Literary Criticism

Toni Morrison, as a woman and an African American, belongs to a marginalized sect twice over. However, as one who has demonstrated excellence at her craft, one of the greatest compliments she can be paid, in my estimation, is that her work be subjected to the same critical eye as that of her male counterparts. And by male counterpart, I mean white male authors, specifically.

From what I've read of Ms. Morrison's philosophies on literature, in general, and her own in particular, she is not afraid of being panned by a critic. She is affronted when praised or criticized on false premises. If the critic doesn't apprehend the basis or errand of her work correctly, she is offended by any ensuing commentary stemming from that false premise, period.

She has posited in interviews that the main problem with literature is the criticism of literature.

With that being said, Toni Morrison does not need me or anyone else to defend her legitimacy as an author. Her Pulitzer and Nobel prizes attest to her acceptance in the Pantheon of great writers. As such, she can take a hit or two from my Voice in Modern Fiction class and be none the worse for wear...

But something different was in place in our discussion tonight.

I heard overt criticism from the instructor about the work. None of his usual objective language that is careful to ask questions more than to make statements. For as much as he praised certain constructs and techniques, I heard equal amounts of dissent. Phrases like "unsuccessful," "poorly chosen," etc., in categorizing certain passages in Beloved.

Beyond this insult to an author I respect, I was further disconcerted because the professor and I have always been simpatico in our readings of a given text--even if not in perfect agreement, then our sensibilities, at least, matched. We had the same take, in general, on the questions to be asked, the errand of the work, itself.

Now, with not even an hour's distance from the scene, I realize that what bothered me was the apparent arrogance with which he seemed to be approaching this text. The feeling that he had the unquestionable right to make unqualified statements about what is working or not in this body of work. And I just had the sense that he, and others, perhaps, felt that this text could be held up for that kind of inspection, not because the author is venerated, but because she is black.

This is not about a person not having the right to prefer a given author's style or not. It's about the misappropriation of labels, the cocky belief that one has the right to label what one does not truly understand.

I will admit that I am protective of Toni Morrison, and therefore may not have been objective about how I read things tonight... but I tend to trust my visceral interpretations of moments more than the objectified, rationalized versions of the same events.

Toni Morrison is still a black woman. And as such she still has to enter the conversation first proving that she has the right to be in it.