Teaching fiction using tangible questions.

Abstract

Approaches to teaching fiction vary since instructors might disagree as to what and how exactly should be taught and later tested. I believe it is possible for students to discuss a literary text without prior knowledge of literary theory or cultural background. An attempt to answer basic Who? When? Where? Why? How? questions can provide the class with a thorough analysis of the text and develop critical thinking.

Introduction

Teaching literature as a university subject raises several controversies. What are the students actually required to know after the course completion? How are they to demonstrate their knowledge? Is historical background, such as the author's biography, necessary? The plot summary? The work's reception and its position within the literary cannon? To what extent are the students to be familiar with secondary sources? Should they be encouraged to analyze the values discussed in the literary work? Are they to see them from the point of view of both contemporary readers and original audiences? How much literary theory should the students use in order to discuss a given novel? How does teaching literature differ depending on who the students are: native speakers of the language or language learners, including future foreign language teachers? Various educational institutions and individual instructors answer these questions according to the character of the course and their personal beliefs.

Most English departments in non-English speaking countries put literature on their syllabi as it is perceived as an indispensable element of foreign language training. The assumption is that students' exposure to such an enormous linguistic corpus must automatically increase language proficiency. This approach has one major drawback: many texts contain vocabulary no longer used or employ structures or metaphors that deviate from ordinary usage. Jane Austen uses the word "fish" as a token in a card game, which is not a piece of information crucial to a contemporary language user. Moreover, in order to sustain students' interest, the discussed texts should be "meaningful and relevant to personal experience" (Carter and Long, vii). How to teach Samuel Richardson, then? Finally, contact with literature, apart from "enable[ing] students to understand and appreciate cultures and ideologies different from their own [...] and com[ing] to perceive tradition of thought, feeling and artistic form within the heritage the literature of such culture endows" (Carter and Long, 2), should also help them to "grow as individuals as well as in their relationships with the people and institutions around them"(Carter and Long, 3). Although the last assumption sounds fine, it is highly improbable. How can an instructor measure and evaluate personal growth, character enrichment, or level of enjoyment? The student might heartily oppose values George Eliot advocates, yet know them. On the other hand, somebody might enjoy reading Jane Austen and be unable to explain how she uses irony. Still, seeing literary texts as a mere source of historical and cultural information diminishes their artistic value.

I have been teaching the novel in English for several years at various English departments at universities and teacher training colleges. I experimented with several approaches until I ended up with an easy, straightforward procedure: stick to the tangibles. What I mean by this is leaving out things that are not immediate to the text, such as knowledge of literary theory or biography, and concentrating on finding answers to basic key questions: who, when, where, how. There is also a why question that should be asked constantly, after other questions have been answered. The attempt to answer these questions using only the text can lead to a very detailed analysis that is on the one hand objective, yet leaves room for individual interpretation.

Who?--narrator

The fundamental question is who. It can deal with the narrator and the characters, yet the narrator should be discussed first. Who is talking to us? Can we identify if it is a man or a woman, an object or an animal? What difference does it make in our understanding of the story? Is "the voice" belonging to a first person or a third person? If the first, how involved is this person? Is s/he a main character like Jane Eyre or Moll Flanders? If so, how much can we trust her/his account? In other words, is the narrator reliable? If not, where does s/he lie and why? If Jane Eyre insists that she did not find Rochester physically attractive, why is she so obsessed with him as a man? If the narrator uses the "I" pronoun but is external to the story, who is he/she? Who is the mysterious "I" who fails asleep dreaming about the mill on the Floss in the opening chapter of Eliot's novel ? If this person is a real human being, where does s/he get all her/his information, including some bizarre details about a "honest waggoner" (Eliot, 4). How does the narrator know about his honesty? Which parts of the narrative are comments of the narrator, which present the inner lives of the characters, their thoughts and impressions? Do we know? How do we know? Why are we sometimes duped by Jane Austen's narrator then, believing that free indirect discourse is absolute truth? If we more or less successfully identify the narrator and determine his/her credibility, another question arises. Why is the narrator telling the story? What does s/he want to achieve? Is it an act of boredom, as in the case of Lockwood who tries to make his winter pass more quickly in Wuthering Heights? Or is it a necessity, as with Nelly Dean, who is asked to tell her story by her master? Or is it an outburst of memories presenting the meanders of Jane Eyre's life? What kind of person must she be then, if she indulges in pages of reminiscences, presenting her exceptional qualities? What, on the other hand, triggers Marlow's reminiscences in Heart of Darkness? How do these two situations differ?

The questions dealing with the narrator are crucial as they help to comprehend the Aristotelian division into the three main genres and basic notions from narratology such as showing/telling, obtrusive, self-conscious, omniscient narrators, etc. They also may help the students to notice common tendencies in novels belonging to different literary periods. For example, while 19th century realistic novels have obtrusive, omniscient third person narrators, modernist ones will limit the narrative viewpoint. Moreover, the class will be able to realise these differences inductively and thus remember them better. After the class, the students can be asked to read a chosen entry in the dictionary terms or critical text but such procedure should supplement the text comprehension, not accompany it on equal terms.

