Before the awareness of literary theory 20 years ago, the study of English literature in further education consisted mainly of reading prescribed texts, perhaps supplemented by reading some literary history and criticism. The approach was usually chronological and there was agreement about the content of the literary canon. Standard topics included characterisation in fiction, moral issues, rhyme, metre and imagery, plot and theme, which under the guidance of a well‐informed and enthusiastic teacher could stimulate thoughtful discussion and awaken an awareness of the importance of literature. But many questions were not raised, let alone answered, until the theorists came along with disconcerting examinations of apparently commonsense assumptions. What is literature? Is there a universally accepted canon? Is there such a thing as a stable text with an objective existence? In what sense does an author exist? New approaches to reading arose in association with ideas of patriarchy, homosexuality, imperialism, and the material conditions of publishing and the theatre. The theories have been eagerly embraced by many and have been eagerly rebutted and refuted by others. The result is not so much confusing as fruitful. English studies will never be the same again and students need the sort of guidance that Chris Hopkins’s book provides.
As he says himself, this is a kind of pre‐theory book that therefore avoids the common problem, as anti‐theorists see it, of putting theory before text. Detailed readings are tested against larger readings in a two‐way process: “discussing the passages or texts is meant to help discuss larger ideas, discussing larger ideas is meant to help discuss the texts”. His consideration of genre, for example, asks students at the outset to think about definitions of ten kinds of literature and goes on to use texts by Todorov, Aristotle, Sidney and Zola to exemplify different approaches. Then, to represent the genres of prose, poetry and autobiography, Hopkins begins his discussion of the subject by reproducing passages from Edwin Morgan, Orwell, Margery Allingham, Rosemary Sutcliff, Hans Christian Andersen, Pound and Gertrude Stein, analysing them with reference to the nature of genre and occasionally prompting further responses from the reader. As well as genre, Hopkins deals with four basic and wide‐ranging areas of English studies: the study of literature, including the questions of definition, popular writing and the canon; texts, authors and critics; history; and identities, which involve issues of class, gender and race.
One extraordinary fallacy found among some keen theorists is that the approaches of the past 30 years to literary studies have superseded those of the past. This belief in modern superiority is not a new phenomenon: Quiller‐Couch and Bradley were discredited by Leavis, who has now been discredited himself. Hopkins must make his readers fully aware, of course, of the work of such influential recent critics as Helene Cixous, Derrida, Terry Eagleton, Stephen Greenblatt, Sandra M. Gilbert, Susan Gubar, Edward Said and Susan Sontag, and his emphasis is undoubtedly and justifiably on what we can loosely call the new theorists. But at the same time he finds room for Charles Lamb, Saintsbury, Eliot, Leavis and W.K. Wimsatt (but not for I.A. Richards). His choice of texts is reasonably eclectic: inevitably, The Tempest (as a “colonial” text), Hard Times and Dracula appear, but so do a translation from Theocritus, poetry by Pope, Christina Rossetti and Browning, the opening of Uncle Tom’s Cabin and a passage from Isherwood’s Lions and Shadows.
Hopkins writes clearly and often powerfully, presenting his material undogmatically with implied and explicit invitations to his readers to comment on the issues he raises. His tone is direct and unpatronising, reminding me of the best written “tutorials” in the Open University course units. The way in which he tackles differences between history and literature can be taken as an excellent example of his teaching technique. He asks students to read “Notes by the Chief Constable of Staffordshire of a Meeting of Colliers held at Horsely Heath, Staffordshire (30 August 1858)” followed by a passage from George Eliot’s Felix Holt, the Radical (1866). The first of these is a primary source, of which they are asked to write an historical interpretation. They are then required to write a critical interpretation on the literary text. After supplying his own discussions as model answers, Hopkins tabulates the assumptions that underlie each text, and then deliberately switches his enquiries by treating the primary source as a literary text and the literary text as a primary source. Resemblances and distinctions between the two types of writing are therefore productively and sometimes surprisingly highlighted.
At the end of the book, Hopkins lists his aims, which can be summed up as the development of the ability to read flexibly and to reflect upon what one has read with no automatic reliance on other people’s assumptions and opinions. More controversially, he hopes that students “will feel no automatic aversion from texts which are not self‐evidently ‘literature’”. No book of this kind can be exhaustive, as Hopkins says. But this is a remarkably comprehensive and well‐balanced introduction to the complex and often contentious world of English studies. Although it is intended for those about to embark on English courses, it can be profitably read by tutors as well. I for one am grateful for some of the insights and information it gave me.
