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extend access to New Literary History
Joseph North
Introduction
I. A. Richards, Inventor
rater are also clearly on his mind—but his description is also intended
to fit a vast range of aesthetic thinking, before and since, that tries to
use the Kantian division of the faculties to set up the "aesthetic" as a
special or privileged mode of experience, divorced from experience of
both intellectual/cognitive and desiring/moral kinds.
In view of the ways his work was later taken up by thoroughgoing
Kantians, it is worth dwelling here on the fact that his rejection of this
idealist Kantian aesthetics is made in the strongest terms. He tells us that
Kantian aesthetics "has had an influence upon speculation which would
be ridiculous if it had not been so disastrous. It is difficult even now to
get out of ruts which have been seen to lead nowhere" (8). While he
broadly accepts many of Kant's claims outside the realm of aesthetics, he
informs us that within aesthetics Kantian Idealism has led to "calamitous
distortions" (9). Whatever the merits of his line of argument as a critique
of Kant—and we should, I think, be at the very least suspicious of any
thorough critique of Kant's aesthetics that does not understand itself as
necessarily undermining much of the other two parts of the system—it
is hard to miss the fact that Richards is in earnest here.
Against these idealist philosophies of the distinct aesthetic state, he
offers us what it seems fair to call an incipiently materialist view of the
aesthetic: a view of aesthetic experience that vigorously insists on its
continuity with experience of normal, practical kinds. He insists that
When we look at a picture, or read a poem, or listen to music, we are not doing
something quite unlike what we were doing on our way to the gallery or when
we dressed in the morning. The fashion in which the experience is caused in
us is different, and as a rule the experience is more complex and, if we are suc
cessful, more unified. But our activity is not of a fundamentally different kind.
To assume that it is, puts difficulties in the way of describing and explaining it,
which are unnecessary and which no one has yet succeeded in overcoming. (12)
It must be insisted that the true Sovietists or Communists—if the term may be
used here in the European sense—are the [Northern] Industrialists themselves.
They would have the government set up an economic super-organization, which
With Principles I encountered more difficult going. What Richards had to say wa
exciting, but I resisted the new psychological terminology as well as the conf
dent positivism of the author. Nevertheless the book could not be dismissed.
had to cope with it—to try to form an adequate answer to it—or else capitulat
The result was that I read Prindples perhaps a dozen times during that firs
year of acquaintance—and profited from the experience. For the kind of reading
that I practiced in trying to find a sound basis for rejecting what Richards ha
written was intense reading, the sort from which one learns. If I did not gain
an understanding of Richards' whole system, an understanding so clear that i
compelled acceptance, I did at least sharpen my insight, ways of perceiving, and
methods of analysis. (586)
Brooks, to his credit, has no qualms about telling us that his difficu
ties in understanding the work formed no impediment to his rejectio
of it. On the contrary: it is his "attempt to find a sound basis for reje
ing" Principles—his sense that to agree with Richards here would be t
"capitulate"—that leads him to try to understand it, again and again.
What in Richards's theory struck Brooks, and the other New Critics
as so objectionable? On the surface, the problem seems to have been
with something called "psychological machinery." Here, with this muc
reiterated phrase, we again encounter the symptoms of a situation i
Probably the most stubborn popular error which aestheticians are agreed up
in fighting is the notion that the work of art deals immediately with the passio
instead of mediately. . . Richards is well aware of this chapter of aesthetic theory, whic
begins with Kant and has gone through several equivalent versions since. His peculia
interest in the attitudes or consequences of the cognitive stimulus takes som
of the emphasis off the emotions. What is left is an unfortunate, and, I judg
unconscious evasion of the cognitive analysis. He employs a locution which is ve
modern, and almost fashionable, but nevertheless lazy and thoughtless. He refers to the
tinctive emotion of a poem instead of to its distinctive cognitive object. (16-17; my itali
as he does here because, for thinkers formed within this very particular
structure of feeling, it really is not quite imaginable that another thinker
in aesthetics, raised within a very different structure of feeling, might
set himself the task of questioning the authority of Kant.
