Davis 125

Lennard J. Davis

Edward Saids Battle for Humanism

It is one of the puzzles that Edward Said left us, in sphinx-like manner,
upon his death: How can it be that a man associated with a radical
critique of Western civilization, an unceasing questioning of the values on
which Western scholarship was based, could also uphold, in the name of
humanism, the very kind of study of literature that his ideas should have
come to abhor? What was the attraction of the clear light of humanism
that evokes a world of thought so utterly different from the Krazy-Kat,
subaltern-driven world of postmodernism that came to surround his
project?
The first problem in understanding Saids humanism comes from
the term itself. We speak of humanism as if the term is self-evident. Emily
Apter writes intelligently of Saids humanism but she never defines what
she might mean by humanism. Said didnt help matters either. His
account of humanism varied over time, including a notion of what humans
(as opposed to nature or science) make, as well as their reflection on and
critique of those cultural artifacts. The Oxford English Dictionary only
confuses us further. Humanismis it the notion, according to Coleridge,
that Jesus is actually human rather than divine? Is it, somewhat obviously,
the character or quality of being human? Or is it a devotion to those
studies that promote human culture, especially the study of Greek and
Latin? No? Then is it in the philosophy of Schiller and William James
which proposes that it is impossible to strip the human element out from
even our most abstract theorizing? None of these seems to fit the bill.
We might get a better sense of Saids humanism by paying attention
to the way that he thought about writing and criticism. In his introduction
to a reissue of Erich Auerbachs Mimesis, Said remarks in Arnoldian and
even Leavisian cadence that there are thus only a small number of books
[that] seem perennially present and, by comparison with the vast majority
of their counterparts, to have an amazing staying power (11). Those works
are part of a world literature, Weltliteratur in Goethes sense, that gathers
into its inner sanctum a core group of books. They are not necessarily part
of a canonin the sense of regularly read worksbut rather a privileged
horde of wisdom available to those with the ability to read and and critique
it.
Said alternated between thinking of that canon as a capacious and
democratic thing subject to the messy browsing and consumption of a global
multitude and thinking of it as a restricted guide to the best and brightest
readers. Initially those brightest few were comprised of names like Erich
Auerbach, Leo Spitzer, Ernst Robert Curtius, Wilhelm Dilthey, Theodor
126 the minnesota review

