Deep-dish theory is this book’s main fare, but lighter side dishes make it digestible, at least for someone like me, unschooled in literary studies. To grasp the author's answers to the question ‘What is Literature?’ posed in the titles of the first two chapters, no special conceptual apparatus or vocabulary are required. Eagleton begins with the following down-to-earth proposition:
When people at the moment call a piece of writing literary, they generally have one of five things in mind, or some combination of them. They mean by ‘literary’ a work which is fictional, or which yields significant insight into human experience as opposed to reporting empirical truths, or which uses language in a peculiarly heightened, figurative or self-conscious way, or which is not practical in the sense that shopping lists are, or which is highly valued as a piece of writing.
He does riffs on these, taking both writers and readers into account. For example,
Literature is a quality of attention. It is the way we find ourselves already biased and attuned when we pick up a book. We submit some texts to especially close scrutiny because we take the word of others that they will turn out to deserve it.
(I get that last point, but I wonder how many of us would take the word of those giving books five star reviews here on Goodreads that all those stars are merited...)
Eagleton emphasizes the moral dimensions of literature. He acclaims the art in statements like this:
Literary works represent a kind of praxis of knowledge-in-action and are similar in this way to the ancient conception of virtue. They are forms of moral knowledge…
The development of literature over time is not a major theme, but Eagleton does take note of historical shifts, such as literature’s emergence
for the first time in the late eighteenth century as a form of resistance to an increasingly prosaic, utilitarian social order… Literature and the arts become forms of displaced religion, protected enclaves within which values now seen as socially dysfunctional can take shelter.
In the twentieth century, critics have come to assess the value of literary works in terms of their powers to re-visit old assumptions and to see things anew:
What is precious about literary art is the way it renders our taken-for-granted values freshly visible, thereby opening them to criticism and revision.
Later chapters took me into deeper water of literary theories, such as of Speech Acts and “the larger class of verbal acts known as performatives”. Eagleton illustrates such concepts to some extent (typically using British fiction for his examples), but leaves some of them hanging as abstractions, as in the case of ‘propositional logic’ and ‘dialogical logic’.
Fortunately Eagleton offers witty asides to lighten us up. He parodies Ernest Hemingway’s hairy-chested prose, for example, and takes a dig at another hallowed figure and his devotees in this observation:
A good many of Vladimir Nabokov’s novels are politically partisan, but critics rarely complain of the fact because it is a partisanship most of them share. … The word ‘doctrinaire’ applies only to other people’s beliefs. It is the left that is ‘committed’ not the liberals or conservatives..
There’s much more I enjoyed, but also puzzled over in this book, which merits more informed attention than I was able to give it.