The English literature department at The University of the South (Sewanee) in the early 70s was fairly conservative and single-minded. As a student majoring in English Lit I was forbidden to pursue any literary critical option other than form criticism. In our courses, we were not permitted to read anything after Joyce.
The drama department, on the other hand, was filled with wonderful renegades, reading and performing Beckett, Pinter, Osborne, and others, and harbored a few who were bantering around terms like “structuralism,” semiotics, and “archetypal criticism.” I had some small ability as an actor, which led me into the clutches of these mis-guided people on occasion, and I began to read “outside the lines” prescribed by the English department. Of course, I ran into serious trouble when I wrote my honors English thesis – “An Archetypal Study of Moby Dick” (can you imagine!). I’ll never forget the day I found myself sitting at the end of a long wooden conference table in the library basement defending my work, as ten Oxford drape-clad form critics leaned forward eagerly awaiting their turn to attack.
I survived (barely), and surprisingly discovered that my mind had been stretched by having to defend my ideas. Not only had I learned form criticism better, but I had pushed into new territory (archetypal criticism, structuralist criticism) that would prove immensely important in later years. And I had pursued and learned to defend ideas that stoked my emerging intellectual passions.
Unguided reading became a kind of obsession for me in later years, and continues to be crucial to my work today. At the University of Glasgow, studying Anglo-Irish literature, I thrived on the tutorial system, reading the book list for the M.Phil, but spending hours parked in the library stacks reading other books next to those books on the shelves – and on surrounding shelves. This practice continued when I later arrived at Princeton for doctoral study. It continued when I began to write – juxtaposing structuralism and semiotics with homiletics in The Four Codes of Preaching, continental philosophy (Levinas primarily) and theologies of the interhuman (E. Farley) with homiletics in Otherwise Preaching and The Roundtable Pulpit, and theories of culture, cultural production, and composition in Mashup Religion.
I find myself worrying a lot these days that we insist on too much coursework for our students at Vanderbilt, or too much controlled reading, not allowing the latitude for students with genuine intellectual passion to pursue unguided reading. I’m not sure what can be done, but from where I sit, this kind of reading is absolutely crucial if students are to find the scholars that speak most powerfully to their true and best intellectual interests and instincts.
Great, great, great point, John! That’s where the real action is in academia. As I study for my comprehensive exams I sometimes find myself outlining a book that is not on my reading list. I always feel ambivalent about this afterward because, on the one hand, I have a limited amount of time to digest a great deal of information and reading other books cuts into that precious time; but on the other hand, the promise of new avenues of thought is too tempting to resist.
John,
I think that the kind of “unguided” reading you’re suggesting, or perhaps “semi-guided” in that it would have an agreed-upon starting point and branch from there with no sequential reading list, would have been a huge help in preparing for a dissertation. There are gems out there that are not necessarily on the bibliographies as “must reads” but that are full of wisdom and insight. Is there a place in curriculum for more directed study courses?
I think Vanderbilt is in a great position to encourage students to follow where their intellectual curiosity may lead. The most exciting times I had occurred when I discovered a new thinker or theory from my assigned readings, and then followed the conversation to new areas – often philosophy, history, or literature. The university setting also allowed me to participate in some unguided intellectual consumption by way of the many lectures and forums hosted by various departments. That they almost all included complimentary wine and cheese only gave me further incentive to explore beyond the curriculum.
I don’t know that there is any way to encourage this structurally. I felt the freedom to give less time to courses that did not interest me as much, and more time to things that did, and I don’t have any regrets about that.
You have outlined a very traditional professor’s lament with no real answer. Coursework needs assigned reading and students will hopefully be inspired out of those readings to venture out on their own. However, what you cannot legislate from syllabi is that work of inspiration that grabs a student – a thirst for more.
I can remember what a revelation it was when I started reading books that I loved with footnotes. The footnotes were royal roads to wonderful places. In fact, I still judge books on their footnotes because without them I see the reading as a dead end. There is always something interesting awaiting around the corner, maybe footnote 29 or 53, that will be something I had not thought of and need to pursue.
Required reading is always just a beginning and some students will see it as that and some may not. I think you provide the call and the space for such pursuits. Such a call is in itself a hopeful act.
Well, now, Professor, I can certainly appreciate this blog post! Perhaps it will generate some empathy as I continue in the unguided reading that coursework, exams, proposals etc. etc. stifled at earlier stages of the program. Writing will be soon to come. As for now, my unguided wandering through literary criticism, political science and cultural studies is yielding important insights for for homiletics! “Guide my feet, Lord as I run this race…I don’t want to run this race in vain!” Peace.