Adornothinkers who recur througout Saids opus and are characterized

by their wide knowledge, a product of the German educational system,
particularly the Gymnasium. This philological enterprise isnt for the
faint-hearted, as it requires knowledge of many languages and detailed
interpretations in the original, quasi-sacred texts from Homer to Dante,
Augustine to Aquinas, Balzac to Mann.
Said suggested in Eric Auerbach, Critic of the Earthly World that
to understand a humanistic textone must try to do so as if one is the
author of that text, living the authors reality, undergoing the kind of life
experiences intrinsic to his or her life, and so forth, all by that combination of
erudition and sympathy that is the hallmark of philological hermeneutics
(15-16). So, as we winnow down what Said might mean by humanism, one
aspect may be a scholarly endeavor of close reading whose aim is to find the
person or peoplethe humansimbricated in the text. To find, as Said
put it in the title of a book, the confluence of the world, the text, and the
critic, as well as the author behind the text. The other feature involved in
this process, detailed brilliantly by Schleiermacher in what has been come
to be called the hermeneutic circle, is the complex difficulty, though
not impossibility, of knowing the critic, the author, or the world from
the text. As Said put it, But this perhaps tragic shortcoming of human
knowledge and history is one of the unresolved contradictions pertaining
to humanism itself, in which the role of thought in reconstructing the past
can neither be excluded nor squared with what is real (16). Humanism
for Said is inseparable from the menand they were almost always men
who created these great works that represented the human endeavor. The
study of such great men requires and causes a merger with them, a merger
which can only be achieved by a massive front-loading of knowledge, a
required but doomed activity that yields the impression of understanding
these works, these men, and their times, yet denies us certain knowledge
of them.
Alongside this individual-centered humanism was the messier
notion of humanism as a democratic contention over the canon and
its meaning: to understand humanism at all, for us as citizens of this
particular republic, is to understand it as democratic, open to all classes
and backgrounds, and as a process of unending disclosure, discovery,
self-criticism, and liberation (Humanism 22). Yet, as Said noted, there
is always a tragic dimension to this endeavor, since the paradox of self-
knowledge is that it always breaks down into the problematics of the self
and the contradictions of knowledge.
Anyone who knew Said knows that he had a group of scholars
with whom he always touched base. When I was a student at Columbia
University, I took courses with Said both as an undergraduate and graduate
student. This is when I first read the work of Erich Auerbach, Roland
Barthes, Leo Spitzer, Wilhelm Dilthey, R. P. Blackmur, Michel Foucault,
 Davis 127
Theodor W. Adorno, Giambattista Vico, and Antonio Gramsci. They
were members of a pantheon Said routinely included in his thinking. He
was loyal to them as he was loyal to his friends, and this group of men
became over the years his own version of the Metaphysical Cluba group
of thinkers he could return to, who, although he would make new friends
and enroll new members, were the core group. But there was a pugilistic
element to Saids club, which was in effect his Fight Club. Said could
here could match his considerable intellectual abilities against theirs. He
might fight them, but more likely hed fight others using them. With them
he attempted to read widely in world literature, learn what they learned,
speak their language, enter their world, and merge, as it were, with their
collective wisdom.
Its worth noting that few if any major intellectuals have ever assembled
such a posse of thinkers. It is much more usual for an intellectual to
choose a specific forbear, a father figure. It is equally usual for intellectuals
to define themselves against a single or a host of predecessors. But what
Said did was indeed unusual. He wasnt a Marxist or a Freudianeach of
which would imply a single progenitor. He didnt find a stream of authors
from the past from which he wished to diverge in significant ways. Rather,
he chose a group that would provide him company and cover.
Despite Saids sense of being out of place, he was not without a
sense of place and community with this intellectual group. This imagined
pugilistic community of scholars and critics provided a kind of shoulder-
to-shoulder fraternity and cultural locus from which to speak. In his book
Representations of the Intellectual, Said adopts Stephen Dedalus vow to
commit himself to silence, exile, and cunning as the hallmark phrase
of the intellectual. As Jeffrey Williams points out, this vow to silence
and exile seems at odds with Saids more publicly stated commitment to
speaking out and engaging in politics. Williams notes that Saids reference
to Dedalus taps into the strand of the forlorn, alienated Romantic artist/
Modernist intellectual and the lonely independence, exile, and self-
imposed marginality of the intellectual (402, 400). Saids Fight Club
makes possible the coexistence of his position of isolation and his political
impulse to speak out.
But there is something more to be said about the combative element.
Said explicitly framed his intellectual project as an embattled one. Very
early in his career he cites Harold Bloom approvingly, noting, One doesnt
just write: one writes against, or in opposition to (Power 15). It was
with Gramsci that Said found his model for intellectual interventionthe
notion of wars of position and movement. And his humanisitic project
included a commitment to duking it out with the hegemonic opposition:
I felt myself for many, many yearsas really being in the thick of a
tremendous battle. I dont mean just a literary or historical battle,
but a battle on more than one front; I was surrounded by combatants
128 the minnesota review

