MichaelK

Thanks for reading through the madness, Swagato. Much of what I've written is a bit non-sensical on further reading. As to your first point, that I "confuse teaching ability and research ability," I'm not sure that I've done quite that. I think, rather, in a nutshell, that I am attempting to argue for the primacy of teaching ability over research ability. I should confess myself to be a utilitarian: I like to know why we do a certain thing, or why we do it in a certain way. And the reasons that I have been offered for the research-centered study of literature seem insufficient. This is not to say that I do not see the value in literary research: contextualizing works of art can lead to discoveries of all kinds - we learn about an author, history, psychology, women, men, love in this way. We learn important details about texts and their composition through manuscript work. Research, I would anticipate (having never taught) might strengthen one's ability to teach. But my point is not that research should be abandoned, but rather less emphasized. More than that, however, is my complaint about what kind of research is valid. I speak, of course, of the need for "newness" in research. When a scholar could no longer sit down at his desk and write, honestly, what he thought a work meant, or what he thought the proper context for that work was, but rather was forced (by the constraints of publishers, the trends of research, "popular" scholastic opinion) to write about a work in a certain way, that crosses a certain line for me. A word about my metaphor. My point in making this comparison really goes to the question of truth. Science, for the most part, relies on an objective assessment of facts. And because of this, when a genuine advancement in method is made, the scientific community appears to move closer towards their goal (whether that's DNA analysis or an understanding of geologic formations or whatever). On the other hand, the humanities, as you suggest, are subjective. In my mind, the study of literature is relative game. To quote Rorty, "The world doesn't speak. Only we do." And, if we genuinely believe that, then have we really gotten closer to something when literary studies makes a major "advance"? This leads me to the second point of contention: the "holistic" approach to criticism. I think a better term for what I'm aiming at would be, simply, pluralism. If, as I've argued, we are in a game of perspectives, of "speaking for the world" rather than searching for what the world has spoken, then it seems to me that we shouldn't limit ourselves to the tools of the moment. Your illustration about filmic history is enlightening, and, for me, partly convincing. That context - our time in history, social and historical conditions - demand certain tools take primacy...this is a strong argument. But, to play out the game a little longer, it just seems like we limit ourselves unnecessarily. Before us as scholars of literature are centuries of methods to bring meaning, to draw beauty, to form context around texts. And, I would argue, not all of these old techniques have lost their use over time. To read a postmodernist through a biographical lens seems to me a valid critical approach, just as reading Shakespeare through a feminist lens does. In certain cases, where the context clearly demands a change of critical method (as in the transition from celluloid avatar to digital) it would seem common sense to make that change. But I'm not willing to demand that the tools we use always fit the context of the object in question. Especially when that context (and the tools we choose) are predetermined by the literary, scholastic "powers that be."

