I don’t think it can be refuted that most people on this planet don’t like literary theory. Most people have probably never heard of it and live in rural Asia, and those who have heard of it probably want to vomit when they read it. Then there are those who have heard of it but don’t study it.
The problem is that when you read Žižek, Derrida, Benjamin, Foucault and other literary theorists you’ve probably heard of, their elegance, articulation and utterly confounding use of language seduces you. And therein lies the golden nugget: Literary theory doesn’t have to be important because it convinces you that it is. The engine exists to perpetuate itself. Like biology. Science. See, useful things.
In honor of a slice of academia I’ve hardly studied but would like to pretend to know about, here are a few things I’ve learned from literary theory. Maybe I’ll convince you of its greatness along the way.
Possibly the single most efficacious tool literary theory provides can be employed in everyday conversation, most usefully in conversations you don’t really understand. Say, for instance, your smart friend starts talking about the intricacies of quantum theory, electrodynamics and the social significance of bronies. Don’t panic.
The key is knowing how to turn any conversation into a squabble about how we interpret and use words. Here’s an example. Friend: “You know, perturbation theory really isn’t at all a corollary of QED. If anything it’s the reverse.” You: “Perturbation? You mean like to perturb? Like to disturb? Like disturbing? Like Kim Kardashian’s bum? Geez! Why are all quantum physicists latent sexual monsters?”
Reference Freud whenever you can. Further reading: Lacan, Žižek, Freud.
Another enticing tool in the toolbox you can’t find in your dilapidated basement that is literary theory comes in the form of an excuse. There is serenity in knowing that if I ever become an accomplished literary theorist, I won’t need to use paragraphs. In fact, I won’t need to use much of the typical and otherwise necessary punctuation normal people (plebeians) use.
So what if without paragraph indents or punctuation my writing doesn’t make sense? No matter, my fellow theorists will dig it either way. Theorist: “Oh, your refulgent representation of extrajudicial grammatology informing the infantile nonsense compulsion (a thing I made up, i.e. total bull) really captured what the drive toward meaningless means. You're really quite a good literary theorist.” Me: “Thanks, I know.”
Reference postmodernism whenever you can. Further reading: Deleuze, Barthes, that man with the facial hair (Nietzsche and/or Marx).
Just as entertaining as getting away with grammar sin is the knowledge that under the reign of literary theory nothing is exempt from analysis. Nothing is exempt from scrutiny and nuance (except, of course, the nonsense compulsion). This is a huge break for artists like the legendary rapper Lil B who have for years struggled to say meaningful and relevant things that aren’t just obscene gab.
There is a lot a theorist can say of Lil B, especially when he’s observed through a Derrida-inspired lens. Derrida is known for deconstructionism and for saying things like this: “Every discourse, even a poetic or oracular sentence, carries with it a system of rules for producing analogous things, and thus an outline of methodology.”
Such a position makes stuff like this -- Lil B: “DOES YOU MIND CONTROL YOU? OR DO YOU CONTROL YOUR MIND? I AM STARTING TO FEEL THE EARTH IS A GIANT BODY AND WE ARE CELLS AS HUMANS” -- irresistibly profound.
I could talk about Lil B’s methodologies all night, with fire in the fireplace and a glass of cognac in hand. May you use these tools wisely.
