Exactly. All work and no ploy makes Gatsby a dull boy.
BTW, in school I used to wonder about all of the interpretation and analyses of these novels. Like when we’re taught that the rope represents the life of the main character (made up example), how do we know that’s what the author intended and isn’t just the product of generations of English teachers’ study guides?
I mean sometimes a story is just a story and not a metaphor for something larger. I know for instance that Dickens was writing popular fiction. He was sort of the John Grisham of his time. And some of the others who wrote what we now consider “great literature” were also just writing stories, albeit really good ones.
Sometimes the cigar is just a smoke.
You know, the English 101 rule I didn’t really ‘get’ was the ‘don’t read the author into their works’. And I understand that to a point, but the book is trying to say something and what it’s saying is also telling us what is important to the author.
For example, I don’t know much about Frank Herbert, but I do know from reading Dune issues regarding messianic figures, resource depletion, and politics concern Frank Herbert the man quite a bit. It’s right there in his work!
The English 101 rule we got was ‘don’t read the author into their characters’. I certainly agree with you that the work itself reflects the author.
Well, there goes my Frank Herbert = Stilgar take. 
- Not everything that’s genuinely there in a novel is something the author consciously intended.
- The reader doesn’t necessarily have to be consciously aware of something in a novel to be affected by it.
- When something like “the rope represents the life of the main character” is pointed out to you, does it fit? Does it make you say “Ah, I see. That makes sense”? Does it deepen your understanding or appreciation of the novel? If so, it’s a legitimate interpretation, whether or not it’s something the author consciously intended.
Interesting you bring up Herbert in that context. There’s a scene at the end of one of the later Dune books (number 6, I believe) that involves two characters, ostensibly Ixian shapeshifters, who are discussing what can be done with the characters in the book. They’re masterminds, manipulating the other characters. The man is disappointed that one of the characters died, since he had plans for him.
The only thing is the details of the scene. The two are engaged in gardening around a small house which is surrounded by a white picket fence. The man is wearing a porkpie hat. Does this sound like a scene from thousands of years in the future, which the rest of the books are set in? Or mid-20th century America? It certainly seemed like the latter to me and I concluded that this was really the author and his wife discussing the next book. Or lack thereof, since I’m pretty sure it was the last Dune book that Frank Herbert wrote.
Shakespeare is terrible if your teacher doesn’t know how to teach it, and wonderful if your teacher does.
Sometimes the interpretation made sense. Sometimes it had me rolling my eyes at the pretentiousness of the English teacher.
I grad school, I had to read and interpret a short story titled (in translation) “The Centurion and the Fisherman.” I don’t remember anything about it except that (a) it was set in a Soviet prison and (b) it ended with “The Fisherman” trying to decide if he should hang himself with his belt while he’s in the john.
I thought the story was crap, but this was the era of Perestroika and Glasnost, the first time in 70 years religion could be discussed openly in Russia. So I put a Biblical spin on it and wound up by saying that by not committing suicide “The Fisherman” failed to understand the meaning of sacrifice.
The instructor loved it, and I got a “5” (the best possible grade) in that class.
I wrote a 12th grade paper on Lewis Carroll effectively arguing he was a perv. It never would have occurred to me to keep it, but it’s the one thing I did in high school which I wish I did retain.
However, a warm savory steam from the kitchen served to belie the apparently cheerless prospect before us. But when that smoking chowder came in, the mystery was delightfully explained. Oh, sweet friends! hearken to me. It was made of small juicy clams, scarcely bigger than hazel nuts, mixed with pounded ship biscuit, and salted pork cut up into little flakes; the whole enriched with butter, and plentifully seasoned with pepper and salt.”
There is a recipe.
Exactly. Doesn’t that sound like something you’d love to sit down to on a cold winter night?
As Mark Twain wrote “PERSONS attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.”
Or the infamously wrong parallel between Free silver and the Wizard of Oz.
Too bad he’s no longer around to enforce that on the English teachers of America.
It’s almost certainly a product of the pedagogy of how to teach literature. Whether any given interpretation matches the author’s intent is, in almost all cases, completely unknowable, so most literary analysis doesn’t really concern itself with getting a “correct” answer. For works where there’s a “standard” interpretation taught in schools, that interpretation is likely chosen not because it’s the strongest or best interpretation, but because it’s the easiest to teach to students who are still learning how to analyze and interpret literature.
If the author’s intent was knowable, what would change? If the author unambiguously did not intend an interpretation does that mean the interpretation is wrong?
I just finished rereading Dune, of which my copy has an afterword by Brian Herbert. In it he says “One time I asked my father if he identified with any of the characters in his stories, and to my surprise he said it was Stilgar, the rugged leader of the Fremen.” So there you go.
I had the pigeon one, Senior year and twice in college, including a class in woman’s studies that I took to meet … er … young ladies, but what that slopbarsch had to do with modern feminism was even beyond a caveman like me.
I KNEW IT!
Stilgar was a bit too upright for the Duneiverse. He didn’t really have many flaws, and if he is an actual author doppelganger, his train of thoughts when walking Leto 2 back to the sietch in Children now takes on a cast of an author telling himself not to fall into storytelling cliches.