So once again we observe that the encounter between two very different
intellectual formations is resulting in a great deal of confusion—often,
at root, of a rather simple kind. For present purposes, the substantive
point is simply that, seemingly without knowing it, Ransom effects a
complete reversal of the theoretical orientation of the kinds of practice
that Richards had initiated: to both the "error" of making literary judg
ments on the basis of judgments about affective states, and the "error"
of "plain moralism," Ransom's response ultimately will be to appeal to
Consequences
But the history of the discipline is a dialectical one, and the most
pressing consequences of this initial reversal, and the subsequent
effacement of it, were still to come. In the late 1970s and early 1980s,
the discipline underwent another reversal: a consensus began to be built
around the idea that "aesthetic criticisms" of all kinds had to be rejected,
on the grounds that the category of the "aesthetic" was irredeemably
essentializing, universalizing, and idealist—which, to many, meant
politically conservative. It is not too much to say that most contemporary
approaches to literature, from the most traditional historicisms through
the most radical versions of cultural studies, still rest on this consensus;
and the consensus itself largely rests on the discipline's sense that the
project of "aesthetic criticism" can only be thought through in what are
effectively New Critical terms. Arguments against "close reading" today
often take this form: in my epigraph, for example, Moretti's implication
seems to be that close reading is originally ("at bottom") New Critical,
and therefore tainted with Christian conservatism, which means that
rejecting it in favor of data analysis might be something of a progressive
act. The background assumption here is surely that "close reading," like
the aesthetic, can only be thought through in what are ultimately idealist
terms. As we have seen, this is not the case: the example of I. A. Richards
shows not only that another kind of aesthetics is possible, but that it
once existed and was indeed responsible for the development of many
Columbia University
NOTES
1 For some recent examples of the first kind of account, which treat "close rea
mainly as a New Critical innovation, see Frank Lentricchia and Andrew DuBois, ed
Reading: The Reader (Durham, NC: Duke Univ. Press, 2003), especially DuBois's in
tion; Franco Moretti "Conjectures on World Literature," New Left Review 1 (2000
and Jane Gallop's 'The Historicization of Literary Study and the Fate of Close R
Profession (2007): 181-85, as well as her "Close Reading in 2009," ADE Bulletin 149
15-19. For some recent examples of the second kind of account, in which "close
is seen as originating with Richards and Empson, but Richards and Empson are th
as "proto-New Critics," see John Guillory's very interesting "Close Reading: Prolo
Epilogue," ADE Bulletin 149 (2010): 8-14 (Richards is the "prologue" here); and J
Culler's extremely fine piece 'The Closeness of Close Reading," ADE Bulletin 149
20-25, which makes the same move via the formulation "Anglo-American New Cr
2 For reasons of space, I will focus on Richards and the New Critics; the importa
in many ways exceptional case of William Empson will have to be left for anoth
So, too, will T. S. Eliot, who is clearly a key mediating figure between the two grou
one who really warrants a separate treatment.
3 Richards said that he didn't "know much about the Am. New Critics [and] never wan
to acknowledge any relation, whatsoever, to whomsoever they are"; or again, on
occasion: "I can't add anything about my 'followers' not having known who they
or easily acknowledging any who seemed to regard themselves so." These stateme
Richards's way of divorcing himself entirely from New Criticism as a critical tenden
should not of course be taken literally: as Richards's biographer John Russo notes, R
in fact knew a great deal about the New Critics, being personally acquainted with m
them. John Paul Russo, I. A. Richards: His Life and Work (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
Press, 1989), 524. William Empson, for his part, referred to the view, associated w
New Criticism and with Neo-Christian criticism more generally, "that the reader of
only has the words on the page, and the author didn't mean him to have anyth
so he mustn't know anything [else]," as "dogma" and "absurd." William Empso
Argument about Shakespeare's Characters," Critical Quarterly 7, no. 3 (1965), in S
Letters of William Empson, ed. John Haffenden (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 2006),
4 Richards, Principles of Literary Criticism (London: Routledge, 2001). Richards, P
Criticism: A Study of Literary Judgment (London: Harcourt Brace Jovanoich, 1956).
5 Ransom et al., I'll take My Stand: The South and the Agrarian Tradition by Twelve S
ers (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State Univ. Press, 1977).
6 The key study here would be Mark Jancovich's The Cultural Politics of New Cr
(Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1993).