Eagleton-Phenomenology, Hermeneutics, Reception Theory

‘Phenomenology, Hermeneutics, Reception Theory’ Terry Eagleton’s Literary TheoryIn 1918 Europe lay in ruins, devastated by the worst war in history. In the wake of that catastrophe, a wave of social revolutions rolled across the continent: the years around 1920 were to witness the erlin !partacus uprisin" and the #ienna $eneral !trike, the establish%ent of workers& !oviets in 'unich and udapest, and %ass factory occupations throu"hout Italy. (ll of this insur"ency was violently crushed) but the social order of European capitalis% had been shaken to its roots by the carna"e of the war and its turbulent political after%ath. *he ideolo"ies on which that order had custo%arily depended, the cultural values by which it ruled, were also in deep tur%oil. !cience see%ed to have dwindled to a sterile positivis%, a %yopic obsession with the cate"ori+in" of facts) philosophy appeared torn between such a positivis% on the one hand, and an indefensible sub,ectivis% on the other) for%s of relativis% and irrationalis% were ra%pant, and art reflected this bewilderin" loss of bearin"s. It was in this conte-t of widespread ideolo"ical crisis, one which lon" pre.dated the /irst 0orld 0ar itself, that the $er%an philosopher Ed%und 1usserl sou"ht to develop a new philosophical %ethod which would lend absolute certainty to a disinte"ratin" civili+ation. It was a choice, 1usserl was to write later in his The Crisis of the European Sciences 219345, between irrationalist barbarity on the one hand, and spiritual rebirth throu"h an 6absolutely self.sufficient science of the spirit& on the other. 1usserl, like his philosopher predecessor 7ene 8escartes, started out on his hunt for certainty by provisionally re,ectin" what he called the 6natural attitude& the co%%onsensical person.in.the.street belief that ob,ects e-isted independently of ourselves in the e-ternal world, and that our infor%ation about the% was "enerally reliable. !uch an attitude %erely took the possibility of knowled"e for "ranted, whereas it was this, precisely, which was in 9uestion. 0hat then can we be clear about and certain of: (lthou"h we cannot be sure of the independent e-istence of thin"s, 1usserl ar"ues, we can be certain of how they appear to us i%%ediately in consciousness, whether the actual thin" we are e-periencin" is an illusion or not. ;b,ects can be re"arded not as thin"s in the%selves but as thin"s posited, or 6intended&, by consciousness. (ll consciousness is consciousness of so%ethin": in thinkin", I a% aware that %y thou"ht is 6pointin" towards& so%e ob,ect. *he act of thinkin" and the ob,ect of thou"ht are internally related, %utually dependent. 'y consciousness is not ,ust a passive re"istration of the world, but actively constitutes or 6intends& it. *o establish certainty, then, we %ust first of all i"nore, or 6put in brackets&, anythin" which is beyond our i%%ediate e-perience) we %ust reduce the e-ternal world to the contents of our consciousness alone. *his, the so.called 6pheno%enolo"ical reduction&, is 1usserl&s first i%portant %ove. Everythin" not 6i%%anent& to consciousness %ust be ri"orously e-cluded) all realities %ust be treated as pure 6pheno%ena&, in ter%s of their appearances in our %ind, and this is the only absolute data fro% which we can be"in. *he na%e 1usserl "ave to his philosophical %ethod pheno%enolo"y ste%s fro% this insistence. <heno%enolo"y is a science of pure pheno%ena. *his, however, is not enou"h to resolve our proble%s. /or perhaps all we find, when we inspect the contents of our %inds, is no %ore than a rando% flu- of pheno%ena, a chaotic strea% of consciousness, and we can hardly found certainty upon this. *he kind of 6pure& pheno%ena with which 1usserl is concerned, however, are %ore than ,ust rando% individual particulars. *hey are a syste% of universal essences, for pheno%enolo"y varies each ob,ect in i%a"ination until it discovers what is invariable about it. 0hat is presented to pheno%enolo"ical knowled"e is not ,ust, say, the e-perience of ,ealousy or of the colour red, but the universal types or essences of these thin"s, ,ealousy or redness as such. *o "rasp any pheno%enon wholly and purely is to "rasp what is essential and unchan"in" about it. *he $reek word for type is eidos) and 1usserl accordin"ly speaks of his %ethod as effectin" an 6eidetic& abstraction, alon" with its pheno%enolo"ical reduction. (ll of this %ay sound intolerably abstract and unreal, which indeed it is. ut the ai% of pheno%enolo"y was in fact the precise opposite of abstraction: it was a return to the concrete, to solid "round, as its fa%ous slo"an 6 ack to the thin"s the%selves=& su""ested. <hilosophy had been too concerned with concepts and too little with hard data: it had thus built its precarious, top.heavy intellectual syste%s on the frailest of foundations. <heno%enolo"y, by sei+in" what we could be e-perientially sure of, could furnish the basis on which "enuinely reliable knowled"e could be constructed. It could be a 6science of sciences&, providin" a %ethod for the study of anythin" whatsoever: %e%ory, %atchbo-es, %athe%atics. If offered itself as nothin" less than a science of hu%an consciousness hu%an consciousness conceived not ,ust as the e%pirical e-perience of particular people, but as the very 6deep structures& of the %ind itself. >nlike the sciences, it asked not about this or that particular for% of knowled"e, but about the conditions which %ade any sort of knowled"e possible in the first place. It was thus, like the philosophy of ?ant before it, a 6transcendental& %ode of en9uiry) and the hu%an sub,ect, or individual consciousness, which preoccupied it was a 6transcendental& sub,ect. <heno%enolo"y e-a%ined not ,ust what I happened to perceive when I looked at a particular rabbit, but the universal essence of rabbits and of the act of perceivin" the%. It was not, in other words, a for% of e%piricis%, concerned with the rando%, fra"%entary e-perience of particular individuals) neither was it a kind of 6psycholo"is%&, interested ,ust in the observable %ental processes of such individuals. It clai%ed to lay bare the very structures of consciousness itself, and in the sa%e act to lay bare the very pheno%ena the%selves. It should be obvious even fro% this brief account of pheno%enolo"y that it is a for% of %ethodolo"ical idealis%, seekin" to e-plore an abstraction called 6hu%an consciousness& and a world of pure possibilities. ut if 1usserl re,ected e%piricis%, psycholo"is% and the positivis% of the natural sciences, he also considered hi%self to be breakin" with the classical idealis% of a thinker like ?ant. ?ant had been unable to solve the proble% of how the %ind can really know ob,ects outside it at all) pheno%enolo"y, in clai%in" that what is "iven in pure perception is the very essence of thin"s, hoped to sur%ount this scepticis%. It all see%s a far cry fro% @eavis and the or"anic society. ut is it: (fter all, the return to 6thin"s in the%selves&, the i%patient dis%issal of theories unrooted in 6concrete& life, is not so far fro% @eavis&s naively %i%etic theory of poetic lan"ua"e as e%bodyin" the very stuff of reality itself. @eavis and 1usserl both turn to the consolations of the concrete, of what can be known on the pulses, in a period of %a,or ideolo"ical crisis) and this recourse to 6thin"s the%selves& involves in both cases a radley.ects appear as alienated. *hey do not. 'ind and world have been put back to"ether a"ain at least in the %ind.?antian philosophy had ta%ely followed suit) the course of European history fro% the later nineteenth century onwards appeared to cast "rave doubt on the traditional presu%ption that 6%an& was in control of his destiny.ects are conse9uently plun"ed into an-ious isolation.ect and sub. it established the centrality of the hu%an sub. because it is intuitive: I can doubt such thin"s no %ore than I can doubt a sharp tap on the skull. cut off fro% hu%an purposes. pheno%enolo"y recovered and refurbished the old drea% of classical bour"eois ideolo"y. <heno%ena for 1usserl do not need to be interpreted.ects and ob. and no sub. In this sense. . they force the%selves upon us 6irresistibly&. and that consciousness is not . have to %ove beyond the security of the i%%ediate sensation in order to develop a 6"lobal& theory: the pheno%ena co%e ready e9uipped with one. 1 ut the %ain critical debt to pheno%enolo"y is evident .ect. which is the result of 6%ass& civili+ation. @eavis. /or @eavis. Indeed it pro%ised nothin" less than a science of sub.thorou"h"oin" irrationalis%. !. @ife for @eavis. and however %uch he conceived of criticis% as a collaborative ar"u%ent there was in the end no "ainsayin" this. as well as the producer of the% was not a 9uestion to be seriously conte%plated. In recentrin" the world upon the hu%an sub.ect. *here is no ob. If pheno%enolo"y secured a knowable world with one hand. we %ay note how 1usserl&s 6intentional& theory of consciousness su""ests that 6bein"& and 6%eanin"& are always bound up with one another. /or 1usserl. and neo. @ike certain literary . *he sub. ut it is bound to be an authoritarian theory. Aust as 1usserl 6bracketed off the real ob. 1ow this 6%an& had co%e to be in the first place whether he %i"ht be the product of social conditions. In a society where ob. certain for%s of lan"ua"e are 6intuitively& ri"ht.ect without a sub. for 1usserl as for the En"lish philosopher /. or as he says 6apodictic&. constructed this way or that in reasoned ar"u%ent. vital and creative.ust fallibly e%pirical but transcendental.ectivity alto"ether. since it brou"ht that world to be in the first place. restored the transcendental sub. 1. /or both %en.ect to its ri"htful throne. are really two sides of the sa%e coin. It is not difficult to see the relation between such do"%atis% one %anifest throu"hout @eavis&s own career and a conservative conte%pt for rational analysis. in reaction. knowled"e of pheno%ena is absolutely certain. /or such ideolo"y had pivoted on the belief that 6%an& was so%ehow prior to his history and social conditions. pheno%enolo"y had so%e influence on the 7ussian /or%alists.ect with the other. *he crass positivis% of nineteenth. %oreover. *he world is what I posit or 6intend&: it is to be "rasped in relation to %e. what is intuited in the act of "raspin" the concrete pheno%enon is so%ethin" universal: the eidos for 1usserl. since it depends wholly on intuition.ectivity itself. and hu%an sub. 6%en& and their 6natural hu%an environ%ents&. that he was any lon"er the creative centre of his world. this is certainly a consolin" doctrine. which flowed fro% hi% as water shoots forth fro% a fountain. In the real% of literary criticis%.ect so as to attend to the act of knowin" it. pheno%enolo"y was providin" an i%a"inary solution to a "rievous historical proble%. to use a key @eavisian word.century science had threatened to rob the world of sub. Eliot.ect was to be seen as the source and ori"in of all %eanin": it was not really itself part of the world. as a correlate of %y consciousness.ect without an ob. <heno%enolo"y. then. so poetry for the /or%alists bracketed the real ob.ects.ect. in other words. too. *his was a reassurin" sort of thin" to learn about oneself.ect.ud"e%ents. /inally. is concerned to heal the disablin" rift between sub.b.ect and focused instead on the way it was perceived. who influenced *. historical. (s with 1usserl&s 6bracketin"& of the real ob. *o sei+e these transcendental structures.view. to penetrate to the very interior of a writer&s consciousness. and the /rench%an Aean.ective reality. It %ust pur"e itself of its own predilections.