rewriting the Introduction to Theory's Empire

The "Introduction" to Theory's Empire fails to confront its object. It is a mishmash; an intellectual muddle. It is not the best effort conceivable by a long shot. I could write a much better Introduction than they did, and I think their whole point sucks. And then some of the articles that follow!

But let's not move too quickly. Before thinking about a better version of an argument one disagrees with, a review of the Introductions mistakes.

The biggest problem is that it lacks the courage of its convictions. It doesn't go where it claims to go, which is where, according to them, no man (or woman) has gone before, namely, up against Theory. It does not confront the named phenomenon anywhere near as well as could be done. This was seen in the quotation from an earlier post:

Our book does not propose a return to an ideal past (nonexistent, in any case) of literary studies. Nor do we support a retrogressive or exclusivist view of a canon, classics, traditions, or conventions (the predictable charges hurled against critics of Theory). (p. 7)[footnote 1; see below]

Yes, well there's a reason why these charges are predictable: it's because they make up the shoe that fits on the foot that is attached to the leg that connects to the torso of critics of Theory. You aren't proposing a return to nonexistent ideal past? But the fact that there is no returning to an ideal, nonexistent past in the study of literature is one of the foundations of Theory. In fact, the authors want to have it both ways. They will grant that in the sixties and seventies "a feminist perspective became indispensable for literary scholars" (p. 7). A feminist perspective is one of the perspectives that not only undermines the possibility of a return to an ideal past, it also throws into relief the oppressive, male dominated, sexually repressed nature of this nonexistent ideal past, which, it turns out, was not so inexistent after all, given the very real oppression of women and others during it, though it certainly can't be called 'ideal.' But while granting the indispensability of this contribution to the study of literature -- a contribution that goes under the broader heading of Theory -- they at the same time attack it:

If language creates reality, then we need only change our language to bring about political change. But, obviously, the proponents of postcolonialist, feminist, and queer theorizing do not endorse such a view in practice. The contradiction should be plain to see. (4-5)

First the authors endorse on p. 7 what they condemn on pp. 4-5 (that is, feminism). But we also must add that it ill becomes someone to complain, as the authors have, about "the predictable charges hurled against critics of Theory" while shamelessly trotting out the claim that someone somewhere thinks that language can change reality in the sense of stopping an oncoming train while standing on the railroad track on which the train is hurtling, or that, godlike, someone can 'think' a political change and it is immediately realized. But language does create certain kinds of reality. This is by no means a novel insight. Postmodernism or whatever you want to call it certainly can't claim credit for first proposing this insight (though it is a key brick in its foundation). Take an example. During the 1950s and 1960s, it was common practice for men to refer to women as chicks. Young people in particular; very informal. Eddie Haskel would never say 'chick' to Mrs. Cleaver. But there it is, wide usage of the term 'chick,' and no one, including those to whom it is addressed, thinks much of it. Mere thought cannot produce, via a simple thought, an immediate physical reality. That is what gods do, what Hegel's Absolute can do, but is tired and bored of doing. No doubt, over time, and across generations, human societies create new physical realities as well. But our goal here is narrower.

A lot of young people using the word 'chick,' and a lot of young females accepting this kind of characterization. But at a certain point (the mechanics of the change don't concern us here) the word 'chick' was not one that you could indiscriminately employ. Women started to be offended by it, and to question the kind of personality and intelligence that was being implied by this word. Social acceptance for the word 'chick' declined drastically. (This process is what is known as 'political correctness.') At one point in time, fine to call young women chicks; advance on the timeline some fifteen or twenty years, no longer fine to call them that. Presto chiango! Reality has changed, and a very important and consequential slice at that.

But now look at this:

What theorists of all these persuasions have in common [the authors list them: reception aesthetics, narratology, the Frankfurt School, postcolonialism], whatever their individual differences, is a decisive turning away from literature as literature. (p. 8)

And here:

Frank Lentricchia . . . . decided to read literature as literature instead of as a vehicle for Theory. (p. 6)

The only 'ground' offered for the critique of Theory is this twice repeated phrase: "literature as literature." Literature as literature. Literature = literature. What is literature, though? Literature as
literature. But what is literature, qua literature? Doesn't this point to some kind of essence, so essence-like, that it is unable to achieve the orbit needed to escape its own essence and engage in the act of 'in-and-for-itself' reflection that would allow it to say something beyond A= A?

footnote 1: They repeat this disclaimer on p. 11: "Ours is not a 'back-to-basics' volume..." I think mentioning and then repeating this idea is a mistake. The authors have trouble finding some kind of ground, some kind of perspective, from which to make good their critique of Theory. In the name of what are the efforts typical of Theory to be delegitimated, disqualified?