nonsense. Many mathematicians and physical scientists are fine musicians and poets.
There is no reason why a linguist should not be a humane, literate, sensitive person.
He may write on literature (1) purely as a linguist for linguistic ends; (2) for critical
motives, using only a selection from his linguistic apparatus; or (3) no differently
from the non-linguist, without appeal to linguistics at all.
The three separate
approaches are all valuable, and I would urge non-linguists to stay their conviction
that a knowledge of linguistics must make only the first approach possible.
The primary justification for the use of the methods of linguistics in literary study
is that noted by Mrs Vendler (1966: 458): any information about language is useful
in studying an art-form whose stuff is language. If linguistics is defined as ‘the study
of language’
tout court
, then its contribution is unchallengeable. But this bleak logic
does not allow that all specific brands of linguistics are admissible. Briefly, this means
that, in the first case (1), although literature is language and therefore open to ordi-
nary formal linguistic investigation, it has, like other formally distinctive texts,
essentially distinctive contexts which the linguist no less than the critic must study.
That is, the investigator must be curious about the extra-linguistic features which
condition the distinctive style of a literary work. As for the applicability of different
linguistic models (2), this is obviously variable. The appropriateness of the model is
a concern
for the individual analyst; just as important for this general discussion
is that all those who engage in it realise that bland undefined accounts of ‘linguis-
tics’ lead nowhere. There is no one linguistics except in community of certain basic
and general ideals held since Saussure’s time. We cannot switch on a standardised
linguistic analysis machine and stand by while it puts out a definitive breakdown of
a text. Doubtless the lack of such a device has its advantages.
My third prescription for a successful linguistic criticism is that it should proceed
not merely from a theory of language but also from a respectful consideration of the
demands and peculiarities of the many kinds of literary study. Now, the substance
of this remark is addressed not only to linguists. There is no single thing ‘criticism’
any more than there is ‘linguistics’, although literary people, faced with the imagined
threat of linguistics, tend to talk as if there is. (This impression is gained partly from
the tendency to use ‘criticism’ and ‘critical’ as treasured value terms.) [. . .] In the
real world, we are dealing with, above all, teachers of literature whose pedagogic rela-
tions with their subject-matter and with their students are much more vital than the
role of the public critic. Most often literature teachers are involved in nothing more
mystical than, at various degrees of sophistication, showing
the ways to efficient
reading of literature. Many a time literary study comprises historical, stylistic or
openly technical investigation: genre description, stylistic tests of authorship, metrical
analysis, for example. For some reason, ‘interpretation’ (an exceedingly difficult term)
and ‘evaluation’ have come to be regarded as the only
activities which are worth
doing and which are actually done. Just as we need to be wary in our use of ‘linguis-
tics’ as a term describing all procedures involving the study of language, so we should
give careful scrutiny to terms like ‘criticism’, ‘interpretation’, ‘evaluation’, ‘explica-
tion’, ‘stylistics’, ensuring that we do not think that there is just one objective (of
whatever kind) in studying literature, with ‘linguistics’ straightforwardly an alterna-
tive ‘technique’ for reaching that goal.
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