of one sort or another.This sense of being in an endless struggle was

sort of everywhere. I couldnt get away from it. It was relentless.
theres no end to it. In other words, if youre going to go on fighting
the battle of truth in a polemical and purely intellectual way, its an
endless war. (203)
Its no wonder then that Said needed to garner all the help he could get
most academics just write, Said battled.
When I was in graduate school in the early 1970s, Said published
his first major work, Beginnings: Intention and Method (1975). He was
a young upstart in the US world of literary theory dominated by the
so-called Yale SchoolHarold Bloom, Geoffrey H. Hartman, J. Hillis
Miller, Paul de Man, and others. They were not in his club. For the
most part they questioned the notion that literary texts were complete,
analyzable systems. Said by temperament opposed any notion that there
was no there there in a literary text, and he situated himself between
the critics oriented toward first structural and then deconstructive theory,
and the older ones focused on philology and history. Thus Auerbach and
Spitzer were in the club; Derrida was definitely not. Adorno was always
in, although the use Said made of him was selective at best. Although
Said was out of place in not aligning himself with one particular school
or discipline, he managed to maintain a sense of equanimity by herding
together with his own intellectual types. He admired both Bloom and
Miller, but also strangely R. P. Blackmur, whom he called the greatest
genius American criticism has produced (Power 8), and Harry Levin, the
more sedate and historical (and Jewish) critic about whom Said notes, If
you read a critic like Harry Levin on Shakespeare or on the novel you are
getting a learned and sharp intelligence that can use much of what needs
to be used (including Lukcs, Bachelard, Barthes, Freud, etc.) because it
serves a serious critical aim (Power 8). An unlikely array of members, here
was the retinue of those with learned and sharp intelligence, ambiguous
national identifications, and contrarian or somewhat classical views of
literature, who could be used in thinking through the works of the more
avant-garde critics.
Levin, Auerbach, and the others offered a cosmopolitan viewpoint
that gave Said, paradoxically, an engaged distance. Saids engagement was
always from a nuanced, learned, and somewhat Olympian perspective.
While many other scholars embraced the notion that literature was
a deconstructive blur spinning out from an unknowable center, Said
tenaciously held to the ideas that literature had meaning and that anyone
trained in the extensive knowledge of world literature and philosophy
could decipher it. He used words like truth and justice as refutations
to the propositions of anti-foundationalist and postmodernist discussions
of the impossibility of using such terms. It was in this sense that he was
first, foremost, and always a humanist.
 Davis 129
Although Saids early writings were not political in the sense that
his work later became, he had a distinct affiliation with historical cultural
study as opposed to the more ahistorical approach of the postmodernists.
Even in 1976, he formulated an essentially traditional notion of historical
change in literature: A great deal of what matters in cultural history is not
what you might call revolutionary change but conservative; culture is not
made exclusively or even principally by heroes or radicals all the time, but
by great anonymous movements whose function it is to keep things going
(Power 11). Perhaps we can call that anonymous movement humanism.
And while many radical intellectuals of this period began to attack the
canon, Said maintained what might be called a great books approach.
He later described himself as someone whose intellectual life has been
dedicated largely to the understanding and teaching of great works of
literary and musical art (Humanism 62). This conviction that humanism
is bound up with the close reading of great works would later be taken up
in Culture and Imperialism (1993). For Said, the point is not to get rid
of the canon, which he recognizes leaves out many peoples, but to bring
into the canon significant works of emerging nations while holding fast to
writers such as Jane Austen or Rudyard Kipling. His canon expanded by
including global writers rather than specifically women, people of color,
gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, disabled, or indigenous writers. This
isnt to say that Said was racist, homophobic, sexisthe was too smart
to be any of those. But his club had limited membership, although he
might not oppose other clubs. He was, however, continuously critical
of the kind of identity politics that shut down boundaries and borders.
This stance put him in opposition to certain identity groups seeking to
purge the canon of its dead, mostly white-male biases, yet Said was never
attacked as conservative. For example, he repeatedly defended Conrad for
writing Heart of Darkness, that bizarre novel about a white mans journey
into Africa, against Chinua Achebes charges that the work was racist and
imperialist. Said maintained throughout Culture and Imperialism that
rather than jettison Heart of Darkness, it should be read in conjunction with
other works and seen as one kind of critique of the white mans burden.
In 1976, the year that I completed my dissertation under his
supervision, Said had just begun to bring his political life into dynamic
relationship with his literary career. But Said himself did not have the
best insight into how to combine those worlds. As he noted then, Until
fairly recently, I led two quite separate lives . . . on the one hand Im a
literary scholar, critic, and teacher, I lead a pretty uncontroversial life in a
big university, and Ive done a fair amount of work which has always been
plugged into the established channels. . . . Yet I lead another life, which
most literary people say nothing about. . . . My whole background in the
Middle East . . . all this exists in a totally different box. . . (Power 14). He
points out with what seems in retrospect an amazing matter-of-factness:
130 the minnesota review

