The Joys of Close Reading: Theory at Work

Literary studies has a habit of appropriating the rhetoric of scientific study. Words like "theory" and "method" are common, but it's hard to know what exactly these words mean in a literary context until you use them. With that in mind, I thought I'd try to demonstrate a specific "technique" or "method" on which a large amount of literary criticism is based. We call this method "close reading."

Look at those colors!

Close reading is basically what it sounds like: you read a text closely. This doesn't mean your nose should be in the book's seam, but instead it means that you read for details. These details are often symbolic or linguistic/syntactical. For example, a close reading of The Wizard of Oz might focus on a detail, like the use of color, and suggest how the use of color takes on a larger symbolic meaning. Through this technique, it becomes evident that colors symbolize money; the primary colors in the film - gold/yellow, red, and green - all have strong connotations with money. From this detail, the critic could then go on to focus on how this symbolism contributes to the film's larger meaning. An example of a linguistic or syntactical close reading can be found in Hamlet. In the play, Hamlet famously states, "To be or not to be - that is the question." The word choice, repetition, and parallelism in this soliloquy makes obvious the fact that the central interest in Hamlet's speech is what it means to be or to live. It's metric arrangement is also important; unlike most of Shakespeare's verse, which uses ten syllables per line, this line uses eleven. The uneven number of syllables is an important linguistic choice that mirrors Hamlet's indecision and inaction; just like Hamlet is unable to act on his desires, the line is unable to be metrically complete. The fact that the line ends with the word "question" further suggests that it is unresolved. After all, Hamlet does not offer an answer to the question that he poses. From this linguistic close reading, the critic might go on to to focus on how indecision and unresolved actions or speeches are important to the play. In both of these examples, the power of close reading is that you can get a lot out of a little. Small details like color contribute to a grander meaning in The Wizard of Oz just like small details like word choice and meter contribute to a larger meaning in Hamlet. 

I've been rereading some short stories by E.M. Forster these past few days. One story that sticks out is "The Other Boat." This story is simply amazing, and it is what inspired this entire project. Rereading it, I was struck by how much I forgot or how much I noticed for the first time. Doing a close reading on the story brought out even more new details with only a few lines. Close reading the opening three lines in particular helped me to see how in three lines Forster develops the entire framework for his story. The lines read:

"Cocoanut, come and play at soldier."

"I cannot, I am beesy."

"But you must, Lion wants you."

Symbols of Empire: A Lion and Britannia

These lines are exchanged between one of the March children, a child brought up in an English colonialist family, and Cocoanut, an ambiguously ethnic lower caste. The lines establish the foundational themes and motifs that repeat throughout the story. The tension between different races is dramatized by the two characters' names, Cocoanut and Lion, which is short for Lionel. The names suggest a fundamental difference between the characters; one man is an exotic fruit while another is a lion. The emphasized segment "cocoa" in "Cocoanut" racializes this difference by suggesting Cocoanut's darker skin. In contrast, the word "Lion" recalls the image of a lion as a symbol for the British Empire, a reminder of the national differences between the two men.

These lines also establish differences in power and space. Cocoanut is being commanded to play a game that he doesn't want to play. He is not allowed to disagree with Lionel's desires. The fact that this game involves imitating soldiers suggests another form of power, militarized power, that Forster is trying to explore. The lines imply a difference in space between what is "here," where Lionel is, and what is "there," where Cocoanut is. It also suggests travel between these two different spaces when Lionel wants Cocoanut to come to where he is. This spatial difference becomes more important and noticeable later in the story as a boat travels from England to India and explores the spaces and differences in between the two countries, one which rules and the other which is ruled.

The phrase "play at soldier" suggests a gap, similar to the spatial gap between here and there or England and India, that Cocoanut cannot traverse. At best, he can pretend to be a soldier; he can pretend to be a decision maker in the British Empire, but he can never actually be that soldier. He cannot be Lionel's equal, only his play thing. Any power he has comes through a game, through pretending, or through lying. 

All of these points suggest a fundamental difference between people or between places that cannot be reconciled. This gap, or difference, can even be read in the language Forster uses: Cocoanut speaks in dialect, while Lionel uses standard English. Any attempt to cross any of these gaps merely leaves the traveler lost in between one spot or the other; often, we refer to this sort of in between stasis as a liminal space.

Finally, the phrase "Lion wants you" is significant. The word "want" suggests sexual desire. In this passage, the two characters are children, so it is hard to imagine them as sexual beings (although I would argue it is not entirely impossible to do so). Later, when they become men this "want" does become full fledged desire. This desire fuels each character's need to cross the chasm between space and identity, although they ultimately fail and end up stuck in liminal loneliness.

Ize can do close reading, plz?

Close reading is a powerful and invaluable to any literary theorist. A good close reading is one of the easiest ways to build a strong argument. It yields rich, provocative details from scant resources. Tools like close reading give me a lot to work with, and they are making it hard to narrow down topics and materials for my presentation. Still, opening up a text and reading the details hiding under its surface is, in many ways, the ultimate goal of the literary theorist, and it is a goal that close reading makes easily achievable.