In my previous post, Christian Wiman is quoted as saying about poetry that "It's thought of as a subject to be taught instead of simply an art to be enjoyed." In a post called "Reading Like a Reader," Cam at her blog Cam's Commentary makes a related claim:
. . .I think that even an unschooled reader, that is one who hasn't been introduced (is indoctrinated too strong a word?) to literary studies, can certainly enjoy a work of literature without needing to be able to dissect the manner in which the writer developed the character. One can read a short story by Chekhov. . .and enjoy the pleasure of reading a story, perhaps connecting to it on an emotional level. On a different level, the same reader could reflect on how Chekhov crafted his story, analyzing the way in which it was built, the seemingly effortless technique used to develop his characters. This leads to a different appreciation of the story and a deeper understanding of Chekhov as a master craftsman of the short story, but does not necessarily reflect a closer -- or better -- reading of the text. This is just a different kind of reading of the text. . . .
I actually agree with the general proposition that reading fiction should be "enjoyable," certainly that it should be "pleasurable," although usually the assertion of enjoyment or entertainment as primary criteria for judging the value of works of fiction is a kind of defensive gesture meant to ward off the "snobs and professors" who want to take the pleasure out of reading for those not "indoctrinated" into the protocols of litcrit. That a novel or story is entertaining certainly does not disqualify it from being considered "literature," but neither does is it insure that it will be so considered. If, like poetry, fiction can be taken as "an art to be enjoyed," it first of all needs to measure up as "art." Simply holding a reader's attention through to the end is not finally an adequate measure, although surely a work of literary art does first of all need to do that. (And, regarding Wiman's remark specifically, simply to "enjoy" a poem surely cannot be the primary motivation for offering or taking a course in poetry, if it is to be regarded at all as "a subject to be taught." Directing everyone to take 50 minutes and "enjoy" cannot be very pedagogically sound.)
More to the point, readers who reject all approaches to fiction that go beyond its potential to entertain or provide pleasure are not thereby safeguarding the purity of reading, nor are readers who attempt to in one way or another to "dissect" works of fiction violating that purity. Reading includes re-reading, and it is in the act of re-reading that criticism really occurs. Indeed "re-reading" and "critical reading" might be considered synonymous terms, as it is almost impossible to resist in a subsequent encounter some degree of scrutiny of the way the text works, some examination of what exactly it was that captured one's attention in the first reading and makes it difficult to put that text out of mind. In Art as Experience, John Dewey describes the critical impulse in this way:
. . .after an absorbed enjoyment of the poem, one may reflect and analyze. One may consider how the choice of words, the meter and rhyme, the movement of the phrases, contribute to the aesthetic effect. Not only this, but such an analysis, performed with reference to a more definite apprehension of form, may enrich further direct experience.
In this chapter of Art as Experience, Dewey is concerned with the relation of "content" to "form." He believes that "The fact that form and matter are connected in a work of art does not mean they are identical. It signifies that in the work of art they do not offer themselves as two distinct things: the work is formed matter. But they are legitimately distinguished when reflection sets in, as it does in criticism and in theory." It is possible, and in no way objectionable, to settle for that initial experience of a work of art or literature in which form and content "do not offer themselves as two distinct things." Most people precisely do experience art in this way--including most critics. There is not one way of reading during which the reader allows the text to be itself and another in which the reader/critic is on the look-out from the beginning to analyze "the way it is built," at least no good reading adequate to what the text does indeed have to offer. Critics read for pleasure too, but most surely believe that a more "critical" re-reading only enhances the pleasure, producing a fuller, more expansive experience of the work.
In this way, I have to say that I do believe this sort of additional "appreciation" of fiction or poetry ultimately produces a "better" reading. It's not an alternative to "the pleasure of reading a story" in "absorbed enjoyment" but a supplement to such reading. It doesn't replace "absorbed" reading, but contributes something extra, something that, in Dewey's words, can contribute to "a more definite apprehension of form" which in turn "may enrich further direct experience." It is not a "different" kind of reading but a part of reading more amply defined. Not all readers will want to take advantage of the "extra" that critical reading can provide, but simply dismissing it as the possession of "snobs" does not really do justice to the full range of pleasure that literature might supply.