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by Richard H. Brodhead

Download The School of Hawthorne ePub
  • ISBN 0195060709
  • ISBN13 978-0195060706
  • Language English
  • Author Richard H. Brodhead
  • Publisher Oxford University Press (February 22, 1990)
  • Pages 272
  • Formats mobi lrf doc lit
  • Category Fiction
  • Subcategory History and Criticism
  • Size ePub 1391 kb
  • Size Fb2 1961 kb
  • Rating: 4.8
  • Votes: 291

In The School of Hawthorne, Brodhead uses Hawthorne as a prime example of how literary traditions are made, not born. Under Brodhead's scrutiny, the Hawthorne tradition opens out onto a wide array of subjects, many of which have received little previous attention. He offers a detailed account of Hawthorne's life in American letters, showing how authors as varied as Melville, Howells, James, and Faulkner have learned from Hawthorne's model while all the while changing the terms in which he has been read. As he traces Hawthorne's continued life among his heirs, Brodhead also reflects on the ways in which writers receive and resist official tradition, how their work is conditioned by the institutionalized pasts that surround them, and how they go about creating new traditions to counter existing ones. An important contribution to literary history, The School of Hawthorne also establishes new ways in which literary history itself can be understood.

Richard Halleck Brodhead (born April 17, 1947) is an American scholar of 19th-century American literature and served as the ninth president of Duke University. Brodhead was born April 17, 1947, in Dayton, Ohio.

Richard Halleck Brodhead (born April 17, 1947) is an American scholar of 19th-century American literature and served as the ninth president of Duke University. His family moved to Fairfield, Connecticut when he was six years old, where he attended public schools. He went on to attend Phillips Academy, where his high school classmates included Dick Wolf and George W. Bush.

The School of Hawthorne book. In The School of Hawthorne, Brodhead uses Hawthorne as a prime example of how literary traditions are made, not born. Under Brodhead's scrutiny, the Hawthorne tradition opens out onto a wide array of subjects, many of which have received little previous attention.

In The School of Hawthorne, Brodhead uses Hawthorne as a prime example of how literary traditions are made, not born.

The school of Hawthorne. Brodhead, Richard . 1947-. cn. Publication date. Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 1804-1864, Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 1804-1864, James, Henry, 1843-1916, American fiction, Influence (Literary, artistic, et. Publisher. New York : Oxford University Press. Books for People with Print Disabilities. Internet Archive Books. Uploaded by Lotu Tii on February 27, 2014.

The school of Hawthorne by Richard H. Brodhead, February 22, 1990, Oxford University Press, USA .

Are you sure you want to remove The School of Hawthorne from your list? The School of Hawthorne. by Richard H. Brodhead.

Richard H. Brodhead, Professor of English, Yale University. The School of Hawthorne. will be a welcomed text in graduate and major university libraries. proves here once again that he is a brilliant reader and a brilliant writer.

Keywords: Richard, Hawthorne, corridors, Brodhead, ISBN, creativity, University Press, Oxford, gender, Iowa.

3 Books (continued) The School of Hawthorne. Oxford University Press, Hawthorne, Melville, and the Novel. Duke University Press, Nathaniel Hawthorne. Penguin Books, New Essays on Melville's Moby-Dick. Cambridge University Press, William Faulkner: New Perspectives.

Talk about The School of Hawthorne

Good critical interpretations.
When I saw the title of Richard Brodhead's The School of Hawthorne in 1986 I was feeding Melville documents to Jay Leyda for an enlargement of The Melville Log and decided I did not need to look up the book, since I had a good idea of just how pervasive Hawthorne's influence was among American novelists of the second half of the nineteenth century. When I bought a copy this July (a presentation copy signed by the author, presumably to an unappreciative recipient), I found that Brodhead had written the book without knowing just "how pervasive Hawthorne's influence was among American novelists of the second half of the nineteenth century"!

Brodhead began The School of Hawthorne bobbing and weaving over the obvious political incorrectness of his book, for he limited the principal students to famous male writers (one of whom, Melville, scarcely belongs in the book). This is Brodhead:

The particular tradition I have chosen to study is, I know, a highly canonical one. Not only does it include the authors ranked greatest in modern estimates of American fiction: the relation of such writers to Hawthorne has itself become a virtually canonical topic, a constant subject of official study. In view of the weight that has been attached to it I hasten to add that my intention in returning to this group is not to try to reinstate the Hawthorne-Melville-James-Faulkner line as the Great Tradition in an exclusionary way. I do not believe that the American novel has (in Richard Chase's words) "its tradition." It has a wealth of competing and interpenetrating traditions; no one of these is more American than the others; and no author draws strength from one American vein alone.

In the next paragraph, beginning with a wordy, weaving construction ("if I return to . . . it is out of") Brodhead tries hard to show that he is open to enlargements of the canon, even though he is excluding anyone but his great male writers:

Nevertheless, if I return to the high canonical American novelists it is out of the conviction that they exhibit forms of literary engagement whose possibilities we would not know of from the work of other writers, so that we can only forget them (as we once forgot their fellows) at the cost of loss of knowledge. If I return to them, it is also in the belief that we are now in a position to see these familiar authors under new lights. Renewed interest in writers formerly marked fit for forgetting has helped remind us that canons are selective and changing cultural constructions, not neutral registers of literary worth. This insight should lead us to extend the range of our literary attentions out beyond canonical boundaries. But it can also enable us to put a new question to canonical literature itself: to ask how its cultural status has been created and maintained, and with what consequences (canonicity as a historical fact inevitably has consequences) it has enjoyed the status it has. Similarly, non-canonical writing has brought back with it a new knowledge of the social history of American authorship, an enriched sense of the social conditions that have both enabled and contained writers' assertions of themselves as writers.