Who?--characters

The next who question deals with the characters. Who are they: people, animals, objects? If they are people, what is their age, sex, social/ethnic background? Are there any particular values or types of behaviour typical for a specific group of characters? Are, for instance, most characters men, as in The Lord of the Rings? Are all women naive and out of touch with reality, as in Heart of Darkness? What does it tell us about the author's understanding of gender roles? Are the characters happy within these roles or do they rebel against them? With what consequences? Is the author only reflecting the existing status quo or advocating it? If s/he is criticizing some behaviour associated with a group, and does this criticism come from the inside or the outside? If a Maori narrator in Once Were Warriors comments on her race's lack of intellectual curiosity, a Maori reader might agree or disagree, yet s/he should not find this remark politically incorrect. Yet, if the same observation was made by a white narrator, the same reader could accuse the novelist of racism. Even undergraduates will be able to tackle such issues without struggling through Homi Bhabha or Spivak. Other questions about characters might include probing connection between them. Do they interact, as in most novels, or are there separate groups of characters who hardly mingle, as in Mrs Dalloway? Are the characters types or individuals? Can we predict anything about the characters from the way they are described or named? Becky Sharp is indeed sharp-witty and dangerous while Amelia Sedley is like a sedative--her gentleness and silliness can put the reader to sleep. Are the characters an original invention of the author modelled on famous individuals, or borrowed from other literary sources as is often the case in postmodern fiction? If they are modelled, is it done in a flattering, neutral, or satirical manner? What do the characters do? Is the action external or internal? Are the events the result of characters' choices or are they victims to some external power? Do the characters develop, or do they stay the same throughout the novel? How do we get to know them: is showing or telling used?

When?

Another important question is when. When do the described events happen? Are we dealing with a historical novel? If yes, why was this moment in the past chosen? How do the historical events influence the characters? If the novel happens in the future, is it science-fiction or utopian writing? How is the world we know transformed? Maybe we are dealing with fantasy writing, in which the world is an ontologically different universe. What is the relationship between the time of narration and the time of the events? Does the story correspond to plot or is it distorted? If it is distorted, what events have been taken out or rearranged and why? How does it influence the process of reading, of collecting information?

Where?

One should also analyze where the events take place. Do the characters travel (so we might deal with the picaresque), or do they spend all their lives in one neighborhood (perhaps we deal with a regional novel)? What is the relationship between the setting and the characters? Are they scared as the result of it (the Gothic tradition)? Is the setting always described, or is it just mentioned? What role do the place descriptions play? Are they to build up a scary atmosphere, retard the action, or inform us about the characters? The description of Darcy's estate in Pride and Prejudice is the only long descriptive passage in the novel. Its function is not only to present Darcy as a wealthy gentleman with elegant tastes but also to make Elisabeth feel that "to be mistress of Pemberley might be something"(Austen, 187). Visiting the estate becomes a turning point for their relationship. Of course, they marry for love, but the beauty of Pemberley helps Elizabeth Bennet to realise her feelings. Are there any images and features associated with a particular place like culture, order, and emotional restraint of Trushcross Grange and the primitive, violent yet healthy and passionate character of Wuthering Heights?

How?

The final question is how. This question may concern different issues, such as reoccurring images, the meanings of the title and subtitle, and figures of speech such as metaphors or similes. The disturbing dichotomy of whiteness and blackness is prominent in Heart of Darkness: whiteness is traditionally synonymous with goodness, yet white people, ivory, and the city of white sepulchres are far from positive. The style of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man changes from childish babbling to a diary of an aspiring artist, corresponding to the growth of Stephen. Are there any conspicuous register shifts within the novel? If yes, what is their function? Do they undermine the authority of a single, authoritarian narrative voice? How is the novel entitled, and where does the title come from? Some novels have obvious titles, like proper nouns. Some are quotations from other works, such as In a Glass Darkly. What is the aim of this borrowing? How does the new usage relate to its source? How about metaphoric titles like Heart of Darkness? Can the reader decipher such titles from clues in the text, using common knowledge, or must he read a lengthy footnote (Clockwork Orange or Ulysses can be a point in case here)? How to deal with clearly provocative titles like The Quiet American or The Idiot? Last but not least is the question of how this text relates to other works by the same writer, to other texts written in the same period, to texts from different periods dealing with a similar subject, and to students' experiences. Are the problems discussed in the novel relevant to contemporary readers? After reading Mill on the Floss the students might be encouraged if both sexes are given equal educational opportunities nowadays, if there are any gender roles that an individual might find limiting.

