3 posts tagged “literature”
Every academic probably has his or her own inner Pierre Bourdieu. Mine also talks like Céline. Often I think, "Getting a Ph.D. in comparative literature isn't such a bad deal," and then the ghost of Pierre-Louis-Ferdinand rears up and says, "It's all shit!... a crock, a real carrion-flambé!... mon dieu!" This usually happens when someone talks about comparative literature in the age of World/Global/Planetary Consciousness, as in this recent book:
Not that I recommend reading it per se, but it's one of several on this theme. I think it's fair to say that its authors support making comparative literature more inclusive (or less exclusive), more wide-ranging, more in step with an internationalized, globalized world. So here is the story:
If you apply to a comparative literature program in the U.S., you need to demonstrate proficiency in at least one, and usually two, languages other than English. The status of English is uncertain: this is the U.S. and any grad student here has to know English to study, but you don't technically have to study English literature along with your other literatures. If you are going to study English literature, this is a perfectly good place to do it. If you are going to study literature in another language, the U.S. can be a good place for it, but you'll probably also need to go abroad. There is no formal arrangement or expectation for this; there is usually some money, but you'll likely also need to get money from another source to support yourself. Essentially, then, the field in the U.S. (and, I think, in other countries) isn't formally international: the major professional credential is tied to a particular university in a particular country, and all arrangements to travel must be made by individual students with individually chosen institutions, funding sources, NGOs, whatever. I have been told that, as a native English-only speaker, you can't get a job in a non-English literature without going abroad, ideally often. So who should study comparative literature in the U.S.?
- People fluent in several languages
- People with ties to more than one country
- People looking for jobs in English
- People looking for jobs in languages for which there's a scarcity of teachers
- People willing and able to travel like maniacs
Now, what does space have to do with books? Books, after all, are portable and translatable. Literature courses take place in seminar rooms in universities; the texts can be purchased at the local bookstore. Films can be ordered and screened in university buildings. Art is mechanically reproducible. How much of these travels make it into a course? Probably very little. How much into scholarly work? The fruits of conversations with scholars abroad; archival research; acquaintance with the physical layout of cities and towns; better knowledge of language; acquisition of telling anecdotes; intellectual deracination.... class markers... names for dropping... mon dieu!!
You love to travel. You love to read books. You subscribe to the New Yorker. You live in New York. You are a student of comparative literature. You sleep on your notebook on the train. You are beverage-conscious. This is still the game; we just don't write nearly as well as Erich Auerbach anymore.
What I'm getting at is not an attack on real people (all I've provided here are caricatures) but an expression of my own inner conflict: on the one hand are my intellectual interests; and on the other a quiet, creative life of social and communal commitment which comes quite naturally to me, but isn't really compatible with all that moving around. Everything I've learned, literally, I have learned in seven weeks outside the U.S. and nearly 28 years within a pretty small area inside it. That's not The Official Best Life, but it is who I am. I love travel, but I can't fake extensive experience with it, and I am starting to fear that I'll never translate very well out of my rarefied— if still perforce "global"— milieu. And the habitual stasis has probably made me too exacting: I want to see the world, and read its books, but I want the real world, the true! Good luck, right?
After two and a half weeks away from home, I'm not sure exactly what I'm missing. The library? Certain cafés? My bicycle? (I hardly ride it these days.) A sense of proprietorship? My time being my own? Conversations? (I can hardly talk these days, either.) I keep fixing on the library— by which I guess I mean several different libraries— because it's concrete: I can go in, grab a stack of books, borrow and return them along with their contents, which I often do return, lightly used, forgotten after a year or so. It helps. But I think what I'm looking for is just creative potential, the free exercise thereof, pure and simple; and in light of its formlessness I obsess over particular stupid insufficiencies.
Such as this: I need to choose a third language for my comparative literary studies. So many options! So many languages! So little certainty about the job market! What should I do? Some candidates:
Italian
Pros:
- is beautiful
- I can already half-read it
- Dante, Leopardi, Svevo, a ton of modern poets
- adds depth to European studies
Cons:
- few jobs
- material is somewhat limited, except a few major authors
- would get addicted to living in Europe, not want to leave ever, alienate family and friends
French
Pros:
- would not run out of material
- have to learn it anyway
- favorite book is in French
- not too hard to learn; can basically read it now
Cons:
- every comparatist studies French
- no idea about the job market
- but it's probably glutted
- might get fat, tie scarf badly, lose job
Latin
Pros:
- relieves guilt of not knowing Latin
- I <3 Vergil
- can become pleasantly obsessed with Rome
- no one would fault me for it
Cons:
- dead
- but studied incessantly anyway
- would need guidance towards interesting projects
Ancient Greek
Pros:
- could write that dissertation on Musil and Greek philosophy
Cons:
- hard
Portuguese
Pros:
- bonus for Spanish hires
- Pessoa!
- Brazil!
Cons:
- might run out of things to read/study. But maybe not.
- feels irrationally like a cop-out.
English
Pros:
- I am fluent in English already
- among greatest literary languages on earth
Cons:
- would have a hell of a time coming up with original research.
- probably couldn't use it as a third language anyway— would be ridiculous
Russian
Pros:
- know alphabet, some words & phrases
- no shortage of materials
- redeem lost undergraduate honor
- Tsvetaeva! Tsvetaeva!
Cons:
- job market sucks
- slavists seem cliquey
- have an irrational fear of daily life in Russia
- as with French and English, everyone else seems to know more about it than I do.
various languages spoken in Middle East (Arabic, Hebrew, Persian, etc.)
Pros:
- interesting cross-cultural projects
- long varied literary traditions
- philosophically/religious-ly eclectic
- languages are beautiful
Cons:
- probably can't deal with politics (geopolitics, not culture-war politics)
Korean
Pros:
- Korean/Latin American comparative work would be great fun
- have generally had positive experiences with Korean literature
Cons:
- jobs? interest?
- white(American-)ness may be a disadvantage, or perplexer
- no one to work with at my university (but could visit another school for a year, and/or go abroad)
Chinese
Pros:
- would be awesome
- many interesting internal/comparative projects
- possible early modern/postmodern massive comparative dissertation project too heady even to think about, like five ice creams: if scaled back, could be productive
Cons:
- insanely hard language, so hard that I hardly dare mention the idea to people
- see "white(American-)ness" above
- canon is riddled with hair-raising misogyny, but I'm not much good with women's lit/gender studies. People must find ways past this, but I'm always less desensitized than I think I am.
An invented language of my own design
Pros:
- no trouble with identity politics
Cons:
- would also have to write own literature; am terrible critic of own work.
What do you guys think? Am I leaving anything out? Am I screwed?
Question:
Could you read, and love, a literary work by someone whom you personally know to be a crappy human being?
I'm just wondering how the numbers will break down, so please answer, however briefly.
Two potentially biasing facts:
- I get an impression from most people I know that their answer, with very few caveats, is no;
- I'm not sure what my own answer is.
One more twist:
- he was an antisemite and owned slaves and beat his wife and made enemies everywhere, but these passages are immortal,
vs.
- he treats his MFA students like shit -- you should ask X about it sometime -- so every time people praise him I shudder.
So?