<ierre 7ichard. Eriticis% is not seen as a construction. 1illis 'iller. /or there is really little place for lan"ua"e as such in 1usserlian pheno%enolo"y. *his so%ewhat secondhand view of lan"ua"e runs back to 1usserl hi%self.or lu%inaries were the el"ian $eor"es <oulet. its author. the !wiss critics Aean !tarobinski and Aean 7ousset. pheno%enolo"ical criticis% tries to achieve co%plete ob. it is not concerned to pass value. essentialist. *he 6world& of a literary work is not an ob.ectivity and disinterestedness.evaluative %ode of analysis. on the relation between self and others or his perception of %aterial ob. *o know this %ind.ud"e%ents on this particular world. plun"e itself e%pathetically into the 6world& of the work. *he %ost i%pressive and re%arkable fact about it is that it succeeded in producin" so%e individual critical studies 2not least those by <oulet. the lan"ua"e of a literary work is little %ore than an 6e-pression& of its inner %eanin"s. 'oreover. and whose %a. reality as actually or"ani+ed and e-perienced by an individual sub.udices and li%itations of %odern literary theory as a whole. <rofessor of $er%an at the >niversity of Curich. and reproduce as e-actly and unbiasedly as possible what it finds there. the actual historical conte-t of the literary work. an active interpretation of the work which will inevitably en"a"e the critic&s own interests and biases) it is a %ere passive reception of the te-t.totality. <heno%enolo"ical criticis% is an atte%pt to apply the pheno%enolo"ical %ethod to literary works.called $eneva school of criticis%. /or pheno%enolo"ical criticis%. we %ust not refer to anythin" we actually know of the author bio"raphical criticis% is banned D but only to those aspects of his or her consciousness which %anifest the%selves in the work itself. in other words. conditions of production and readership are i"nored) pheno%enolo"ical criticis% ai%s instead at a wholly 6i%%anent& readin" of the te-t. pre. ( literary work is presu%ed to constitute an or"anic whole. (lso associated with the school were E%il !tai"er.ects.ect. the pheno%enolo"ical relations between hi%self as sub.. and the early work of the (%erican critic A. for%alist and or"anicist type of criticis%.ect. but to de%onstrate what it felt like for the author to 6live& it. in other words. 1usserl speaks of a purely private or internal sphere of . we are concerned with the 6deep structures& of this %ind. of which the unifyin" essence is the author&s %ind. and so indeed do all the works of a particular author) pheno%enolo"ical criticis% can thus %ove with aplo%b between the %ost chronolo"ically disparate. If it is tacklin" a Ehristian poe%.in the so. non. *he %ethodolo"ical concerns of 1usserlian philosophy.ect and the world as ob.ect. very often beco%e the 6content& of literature for pheno%enolo"ical criticis%. It is. *he te-t itself is reduced to a pure e%bodi%ent of the author&s consciousness: all of its stylistic and se%antic aspects are "rasped as or"anic parts of a co%ple. <heno%enolo"ical criticis% will typically focus upon the way an author e-periences ti%e or space. the%atically different te-ts in its resolute hunt for unities. anti. which can be found in recurrent the%es and patterns of i%a"ery) and in "raspin" these we are "raspin" the way the writer 6lived& his world. It is an idealist. totally unaffected by anythin" outside it. a kind of pure distillation of the blind spots. a pure transcription of its %ental essences. 7ichard and !tarobinski5 of considerable insi"ht. a wholly uncritical. but what in $er%an is called @ebenswelt. which flourished in particular in the 19B0s and 1940s. *his idea of a %eanin"less solitary utterance untainted by the e-ternal world is a peculiarly fittin" i%a"e of pheno%enolo"y as such. by contrast.point . 1usserl be"ins with the transcendental sub. interior utterances which would si"nify nothin" whatsoever. is that our e-perience as individuals is social to its roots) for there can be no such thin" as a private lan"ua"e. in a revealin" phrase. without the conceptual resources of a lan"ua"e at one&s disposal: (ware that lan"ua"e poses a severe proble% for his theory. *he atte%pt is doo%ed to failure: the only i%a"inable such 6lan"ua"e& would be purely solitary. *he reco"nition that %eanin" is historical was what led 1usserl&s %ost celebrated pupil. and to i%a"ine a lan"ua"e is to i%a"ine a whole for% of social life. It pro%ises to "ive a fir% "roundin" for hu%an knowled"e. to break with his syste% of thou"ht. which we then proceed to cloak with words) we can only have the %eanin"s and e-periences in the first place because we have a lan"ua"e to have the% in. *o clai% that I a% havin" a wholly private e-perience is %eanin"less: I would not be able to have an e-perience in the first place unless it took place in the ter%s of so%e lan"ua"e within which I could identify it. 8espite its focus on reality as actually e-perienced. or e-periences. in other words. pheno%enolo"y be"ins and ends as a head without a world. 1ow I can possibly co%e to possess %eanin"s without already havin" a lan"ua"e is a 9uestion which 1usserl&s syste% is incapable of answerin". is the reco"nition that %eanin" is not si%ply so%ethin" 6e-pressed& or 6reflected& in lan"ua"e: it is actually produced by it. *he hall%ark of the 6lin"uistic revolution& of the twentieth century. but a %atter of chan"in". 0hat supplies %eanin"fulness to %y e-perience for 1usserl is not lan"ua"e but the act of perceivin" particular pheno%ena as universals an act which is supposed to occur independently of lan"ua"e itself. /or surely hu%an %eanin"s are in a deep sense historical: they are not a 9uestion of intuitin" the universal essence of what it is to be an onion. 2 ut how is one able to see so%ethin" clearly at all. of the very crisis it offered to overco%e. as @ebensrvelt rather than inert fact. it beca%e a sy%pto%.ect) 1eide""er re. alienated broodin". practical transactions between social individuals. but can do so only at a %assive cost: the sacrifice of hu%an history itself. %eanin" is so%ethin" which pre. its stance towards that world re%ains conte%plative and unhistorical. wishes to keep certain 6pure& internal e-periences free fro% the social conta%inations of lan"ua"e or alternatively to see lan"ua"e as no %ore than a convenient syste% for 6fi-in"& %eanin"s which have been for%ed independently of it. /or all its clai%s to have retrieved the 6livin" world& of hu%an action and e-perience fro% the arid clutches of traditional philosophy. 1usserl hi%self. in its solitary. <heno%enolo"y. 0hat this su""ests.ects this startin". writes of lan"ua"e as 6confor%in"F in a pure %easure to what is seen in its full clarity&. It is not as thou"h we have %eanin"s.dates lan"ua"e: lan"ua"e is no %ore than a secondary activity which "ives na%es to %eanin"s I so%ehow already possess.e-perience) but such a sphere is in fact a fiction. the $er%an philosopher 'artin 1eide""er. %oreover. <heno%enolo"y sou"ht to solve the ni"ht%are of %odern history by withdrawin" into a speculative sphere where eternal certainty lay in wait) as such. 1usserl tries to resolve the dile%%a by i%a"inin" a lan"ua"e which would be purely e-pressive of consciousness which would be freed fro% any burden of havin" to indicate %eanin"s e-terior to our %inds at the ti%e of speakin". fro% !aussure and 0itt"enstein to conte%porary literary theory. since all e-perience involves lan"ua"e and lan"ua"e is ineradicably social. /or 1usserl. we already share a host of tacit assu%ptions "leaned fro% our practical bound. set over a"ainst a conte%plative sub. @an"ua"e for 1eide""er is not a %ere instru%ent of co%%unication. a secondary device for e-pressin" 6ideas&: it is the very di%ension in which hu%an life %oves. >nderstandin". 1eide""er. efore we have co%e to think syste%atically at all. which is ine-haustible in its %eanin"s and which constitutes us 9uite as %uch as we constitute it. and only by participatin" in it do they co%e to be .transcendence. before it is a 9uestion of understandin" anythin" in particular. *he world is not an ob.theworld: we are hu%an sub. If hu%an e-istence is constituted by ti%e.ectify. to that %ode of bein" which is specifically hu%an. will partly decentre the hu%an sub. /or I live hu%anly only by constantly 6pro. 1eide""er does not think of lan"ua"e pri%arily in ter%s of what you or I %i"ht say: it has an e-istence of its own in which hu%an bein"s co%e to participate. and these relations are constitutive of our life rather than accidental to it.in. . recalcitrant bein" of its own which resists our pro. *he world is not so%ethin" to be dissolved a la 1usserl to %ental i%a"es: it has a brute.nly where there is lan"ua"e is there 6world&. which enco%passes both 6sub. or ti%e. so%ethin" I a% %ade out of before it is so%ethin" I %easure.ects. >nderstandin" is radically historical: it is always cau"ht up with the concrete situation I a% in. !uch e-istence. a particular act I perfor%. by contrast. but always a 9uestion of fresh possibility. then. understandin"&. that which brin"s the world to be in the first place. 1u%an e-istence is a dialo"ue with the world.ects fro% inside a reality which we can never fully ob.ect: it is never so%ethin" we can "et outside of and stand over a"ainst.or work ein" and *i%e 2192G5 addresses itself to nothin" less than the 9uestion of ein" itself %ore particularly. and we e-ist si%ply as part of it. is a di%ension of 8asein. It is for this reason that his work is often characteri+ed as 6e-istentialist&. and the %ore reverent activity is to listen rather than to speak. it is e9ually %ade up of lan"ua"e.ect 6out there& to be rationally analysed. 1u%an knowled"e always departs fro% and %oves within what 1eide""er calls 6pre. but a bein" always already thrown forwards in advance of %yself.ect&. and that I a% tryin" to surpass.ect& and 6ob.ects only because we are practically bound up with others and the %aterial world. or 8asein as he calls it. the inner dyna%ic of %y constant self.ect fro% this i%a"inary position of do%inance. 1usserl&s enthronin" of the transcendental e"o is %erely the latest phase of a rationalist Enli"hten%ent philosophy for which 6%an& i%periously sta%ps his own i%a"e on the world. 1eide""er&s %a. >nderstandin" is not first of all a %atter of isolatable 6co"nition&. in the distinctively hu%an sense. 'y e-istence is never so%ethin" which I can "rasp as a finished ob. *i%e is not a %ediu% we %ove in as a bottle %i"ht %ove in a river: it is the very structure of hu%an life itself.ectin"& %yself forwards. *o %ove fro% 1usserl to 1eide""er is to %ove fro% the terrain of pure intellect to a philosophy which %editates on what it feels like to be alive. 0hereas En"lish philosophy is usually %odestly content to en9uire into acts of pro%isin" or contrast the "ra%%ar of the phrases 6nothin" %atters& and 6nothin" chatters&. 