#engl major

[academic-vampire]

I love when I’m reading literature, and I understand the deeper meaning. And then I find a sECOND, DEEPER MEANING… and I feel so proud of myself.

[academic-vampire]

Have you ever seen the penguin clothbound books? The covers are gorgeous!

I have! I actually have the Dracula (Stoker) penguin clothbound edition, and I adore it. I would love to collect more. Thank you for asking, anon!🖤🦇

[academic-vampire]

(This is a speech I gave to my class in Korea about the importance of adequately directing and interpreting literature. J. R. R. Tolkien has the perfect allegory on this topic. Literature majors, and the common reader, can learn a lot from Tolkien’s advice. I hope you enjoy it. Have you experienced this reckless dissection before?)

The Tower and the Sea Allegory

(Jack C. December, 2023)

What does it mean to interpret a piece of literature? J. R. R. Tolkien was firmly against the reckless academic scrutiny of literary works. Yet, it is not uncommon in today’s academic realm to peel apart literature in hopes of uncovering a deeper meaning. The act of attempting to find flaws and hidden context in literature leads to careless academia. Oftentimes, this can be seen most clearly when it comes to allegory. Instead of appreciating the story for what it is, readers are often pushed to dig too deep into the material of the story, which leaves the story itself set apart from the interpretation, now insignificant and forgotten.

J. R. R. Tolkien turns this idea of overly dissected literature into an allegory to make it easier to understand. Tolkien begins by telling of a man who inherits a field that has an assortment of stones. Upon inspecting the stones, the man decides to build a tower with the materials. Once the tower is complete, the man’s friends visit the structure, and before they have even attempted to climb to the top, they push the tower over. The friends begin to inspect the stones and ground where the tower used to be in search of hidden carvings and inscriptions. Some of the friends even suggest that there is something hidden in the dirt where the tower once stood and begin to dig, forgetting about the mass of stone entirely.

The friends speculate on the tower’s origins, existence, and use, to which they deem to find none. Once they have come to their conclusion of the tower’s uselessness, they turn to the man and tell him how the rubble of stones is a worthless mess. The friends begin to think the man is an odd fellow and a crazed fool for building such a nonsensical tower instead of using the stone for something “useful.”

Through his allergy, Tolkien encourages readers to appreciate the story first instead of carelessly hunting for inaccuracies or hidden truths in an attempt to undermine the work as a whole. The significance Tolkien stresses with his “tower” allegory is that readers need to stand back and look at the big picture before attempting to push it over to search for hidden meaning. By looking at the entire creation, one might realize that there is, in fact, a staircase in the tower that leads to a spectacular view.

This approach of “discovering the big picture” should be practiced throughout all of literature. When encountering literature of any kind, it is best to take in the work for what it is first and foremost: a work of art created to be enjoyed and reflected upon. Writers and poets create their art for a purpose other than to be merely ruthlessly dissected.

Literature of today, when studied too closely, quickly falls subject to this harmful analysis. In studying academia today, it is not uncommon to be pushed to dig deeper into the material one studies. In all fairness, this is not a fault in itself. The scrutiny becomes a harmful practice when the core of the material is forgotten in the search. In digging so deeply into the dirt where the tower once stood—looking for allegory, metaphor, and ridiculous interpretations—the tower itself is deemed unworthy of attention and appreciation.

Only once the document has been appreciated for what it is may it be dissected—to some extent. Instead of completely ripping the tower apart in search of one’s own interpretations, such as the friends did, it is best to keep the tower standing. Maybe then it will be realized that the tower itself is not the end goal. It does not matter what is underneath the stone or what the structure is made of. Frankly, the tower is one of the least important aspects at all. Instead, the significance lies in what the friends ignored in their hasty search for deeper meaning, but what the man knew to be the purpose of his creation all along. Little did the friends know that from the top of the tower, the man could look out upon the sea. This “sea” that Tolkien mentions represents the beautiful work the writer or poet has created. The tower-turned-rubble, on the other hand, is a depiction of literary dissection gone wrong. There is a way to dig deeper into literature to find clarity and truth, but it must be remembered that the work itself is not a document to be torn to shreds but, instead, a work of art to be enjoyed.

Works Cited

Tolkien, J R. R. Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics. London: Oxford University Press, 1963. Print.

[academic-vampire]

I’m writing an essay about Poe’s short story, “The Black Cat”—mainly the fact that it is told from a prison cell as a sort of confession. And as I was writing my essay, I realized how obsolete the reader is to the story.

That instantly reminded me of Camus’ book, The Fall, as the reader is not crucial to the narrator. The narrator does not require a reader.

In both stories, the narrator simply attempts to justify themselves to themselves, not to the reader. In a way, both stories are an attempt at self-exculpation, and I find it fascinating.

[academic-vampire]

(Here is a short discussion post I wrote about Nathaniel Hawthorne’s short story, “The Birth Mark.” In the post, I compare the short story to the fall of man written about in Genesis. Do you think this is a valid comparison? I’m curious to hear others’ thoughts.)

Birth-Marks and Forbidden Fruit

(Jack C. May, 2024)

In terms of surface-level allegory, Nathaniel Hawthorne’s short story, “The Birth-Mark,” depicts an allegorical interpretation of human mortality and imperfection; nevertheless, I believe that an even darker allegory lies beneath the surface. One thing truly stood out to me as I read the story, and that is how the first sentence of dialogue is phrased. The sentence reads, “‘Georgiana,’ said he, ‘has it never occurred to you that the mark upon your cheek might be removed?’” (1). The key here is that the sentence is posed as a question. I was immediately reminded of Genesis 3:1, where the serpent in Eden asks Eve, “‘Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden?’” (New International Version).

Both Eve and Georgiana seem indifferent to the question at first, but later, they succumb to doubt and end up attempting to “perfect themselves,” resulting in, essentially, the loss of life. Before the birthmark is removed, Hawthorne writes, “Not even Aylmer now hated it so much as she” (9). All it took was the suggestion of imperfection to make Georgiana begin to doubt and hate when she previously thought her mark added to her, “…charm…” (1).

This juxtaposition of Georgiana with Eve due to the first spoken dialogue being posed as a question leads me to believe that Hawthorne offers a double allegorical interpretation. The deeper symbolic meaning of Georgiana exemplifies the theme of innate human sin, or, the fall of man in terms of human doubt.

Works Cited

Hawthorne, Nathaniel. “The Birth-Mark.” 1843.

New International Version, Bible. Hodder &

Stoughton Ltd, 2007.