There are links between the two worlds which I for one am beginning to
exploit in my own work (15). It is breathtaking to remember that much of
what we call postcolonial criticism would be either absent or different had
Said just gotten up the next morning and decided that he could not really
find links between the literary world and the political world.
But the Said of 1976 had not yet formed himself. Tellingly, the one
critic he mentions most during this period is Harold Bloom, whose then
recently published The Anxiety of Influence detailed a convoluted Freudian
theory behind artistic careers, claiming that writers are locked in Oedipal
struggle with the masters who precede them. One sees in Saids early period
a fascination with forerunner male critics and scholars against whom one
must measure oneself and rebel. It is not so much that Said evolves a
theoretical position but, more characteristically, he is swept off his feet
by a thinker and then welcomes him into the intellectual gathering. For
example, Said read Vicos The New Science as a graduate student. What
appealed to him was its argument that history is secularmade by humans,
not God. One may question why a so arcane a philosopher as Vico, and
one whose point seems so irrelevant to contemporary history, should have
become a touchstone for Said.
Saids insistence on a secular, nonreligious way of thinking became
much clearer after September 11. His interviews reveal that the world in
which he grew up and lived was profoundly religious. Sheik Omar and
Osama bin Laden, along with George Bush and Pat Robertson, do believe
that God works actively in history. Vico became a constant reference
for Said and defined his humanisma deep belief in the power of the
individual to think new things and make intellectual history. His model
of knowledge was not the Deleuzian notion of impersonalized rhizomatic
knowledge, nor so much Foucaults anonymous discursity, but a pantheon
of great human minds, each replete with a colorful and engaging
personality. As Said put it, the relationship between reader-critic and the
text is transformed from a one-way interrogation of the historical text by
an altogether alien mind at a much later time, into a sympathetic dialogue
of two spirits across ages and cultures who are able to communicate with
each other as friendly, respectful spirits trying to understand each other
(16). Humanism is a long conversation between reader and author about
the fate of the world.
There were two anomalies in Saids Fight ClubMichel Foucault
and Yasir Arafat. Both were welcomed and then forcibly evicted. What
might these two have in common? Saids most influential book, Orientalism,
was heavily influenced by Foucaults theory of discourse and its power
over people. Discourses seldom represent accurately what they purport to
describe, but reflect the biases of the blurry and abstract forces that have
created the discourse. Said took this insight and detailed how the study
of the East constructed the Middle East for Europeans and Americans.
 Davis 131
Yet, after this insight, Said moved radically away from Foucaults work,
and ultimately came to feel that Foucault was masochistically drawn to
powera scribe of domination (Power 138). Said found Foucaults
quietism in the face of power ultimately disempowering. Foucault
backed away and essentially admitted that he believed in no positive truths,
ideas, or ideals (Power 40). Said is not entirely fair to Foucault, whom he
did not know personally, as he did so many others, like Noam Chomsky,
Gore Vidal, Daniel Barenboim, and a younger generation of scholars
including Bruce Robbins, Rob Nixon, Ric Burns, Sean and Amy Wilentz,
Bill Ayers, Paul Bovthe literati, the glitterati, and the politicorati. He
ignores the Foucault who demonstrated in the streets of Paris, and who,
among all the poststructuralists, could be relied on, until his death, to be
present at some manifestation or other. It is true that the Foucault of
the major works isnt exactly the same Foucault of the interviews and the
lectures at the Collge de France, and Said was devoted to the page rather
than the street.
In a similar way, Arafat at first impressed Said. Said initially
described the Palestinian leader in his book After the Last Sky (1986) as
a genius at mediation who took the dispersed and unrecoverable history
of the Palestinians and represented it, making it impossible to see the
Middle East . . . without seeing the Palestinian (121). For Said, Arafat was
the only person who could perform this act of representation to the world.
At that moment Said was himself deeply embroiled in the Palestinian
struggle, working closely with Arafat as a member of the Palestinian
National Council and as an informal negotiator with the White House.
Death threats were made against Saids life, and FBI agents stood guard
at the apartment building in which, at that time, both Said and I lived. I
remember walking with my children past these armed agents with a strange
mixture of fear and admiration. Few literary figures have ever experienced
this level of public attention. Yet, even as Said represented the Palestinians
in the corridors of power, in the media, and by writing books like After
the Last Sky, The Question of Palestine, and Covering Islam, he eventually
found himself disaffected with Arafat. He denounced the Oslo Accords
in the pages of the Nation as a betrayal of the Palestinian cause and a treaty
of surrender. In an interview originally published in 1995 and reprinted
in Power, Politics, and Culture as Symbols Versus Substance, Said says
that after trying democratic reforms within Arafats government, I have
 When I was a graduate student studying in France in 1973, Said asked me to deliver some
written materials to Foucault. That was, I believe, one of the limited interactions between the
two. As far as I know, Foucault never mentioned Said in his work.
 In detailing my very ancilliary and Boswellian role in all this, I recall happening to be in
Geneva, and again couriering material between Said and Jean Mohr, in their collaboration on
After the Last Sky. I should mention, also that I wrote a review of the book for The Journal
of Palestinian Studies, a factor in my not getting tenure at Brandeis University.but thats
another story.
132 the minnesota review

