of the shift from a male scene of power and authority to a female domestic scene of stasis, of the heightened self-reflexivity about the dynamics of spectators and the gaze? Clearly, the masculine scenario
owes much to the prevailing conventions of World War II army
comics. The two muscular figures struggling on the cover evoke
Sergeant Rock or Sergeant Fury more than half-starved escapees from
a nineteenth-century prison ship. An even more direct int1uence may
have been David Lean's movie of Great Expectations, which came out
the preceding year. The comic's plot f{>llows the movie in several
places more closely than the book-particularly in the decision to
leave out the character of Orlick entirely, a choice generally regarded
as a major flaw in the movie (see Moynahan; MacKay; Giddings; Tharaud). Geary had no such immediate visual precursor. Perhaps, too,
Geary was aware of the controversy over violence that engulfed the
earlier version. Still, the 1990 comic, with its camp awareness of its
own cultural positioning, is mocking at the very points where its predecessor was earnest. The original Classics Illustrated were marketed as
being "better" than ordinary comics, more serious, more educational.
That was why Dr. Wenham's critique could have such a devastating
effect. Although the publisher of the contemporary Classics Illustrated
gestures toward this same educational mission in his prefatory note, he
spends more time touting the "distinctive, fresh and innovative" styles
of his contemporary adapters. The publisher is well aware that the
largest market for these $3.75 books consists not of thrill-seeking children, nor even of students looking tor a crib, but of adolescent and
adult comic collectors, who value this art fc>rm f()f its own sake. In the
best postmodern fashion, Geary dispels any sense that Dickens should
be treated as an object of veneration and focuses instead on the quirky
and bizarre. This comic might just as well have been called, in homage
to Geary's other works, A Treasury of Dickensian Oddities. But
GR 1
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RirK GMRY
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417). To a postmodern novelist, however, born in one of Britain's former colonies, the message seems little less than appalling. Salman
Rushdie, writing in 1984 about both Onvell and the Lean of A Passage to India, finds this fantasy to be at the core of the "zombie-like
revival of the defi.mct Empire" (101 ). Rushdie calls his essay "Outside
the Whale," signaling his rejection of the stance Onvell took in the
title piece of his collection, Imide the Whale ( 1940). As it happens, this
slender volume is vvhere Onvell's essay on Dickens appears, a Dickensian (or postmodern?) coincidence that helps locate each judgment in
its respective historical moment.
Rushdie is pertinent to this discussion f(x another reason. He is
one of several postmodern novelists who have responded to Dickens in
their fiction (others include Kathy Acker and Graham Swift). In The
Satanic Verses ( 1989 ), Rushdie invokes a different Dickens text, his
last completed novel, Our Mutual Friend. A climactic moment in the
narrative takes place at a party on the set of a movie version of a musical based on Dickens's work, now retitled Friend! The set is a "huge
re-creation of Dickensian London" (421 ), which condenses the
nineteenth-century city so that the landmarks of Dickens's imagination
lie shoulder to shoulder in hallucinatory proximity. "Real" celebrities
mingle with "counterfeit" guests, hired f()r the occasion to wear period costumes. One of the extras, a buxom maid with a map of London drawn in red magic marker on her right breast, tries to seduce Saladin Chamcha in a mock Curiosity Shop. This drunken encounter
combines t:uniliar postmodern playfi.Jlness about the indistinguishability of imitations and originals with more disturbing motifs: nationalism, xenophobia, misogyny, and racism. As she unfastens her blouse,
this "cartographically bosomed stranger" (425) sings a parody of one
of the musical's solos, mocking the accents of foreigners in a "RexHarrisonian" patter and praising London as the "World's Metropolis."
Chamcha stands horrified, transfixed by the sight of her breast. "The
metropolis summons him"-but which one?-until, "giving an entirely Dickensian cry, [he] pushes his way out of the Curiosity Shop
into the madness of the street" (424).
