I'm not sure how common it is but I recently had to read this book as summer work for my English class. I don't think I've ever read a book so tedious and pretentious. Instead of reading like an intelligent, charismatic professor enlightening his students with the literary knowledge he has built up over the years (which you can tell is what Foster thinks he sounds like), it reads more like a book snob rambling on about all the books he's ever read, using triple the amount of vocabulary necessary.
The book, if you haven't read it, is split into 27 chapters plus a few interludes that each discuss some aspect of literature and how to read it in a more engaged and aware manner. To put it bluntly, Foster did not have enough content to fill almost 30 chapters. This leads to him waffling on about niche points and giving 5 examples when 1 or 2 would have sufficed. Many of the chapters could have been shortened and combined into one or two and the reader would not miss out on much. I don't mind long stories or verbose authors, but usually that type of writing is accompanied by a matching amount of worthwhile content.
For example, chapters 5-9 are all about allusions in media to various historical texts. This could all be discussed in one well written chapter, but instead, Foster decided to split it into 5 chapters, one for allusions in general, one for shakespeare, one for the bible, one for fairy tales, and one for mythology. I can only imagine this was done to pad out the book and make it look like Foster had more to say than he really did, because all five chapters are identical. Just saying "Since x thing is so common and understood, you can find it referenced across literature from all over the world in every time period" over and over again. It becomes really obvious that multiple chapters should have just been combined when you look at their titles as well. Half the titles end in ellipses and half of them start with ellipses finishing off what the first one says. Like "It's All About Sex…" and "…Except Sex" are two chapters that follow back to back. Why they aren't one chapter titled "It's all about Sex… Except Sex" is beyond me.
Foster also loves to jump to conclusions, and assumes that because he thought of it, it must be true. He struggles to prove out his points or provide evidence for any of the things he claims. He says that "Hansel and Gretel" are the preferred fairy tale of a generation, for instance, and lists a few works that utilize the tale, but fails to really prove how or why he knows that to be true. If that is his opinion on the matter, then fine, he can write about his opinion, but when he acts like it is fact, and that by virtue of him being an old english teacher whose read a lot of books he must know everything about literature, it gets very grating.
Foster is also woefully Euro + American centric. He almost exclusively cites western literature and fails to consider that outside of the bubble he lives in, the statements he makes couldn't be further from the truth. For example, he makes a really absurd claim early on that the trope of a foreign woman seducing and leading a group of white men stems from Sacagawea, of all people. That trope is older than America itself, so why we are expected to pretend as if it comes from American history is lost on me. My mother did not grow up in the west, and to test out my point I asked her 2 questions. 1) if she knew that trope. 2) if she knew who Sacagawea was. Surprise, surprise, she knew the trope but not Sacagawea. That's because that trope is far older and more universal than Sacagawea, but Foster is trapped by his American mind and ego the size of the sun. He picked Sacagawea seemingly because it was the first connection he made, and it doesn't appear like he stopped to think about what else influenced what he was reading. Why does it have to be a Sacagawea reference? Why can't it be Esmeralda from Hunchback? She fits the same stereotype and is much more globally well known. Why can't it be any number of other characters, both historical and fictional? He is never interested in explaining why, he just wants you to take him at face value, ironic, since he's supposed to be educating us on how NOT to take literature at face value.
In an interlude between chapters 10 and 11, Foster tries to compensate for the issue I stated above, claiming we can never actually know what a writer was intending, while simultaneously claiming that it doesn't matter because they probably intended what he was thinking anyway. It's totally pointless and adds another 2 pages into this incredibly bloated book.
Aside from the issues I have with the content of the book, his writing style is also annoying. He seems to think that if he can make enough snarky remarks or pop culture references he'll be funny, but he couldn't get me to even begin to curl the edges of my lips, let alone be entertained by his dated, millennial-on-twitter esque writing. It feels like he wanted to capture the vibe of a Crash Course video but is nowhere near clever or quick enough to pull that off. Foster is also obsessed with rattling off all the different books he's read. I know I've mentioned this point at least 4 times already but the sheer magnitude of this issue is unbelievable. He is constantly, at every turn, looking to reference yet another obscure short story by an old white author that only saw circulation one brief summer in an Austrian literary magazine before it was ruthlessly burned by the Nazi's. Then he loves to pretend like everyone has read this story and that it was somehow influential to the whole world of authors and readers. It comes off like he wants to gloat about being so well read, rather than wanting to genuinely share how the concepts he writes about are applicable to these stories. One last minor point is that he also seems weirdly invested in putting down the reader and his students, constantly reiterating that he is smarter, has read more, has thought more, and knows more than we do, which may well be true, but is a really easy way to turn people off from your writing. There are few things more annoying than a know-it-all who thinks he's better than everyone.
Anyway this rant is far too long but I'm so frustrated that I had to waste my time reading this. I'm curious about how others feel about this book, and if there is something in it you find appealing that maybe I just don't get.
by Psychology-onion-300
2 Comments
> Foster decided to split it into 5 chapters, one for allusions in general, one for shakespeare, one for the bible, one for fairy tales, and one for mytholog
Or, alternatively, since the last four make up 90% of all allusions in the English language, they deserve special attention for the reader that wants to “catch up” on literature?
> . My mother did not grow up in the west, and to test out my point I asked her 2 questions.
Does your mother live on North Sentinel Island? Because otherwise she’s been exposed to Western culture.
> In an interlude between chapters 10 and 11, Foster tries to compensate for the issue I stated above, claiming we can never actually know what a writer was intending, while simultaneously claiming that it doesn’t matter because they probably intended what he was thinking anyway
You should probably read up on Roland Barthes before making this leap.
> e is constantly, at every turn, looking to reference yet another obscure short story by an old white author that only saw circulation one brief summer in an Austrian literary magazine before it was ruthlessly burned by the Nazi’s. Then he loves to pretend like everyone has read this story and that it was somehow influential to the whole world of authors and readers. It comes off like he wants to gloat about being so well read, rather than wanting to genuinely share how the concepts he writes about are applicable to these stories
This seriously reads like you felt insecure about not catching his references.
Overall, I think your post ironically presents the issues you accuse Foster’s text of having, mostly the part about drawing conclusions without evidence.
That’s what happens when they reach tenure. They become like The Overmind in Arthur C. Clarke’s Childhood’s End. This guy reminds me of that other douchebag who wrote that book The Bell Curve.