taken the position . . . that the leadership [of the PLO] is obdurate and
unreformable (395). He goes on to call for Arafats resignation and suggests
that Arab intellectuals engage in noncooperation with the PLO and the
Palestinian Authority in a new form of intifada. Said describes Arafat as
the enforcer of occupation as well as a corrupt and self-aggrandizing
Tammany Hall-style politician.
Foucault and Arafat might seem, at first sight, strange bedfellows in
their eviction from the Fight Club. But to Said, they both represented the
abuse of power, the glorification of control, and the negation of agency.
A consistent theme throughout Saids career is a suspicion of power and
monolithic authority in politics and in culture. Said repeatedly spoke about
not wanting to make a meta-theoretical system, start a school, or have
disciples. He made it clear that he was not a Marxist, a deconstructionist,
or any kind of ist. This aspect of Saids humanism might be seen as
an opposition to a will-to-power, whether it was Arafats virtual one or
Foucaults theoretical one, yet Said himself was, when he needed to be,
forceful, powerful, and even authoritarian.
As Said threw Foucault out of the camp, Antonio Gramsci moved in.
Said notes this moment when he says, what one feels is lacking in Foucault
is something resembling Gramscis analysis of hegemony, of historical
blocs and given relationships as a whole, constructed in accordance with
the perspective of a politically active individual for whom the description
of fascinating power mechanisms never becomes a substitute for the effort
made to transform power relationships in society (The World 222). What
appealed to Said was not Gramscis Marxism so much as his explanation
of power and its institution in hegemony. Hegemonic power was more like
Rousseaus social contractagreed to by both sides rather than imposed by
a dominant force on a servile population. Civil society was more like a war
of position than a monolithic force wielded on docile bodies. This meant
that people had as much power to undo oppression as they had to live with
it. As Vico showed that people make history, Gramsci showed that people
could unmake it through a long war of position. Like the Palestinians,
Italians in civil society could use the press, schools, and rhetoric in general
to fight this battle, not so much on the field as in peoples hearts and
minds.
Said was engaged in just such a war of position. Unlike almost any
other academic, he was involved in realpolitik through the media, in the
educational institutions, and in the Palestinian National Council. Only
toward the end of his life did Said move toward the idea of reconciliation.
In 1993 he observed, in a voice now eerily prescient, It might be possible
to end the conflict with the Israelis not by defeating them but by trying to
provide a model of reconciliation for them and their history, and for us and
our history, together (Power 202).
 Davis 133
Although he was the author of a battalion of books and articles and
the eminence grise of orientalism, Said did not attempt to seize a kind of
literary and cultural authority by enforcing a theoretical system as did some
of the Yale School. In its place, his constant metaphor was music. An avid
pianist, lover of classical music, and music critic for the Nation, Said always
referred to his method as contrapuntal. In his various works, Orientalism
aside, Said makes no grand, totalizing claims. Rather, he played different
themes, linking them in the counterpoint of a cosmopolitan worldliness.
He echoed Adornos formulation that the whole is a lie when he said:
I think the one thing that I find, I guess, the mostI wouldnt
say repellent, but I would say antagonisticfor me is identity. The
notion of a single identity, and so multiple identity, the polyphony
of many voices playing off against each other, without, as I see, the
need to reconcile them, just to hold them together, is what my work
is all about. More than one culture, more than one awareness, both
in its negative and its positive modes. (Power 99)
Saids anti-identitarian stand is ultimately linked to his somewhat
backward-looking humanism. For him, the answer was not in the culture,
not the long-chain of identity sunk with an anchor into a particular
cultural port, but the release from that chain to the open sea afforded by
the best and brightest who wrote the classics of world literature. Said never
wanted to be the Arab or the Christian from the Middle East. He wanted
to be the Princeton-Harvard graduate who read the best books and talked
with the best thinkers.
Said ended as he beganwith philology. His final and definitive
words on humanism, delivered in a series of lectures at Columbia University
and collected in Humanism and Democratic Criticism (2004), suggest that
it is through philology that the humanities can find themselves again.
He denigrates the kind of popular reading of texts in which a reader
moves immediatelyfrom a quick, superficial reading into general or
even concrete statements about vast structures of power or into vaguely
therapeutic structures of salutary redemption. Rather, he wishes to see a
practice which I have been calling philological, that is, a detailed, patient
scrutiny of and a lifelong attentiveness to the words and rhetorics by
which language is used by human beings who exist in history (61). It is
obvious that such a devotion to the detailed, patient, close reading of great
books by those who have a lifelong attentiveness to language is the clearest
articulation of the Fight Clubs mentality against the legions of careless
ideologues and upbeat do-gooders who would massacre humanistic culture.
Its hard to reconcile the democratic criticism Said sometimes invokes with
the inner-sanctum high seriousness of this humanism.
When I was a student in Saids class, he liked to refer to two
moments in Rudyard Kiplings novel Kim. The first was when the young
street urchin, of Anglo birth but totally socialized to the streets of Lahore,
134 the minnesota review

