The "Why" You Do the Things You Do

Over the couple weeks of class, a thought has been lingering in the back of my mind: Why?

Why study literary theory? Why take the time to learn about all of these theorists, about their ideas, about how they relate to other theorists? Why study so many views—some of which are the exact opposite of other views?

Maybe this is a result of the fact that I’m going to be graduating in less than 100 days and I’m questioning every life choice I’ve ever made, from the choice of my major to the choice of having toast instead of yogurt for breakfast this morning.

It could be a result of thinking about Plato’s assertions that language is inherently flawed, or about his not-so-subtle implications that an English degree is not only worthless, but detrimental to our understanding of the world as a whole (as evidenced in his statement that art causes us to have a “warm, affectionate relationship with a part of us which is, in its turn, far from intelligence” (72)).

To be honest, I’m fairly certain I’m also coming into this class with a slightly different perspective than the majority of the other students. I’m not interested in pursuing a career that focuses on literary analysis or theory—I’m certainly interested in the ideas and the discussions, no doubt, but it isn’t a strong passion of mine. In reality, I signed up for the class firstly for the professor and the other people in the class, and secondly for the subject.

In any case, the question of “why?” is still a valid question for all of us to consider as we continue our way through the course. I imagine there’s a variety of reasons why we’re enrolled in this class: We like the professor; we like the subject material; we could use this knowledge in graduate school; this is something we want to pursue in a career; we need the class to get that $100,000 diploma.

I imagine for most it’s a combination of all of these. But there’s definitely something deeper, something that drew us to the English major in the first place, and I think it can be summed up in three words.

We like language.

Clearly we’re not first; there’s 2600+ pages of various interpretations and thoughts on the meaning of text included in the anthology we’re using—and that’s really only a sampling of the thought that has gone into this subject.

Whether the rest of the world likes to acknowledge it or not, understanding how to interpret different forms of communication is critical if we want to better understand how to use communication to our advantage. Just as we study (or ought to study) the instruction manual of a new device to take full advantage of what it has to offer, we need to analyze the use of language: Does it mislead, as Plato says, or does it educate and entertain, like Sidney says?

In reality, I think this is a topic that everyone should really study—or at least, think about every once in awhile. But it’s only we few, we proud, we “petulant” (Plato’s word, not mine) that are passionate enough (or maybe just crazy enough) to do so.