To my fellow literature applicants- Like many of you, I'm knee-deep in applications at this time. Thirteen, in fact. And I write today to vent. Consider this a scream of frustration and a sigh of bewilderment. I'm not going to polish this into a graduate-level discussion. I'm not going to stop and research my points. I'm not going to contextualize or frame my arguments. I'm just going to put down my gut reaction. And if that bothers you, stop reading. Here goes. First of all, the application process itself. The money that it takes to become a graduate-level student amazes me. By the time this is all done, think about how much you'll have spent: 1. GRE general (80?) 2. GRE subject (100?) 3. GRE score reports X 10 (200) 4. Transcript fees (100) 5. Application fees (600 or more) We're talking about $1,000 or more, all for a shot at 12/500 odds and a 14K stipend. That's right folks, step right up, donate your hard-earned cash for a chance to get rejected. Or, better yet, step right up for five (if you're lucky) years of poverty. Yes, I know there are lots of students out there. Yes, departments don't have infinite resources. But you're telling me that all of this cash is really required? What of students who don't choose to work in the off season? What of those who can't? And what of the hassle of the applications? The infinite variety of requirements and application formats (10, 15, 25, 10 and 15 page writing samples). The begging and kowtowing to harried recommenders. There has to be a better way. Do you really feel that departments manage, from this chaos which generates so many similar-looking results, to choose the five, six, 12, 18 most deserving students? I think not. The personal statement, for example. How much agony has gone into this document? How many days spent massaging it, reading it over and over again until the very syntax becomes ingrained in your head? And all for what? Perhaps you've forgotten to mention the star modernist at Yale. Perhaps you've phrased something they don't like. And when they read your research section, which you polished to a shining gloss, and which came out of a thesis you designed after being advised by a professor you trusted, they'll chuckle to themselves, "Hah! Posthumanism. Literature and philosophy. So 1990. We want something new." And they toss you into the heap, along with the others, and choose someone with a sexier project, with the right color skin and gender, who speaks six languages and was taking Greek myth while you were still watching Rambo movies. AN ASIDE: Is it possible to be a white, male, publicly-educated, Ivy-league-level graduate student? Is it possible to like South Park, to have a social life, to not spend every waking minute of one's undergraduate life reading, contextualizing, catching up on theories that the field has moved on from but you should probably have a handle on, getting to know the latest articles by the professors at every school? Can that be done? Sometimes I think that to truly do this the right way, to be a scholar of literature as the academy seems to want us to be, I should have started when I was six, like Sir Thomas More. I should have been taking Greek and Latin, should have known my Cicero, should have memorized myths and rhetorical forms and all the rest. For so much of this application process I have felt as if I was playing that character, playing Sir Thomas, without the benefit of his education. Damn my upbringing for failing me in that regard. Damn the academy for demanding it. Yes, the application disgusts me. The breadth of "required" knowledge. The number of hoops one must jump through to prove worthy of the chance to be a second-class academic for half a decade or more. But I'm equally bothered by the academy itself, by the project of literary studies today. When did the study of literature become science? When did "new" become necessary? What we have before us, ladies and gentlemen, seems to me a beast. A simple question: are we better off today, as theorists, as critical writers and readers of literature, than we were in 1550? In 1890? In 1940? Is our project, is our product, are our discoveries, more useful, more exciting, more interesting than they were? I answer that question with a resounding no. Let me explain by way of analogy: In evolutionary biology, a major advance in technique is made. DNA can be broken down, formulated, calculated 30x faster than with the previous method. The data is at hand faster, the truth is revealed sooner, knowledge is gained with less time and treasure. In English, a major advance in technique is made (we go from biographical criticism to New Criticism, for example). An explosion of criticism is written. Whole new perspectives are unearthed, great new plains of knowledge. But what have we really done? Have we stepped forward, as it were? Is new knowledge better, more worthy of our time and effort and passion, simply because it is new? Think for a moment, about the theory wars (and I don't just mean the 1980s, I mean any conflict of theory). About the length of time, the amount of eloquence that has gone into defending and attacking critical practices: "mine is better than yours, mine is the one true way of finding the truth about literature." Advances in English aren't like advances in evolutionary biology. This fierce battle for new ground, fought again and again (eco-crit, war-crit, feminism, marxism and all the rest) does not profit anything at all. It only seems like so much posturing, so much ideology. So much time trying to prove yourself, and your method, and even literary studies, worth it. What would I have instead? If this applicant ruled the Earth, literary studies would look something like this: The importance of skill in teaching and research productivity in evaluating the performance of scholars would be inverted. For too long have we relied on the will of publishers and ignored the will of students. For too long have we been ruled by the assumption that the literary scholar's job is to speak a new word, rather than a good, useful one. If a Shakespeare scholar has nothing "new" to say about that great man's work, and yet has within her a greatness of soul, a greatness of intellect, worthy of showing the beauty of the bard's work, why should that scholar be denied? All methods of literary scholarship, from biography to historicism to new criticism and everything in between, would be welcome. Diversity in critical thought, regardless of whether one's critical method is in vogue, is something to be wished for. This is not to say that all criticism is equal; there is a distinction to be made between eloquent, well-reasoned, heart-felt criticism and faltering, illogical, hack writing. Let the students, the community, and the publishers be the judge of that. But when it comes time to choose between scholars, let us not choose based on the newness, the hotness of research. Rather, let us choose that scholar who offers the greatest capacity of soul, the scholar whose intellect and capacity for emotional depth offer insights into a text, regardless of what method he or she may choose, or the newness of his insights. END OF EPIC, STREAM-OF-CONSCIOUSNESS RANT.

Thanks for the feedback, Runon. I guess I'm a bit too caught up in the application process at the moment to view the big picture clearly. It sounds like these awards would certainly be useful once I'm in graduate school, and, based on your experience, might play a hand in landing me an admission somewhere as well. On reading my post again it seems like I'm just a bit cynical about the process at the moment...probably comes from spending too many hours staring at a statement of purpose draft. In any case, thanks for your useful perspective.

Hello fellow literature types. I'm prepping applications for fall 2012 (seems ridiculously far away, but I suspect deadlines will be here before we know it). I've got a question about the Javits and Ford fellowships: What's the point? From a career standpoint I understand that winning one of these awards would certainly boost one's resume. And I suppose that it won't hurt with your standing in a department, either, since your fellowship funding will replace university funding. But from an admissions perspective, it would seem that neither of these awards will be able to help much. Javits awards aren't given out until March 1, and I suspect the Ford Fellowships are on a similar timeline (I can't find a date on their website, though I'm sure someone's posted it on gradcafe.) It seems like quite a bit of extra work, especially when I have no definitive promise of acceptance anywhere. On the other hand, come March, let's say I win one of these after having been rejected or waitlisted everywhere. What now? Do I contact programs letting them know, "By the way, I've got money coming with me?" Seems rather a sick way to get into graduate school. One of my recommenders (the only one I've broached the subject with), suggested applying to "everything I can," but I'm not sold yet. So, the question: Are you planning on applying to these programs? If so, what's your reasoning? Anyone talk to a professor or two about this?