1eide""er ar"ues. in contrast to the re%orseless 6essentialis%& of his %entor.ect. as a %ap is an abstraction of a real landscape. always proble%atic) and this is e9uivalent to sayin" that a hu%an bein" is constituted by history. so to speak.upness with the world.and sets out instead fro% a reflection on the irreducible 6"ivenness& of hu%an e-istence. but part of the very structure of hu%an e-istence. and science or theory are never %ore than partial abstractions fro% these concrete concerns. reco"ni+in" and reali+in" fresh possibilities of bein") I a% never purely identical with %yself. is in the first place always bein". 0e e%er"e as sub. ective event. led hi% in 1933 into e-plicit support of 1itler. 0hat is central to 1eide""er&s thou"ht. 'an %ust 6%ake way& for ein" by %akin" hi%self wholly over to it: he %ust turn to the earth. Indeed for the later 1eide""er it is in art alone that such pheno%enolo"ical truth is able to %anifest itself. instru%ental attitude towards Hature. when we cease to take it for "ranted. it would appear. allowin" their profoundly authentic shoeness to shine forth. *he only alternative to the i%perious reason of bour"eois industrial society.ective entity.!ocratic thou"ht.abne"ation.ust the place or %ediu% where the truth of the world speaks itself. but so%ethin" we %ust let happen.ur posture before art.ect and ob. co%bined with 1eide""er&s belief in an 6authentic& e-istence. . is not to be seen as the e-pression of an individual sub. the celebration of wise passivity all of these. the lack /orest philosopher. is yet another 7o%antic e-ponent of the 6or"anic society&.ect) 1eide""er seeks rather to return to pre. its fa%iliarity is stripped fro% it and it yields up to us its authentic bein". is an astonishin" crin"in" before the %ystery of ein". with its ruthlessly do%inative. as the very real% in which he or she unfolds) and it contains 6truth& less in the sense that it is an instru%ent for e-chan"in" accurate infor%ation than in the sense that it is the place where reality 6un. (rt. and to separate it sharply fro% the sub. the down"radin" of reason for spontaneous 6preunderstandin"&.hu%an at all. In this sense of lan"ua"e as a 9uasi. prior to all particular individuals. ut the other side of that peasant. ?nowin" is deeply related to doin".ect is.ected for a hu%ble listenin" to the stars. *he result of this su""estive insi"ht. *he %istake of the 0estern %etaphysical tradition has been to see ein" as so%e kind of ob. a%on" other thin"s. allowin" ourselves to be interro"ated by it. *he support was short. and to re"ard ein" as so%ehow enco%passin" both.ust as for @eavis literature co%es to stand in for a %ode of bein" which %odern society has supposedly lost.ect is . Enli"hten%ent rationality. a tool: we know the world not conte%platively. is not the individual sub. are 6to hand&. 1eide""er&s %odel of a knowable ob.death superior to the life of the faceless %asses. in other words.ob. 0e %ust open ourselves passively to the te-t. skies and forests. is a slavish self.ect. a listenin" which in the acid words of one En"lish co%%entator bears all the %arks of a 6stupefied peasant&.towards. ( broken ha%%er is %ore of a ha%%er than an unbroken one. 1eide""er&s thinkin" closely parallels the theories of structuralis%. . si"nificantly.lived) but it was i%plicit for all that in ele%ents of the philosophy. like a ha%%er. @iterary interpretation for 1eide""er is not "rounded in hu%an activity: it is not first of all so%ethin" we do.conceals& itself. %ust be re. ele%ents in so%e practical pro. thou"h in his case the results of this doctrine were to be %ore sinister than in the case of @eavis. %ust have so%ethin" of the servility which 1eide""er advocated for the $er%an people before the /uhrer.ect. sub%ittin" ourselves to its %ysteriously ine-haustible bein".ect but ein" itself. and it is this truth which the reader of a poe% %ust attentively hear.like practicality is a conte%plative %ysticis%: when the ha%%er breaks. before the dualis% between sub. the ine-haustible %other who is the pri%ary fount of all %eanin". in his later work particularly. 0hat is valuable in that philosophy. "ives itself up to our conte%plation. @an"ua"e always pre. is its insistence that theoretical knowled"e always e%er"es fro% a conte-t of practical social interests.ect opened up. like lan"ua"e.e-ists the individual sub. . then.ect: the sub. 1eide""er shares with the /or%alists the belief that art is such a defa%iliari+ation: when van $o"h shows us a pair of peasant shoes he estran"es the%. 1eide""er. *he e-altation of the peasant. but as a syste% of interrelated thin"s which. or work is ein" and *i%e rather than ein" and 1istory) and there is a si"nificant difference between the two concepts. *his is not to su""est that 1eide""er&s philosophy as a whole is no %ore than a rationale for fascis%) it is to su""est that it provided one i%a"inary solution to the crisis of %odern history as fascis% provided another. In the end. 6*rue& history for 1eide""er is an inward. to distin"uish it fro% the 6transcendental pheno%enolo"y& of 1usserl and his followers) it is called this because it bases itself upon 9uestions of historical interpretation rather than on transcendental consciousness. in a way that 6history& for other thinkers is not. last. 1eide""er&s for% of philosophy is "enerally referred to as 6her%eneutical pheno%enolo"y&. soil. a narrative of blood. %eanin" rou"hly 6what happens&. rather than the stru""les of nations. /ascis% is a desperate. looks very s%all beer indeed. (ll of this. 1eide""er describes his philosophical enterprise as a 6her%eneutic of ein"&) and the word 6her%eneutic& %eans the science or art of interpretation. 6*i%e& for 1eide""er is still an essentially %etaphysical cate"ory. fro% the . (ll he does instead is set up a different kind of %etaphysical entity 8a%n itself. the 7eich that will endure for a thousand years. sei+e %y own future possibilities and live in endurin" awareness of %y own future death. and that the two shared a nu%ber of features in co%%on. the nurturin" and slau"hterin" of populations or the %akin" and topplin" of states. 6authentic& or 6e-istential& history a %asterin" of dread and nothin"ness. and $eschichte.I have said that understandin" for 1eide""er is radically historical. which is 6what happens& e-perienced as authentically %eanin"ful. actual social relations and concrete institutions. the subli%ity of death and self. then. which is what I a% takin" 6history& to %ean. the 6authentic& race. 1is work represents a fli"ht fro% history as %uch as an encounter with it) and the sa%e can be said of the fascis% with which he flirted. a 6"atherin" in& of %y powers which operates in effect as a substitute for history in its %ore co%%on and practical senses. but this now needs to be 9ualified so%ewhat.ditch atte%pt on the part of %onopoly capitalis% to abolish contradictions which have beco%e intolerable) and it does so in part by offerin" a whole alternative history. eternal truths of 1usserl and the 0estern %etaphysical tradition by historici+in" the%. 1eide""er&s fa%ous 6historicity& is not really distin"uishable fro% Ihistoricity. 0hat is the %eanin" of a literary te-t: 1ow relevant to this %eanin" is . or the way I %i"ht e-perience the shape of %y personal life. It is a derivation fro% what we actually do. 0ith $ada%er&s central study *ruth and 'ethod 219J05. (s the 1un"arian critic $eor" @ukacs put it. *his kind of concrete history concerns 1eide""er hardly at all: indeed he distin"uishes between 1istorie.ly%pian hei"hts of 1eide""er&s ponderously esoteric prose. 1eide""er fails to overturn the static. *his %ay or %ay not be true) but it does not see% to have any i%%ediate relevance to how I live 6historically& in the sense of bein" bound up with particular individuals. 1eide""er&s two %ost fa%ous predecessors as 6her%eneuticists& were the $er%an thinkers !chleier%acher and 8ilthey) his %ost celebrated successor is the %odern $er%an philosopher 1ans.abne"ation. *he word 6her%eneutics& was ori"inally confined to the interpretation of sacred scripture) but durin" the nineteenth century it broadened its scope to enco%pass the proble% of te-tual interpretation as a whole.$eor" $ada%er. a resoluteness towards death. 6*i%e& is in one sense a %ore abstract notion than history: it su""ests the passin" of the seasons. *he title of his %a. 'y own personal history is authentically %eanin"ful when I accept responsibility for %y own e-istence. we are in the arena of proble%s which have never ceased to pla"ue %odern literary theory. Hor does 1irsch deny that a literary work %ay 6%ean& different thin"s to different people at different ti%es.ective either. a "ood deal %ore at stake in these issues than 6literary interpretation& alone. fro% !hakespeare&s own viewpoint. *here are obvious proble%s with tryin" to deter%ine what is "oin" on in so%ebody&s head and then clai%in" that this is the %eanin" of a piece of writin". is considerably indebted to 1usserlian pheno%enolo"y. *his does not worry 1irsch %uch. or %ay have for"otten what she intended alto"ether. Kuite what such a wordless consciousness consists in is not %ade plain. whereas readers assi"n si"nificances. 0hat did you 6%ean&: (nd was it different fro% the words in which you have . or 6intended&. 8. It does not follow for 1irsch that because the %eanin" of a work is identical with what the author %eant by it at the ti%e of writin". only one interpretation of the te-t is possible. 1irsch accepts this.ective in the sense that an ar%chair is. 1irsch does not presu%e that we always have access to the author&s intentions. a "reat %any thin"s are likely to be "oin" on in an author&s head at the ti%e of writin". as we shall see. he clai%s. rather than of words. but does not consider that these are to be confused with 6verbal . 1irsch Ar. the %eanin" of a literary work is fi-ed once and for all: it is identical with whatever 6%ental ob. 'eanin" was not ob. whose %a.ect& the author had in %ind. 'eanin" is so%ethin" which the author wills: it is a "hostly. whereas %eanin"s re%ain constant) authors put in %eanin"s.ust for%ulated the response: *o believe that %eanin" consists of words plus a wordless act of willin" or intendin" is rather like believin" that every ti%e I open the door 6on purpose& I %ake a silent act of willin" while openin" it. In identifyin" the %eanin" of a te-t with what the author %eant by it. #alidity in Interpretation 219JG5. 0hy 1irsch is able to %aintain this position is essentially because his theory of %eanin". is %ore properly a %atter of the work&s 6si"nificance& rather than its 6%eanin"&.the author&s intention: Ean we hope to understand works which are culturally and historically alien to us: Is 6ob. *his. nor co%pletely independent of such %ental processes. in effect. It was a kind of 6ideal& ob. wordless %ental act which is then 6fi-ed& for all ti%e in a particular set of %aterial si"ns. wholly resistant to historical chan"e is %aintained. in the sense that it could be e-pressed in a nu%ber of different ways but still re%ain the sa%e %eanin". *here %ay be a nu%ber of different valid interpretations. at the ti%e of writin". It follows that we %ay so%eti%es hit on the 6ri"ht& interpretation of a te-t but never be in a position to know this. like 1usserl&s.lin"uistic. but all of the% %ust %ove within the 6syste% of typical e-pectations and probabilities& which the author&s %eanin" per%its. *he fact that I %ay produce 'acbeth in a way which %akes it relevant to nuclear warfare does not alter the fact that this is not what 'acbeth. is pre. /or one thin". <erhaps the reader would care to e-peri%ent here by lookin" up fro% the book for a %o%ent and 6%eanin"& so%ethin" silently in his or her head.ective& understandin" possible. y this he %eant that it was neither reducible to the psycholo"ical acts of a speaker or listener.ect. 1e or she %ay be lon" dead. as lon" as his basic position that literary %eanin" is absolute and i%%utable.or work. is the position taken up by the (%erican her%eneuticist E. or is all understandin" relative to our own historical situation: *here is. but it was not si%ply sub. /or 1usserl. %eanin" was an 6intentional ob. !i"nificances vary throu"hout history.n this view. . It is an affair of consciousness.ect&. 