The past few days Ive been reading Ivanhoe by the early nineteenth-century novelist Sir Walter Scott. Its a story of twelfth-century intrigue, regicide, lust and rapacity. What an experience it has been to have to have to translate Saxon English, and then to contrast it with Norman English. Of course these linguistic renderings are Scotts own, and reflect his time and place, and dont really represent twelfth-century English per se; but there are enough archaisms that one gets a flavor of some of the cultural and linguistic conflicts of merry old England. Thats the easy part. Next is the use of Latin that is threaded through the dialogues. Add to that the Shakespearean allusions that form many of the chapter headings, and the reader is stretched to the limits. I suspect that the modern reader will find Scotts use of the Bible to be the biggest challenge, especially the allusions to Old Testament history. Here is where the woeful ill-preparedness of Americas readers will come to shipwreck. Im middling in my grasp of the Old Testament, but even with that Im often adrift. We wonder sometimes why university literature departments have left much of the western literary canon behind and become the purveyors of French critical theory. In many university lit courses the typical major does not actually read much classic literature but is fed a curriculum of gender, class and racial deprivation theory instead. Literature is interpreted according to such theories, and so comes to mean not what it IS, but what it SIGNIFIES. Shakespeares plays or Miltons epics are not important in themselves, but only as types or symbols of power, male oppression, etc.. The actual texts are no longer the primary object of the students attention, and so are not actually read much. Theory is so much easier to espouse than wrestling with a book like Ivanhoe. Most college freshmen today simply dont know much history, world literature, foreign language (other than the ubiquitous Spanish), or the religious roots of their own civilization. In years past, it was the duty of high schools to lay a groundwork for this, and it was the universitys role to take that groundwork and develop it. By the time an undergraduate finished, he had a pretty good grasp of the traditions that made him who he is, and could take up a book like Ivanhoe and work his way through it, albeit with some difficulty. This is no longer necessary, or even desirable. Theologian James K. A. Smith tells of his years teaching literature to college undergraduates. According to Smith, the typical student comes aboard as a freshman, full of curiosity and fascination at the prospect of reading the Great Books. By the time the student returns after summer vacation as a sophomore, he is jaded and enters his classes with an all-too-common smug knowingness. He has been ruined by theory, and will never, unless turned aside, know the intrinsic beauty and power of the subject matter he is supposed to master. All that said, I hope my readers will take up books like Ivanhoe and experience the joy of striving with an old text until they come to terms with it. Walter Scott writes a terrific tale, one which can be appreciated even in the absence of the critical scaffolding I have been discussing. The Barnes & Noble paperback classics can be purchased for seven or eight dollars each, and have great supportive footnotes and endnotes. Youll feel good about having gotten through the book, and the next one wont be quite so intimidating.
Posted on: Fri, 21 Nov 2014 21:42:59 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015