is held under the sway of Lurgan Sahib, a Fagin-type who makes Kim
smash a pot and then hypnotically causes him to see the pot appear to
reassemble itself. The second moment occurs at the end of the book, when
Kim suddenly begins to lose his identity in the confusion of a quasi-out-
of-body experience. In order to pull himself together, he repeats, I am
Kim. I am Kim. And what is Kim? I think those two moments seized
Said for several reasons. The first, of course, is the identification with Kim,
the boy who is of the Orient but not, whose name is not his name but
rather a kind of location, whose destiny is to be both in and out of place,
and whose fate is to help imagine a different kind of Orient and nation.
The second is the idea that through imagination and its incarnation in
literature disparate parts can be reconciled. The pot is broken, but it is
still whole in a moment as, Kipling writes, the shadow-outline of the jar
cleared like a mist after rubbing his eyes. Said imagines a Palestine that
is both broken and fixed, in shards and whole. Only through asserting a
self, a self that is radically disjointed and out of place but still and finally a
self, can one affect the world and change it. That self is not a self brought
into being by an identity tied to a place, but one created by the mind,
aided by world culture of the highest Arnoldian sort, and transmuted to
an intellectual lingua franca spoken around the world by those who see
themselves as worthy to engage in the endeavor. In effect, the broken jar
(that is not broken) is culture the way Said wanted itdifficult to imagine,
hallucinatorily whole, dizzyingly complex and even beautiful, dialectically
caught between Adornian moments. And the hallucination happens under
the creative and watchful gaze of the older man and sage Lurgan Sahib, the
new member of Kims Fight Club.
When Said died, after a very long illness that slowly debilitated him
in an endless war of position, the effect on many of us, a secondary club of
former students, was one of devastation. We were devastated because the
world seemed less bright and brilliant without Saids particular charisma
and charm. But I would venture that the loss was greater because it was a
loss of a place. Said created an intellectual locus where Vico could take up
arms with Adorno and Gramsci, where the boys (yes, it was largely a mens
club) could duke it out in the cause of the greatest ideas and struggles of
the time, where one could actually imagine a discoursecall it backward-
looking, progressive, radical. Now that place, like Brigadoon and
Neverland, is no longer accessible except in Saids writings. We couldnt,
and probably wouldnt want to, live in that realmits historical and
cultural specificity, paradoxically, is too of this time and that place. But
the dream of the Club, linked finally to the identity of the man, must still
cause a shiver of recognitionfor a humanism that is no longer possible,
a position that allows for the greatness of texts, the historical importance
of metanarratives, the complexities of assertion, and the grandeur of a
personality to bring all those impossible things into one single place.
 Davis 135

Works Cited
Apter, Emily. Saidian Humanism. boundary2 31:2 (2004): 35-53.

Said, Edward W. After the Last Sky: Palestine Lives. New York: Pantheon, 1985.

---. Erich Auerbach, Critic of the Earthly World. boundary2 31:2 (2004):11-34.

---. Humanism and Democratic Criticism. New York: Columbia UP, 2004.

---. Power, Politics, and Culture: Interviews with Edward Said. Ed. Gauri Viswanathan.
New York: Pantheon, 2001.

---. The World, The Text, and the Critic. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard UP, 1983.

Williams, Jeffrey J. Edward Saids Romance of the Amateur Intellectual. The Review of
Education, Pedagogy and Cultural Studies 17:4 (1995): 397-410.