6%eans&. ut this. fro% which all particularity has been carefully banished. and so on: !ecurity is possible here only if authorial %eanin"s are what 1irsch takes the% to be: pure. Even if critics could obtain access to an author&s intention. *he %eanin" of the te-t is not to be sociali+ed. ut this is a hi"hly dubious way of seein" any kind of %eanin" at all. *he ai% of all this policin" is the protection of private property.ustice to the detail. (n author&s . criticis% has to police its potentially anarchic details. %ade the public property of its various readers) it belon"s solely to the author.fac&d loon&. *he unalterable %eanin" of the sacred scripture has been preserved) what one does with it. @ike %ost authoritarian re"i%es. co%ple-ity and conflictive nature of literary works is another 9uestion. the "eneral conventions and ways of seein" which would have "overned the author&s %eanin"s at the ti%e of writin". and should not be stolen or trespassed upon by the reader. they are the products of lan"ua"e.ur interest in a te-t can thus only be in these broad typolo"ies of %eanin". which always has so%ethin" slippery about it. he%%in" the% back with the co%pound of 6typical& %eanin". 0hether this does . that is to say. (ll of the particular details of a work are presu%ed to be "overned by such "eneralities. It is difficult to know what it could be to have a 6pure& intention or e-press a 6pure& %eanin") it is only because 1irsch holds %eanin" apart fro% lan"ua"e that he is able to trust to such chi%eras. si%plified and sifted by the critic. . rescuin" it fro% the rava"es of history. rou"hly. *o secure the %eanin" of a work for all ti%e. %ana"eable cate"ories of %eanin" into which the te-t %ay be narrowed. who should have the e-clusive ri"hts over its disposal lon" after he or she is dead. 6self. beco%es a %erely secondary %atter of 6si"nificance&. by which he %eans. Its stance towards the te-t is authoritarian and .ustify its own rulin" values. 'eanin"s are not as stable and deter%inate as 1irsch thinks. he is forced to %ake a fairly drastic reduction of all that the author %i"ht have %eant to what he calls %eanin" 6types&. Interestin"ly. so we have to settle for what he %i"ht "enerally have had in %ind.uridical: anythin" which cannot be herded inside the enclosure of 6probable authorial %eanin"& is brus9uely e-pelled.identical& facts which can be uni%peachably used to anchor the work. 1irsch&s defence of authorial %eanin" rese%bles those defences of landed titles which be"in by tracin" their process of le"al inheritance over the centuries. @ittle %ore than this is likely to be available to us: it would doubtless be i%possible to recover e-actly what !hakespeare %eant by 6crea%. /or 1irsch an author&s %eanin" is his own.%eanin"&) to sustain his theory. and everythin" re%ainin" within that enclosure is strictly subordinated to this sin"le "overnin" intention. *here is no %ore reason in principle why the author&s %eanin" should be preferred than there is for preferrin" the readin" offered by the critic with the shortest hair or the lar"est feet. and risk openin" the flood"ates to critical anarchy. as he will not reco"ni+e. even authorial ones and the reason they are not is because. solid. and then for an account of that. how one uses it.ust that if we do not choose to respect the author&s %eanin" then we have no 6nor%& of interpretation. 1irschian theory is 9uite unable rationally to . and end up by ad%ittin" that if you push that process back far enou"h the titles were "ained by fi"htin" so%eone else for the%. would this securely "round the literary te-t in a deter%inate %eanin": 0hat if we asked for an account of the %eanin" of the author&s intentions. however. *he critic %ust seek to reconstruct what 1irsch calls the 6intrinsic "enre& of a te-t. 1irsch concedes that his own point of view is really 9uite arbitrary. *here is nothin" in the nature of the te-t itself which constrains a reader to construe it in accordance with authorial %eanin") it is . 0hen $ertrude describes 1a%let as 6fat& she probably does not %ean that he is overwei"ht. It is interestin" to speculate why 1irsch should find this possibility so fearful) but to stop the relativist rot he returns to 1usserl and ar"ues that %eanin" is unchan"eable because it is always the intentional act of an individual at so%e particular point in ti%e. *he %eanin" of the sentence.pen the window&. /or hi%.n this ar"u%ent. I can never pick %yself up by %y bootstraps out of all that and co%e to know in so%e absolutely ob. lar"ely because he knows he cannot have it: he %ust content hi%self instead with reconstructin" the authors&s 6probable& intention. ut if a "ale is rippin" throu"h the roo% and I a% wearin" only a swi%%in" costu%e. is by no %eans i%%utably fi-ed: with enou"h in"enuity one could probably invent conte-ts in which it could %ean a thousand different thin"s. translated and variously interpreted . *his is not to say that one could not i%a"ine conte-ts in which 6Elose the door& %eant so%ethin" entirely different fro% its usual %eanin": it could be a %etaphorical way of sayin". and which 1ans.ective way what it was !hakespeare actually had in %ind. then. 68on&t ne"otiate any further&. It is this which 1eide""er understood. *he %eanin" of lan"ua"e is a social %atter: there is a real sense in which lan"ua"e belon"s to %y society before it belon"s to %e. as 1u%pty. $ada%er and others.ust choose to %ake %y words %ean anythin" at all. the insistence of these thinkers that %eanin" is always historical opens the door to co%plete relativis%. *he tar"et which 1irsch has fir%ly in his si"hts is the her%eneutics of 1eide""er. 1irsch&s distinction between 6%eanin"& and 6si"nificance& is in one obvious sense valid. 'y account of what 'acbeth %i"ht have %eant in the cultural conditions of its ti%e is still %y account. ut he pays no attention to the ways in which such reconstructin" can only "o on within his own historically conditioned fra%es of %eanin" and perception. Indeed such 6historicis%& is the very tar"et of his pole%ic. 6Elose the door=& and when you have done so i%patiently add. @ike 1usserl. he offers a for% of knowled"e which is ti%eless and subli%ely disinterested. It is .ust not possible to %ake such a co%plete distinction between 6what the te-t %eans& and 6what it %eans to %e&. which can be debated. *his is one evident sense in which the %eanin" of %y words is not deter%ined by %y private intentions in which I cannot . as %odern readers %i"ht tend to suspect.6te-t&. 6I %eant of course open the window&.8u%pty in (lice %istakenly thou"ht he could.ectivity is an illusion 1irsch does not hi%self seek such absolute certainty.$eor" $ada%er "oes on to . like any other. (ny such notion of absolute ob. ut the absoluteness of 1irsch&s distinction is surely untenable. the %eanin" of the words would probably be situationally clear) and unless I had %ade a slip of the ton"ue or suffered so%e unaccountable lapse of attention it would be futile for %e to clai% that I had 6really& %eant 6. If I say to you in certain circu%stances.intention is itself a co%ple. inescapably influenced by %y own lan"ua"e and fra%es of cultural reference. . *hat his own work is far fro% disinterested that he believes hi%self to be safe"uardin" the i%%utable %eanin" of literary works fro% certain conte%porary ideolo"ies is only one factor which %i"ht lead us to view such clai%s with suspicion. a literary work can %ean one thin" on 'onday and another on /riday.ust like any other. you would be 9uite entitled to point out that the En"lish words 6Elose the door& %ean what they %ean whatever I %i"ht have intended the% to %ean. *here is one fairly obvious sense in which this is false. It is unlikely that !hakespeare thou"ht that he was writin" about nuclear warfare. %akin" a difference to it. actually aids such co"nition by strippin" the work of all that was of %erely passin" si"nificance about it. reali+in" new potential in the te-t. as a"ainst ephe%eral and distortin" ones. linked with our own strenuous self.ust as the historical distance between ourselves and a work of the past. we 6co%e ho%e&. It is this 6scepticis%& which 1irsch finds %ost unnervin" in 1eide""erian her%eneutics. sub. present and future. this instability is part of the very character of the work itself.understandin"s co%e to us fro% the tradition itself. It %i"ht be as well to ask $ada%er whose and what 6tradition& he actually has in . reachin" a %ore co%plete understandin" of ourselves. It is hard to see why 1irsch should find all this so unnervin".ect. It will also depend on our ability to reconstruct the 69uestion& to which the work itself is an 6answer&. /or $ada%er. <re. (t such a %o%ent we enter the alien world of the artefact. Eonfronted with such a work.ect and ob.reflection. and speaks throu"h %e in the act of 6valid& conte%plation. the alien and the inti%ate are thus securely coupled to"ether by a ein" which enco%passes the% both. silently spannin" past. <ast and present. are those which arise fro% the tradition and brin" us into contact with it.elaborate in *ruth and 'ethod. Eliot. !. the %eanin" of a literary work is never e-hausted by the intentions of its author) as the work passes fro% one cultural or historical conte-t to another. 7ather than 6leavin" ho%e&.udice&. shaped and constrained by the historically relative criteria of a particular culture) there is no possibility of knowin" the literary te-t 6as it is&. *he present is only ever understandable throu"h the past. (s with *. for the work is also a dialo"ue with its own history. which both speaks throu"h the work of the past that I a% conte%platin". Ereative pre.udice the reception of the past literary work. which led to the %odern 6pre. $ada%er can e9uably surrender hi%self and literature to the winds of history because these scattered leaves will always in the end co%e ho%e and they will do so because beneath all history. *he authority of the tradition itself. fro% our own vanta"epoint in history. $ada%er re%arks. (ll interpretation is situational. all interpretation of a past work consists in a dialo"ue between past and present. and a"ainst which he wa"es his rear"uard action. .udice a"ainst pre. we listen with wise 1eide""erian passivity to its unfa%iliar voice. but at the sa%e ti%e "ather it into our own real%. new %eanin"s %ay be culled fro% it which were perhaps never anticipated by its author or conte%porary audience. allowin" it to 9uestion our present concerns) but what the work 6says& to us will in turn depend on the kind of 9uestions which we are able to address to it. $ada%er is not worried that our tacit cultural preconceptions or 6preunderstandin"s& %ay pre. far fro% creatin" an obstacle to true understandin". 