There many problems with Brodhead's tergiversative twisting and turning. First is his obvious intention to disarm critics who object to his focusing on "well-known authors" who happen to be (he does not dare say) all male. Second is his evading the basic question he ought to have been asking: "Who attended the School of Hawthorne?"

Brodhead wrote the book without asking that basic question, and the consequence is that his book is rather less than a halfway decent job that nevertheless will prevent anyone else's doing the job better. "Sorry," any press will say, "there's a book by Richard H. Brodhead on that very subject and it is published by Oxford University Press. The job has been done!"

The job has not been done. Whenever others had published articles on novelists influenced by Hawthorne, Brodhead paid some attention, but otherwise he was bumfuzzled, wanting to acknowledge highly admirable forces arguing for opening the canon but unable to see beyond the major figures who had been taught in his classes at Andover and Yale. Brodhead was unable to detach himself from the male elite even while trying to appease the lesser hoards by overlapping equivocation, and finally rushed to judgment on the basis of a limited knowledge of American literature.

A relevant excursus: In 1961, after I had decided to work on Melville with Harrison Hayford at Northwestern, I arranged to take my only graduate independent reading course. I went through all the literary histories of American literature making lists of nineteenth-century American novels pointed out by one critic or another as interesting although neglected. I read as many on the list as I could find. I missed some, notably Rebecca Harding's story "Life in the Iron Mills," which, as I saw later, I could have read in the Atlantic. But I read or skimmed thoughtfully 200 or so other books and made little two or three page reports on them. Among the best surprises for me were Caroline Kirkland's Michigan books and Harriet Beecher Stowe's New England novels. Nobody did New England theology of the Young Republic more authoritatively than Stowe. I never got to teach the powerful Oldtown Folks, but as paperbacks became available I did get to teach a couple of her other extraordinary New England books. What I learned served me extremely well in classes later on, and came into play this July as I looked at The School of Hawthorne.

After seeing that Brodhead's book focused on "major authors," I looked for "lesser" ones, such as Harold Frederic, an obvious student of Hawthorne's, whose debt several critics had pointed out, and was pleased to see that Brodhead mentioned The Damnation of Theron Ware. But when I began looking for other novelists who followed Hawthorne I did not find them. The index cited a mention of Thomas Bailey Aldrich on p. 8. There I found this remarkably invidious comment: "Thomas Bailey Aldrich, a once-admired poet more forgotten now than even the word 'limbo' can suggest, found his poetical vocation while reading Longfellow." As someone who knows first hand just how much pain Brodhead's snide innuendo can inflict, I wince at the contempt in this sentence as I retype it. Here elitist contempt masks Brodhead's own ignorance. "Limbo" is not the question. Brodhead should have harrowed Hell itself if necessary in reading through novels of the nineteenth and early twentieth century looking for followers of Hawthorne. How, I ask on the basis of my 1961 sweep of neglected novels, how can you write a book about The School of Hawthorne and mention Thomas Bailey Aldrich with such disdain and not discuss, not mention at all, his The Stillwater Tragedy, which opens with a passage written in loving homage to Hawthorne's set piece in The House of the Seven Gables on the passage of the night and the morning while a corpse awaits discovery? How, I ask, backing away to an earlier decade, can Brodhead have mentioned Harriet Beecher Stowe several times without knowing that Hawthorne's influence can be traced in her New England novels, very obviously, the title should tell you, in The Pearl of Orr's Island? Brodhead wrote The School of Hawthorne without doing the basic research--without reading widely in American fiction of the nineteenth century and the early twentieth century. This is not a case where you need to start with working through boxes of holograph letters in archives: first you just need to read a lot of novels by a lot of people, not just writers designated now as the greatest.

As a descendant of many 18th century and even a few 17th century North Carolina Scots, I know what "a pig in a poke means." You are a lucky buyer if you find a sleek piglet in the poke when you neglect to open it before paying over your coins. If you didn't open the poke, you might, at least in earlier times, have gotten home with cats, rats, or hedgehogs in your sack. When Trustee Steel persuaded Duke that Richard Brodhead was "a first-rate scholar" (12 December 2003) he was selling "a pig in a poke" and when the poke was opened to its widest in 2006 it became clear that what they hired at Duke was not a sleek porcine prize. Brodhead is a graceful enough critic, but he is not a scholar, not at all. A scholar would have worked his way through dozens of nineteenth-century American novels lying neglected in Sterling Memorial Library before he thought of writing a book called The School of Hawthorne, and then he would not have needed to excuse himself repeatedly for not opening the canon. Steel sold Duke "a pig in a poke," not the prize pig Duke had bargained for. Nor did Duke did hire a genuinely first-rate human being, as Stuart Taylor, Jr., and KC Johnson demonstrate in Until Proven Innocent. Who can read without dismay and disgust their depiction of Brodhead's "moral meltdown" (p. 137)? What would you say now, Trustee Steel, about just what you had in that poke of yours? Would Yale want it back?