I’m not a deep thinker or writer, despite my background, education, and training. This may seem odd from someone with a PhD in an arts/humanities field given the reputations of said fields. We’re expected to be thinking and writing deep, meaningful, philosophical things.
That’s not me.
Maybe that comes from being the grandkid of working class families. Maybe it comes from my Polish lineage (though we have Copernicus and John Paul II, so maybe not entirely).
I think this is the big reason I rejected doing literary theory in grad school. Most of the things we read and discussed were doing pure theory, theory for the sake of theory. People like Roland Barthes, Toril Moi, and Stanley Fish who were totally divorced from texts, just developing theory to further theory drove me crazy. Meanwhile, I embraced, halfheartedly because theory was required, New Historicism, in short studying a text’s historical context or the historical context in which it was and is received. It seemed, and still does, the most practical of the theories out there.
I remember being in a graduate level Shakespeare course, during my MA. We were reading Othello and a fellow student asked, “Why is Othello so obsessed with his reputation?” As I recall, a few theories were posited, some “I don’t knows” floated around. Then I spoke up (and I usually didn’t talk much in class), saying, “Othello’s a mercenary, the commander of a company of mercenaries. His reputation is literally his life. It’s how he gets jobs for himself and his men. That would be important enough, but he’s also a Moor, a Black Muslim, working in Catholic Italy. That makes his reputation at least twice as important as it is for other mercenary captains.” To me, this seemed obvious. From the looks I got, it seemed to be a revelation to many others in the class. It’s not a deep, philosophical interpretation, but a practical, historically important one, I think.
During a decade as a student in higher ed, I concluded that students sometimes forget about the practical side of critical thinking and get too caught up in some skewed sense of how they think they should be responding and thinking, trying to “sound college”. The problem is that “sounding college” is built on a stereotype, maybe an idealization, possibly fueled by pop culture (especially movies), in which the faculty are almost invariably the enemy who need to be appeased and outwitted (often by presenting convoluted responses, answers, and thoughts that really make no sense in the light of day). Often, we just want a straight response that seems likely (at least I do).
Was Shakespeare using Othello as a commentary on hyper-masculinity? I don’t know. Possibly. It’s perfectly valid for modern audiences to read the character that way. But, I think, for an audience that was being reminded of the War of the Roses, had survived the Spanish Armada, was dealing with the Succession Question, and had the Vatican & Papists fomenting insurrection . . . I suspect they’d understand Othello’s obsession with reputation as part and parcel of being a mercenary captain and an outsider by faith and appearance.
Maybe that all means I’m not a deep enough or philosophical enough thinker for this field or academia. I don’t know. Maybe the stereotype & expectation are just false.