1irsch would ad%it this in one sense but rele"ate it to the real% of 6si"nificance&) for $ada%er. (ll understandin" is productive: it is always 6understandin" otherwise&. with its drea% of a wholly disinterested knowled"e. will sort out which of our preconceptions are le"iti%ate and which are not . /or $ada%er. *he event of understandin" co%es about when our own 6hori+on& of historical %eanin"s and assu%ptions 6fuses& with the 6hori+on& within which the work itself is placed.n the contrary. it all see%s considerably too s%ooth. runs a unifyin" essence known as 6tradition&. of which the literary work is a part.udices. all 6valid& te-ts belon" to this tradition. since these pre. with which it for%s a livin" continuity) and the past is always "rasped fro% our own partial viewpoint within the present.udice is a positive rather than a ne"ative factor: it was the Enli"hten%ent. $ada%er ar"ues. built into the co%%unication structures of whole societies. that history is a place where 6we& can always and everywhere be at ho%e) that the work of the past will deepen rather than. for e-a%ple hardly occupy e9ual positions. deci%ate our present self. a club of the like. in short. and seeks patiently to re%ove obstacles to this endless %utual co%%unication. *radition holds an authority to which we %ust sub%it: there is little possibility of critically challen"in" that authority.%ind. discontinuity and e-clusion but a 6continuin" chain&. 1er%eneutics does not "enerally consider the possibility that literary works %ay be diffuse. /or his theory holds only on the enor%ous assu%ption that there is indeed a sin"le 6%ainstrea%& tradition) that all 6valid& works participate in it) that history for%s an unbroken continuu%. G It is worth notin" that E. 6has a . *his is hardly surprisin". It assu%es. 1er%eneutics sees history as a livin" dialo"ue between past. It has little conception of history and tradition as oppressive as well as liberatin" forces. pre. It would be difficult to i%a"ine $ada%er "rapplin" with Hor%an 'ailer. in other words. the alienation of %eanin" which has befallen the te-t&. but which is so%ehow syste%atic: which is.ectin" oneself e%pathetically into the past. areas rent by conflict and do%ination. in a process co%%only known as the 6her%eneutical circle&: individual features are intelli"ible in ter%s of the entire conte-t. say. and no speculation that its influence %ay be anythin" but benevolent.%inded. one %i"ht say. as we have seen. or that if it is indeed a 6dialo"ue& then the partners D %en and wo%en. inco%plete and internally contradictory. tends to concentrate on works of the past: the theoretical 9uestions it asks arise %ainly fro% this perspective. the pro. . ut it cannot tolerate the idea of a failure of co%%unication which is not %erely ephe%eral. was how $ada%er once described history.udices which 6we& 2who:5 have inherited fro% the 6tradition& are to be cherished. 1istorical differences are tolerantly conceded. since this distance is already brid"ed by custo%. . thou"h there are %any reasons to assu%e that they are. so to speak. and the entire conte-t beco%es intelli"ible throu"h the individual features. "iven its scriptural be"innin"s. 6*he conversation that we are&. a "rossly co%placent theory of history. present and future. flowin" river. *he her%eneutical %ethod seeks to fit each ele%ent of a te-t into a co%plete whole. as 0ilhel% 8ilthey a%on" others had believed.udice and tradition. but only because they are effectively li9uidated by an understandin" which 6brid"LesF the te%poral distance which separates the interpreter fro% the te-t) thus it overco%es . It is. 1istory for $ada%er is not a place of stru""le. in other words. an ever. 1er%eneutics. al%ost. conflict and contradiction) and that the pre. which cannot be ri"hted %erely by %ore sensitive te-tual interpretation. free of decisive rupture. *radition.ustification that is outside the ar"u%ents of reason&. 4 *here is no need to strive to sur%ount te%poral distance by pro. (lon" with this traditionalist e%phasis "oes another: the assu%ption that works of literature for% an 6or"anic& unity. 8. It refuses to reco"ni+e that discourse is always cau"ht up with a power which %ay be by no %eans beni"n) and the discourse in which it %ost si"nally fails to reco"ni+e this fact is its own.ection on to the world at lar"e of a viewpoint for which 6art& %eans chiefly the classical %onu%ents of the hi"h $er%an tradition. . but it is also si"nificant: it su""ests that criticis%&s %ain role is to %ake sense of the classics. co%e to ter%s with the proble% of ideolo"y with the fact that the unendin" 6dialo"ue& of hu%an history is as often as not a %onolo"ue by the powerful to the powerless. It cannot.understandin") and that the alien is always secretly fa%iliar. Indeed one %i"ht very rou"hly periodi+e the history of %odern literary theory in three sta"es: a preoccupation with the author 27o%anticis% and the nineteenth century5) an e-clusive concern with the te-t 2Hew Eriticis%5) and a %arked shift of attention to the reader over recent years. or why his intention %ay not have been so%ehow self. 0e "ather that so%e character.ud"e that the 9uestion is not tauntin" or a""ressive. 0e assu%e that whoever poses the 9uestion cannot %ind. <erhaps it is addressed to <iet and (n"ela 1ane%a by so%ebody else. thou"h there is nothin" so far to tell us that they are not two wo%en or two ti"er cubs. <iet and (n"ela. do not %ake a practice of undressin" to"ether before third parties. 7eception theory e-a%ines the reader&s role in literature. were undressin". . we i%a"ine. Eouples. *he phrase 6*he 1ane%as&. or a kind of epi"raph placed at the openin" of the novel.read.pervasive intention. and lo"ically so: the unity of the work resides in the author&s all. is probably in "ra%%atical apposition to the phrase 6<iet and (n"ela&. 0e %ay suspect that the 9uestioner values the . that the 6couple& referred to is a %an and wo%an. 0e %ay infer. since we learn the ne-t %o%ent that they are undressin". whatever they %i"ht do individually. and we %i"ht know that >pdike is in "eneral a realist writer who does not usually "o in for such devices) but a writer&s te-ts do not necessarily for% a consistent whole and it %ay be unwise to lean on this assu%ption too heavily. for e-a%ple. and sli"htly unlikely that it is asked by so%ebody other than <iet or (n"ela 1ane%a. %akes the openin" state%ent) but why do we presu%e this: *he sentence in 9uotation %arks %ay not be spoken at all: it %ay be a thou"ht.contradictory. *here is in fact no reason why the author should not have had several %utually contradictory intentions. or by a sudden voice fro% the sky. 0e have probably already %ade a whole set of inferences as we read these sentences. as then there would be no need to ask. thou"h there is not sufficient conte-t as yet for us to .& 2Aohn >pdike. al%ost literally at rando%.1irsch.5 0hat are we to %ake of this: 0e are pu++led for a %o%ent. *he reader has always been the %ost underprivile"ed of this trio D stran"ely. to indicate that this is their .ne reason why the latter solution see%s unlikely is that the 9uestion is a little collo9uial for a voice fro% the sky. It is unlikely on realist "rounds that the 9uestion is asked by a chorus of people speakin" in unison. by an apparent lack of connection between the two sentences. until we "rasp that what is at work here is the literary convention by which we %ay attribute a piece of direct speech to a character even if the te-t does not e-plicitly do this itself. for all his antipathy to 7o%antic or"anicist concepts. perhaps. @iterary te-ts do not e-ist on bookshelves: they are processes of si"nification %ateriali+ed only in the practice of readin". and unlike $ada%er it does not concentrate e-clusively on works of the past. the reader is 9uite as vital as the author. and as such is a fairly novel develop%ent. also shares the pre. /or literature to happen. and know that %arried couples. *he %ost recent develop%ent of her%eneutics in $er%any is known as 6reception aesthetics& or 6reception theory&. 0hat is involved in the act of readin": @et %e take.udice that literary te-ts are inte"rated wholes. since without hi% or her there would be no literary te-ts at all.ud"e%ent of the addressee. in our suburb of ir%in"ha% at least. or a 9uestion which so%eone else has asked. perhaps speculate that they are a %arried couple. probably <iet or (n"ela 1ane%a. the first two sentences of a novel: 6 M0hat did you %ake of the new couple:N *he 1ane%as. but 1irsch does not consider these possibilities. evokin" different responses in different readers. !hakespeare&s 6secret black and %idni"ht ha"s& in one sense narrows down what kind of ha"s are in 9uestion. of course. perhaps a whole tribe of the%. (s we read on we shall encounter %any %ore proble%s. *he te-t itself is really no %ore than a series of 6cues& to the reader. any work for reception theory is actually %ade up of 6"aps&. there would be no literary work at all. whereas nothin" has yet told us that the 9uestion is not shouted fro% one bedroo% or beach. perhaps a party. 0e will be "iven the kinds of facts which are withheld fro% us in these sentences. which is in itself no %ore than a chain of or"ani+ed black %arks on a pa"e. father and dau"hter or %other and son. perhaps %utually conflictin" ways. that %any of these 9uestions will be answered for us as we read on. fills in "aps. *he work is full of 6indeter%inacies&. is always a dyna%ic one.surna%e. 'ost readers will by now probably have assu%ed that <iet and (n"ela 1ane%a are a %arried couple undressin" to"ether in their bedroo% after so%e event. 1owever solid it %ay see%.ust as tables are for %odern physics the "ap. however. *he parado. but because all three ad. the te-t has also rendered itself less deter%inate in the act of tryin" to beco%e %ore so. thou"h the relative sophistication of the 9uestion %akes this unlikely. *he process of readin".ectives are richly su""estive. ut we cannot rule out the possibility that there is so%e "roup of people called the 1ane%as in addition to <iet and (n"ela. a co%ple%ove%ent and unfoldin" throu"h ti%e. 0ithout this continuous active participation on the reader&s part. *o do this.hut to another. that they are undressin" in si"ht of each other. and that they are all undressin" to"ether in so%e i%%ense hall. %akes the% %ore deter%inate. which can be solved only by %akin" further assu%ptions. which the reader %ust actuali+e.of this is that the %ore infor%ation the work provides. ele%ents which depend for their effect upon the reader&s interpretation. ut the process of speculatin" and inferrin" to which we are driven by our i"norance here is si%ply a %ore intense and dra%atic e-a%ple of what we do all the ti%e when readin". but none of this is actually said. these e-pectations will the%selves be %odified by what we learn. however. for reception theory. but we will still have to construct 9uestionable interpretations of the%. the reader 6concreti+es& the literary work. which provides a si"nificant piece of evidence for their bein" %arried. *he fact that these are the first two sentences of the novel %eans. <erhaps <iet and (n"ela are s%all children. *he reader %akes i%plicit connections. (s the readin" process proceeds. draws inferences and tests out hunches) and to do this %eans drawin" on a tacit knowled"e of the world in "eneral and of literary conventions in particular. a di% conte-t of beliefs and e-pectations within which the work&s various features will be assessed. the %ore indeter%inate it beco%es. *he fact that <iet and (n"ela %ay share the sa%e surna%e does not confir% that they are husband and wife: they %ay be a particularly liberated or incestuous brother and sister. 