Conclusions

As it can be seen, many technical literary terms used by different schools of criticism have been used in the tangible questions, like the story-plot distinction developed by Russian Formalists. The way some questions have been formed links them to feminist, postcolonial or reader response literary theories. Nevertheless, prior knowledge of these theories is not necessary to discuss the literary texts with students. What is more, the students will be able to come up with definitions of many literary terms on their own. For example, answering the questions about characters, time, and setting provides them with a definition of a Gothic novel, historical novel, regional novel, etc. The student will notice that some late 18th century works share a number of features (such as time shift into the past with no attempt to reproduce the customs or language of the period, stock characters, period setting) which makes them belong to a particular genre. They will also understand the notion of a genre as a set of conventions, or requirements a text should meet. However, they will not see a genre in absolute terms; after all, the great works of literature deserve their uniqueness in how they transgress the conventions of their genre rather then obey them.

Some instructors might criticise this technique of teaching fiction as it ignores historical background, literary theory, or critical texts written about the novels or short works the students are asked to read. All these have been used to legitimise our reading, to prove we have done "research" consulting various secondary sources. The desperate need for theoretical framework felt by contemporary humanities, however, might suggest that academics find dealing with history of ideas (and their manifestations in art) too elusive a subject to deal with without the authority of a "theory". They use a theory to legitimise their research, fearing it might be otherwise groundless. However, applying leftist ideologies created in the last few decades (such as Marxism, feminism, post-colonialism, Queer theory) to pre-twentieth century texts frequently distorts their meaning as it interprets values of a different age according to criteria alien to that age. Moreover, demanding from students to apply these theories may sometimes seem to border on an attempt to indoctrinate them with leftist ideas they may not wish to share. Finally, a course in literature should not be confused with a course in literary theory. For instance, in her book Teaching Literature, Elaine Sholwalter devotes separate chapters to teaching fiction and literary theory. The chapter on fiction does not rely on any theoretical framework. These two areas of literary studies should not be confused; however, contemporary academics frequently quote more Derrida or Foucault then the literary texts themselves.

That is why, I advocate "tangible questions" method as it has enormous benefits. First, it can be used to all texts, both those belonging to the canon and new ones which have not yet accumulated vast criticism. It can be used in small educational institutions that have limited resources (that is, small and ill-equipped libraries). Next, it can be used with student who simply do not need the scholarly expertise, like undergraduates who are likely to finish their academic careers with a Bachelor's degree. Moreover, the question-answer format makes the class dynamic and less instructor-centred. Last but not least, it teaches independent thinking, a rare and valuable ability. Most students, when asked to read, let us say Brave New World, come to class equipped with off-prints of internet biographies of Huxley, definitions of science-fiction and utopia, plot summaries, fragments of The Tempest, or essays about the moral consequences of cloning. Then they consider themselves prepared for the class. They feel that they need to rely on other people's analysis of the text, that they need an extensive bibliography before they can form their own ideas or interpretations. They mistrust their own judgement or common sense. Using the "tangible questions" method should teach them intellectual self-reliance, an ability that they will benefit from years after leaving college, when they will have forgotten whether Hardy was the son of a stone mason or a Marxist analysis of Wuthering Heights was attempted by Arnold Kettle or what "logocentrism" is.

References

Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice. London: Penguin Books, 1994.

Bronte, Emily. Wuthering Heights. London: Penguin Books, 1985.

Burgess, Anthony. A Clockwork Orange. London: Penguin Books, 1972.

Carter, Ronald and Michael N. Long. Teaching Literature. Harlow: Longman, 1991.

Conrad, Joseph. Heart of Darkness & Other Stories. Ware: Wordsworth Classics, 1999.

Dostoevsky, Fyodor. The Idiot. Ware: Wordsworth Classics, 1996.

Duff, Alan. Once Were Warriors. London: Vintage, 1995.

Duff, Alan and Alan Maley. Literature. Oxford: OUP, 1992.

Eliot, George. Mill on the Floss. London: Penguin Books, 2002.

Greene, Graham. The Quiet American. London: Vintage, 2005

Huxley, Aldous. Brave New World. London: Vintage, 2004.

Joyce, James. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. London: Penguin Books, 1992.

Joyce, James. Ulysses. London: Penguin Books, 1992.

Le Fanu, Sheridan. In a Glass Darkly. Oxford: OUP, 1993.

Shakespeare, William. The Tempest. London: Penguin Books, 2001.

Showalter, Elaine. Teaching fiction. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2003.

Thackeray, W.M. Vanity Fair. London: Penguin Books, 1994.

Tolkien, J.R.R. The Lord of the Rings. London: Harper Collins Publishers, 2001.

Woolf, Virginia. Mrs Dalloway. Ware: Wordsworth Classics, 2003.

Katarzyna Szmigiero, Filia Akademii Swietokrzyskiej w Piotrkowie Trybunalskim, Poland

Szmigiero (PhD) is an Assistant Professor at Swietokrzyska Academy in Poland.