Archive for September, 2013

Writing Women: Women and Literary History

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Welcome back to the Writing Women blog for 2013/4! This time around the course is year long and there are two groups of students participating. In some weeks students will be contributing blogs and I will be humbly commenting upon them.

In this first section of the module we are looking at the following works:

Charlotte Perkins Gilman ‘The Yellow Wallpaper’ (1899) on StudySpace

  1. Virginia Woolf A Room of One’s Own (1928) on StudySpace
  1. Dale  Spender, ‘’Women and Literary History’’ (on StudySpace)
  2. Mary Eagleton, Feminist Literary Theory:      A Reader, Third Edition, (London: Wiley Blackwell, 2010) All      selections in the first section entitled ‘Finding a Female Literary      Tradition’ pp. 1-56.

Our topic this week is Women and Literary Tradition.

The picture at the top of this blog was the one that came up when I googled “literary history.” Have a look at the names on the spines of these books. Notice anything funny? Thank God for Jane Austen!

Literary tradition not only influences what we read, but also how it is read and with what value it is imbued. While the writers whose works we will examine in this module have been affected artistically by their relations to the literary past, they have been informed politically and ideologically by that past as well. It is these pressures, interacting with each of these artists’ respective creative visions, which produce their written works. Furthermore, such social, political, and cultural forces have power beyond their impact on individual works of art: the same methods of culturally inflected reading have also informed the eventual canonical status of these women authors.

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While each of the feminist critics whose work we look at this week (Woolf, Spender, and the various critics in the Eagleton text from Elaine Showalter to Anne Ducille, Paul Lauter, Adrienne Rich, Shoshana Felman) propound very different ideas about the relationship between women and literary tradition, there is one concern upon which all of them have, at one point or another, focused: the notion of language as a battleground in which words become weapons of patriarchy. Some thirty years ago, critic Carolyn Burke, in her “Report from Paris,” argued this idea as follows: “the very forms of the dominant mode of discourse show the mark of the dominant masculine ideology. Hence, when a woman writes or speaks herself into existence, she is forced to speak in something like a foreign tongue, a language with which she may be uncomfortable.”

Here, Burke proposes that women writers can and do feel a constrained relation to the texts they compose, if they attempt (as it seems they must) to employ the language of the father/master. Writing herself “into existence,” as Burke suggests, is an exercise in translation for the woman writer. The act of interpretation, of course, is never able to fully recapture the precise meaning of the original. But perhaps it can offer something more. Indeed, the contemporary writer Salman Rushdie suggests just this in his essay “Imaginary Homelands.” There, while discussing the importance of the English language to the British Indian writer, Rushdie argues that translation need not necessarily imply loss: “[i]t is normally supposed that something always gets lost in translation; I cling obstinately to the notion that something can also be gained” (Rushdie 17). Let us, too, cling to that notion, and find out over the course of this academic year precisely what has been lost, and gained, in the translated and transgressive writing of women in the 20th and 21st centuries.

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