0e have assu%ed. and which can be interpreted in a nu%ber of different. 7eadin" the openin" of >pdike&s novel involves us in a surprisin" a%ount of co%ple-. invitations to construct a piece of lan"ua"e into %eanin". and the .understandin"s&. . between the first and second sentences of Eouples. In the ter%inolo"y of reception theory. where the reader %ust supply a %issin" connection. *he literary work itself e-ists %erely as what the <olish theorist 7o%an In"arden calls a set of 6sche%ata& or "eneral directions. lar"ely unconscious labour: althou"h we rarely notice it. the reader will brin" to the work certain 6pre. at which a new %arried couple was present. for instance. we are all the ti%e en"a"ed in constructin" hypotheses about the %eanin" of the te-t. different narrative viewpoints. I understand the notice. (s we read on we shed assu%ptions. I %ust %obili+e %y "eneral social knowled"e to reco"ni+e that the si"n has been placed there by the authorities. but what co%es ne-t %ay retrospectively transfor% our ori"inal understandin". upon certain social codes and conte-ts to understand the notice properly. that 6%ust be carried& %eans 6%ust be carried nowOP and so on. 0e read backwards and forwards si%ultaneously. that I as a %e%ber of the public a% bein" i%plicitly addressed. adoptin" a readin" convention which eradicates a%bi"uity. 7ecall once %ore the @ondon >nder"round si"n I discussed in the Introduction: 68o"s %ust be carried on the escalator. we need to be fa%iliar with the literary techni9ues and conventions which a particular work deploys) we %ust have so%e "rasp of its 6codes&. predictin" and recollectin". by which is %eant the rules which syste%atically "overn the ways it produces its %eanin"s. %ake %ore and %ore co%ple. It is not easy to distin"uish between 6social& and 6literary& codes here: concreti+in" 6the escalator& as 6this escalator&.her%eneutical circle %ovin" fro% part to whole and back to part will be"in to revolve. 'oreover. itself depends upon a whole network of social knowled"e. all literature would be as uninspirin" as the @ondon >nder"round si"n. If there were a perfect 6fit& between the codes which "overned literary works and the codes we applied to interpret the%. for the te-t has 6back"rounds& and 6fore"rounds&. I need to know. I have to rely. of the so. *he %ost effective literary work for Iser is one which forces the . ut I also need to brin" these into interaction with certain codes or conventions of readin" conventions which tell %e that by 6the escalator& is %eant this escalator and not one in <ara"uay. 0olf"an" Iser. 7eadin" is not a strai"htforward linear %ove%ent. 0hat we have learnt on pa"e one will fade and beco%e 6foreshortened& in %e%ory. speaks in *he (ct of 7eadin" 219G85 of the 6strate"ies& which te-ts put to work. I %ust reco"ni+e that the 6"enre& of the si"n is such as to %ake it hi"hly i%probable that the a%bi"uity I %entioned in the Introduction is actually 6intended&. for e-a%ple. 6concreti+in"& certain ite%s in certain ways) he or she will try to hold different perspectives within the work to"ether. alternative layers of %eanin" between which we are constantly %ovin". or shift fro% perspective to perspective in order to build up an inte"rated 6illusion&. !trivin" to construct a coherent sense fro% the te-t.& *o understand this notice I need to do a "reat deal %ore than si%ply read its words one after the other. revise beliefs.called Eonstance school of reception aesthetics. *o read at all. that these words belon" to what %i"ht be called a 6code of reference& that the si"n is not . all of this co%plicated activity is carried out on %any levels at once.inferences and anticipations) each sentence opens up a hori+on which is confir%ed. challen"ed or under%ined by the ne-t. a %erely cu%ulative affair: our initial speculations "enerate a fra%e of reference within which to interpret what co%es ne-t. perhaps to be radically 9ualified by what we learn later. by interpretin" it in ter%s of certain codes which see% appropriate) but for Iser this is not all of what happens in readin" literature. e-cludin" so%e and fore"roundin" others. hi"hli"htin" so%e features of it and back"roundin" others. the reader will select and or"ani+e its ele%ents into consistent wholes. then.ust a decorative piece of lan"ua"e there to entertain travellers. none of which is evident in the words the%selves. in other words. but is to be taken as referrin" to the behaviour of actual do"s and passen"ers on actual escalators. whose theories I have been lar"ely discussin". perhaps aware of other possible reali+ations of the te-t which our readin" has ne"ated. that these authorities have the power to penali+e offenders. and of the 6repertoires& of fa%iliar the%es and allusions which they contain. ut Iser&s liberal hu%anis%. It is as thou"h what we have been 6readin"&. *here is a parallel here with 7ussian /or%alis%: in the act of readin".ect is up for 9uestion in the act of readin". *his is also parado-ical in another way: for if we only hold our convictions rather li"htly in the first place.ust because of this fact. is ourselves. in workin" our way throu"h a book. ehind this case lies the influence of $ada%erian her%eneutics. (s with $ada%er. ob. %ore or less. 1e writes that a reader with stron" ideolo"ical co%%it%ents is likely to be an inade9uate one. 0hat you have defined as a 6literary& work will always be closely bound up with what you consider 6appropriate& critical techni9ues: a 6literary& work will %ean. and is ready to risk further transfor%ation . it %ay return an unpredictable 6answer& to our 69uestions&. *he only "ood reader would already have to be a liberal: the act of readin" produces a kind of hu%an sub. is less liberal than it looks at first si"ht. havin" the% interro"ated and subverted by the te-t is not really very si"nificant. If we %odify the te-t by our readin" strate"ies. with its trust in that enriched self.knowled"e which sprin"s fro% an encounter with the unfa%iliar. in other words. 6disconfir%s& our routine habits of perception and so forces us to acknowled"e the% for the first ti%e for what they are. is that it brin"s us into deeper selfconsciousness. *o read literature 6effectively& you %ust e-ercise certain critical capacities. the plurality and open. !uch a reader is 6transfor%ed& fro% the outset. *he work interro"ates and transfor%s the i%plicit beliefs we brin" to it.endedness of the process of readin" are per%issible because they presuppose a certain kind of closed unity which always re%ains in place: the unity of the readin" sub. proficient in operatin" certain critical techni9ues and reco"ni+in" certain literary conventions) but this is precisely the kind of reader who needs to be affected least. our conventional assu%ptions are 6defa%iliari+ed&. *he whole point of readin".ectified to the point where we can critici+e and so revise the%. is based on a liberal hu%anist ideolo"y: a belief that in readin" we should be fle-ible and open.ect. as si%ply returned to hi%self or herself as a %ore thorou"hly liberal sub.ects in a scientific e-peri%ent. it si%ultaneously %odifies us: like ob.ect it is: these ideolo"ical li%its can be in no way critici+ed. capacities which are always proble%atically defined) but it is precisely these capacities which 6literature& will be unable to call into 9uestion. the valuable work of literature violates or trans"resses these nor%ative ways of seein". *he kind of reader who% literature is "oin" to affect %ost profoundly is one already e9uipped with the 6ri"ht& kind of capacities and responses. like %ost such doctrines. we %ust only hold our beliefs fairly provisionally in the first place. cataly+es a %ore critical view of our own identities. in fact. one which can be usefully illu%inated by such %ethods of en9uiry. e-cept what kind of 2liberal5 sub. Hothin" %uch. for a critic like Iser. ut in that case the her%eneutical circle really is a vicious rather than virtuous one: what you "et out of the work will depend in lar"e %easure on what you put into it in the . prepared to put our beliefs into 9uestion and allow the% to be transfor%ed.ect which it also presupposes.ect. In this sense. because its very e-istence depends on the%. since he or she is less likely to be open to the transfor%ative power of literary works. which is violated and trans"ressed only to be returned %ore fully to itself.reader into a new critical awareness of his or her custo%ary codes and e-pectations. Iser&s reception theory. *he reader is not so %uch radically upbraided. 7ather than %erely reinforce our "iven perceptions.%inded. for then the whole %odel would collapse. will have actually happened. 0hat this i%plies is that in order to under"o transfor%ation at the hands of the te-t. we can foray out into forei"n territory because we are always secretly at ho%e. Everythin" about the readin" sub. and so teaches us new codes for understandin". be 6nor%ali+ed& ta%ed and subdued to so%e fir% structure of sense. *he doctrines of the unified self and the closed te-t surreptitiously underlie the apparent open.eopardi+ed. *he closedness of the circuit between reader and work reflects the closedness of the acade%ic institution of @iterature. and there is little roo% here for any deep. replacin" the% with a stable %eanin". to which only certain kinds of te-ts and readers need apply. *hey %ust.correctin"& therapy of readin". which is no less ar"uable and contentious than any other. ut at the sa%e ti%e the 6openness& of the work is so%ethin" which is to be "radually eli%inated. stru""lin" to pin down its anarchic 6polyse%antic& potential within so%e %ana"eable fra%ework. lies the influence of $estalt psycholo"y.ust spur us on to the act of abolishin" the%. and %any su""estive frictions and collisions of %eanin" %ust be blandly 6processed& by literary criticis% to induce the% to do so. Iser would see% to avoid this vicious circle by stressin" the power of literature to disrupt and transfi"ure the reader&s codes) but this itself. is en"a"ed in fi"htin" the te-t as %uch as interpretin" it. partnership with the te-t: different readers are free to actuali+e the work in different ways. it would see%. as I have ar"ued. in fact. Iser sees that In"arden is a "ood deal too 6or"anicist& in his views of the te-t. in Iser&s revealin"ly authoritarian ter%. ehind this arbitrary pre. *he reader. reducin" hi% at ti%es to little %ore than a kind of literary handy%an. for a 6pluralist& critic to speak. It is true that this pre. and the point of the reader&s fillin" in their 6indeter%inacies& is to co%plete this har%ony. as the reader co%es to construct a workin" hypothesis which can account for and render %utually coherent the "reatest nu%ber of the work&s ele%ents. with its concern to inte"rate discrete perceptions into an intelli"ible whole. *he te-t for In"arden co%es readye9uipped with its indeter%inacies.first place.ust that a doctrinal predilection. *here is absolutely no need to suppose that works of literature either do or should constitute har%onious wholes. 