In postmodern terms, Rushdie's movie set is a simulacrum; but,
then, Dickens's London has always been a simulacrum, an image more
real than reality, one that attracted its first tourists during his own lifetime and that continues to draw them by the busload today. Such perplexities are a far cry from the "message" of Dickens in the 1940s.
Rather than serving to consolidate a coherent national identity, this
author has come to symbolize, ti:Jr Rushdie, a form of madness
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why the Dickensian city seems so appropriate a svmbol for the "incompatible realities" of contemporary society. One should not be surprised at the grotesque afterlife of Dickens in today's world. It reflects
a logic at work in his own texts. Third, this logic means something dif..
ferent in 1994 from what it meant to David Lean and
makers of
Classics Illustrated in 1946 and 1947 -or to Dickens and his contemporaries in 1861. A genuinely historical inquiry requires one to
these differences, even if one insists on the lines of continuitv well.
Great Expectations-and at last I refer to the nmel b\ ( :harles
Dickens-mixes cultural signs from different periods as
and as incongruously as any postmodern text. Joe, the simple blacksmith, for example, represents a nostalgic portrait of .1 tlgure from .111
earlier era, a phase of capitalism fast disappearing in 1861 , \\hen the
novel was published, although not as uncommon in rural areas in the
1820s, when the novel was set. The values associated with Joe--integrity, unswerving loyalty, pride in one's craft-accrue to thi-; residual economic order, thus serving as an implicit critique of the more
highly developed dominant economy of London. Staging the contrast
as one between country and city helps to reduce the sense of in congruity f(x readers. Still, the incompatibility of this ideal with modern
existence is dramatized at the end of the novel. The onh- wa\" Pip un
find to be true to the lessons he has learned from Joe is to spend
eleven years away from the f()rge in his companv's colonial branch in
Cairo. Pip's summary of those eleven years represents the mmt "Victorian" moment in the book. His only consolation, the thing that enables him to hold up his head when he thinks of how badly he h,ls behaved, is that now he "lived frugally, and paid mv debts." If the reader
had any doubts about the middle-class positioning of this Victorian
ethic, Pip clears them up without delay: "I must not le.n-e it to be supposed that we were ever a great House, or that we made mints of
money. We were not in a grand way of business, but \\T had a good
name, and worked for our profits" (436 ).
If Joe is a holdover from a rural, pre-Victorian mode of e,1rl\' capitalism and Pip matures into a thoroughlv up-to-date middle class Victorian, then is there anyone in the novel who might be said to f()reshadow postmodernism? I am happy to say that there is. That person is
not Pip, so the answer to the question in my title must be:
Pip is
not postmodern. The character who has the best claim to that role is a
minor figure, although a favorite with readers down through the vears:
Wemmick.
Mr. Jaggers's clerk conflates enough incongruous cultur.ll signs in
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WORKS CITED
Acker, Kathy. Great Expectations. New York: Grove, 1982.
Ackroyd, Peter. Dickens. New York: HarperCollins, 1990.
Bell, Millicent. "What Happened in the Cave?" Partisan Review 53
(1986): 103-10.
Bharucha, Rustom. "The 'Boom' of David Lean's A Passage to
India." Before His Eyes: Essays in Honor ofStanley Kauffmann. Ed.
Bert Cardullo. Lanham, MD: UP of America, 1986.
Clayton, Jay. "Dickens and the Genealogy ofPostmodernism." Nineteenth-Century Literature 46 ( 1991): 181-9 5.
DeBona, Guerric. "Doing Time; Undoing Time: Plot Mutations in
David Lean's Great Expectations." Literature/Film Quarterly 20
(1992 ): 77-100.
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Desai, Anita. "The Rage for the Raj." The New Republic (25 Nov.
1985 ): 46-50.
Dickens, Charles. The Speeches of Charles Dickens. Ed. K. J. Fielding.
Oxford: Clarendon, 1960.
