Yes, Virginia, there is a Sigmund Freud...

Some of you may already know I'm taking Critical Theory this semester. Now, you really have to have a sense of humor with critical theory. You see, the trouble is, the scholars take it all so seriously. They set up their forts and wage heated battles over who is right and who is wrong. Whole careers are made and broken over what stance to take toward literature. This is the kind of thing that drives some people to run screaming from higher learning; they believe that once you get sucked into critical theory, you will never enjoy a book, a movie, hell, anything in life ever again. But I don't see it that way.

I believe that critical theory is like my closet. The text is like the human body, and choosing a critical theory is a bit like getting dressed in the morning. Let's see... what shall it be today? An Aristotlean Unities three-piece suit? That little Feminist miniskirt? A Postcolonial evening gown? Maybe a Mythological long red velvet cape or a New Historicist ruffled shirt? How about a Deconstructionist handknit sweater (if you catch one strand on something it will unravel completely)... We can put Queer theory in the top hat and tails. And Psychoanalysis? Well, that's that naughty black lacey thing brought out for special occasions (hey, it's all about sex, right?).

The thing is, the text, like the human body, well, it's beautiful just by itself, isn't it? You don't have to dress it up in anything if you don't want to, or when you do, you're going to have your favorites and things that don't fit so well. It's all about finding what fits and what's fun. Of course, even the act of observing brings with it its own theory: Reader Response. That's what you bring with you when you read a text. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all that. What you see is affected/distorted/interpreted by everything you've read/seen/heard/experienced up to this point. I believe it was the Chinese philosopher Lao Tsu who said you cannot step into the same river twice, because you are no longer the same person and the river has changed as well; the same applies with books. (Hmm. Maybe Reader Response is like that favorite pair of blue jeans that only gets better with time...).

Of course, even applying this analogy of the closet is putting a structure on the whole thing. I am reminded that no matter how hard I try I remain a structuralist, which in literary circles is considered tres passe. It's Old School. Nobody who's anybody does it anymore. Eh, what can I say, I'm an old fashioned kind of girl.

So most of this weekend, I was reading Sigmund Freud. Whatever happened to old Siggy? you may ask. Well, basically when most of his theories were discounted or disproven, he packed up his bags and moved into the literature department. You see, we don't have to worry about sticky things like scientific facts. Our art is illusion, so most of what he said fits rather well. Oedipus complex? Penis envy? Repressed desires and Unconscious wish-fulfillment? We can work with this.

We can't be too hard on old Siggy, though. He really got the ball rolling when it came to psychoanalysis. He was a product of his times in more than one sense of the term. There could not have been a Freud before Freud, so to speak, because science, medicine, philosophy, and religion had to advance to a certain point before what he was thinking about was even possible. Were there complexes before Freud? Did they exist in a nameless state, or did they come into being upon being named? Then, too, his own forays into the field were affected by the culture he was a product of. He was a German in the Victorian age: How more uptight can you get? Repression was the game of the day.

But without him, we would not have this idea of psychology at all. He was a pioneer in the field: He may have gotten a few things wrong, but at least he let us know there was a field. And he opened a path for those who came after him, like Jung, my personal favorite. When it comes to psychoanalysis, Jung is the man!

One thing that Freud never understood, though, was women (see yesterday's quote). They were a complete enigma to him. What do women want? Psychologists are still trying to figure that one out. It's funny, though, the question Psychology can't seem to answer was answered hundreds of years before in medieval literature.

What does a woman want?

Do you really want to know?

Well, read it yourself and find out....

Chaucer's Wife of Bath's Tale