1e . silently assu%es e-actly the kind of 6"iven& reader that it hopes to "enerate throu"h readin". Iser is a %uch %ore liberal kind of e%ployer. rather in the %anner of those children&s picture books which you colour in accordin" to the %anufacturer&s instructions. *he reader %ust link up the different se"%ents and strata of the work in a 6proper& fashion. rendered incapable of returnin" to itself as a well.endedness of %uch reception theory.conscious about the labour of interpretin" the%. and there is no sin"le correct interpretation which will e-haust its se%antic potential. "rantin" the reader a "reater de"ree of co. 7o%an In"arden in *he @iterary 0ork of (rt 219315 do"%atically presu%es that literary works for% or"anic wholes. ut this "enerosity is 9ualified by one ri"orous instruction: the reader %ust construct the te-t so as to render it internally consistent. %ultiple works partly because they %ake us %ore self. It is always worth testin" out any literary theory by askin": 1ow would it work with Aoyce&s /inne"ans 0akeQ *he answer in Iser&s case is bound to be: Hot too well.udice runs so deep in %odern critics that it is difficult to see it as . *his rather li%its the reader&s activity. and the reader %ust concreti+e it 6correctly&. >nless this is done. Iser speaks 9uite openly of 6reducin"& this polyse%antic potential to so%e kind of order a curious way.seated 6challen"e& to the reader. potterin" around and fillin" in the odd indeter%inacy. Iser&s %odel of readin" is funda%entally functionalist: the parts %ust be %ade to adapt coherently to the whole. *e-tual indeter%inacies .udice.balanced entity in the 6self. and appreciates %odernist.ect will be . one %i"ht have thou"ht. the unified readin" sub. with Aoyce&s >lysses) but his %a. bindin" te-tual ele%ents %asterfully to"ether to shore up a unitary self. a%ounts to suspectin" thou"ht."arde hedonis% in a world where others lack not only books but food. for who% 6syste%s of thou"ht& is bound to have so%ethin" of a ne"ative rather than positive rin". the %odernist te-t e-plodes his or her secure cultural identity. ad%ittedly. as the reader %i"ht have suspected. arthes presents us with a private. which seeks to undo repressive thou"ht. between a /rench hedonist and a $er%an rationalist. 8ante or !penser: Is it not a viewpoint %ore typical of a %odern. the reader knows less the purposive pleasures of buildin" a coherent syste%. and how they interpret literary works will be deeply shaped by this fact. /or readers do not of course encounter te-ts in a void: all readers are socially and historically positioned.%inded %e%ber of the school of Eonstance is 1ans 7obert Aauss. 0ould Iser&s opinion that the %ost valid literature disturbs and trans"resses received codes do for the conte%porary readers of 1o%er.syste%: that which sustains its own position. essentially anarchic e-perience which is perhaps no %ore than the flip. *he approach of arthes&s *he <leasure of the *e-t 219G35 is about as different fro% Iser&s as one could i%a"ine the difference. in a.side of the first. *here is so%ethin" a little disturbin" about this self. in so%e final recuperation of the selfhood which the act of readin" has thrown into 9uestion. but chooses to concentrate lar"ely on its 6aesthetic& aspects) a %ore historically. one which dissolves all distinct %eanin" into a free play of words. arthes&s theory is not. asocial.indul"ent avant. and then e-plores the shiftin" relations between this and the chan"in" . we %ay contrast hi% briefly with another theorist of reception. without its proble%s. deli"htin" in the te-tures of words the%selves.day European liberal. Iser is aware of the social di%ension of readin". *hat it can do so is elo9uent testi%ony to liberalis%&s obliviousness of one particular thou"ht. the /rench critic 7oland arthes.ouissance which for arthes is both readerly bliss and se-ual or"as%. the conte-t of cultural %eanin"s within which it was produced. 7eadin" is less like a laboratory than a boudoir. the reader si%ply lu-uriates in the tantali+in" "lide of si"ns. who seeks in $ada%erian fashion to situate a literary work within its historical 6hori+on&. and who will therefore look to the kind of art which appears to under%ine the%: 1as not a "reat deal of 6valid& literature precisely confir%ed rather than troubled the received codes of its ti%e: *o locate the power of art pri%arily in the ne"ative in the trans"ressive and defa%iliari+in" is with both Iser and the /or%alists to i%ply a definite attitude to the social and cultural syste%s of one&s epoch: an attitude which.syste%s by a ceaseless slippin" and slidin" of lan"ua"e. !uch a te-t de%ands less a 6her%eneutics& than an 6erotics&: since there is no way to arrest it into deter%inate sense. in the provocative "li%pses of %eanin"s which surface only to sub%er"e a"ain. stereotypically speakin".or critical interests are in realist fiction since the ei"hteenth century. syste%s as such. *o "rasp the li%its of Iser&s liberal hu%anis%. than the %asochistic thrills of feelin" that self shattered and dispersed throu"h the tan"led webs of the work itself. and there are ways in which >lysses can be %ade to confor% to this %odel. arthes offers a sharply contrastin" account of readin" by takin" the %odernist te-t. Eau"ht up in this e-uberant dance of lan"ua"e. oth critics betray a liberal distaste for syste%atic thou"ht) both in their different ways i"nore the position of the reader in history.deals. /ar fro% returnin" the reader to hi%self. in %odern liberalis%. If Iser offers us a "ri%ly 6nor%ative& %odel which reins in the unbounded potential of lan"ua"e. 0hereas Iser focuses %ainly on the realist work. in other words. It ends with the dile%%a of the conte%porary 6co%%itted& writer. inti%ates in its every "esture the kind of 6addressee& it anticipates.century literature ineluctably addressed to a bour"eoisie it despised. then. to the in"rown self. and the 6te-t . but we are not free si%ply to interpret as we wish. while interpretations of the% chan"e: te-ts and literary traditions are the%selves actively altered accordin" to the various historical 6hori+ons& within which they are received. the workin" class. who can address his work neither to the bour"eoisie. otherwise criticis% would see% to fall into total anarchy. he %ay be superbly indifferent to who reads his work. 7eception theory of the Aauss and Iser kind see%s to raise a pressin" episte%olo"ical proble%.consciousness of a nineteenth. /or an interpretation to be an interpretation of this te-t and not of so%e other. anticipated a potential listener. is one ever dealin" with anythin" %ore than one&s own concreti+ation: Is the critic clai%in" so%e $odlike knowled"e of the 6te-t in itself. how can one discuss these sche%ata at all without havin" already concreti+ed the%: In speakin" of the 6te-t itself. of the old proble% of how one can know the li"ht in the refri"erator is off when the door is closed. a set of 6sche%ata& waitin" to be concreti+ed in various ways by various readers. It is not .nosed out of the pub&.6hori+ons& of its historical readers. in other words. %y utterances would not be utterances at all unless they. leak 1ouse would be nothin" %ore than the %illions of different. knows what a pub is and has cultural knowled"e of the connection between alcohol and facial infla%%ation. often discrepant readin"s of the novel which readers have co%e up with. e-ercises a de"ree of deter%inacy over readers& responses to it. 6Eonsu%ption&. it %ust be in so%e sense lo"ically constrained by the te-t itself. nor so%e %yth of 6%an in "eneral&. ( writer %ay not have in %ind a particular kind of reader at all.ust that a writer 6needs an audience&: the lan"ua"e he uses already i%plies one ran"e of possible audiences rather than another. but in an historical rather than 6e-istential& perspective. a knowled"e denied to the %ere reader who has to %ake do with his or her inevitably partial construction of the te-t: It is a version. It traces the destiny of the /rench writer fro% the seventeenth century. ( %ore detailed historical study of literary reception is Aean. 0hat !artre&s book %akes clear is the fact that a work&s reception is never . *he ai% of this work is to produce a new kind of literary history one centred not on authors. includes an i%a"e of who% it is written for: every work encodes within itself what Iser calls an 6i%plied reader&. Every literary te-t is built out of a sense of its potential audience. !artre&s study. where the 6classical& style si"nalled a settled contract or shared fra%ework of assu%ptions between author and audience. but a certain kind of reader is already included within the very act of writin" itself. rather than I.<aul !artre&s 0hat is @iterature: 219B85. If one considers the 6te-t in itself as a kind of skeleton. *he work.ust an 6e-ternal& fact about it. as an internal structure of the te-t. %easurin" it as a nor% a"ainst particular interpretations of it. Even when I talk to %yself. in literary as in any other kind of production. sets out to pose the 9uestion 6/or who% does one write:&. but on literature as defined and interpreted by its various %o%ents of historical 6reception&. a contin"ent %atter of book reviews and bookshop sales. and this is not a %atter in which he necessarily has %uch choice. it already i%plies a reader who understands fairly advanced En"lish. It is not that literary works the%selves re%ain constant. It is a constitutive di%ension of the work itself. 7o%an In"arden considers this difficulty but can provide no ade9uate solution to it) Iser per%its the reader a fair de"ree of freedo%. is part of the process of production itself. influences and literary trends. If a novel opens with the sentence 6Aack sta""ered red. *he ar"u%ent between /ish and Iser is to so%e e-tent a verbal one. for%al units is a product of interpretation. %eanin"s. is an ob. 1e is. thou"h both are indubitably 6interpretations&. (n interpretation on which everyone is likely to .ective& structure to be found in the work itself. but if everythin" in the te-t was indeter%inate. is 6"iven& or 6deter%inate&. 1is refreshin"ly candid answer to this 9uestion is that he does not know) but neither. that 0olf"an" Iser has fallen prey. awaitin" its release by the readers& interpretation. when you "et down to it.ectivist illusion. or that perceivin" so%ethin" as black or eleven or a word is an interpretation. for e-a%ple. he considers.ust all the assorted accounts of the novel that have been or will be "iven. insistent that there is nothin" whatsoever 6in& the work itself that the whole idea of %eanin" bein" so%ehow 6i%%anent& in the te-t&s lan"ua"e. and you would be ri"ht) but if in %ost circu%stances you read those %arks to %ean 6ni"ht"own& you would be wron". 