Eisenstein, Sergei. "Dickens, Griffith, and the Film Today." Film
Form: Essays in Film Theory. Ed. Jan Leyda. New York: Harcourt,
1949.
Giddings, Robert. "Great Misrepresentations: Dickens and Film."
Critical Survey 3 (1991): 305-12.
Kravitz, Lee. "Finding the Ideal Matchmaker." Cosmopolitan. 205.4
(Oct. 1988): 274-77.
MacKay, Carol Hanbery. "A Novel's Journey into Film: The Case of
Great Expectations." Literature/Film Quarterly 13 (1985):
127-34.
Moynahan, Julian. "Seeing the Book, Reading the Movie." The English Novel and the Movies. Ed. Michael Klein and Gillian Parker.
NewYork: Ungar, 1981.
Orwell, George. "Charles Dickens." Inside the Whale (1940). Rpt. in
An Age Like This, 1920-1940. Vol. 1 of The Collected Essays, Journalism and Letters of George Orwell. 3 vols. Ed. Sonia Orwell and
Ian Angus. New York: Harcourt, 1968.
Richards, Thomas. The Commodity Culture of Victorian England: Advertising and Spectacle, 1851-1914. Stanford: Stanford UP, 1990.
Rushdie, Salman. "Outside the Whale." In Imaginary Homelands: Essays and Criticism 1981-1991. London: Granta, 1991. 87-101.
The Satanic Verses. New York: Viking, 1989.
Tharaud, Barry. "Great Expectations as Literature and Film." The
Dickensian 87 (1991): 102-10.
Vennman, Barbara. "New Orleans 1993 Carnival: Tradition at Play in
Papier-Mache and Stone." Theatre Insight 10 (1993): 5-14.
Wertham, Fredric, M.D. Seduction of the Innocent. New York: Rinehart, 1954.
Wicke, Jennifer. Advertising Fictions: Literature, Advertisement, and
Social Reading. New York: Columbia UP, 1988.
Wiener, Martin J. English Culture and the Decline ofthe Industrial
Spirit, 1850-1980. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1981.
Winokur, Scott. "Matchmakers of the Nineties-From Yentas to
Computers." Cosmopolitan 210.6 (June 1991): 236-39.
Witek, Joseph. Comic Books as History: The Narrative Art ofJack Jackson, Art Spiegelman, and Harvey Pekar. Jackson: UP of Mississippi, 1989.
Glossary of Critical
and Theoretical Terms
Most terms have been glossed parenthetically where they first appear in
the text. Mainly, the glossary lists terms that arc too complex to define in a
phrase or a sentence or two. A few of the terms listed arc discussed at greater
length elsewhere (teminist criticism, for instance); these terms are defined succinctly and a page reference to the longer discussion is provided.
AFFECTIVE FALLACY First used bv William K. Wimsatt and Monroe C. Beardsley to refer to what they regarded as the erroneous practice of interpreting texts according to the psychological responses of readers. "The Affective Fallacy," they wrote in a 1946 essay later republished in The Verbal
Icon ( 1954 ), "is a confusion between the poem and its results (what it is and
what it does) . ... It begins by trying to derive the standards of criticism from
the psychological effects of a poem and ends in impressionism and relativism."
The affective fallacy, like the intentional fallacy (confusing the meaning of a
work with the author's expressly intended meaning), was one of the main
tenets of the New Criticism, or formalism. The affective fallacy has recently
been contested by reader-response critics, who have deliberately dedicated
their efforts to describing the way individual readers and "interpretive communities" go about "making sense" of texts.
See also: Authorial Intention, Formalism, Reader-Response Criticism.
AUTHORIAL INTENTION Defined narrowly, an author's intention
in writing a work, as expressed in letters, diaries, interviews, and conversations.
Defined more broadly, "intentionality" involves unexpressed motivations, designs, and purposes, some of which may have remained unconscious.
The debate over whether critics should try to discern an author's inten625