Feel free to misinterpret this in a political manner.

Over time, topics tend to have new light shed on them, and are thus seen in a different way. Not in the leaves-changing-colors-in-the-Fall way, but a way in which classical literature, such as The Tempest, is regarded with knowledge of philosophies that weren't around during the novel's era. The debate as to whether this new insight expands the reader's understanding of the novel or muddles the author's original intent is discussed with proponents at both extremes.

One of these debaters goes by the name of George Will. He laments that "all literature is, whether writers are conscious of it or not, political." For example, "Shakespeare's 'Tempest' reflects the imperialist rape of the Third World." (111). Will asserts that having the critic as a higher point of authority on a piece of literature makes culture "oppressive" and literary canon "an instrument of domination." (111). He decidedly states that placing the critic over the author, in terms of their opinion on the literary meaning, will continue until every value that we have thus far based ourselves on will be cut down and thrown into the streets, where poor children will ridicule them for their unwanted-ness.

His opponent is a man named Stephen Greenblatt. Aside from having what may be one of the worst-sounding names in the history of names, Greenblatt rebuts Will by stating basically the opposite of what Will said. He says the critic should indeed have more power over the author, and he proposes the idea that one must read every possible direction of a text so that s/he may soak up all the literary-goodness contained in that work. Aside from his horrendous name and sassy attitude, Greenblatt confronts Will's argument with a rather simple statement: "It is very difficult to argue that The Tempest is not about Imperialism." (114). He goes on to down trod the importance of the aesthetics of a piece of literature, and instead advocates the more political view of the work, whatever that may be.

As for my personal, law-like opinion, I have to side with Mr. Greenblatt. Lucky for him, my name is magnificent, so it seems we cancel each other out. Unfortunately for the over zealous author, the interpretation of his/her literature is left to the reader. Therefore, though the author has a smidgen of control over the moral/meaning/what have you of his/her novel, the reader may interpret as s/he pleases. And that's not necessarily a bad thing. If we are to apply the teachings of today's world to the written world of years past, it is quite possible that we may be able to apply this combination of old and new knowledge in order to solve a problem.

Let's say Rafael likes pigs. Especially ones that are alive. Now, when Rafael reads the familiar novel "The Three Little Pigs," he's going to be pumped the pigs live, and go on his merry way, most likely stepping on some broken literary values on his way home. Let's also say that Hansberry has taken many courses on current world visions and/or/but-not-limited-to English-majoring-type courses. When Hansberry reads the novel, he will most likely find a different meaning that applies itself more aptly to Hansberry's life. And, let's be honest, he'll probably be stoked that the pigs live, too.

Neither version of the meaning these two young gentlemen took from the novel is "incorrect," so to speak. They're just different. It's safe to say that just about every piece of literature out there can be viewed with the same scenario as with Rafael and Hansberry. Personally, I find a myriad of conclusions far more interesting and more profitable for society that one grand narrative. Yeah, I did just connect this to class. You can deal with it. And so can the author who doesn't want his works to be taken any other way than the way he perceived them. And Will, too.

Finally, I offer one last sentiment. Will contends (as nicely paraphrased by Greenblatt) that "poets cannot soar when their feet are stuck in social cement." (115). Well, Will, poets were never meant to fly. They, and their horribly vague poems were meant to be damned to the cement of social interpretation for eternity. But is it as Greenblatt said: "art, the art that matters, is not cement. It is mobile, complex, elusive, disturbing. A love of literature may help to form a community, but it is a community founded on imaginative freedom, the play of language, and scholarly honesty, and not on flag waving, boosterism, conformity." (115).