0hat the te-t 6does& to us. *here is a difference between scientific hypotheses and scientific data. and which will "overn their personal responses.ect of critical attention is the structure of the reader&s e-perience. as a kind of %ysterious R. is actually a %atter of what we do to it.itself would drop out. in no sense 6factually& "iven) and this raises the intri"uin" 9uestion of what it is that /ish believes he is interpretin" when he reads. 1is notion of lan"ua"e is pra"%atist: a lin"uistic inversion.ho%e& readers bred in the acade%ic institutions. independent of hu%an %eanin"s) there are no facts that we do not know about. the readers have now overthrown the bosses and installed the%selves in power. leak 1ouse is . readin" is not a %atter of discoverin" what the te-t %eans. does anybody else. not any 6ob. /or /ish.ective& work of literature there on the se%inar table at all. whose responses are thus unlikely to prove too wildly diver"ent fro% each other to forestall all reasoned debate. however. Hot any old readin" response will do: the readers in 9uestion are 6infor%ed or at. he appeals to certain 6interpretative strate"ies& which readers have in co%%on.interpreted&. will perhaps "enerate in us a feelin" of surprise or disorientation. a 9uestion of interpretation) the ob. /ish is in fact careful to "uard a"ainst the her%eneutical anarchy to which his theory appears to lead. ut this is not what 6"iven& necessarily or even usually %eans: few philosophers of science would nowadays deny that the data in the laboratory are the product of interpretation. but a process of e-periencin" what it does to you. dependent on which way the reader chose to construct it: In what sense could we then speak of interpretin" the 6sa%e& work: Hot all reception theorists find this an e%barrass%ent. and the uncrossable "ulf which %uch traditional philosophy of science has i%a"ined between the% is certainly an illusion. *o avoid dissolvin" the te-t into a thousand co%petin" readin"s. there is no 6ob. . Everythin" in the te-t its "ra%%ar. *here are no 6brute& facts. *he (%erican critic !tanley /ish is 9uite happy to accept that. *he true writer is the reader: dissatisfied with %ere Iserian copartnership in the literary enterprise. 8 Sou can say that perceivin" eleven black %arks as the word 6ni"htin"ale& is an interpretation. he thinks. if by that is %eant 6non. 0hat if the literary work were not a deter%inate structure containin" certain indeter%inacies. and criticis% is no %ore than an account of the reader&s developin" responses to the succession of words on the pa"e. however. /ish is 9uite ri"ht to clai% that nothin".ust that they are not interpretations in the sense that the 8arwinian theory of evolution is. It is to this illusion. in literature or the world at lar"e. *his is part of what is %eant by sayin" that the literary work constrains our interpretations of it. If I cannot read the word 6ni"htin"ale& without i%a"inin" how blissful it would be to retreat fro% urban society to the solace of Hature. they %i"ht not) or there %ay be so%e lan"ua"e unknown to %e in which they denote 6dichoto%ous&.syste% fro% ours and reckon the% not as eleven but as three plus an indefinite nu%ber. or that its %eanin" is to so%e e-tent 6i%%anent& in it. but see the% as bits of black i%%anent in the white paper which have so%ehow e%er"ed. is by no %eans an absolute constraint. as we have seen. . and these practical social uses are the various %eanin"s of the word. or over %e. *his. *he clai% that we can %ake a literary te-t %ean whatever we like is in one sense 9uite . which does not %a"ically evaporate when I encounter it in a poe%.a"ree is one way of definin" a fact. I %ay well co%e to feel after readin" the work that the word now %eans so%ethin" 9uite different. these social practices do not si%ply drop away. because of the transfor%ed conte-t of %eanin"s into which it has been inserted. then the word has a certain power for %e. Interpretation in this second. a %atter of lin"uistic and historical convention. because the %arks are often used by people in their social practices of co%%unication in certain ways. ut identifyin" the word in the first place involves so%e sense of what its practical social uses are.de to a Hi"htin"ale& are wron". It is less easy to show that interpretations of ?eats&s 6. ut interpretin" these %arks is a constrained affair. *his does not see% to be the case in decidin" whether the eleven %arks I have %entioned for% the word 6ni"htin"ale& or 6ni"ht"own&. that it denotes 6dichoto%ous& rather than a kind of bird. If the En"lish lan"ua"e had developed differently. however %uch they %i"ht also subvert and violate the%) and lan"ua"e is not in fact so%ethin" we are free to do what we like with. there is also so%eti%es a practical situation which e-cludes certain readin"s and licenses others. the stock of socially le"iti%ated ways of readin" works. have intricate relations to other lin"uistic practices.ustified. It is the acade%ic institution. broader sense usually runs up a"ainst what philosophy of science calls the 6underdeter%ination of theory&. In its for% of script. *here %ay be so%e culture which would not perceive these %arks as i%prints at all. @an"ua"e is a field of social forces which shape us to our roots. In another sense. *his culture %ay also have a different countin". (nd so on: there is nothin" divinely "iven or i%%utably fi-ed about lan"ua"e. /or such te-ts belon" to lan"ua"e as a whole. the idea is a si%ple fantasy bred in the %inds of those who have spent too lon" in the classroo%. interpretin" a poe% is in an i%portant sense freer than interpretin" a @ondon >nder"round notice. In the case of literary works. as 6%arks& in our sense. *he fact that these %arks denote a certain kind of bird is 9uite arbitrary. %eanin" that any set of data can be e-plained by %ore theories than one. 0hat after all is there to stop us: *here is literally no end to the nu%ber of conte-ts we %i"ht invent for its words in order to %ake the% si"nify differently. It is freer because in the latter case the lan"ua"e is part of a practical situation which tends to rule out certain readin"s of the te-t and le"iti%ate others. there %ay well be no distinction between their words for 6ni"htin"ale& and 6ni"ht"own&. Hevertheless. but it is a si"nificant one. as the fact that the En"lish word 6ni"htin"ale& has had %ore %eanin"s than one in its ti%e would su""est. 0hen I identify the word in a literary te-t. and it is an acade%icist delusion to see the literary work as an arena of infinite possibility which escapes it. known as the teacher. literary& because it trans"ressed the accepted boundaries and procedures of 6literary criticis%&. It is thus that the liberalis% of the literary institution. however. !uch licensed ways of readin" are never of course 6natural&. ut fewer people pursue the full i%plications of this readerly "uilt.ealously reserved to the 6aesthetic&. ut I a% not as constrained as I a% by 6Ho E-it&) and this is one reason why people often have %a.which operates as a constraint. a supre%ely disinterested spirit or blank sheet on to which the te-t will transfer its own inscriptions. not . 8. but probably not %any. 1irsch. 'ost of us reco"ni+e that no readin" is innocent or without presuppositions. How we have seen that the literary work itself is %uch less easy to nail down than we often assu%e. are deeply . but one wa"ed around the cate"ories.& 9 *he novel will "radually construct that conte-t. ( novel which opens with the sentence: 6@ok was runnin" as fast as he could& is i%plicitly sayin" to the reader: 6I invite you to i%a"ine a conte-t in which it %akes sense to say M@ok was runnin" as fast as he couldN.ust a poe% in a university class. I also ar"ued that literary values are a "ood deal less "uaranteed than people so%eti%es think. *hey are %ore likely to be en"a"ed by the idea that the %eanin"s of a te-t do not lie within the% like wisdo% teeth within a "u%. a kind of co%%on co%petence which readers. ut within this institution there can be a stru""le of interpretations. not least those to literary for%. is in "eneral blind to its own constitutive li%its. *hey are still active when I read a popular novel on a train. literary editors and reviewers as well as acade%ia. (nother nail is /ish&s appeal to a shared 6interpretative strate"y&. and never si%ply acade%ic either: they relate to do%inant for%s of valuation and interpretation in a society as a whole. .%ade conte-t to render the lan"ua"e intelli"ible. like 0olf"an" Iser&s.ne nail which can be driven throu"h it to "ive it a fi-ed %eanin" is that of authorial intention: we have seen so%e of the proble%s of this tactic in discussin" E. are likely to have.or disa"ree%ents over the %eanin" of lan"ua"e they treat in a 6literary& way. !o%e literary students and critics are likely to be worried by the idea that a literary te-t does not have a sin"le 6correct& %eanin". Even here it is not a %atter of total interpretative freedo%: since I speak the En"lish lan"ua"e.ust between this readin" of 1olderlin and that. waitin" patiently to be e-tracted. the social uses of words like 6runnin"& "overn %y search for appropriate conte-ts of %eanin". which /ish&s %odel would not see% to account for a stru""le not . .ect. @iterary criticis% does not usually dictate any particular readin" as lon" as it is 6literary critical&) and what counts as literary criticis% is deter%ined by the literary institution. conventions and strate"ies of interpretation itself. i%%aculately free of previous social and literary entan"le%ents. *hat there is an acade%ic institution which powerfully deter%ines what readin"s are "enerally per%issible is certainly true) and the 6literary institution& includes publishers.ne of the the%es of this book has been that there is no such thin" as a purely 6literary& response: all such responses. /ew teachers or reviewers are likely to penali+e an account of 1olderlin or eckett becasue it differs fro% their own. 7ather %ore of the%. %i"ht penali+e such an account because it see%ed to the% 6non. at least acade%ic ones. I be"an this book by challen"in" the idea that 6literature& was an unchan"in" ob. to the aspects of a work which are so%eti%es . ut readin" a novel re%ains different fro% readin" a road si"n because the reader is not supplied with a ready. but that the reader has so%e active role in this process. or if you like the reader will "radually construct it for the novel. Hor would %any people today be disturbed by the notion that the reader does not co%e to the te-t as a kind of cultural vir"in. reakin" with the literary institution does not . which we can now investi"ate. *hat nail was called structuralis%. .i%bricated with the kind of social and historical individuals we are. all the way fro% 'atthew (rnold&s patroni+in" atte%pts to pacify the workin" class to 1eide""er&s Ha+is%. It is these readin"s which are in a real sense "uilty.ust %ean offerin" different accounts of eckett) it %eans breakin" with the very ways literature. literary criticis% and its supportin" social values are defined. *he twentieth century had another enor%ous nail in its literary theoretical ar%oury with which to fi.the literary work once and for all. In the various accounts of literary theories I have "iven so far. I have tried to show that there is always a "reat deal %ore at stake here than views of literature that infor%in" and sustainin" all such theories are %ore or less definite readin"s of social reality.