How Comparative Literature May Compromise Literatures
To all Comp Lit students and others
In the field of comparative literature, the study of multiple literatures, sometimes even from different time periods, within a single framework is often endorsed and lauded for its ability to open up new perspectives and challenge assumptions about literature. However, there is a flip side to this approach: by its very nature, comparative literature may marginalize certain literatures in favor of others. In this post, we’ll explore how comparative literature, if not used carefully, may unintentionally reinforce power dynamics and lead to the marginalization and underrepresentation of certain literatures.
The Problem with Comparative Literature
There are many reasons why students and scholars might choose to read and study multiple literatures within a single framework. Comparative literature can help us to better understand the relationships between different literary traditions, and it can also challenge our assumptions about what even constitutes “literature.” In addition, comparative literature may lead to new insights about cross-cultural human conditions and creative expressions that we would not have otherwise discovered or given any importance.
However, there is also a downside to comparative literature as a discipline and a subject within higher education. By necessity, this approach involves making comparisons between different literatures. And when we make comparisons, we may implicitly rank things as being better or worse than one another, and something being present in one thing, while being absent in another. For example, if we are comparing two works of the same genre, let’s say the modern novel, close in time, but from two different literatures, we may find that one is more aesthetically pleasing to us than the other, or that one is more narratively complex than the other. Unless the reader is diligent in differentiating between literary criticism and the endeavor of literary studies, these kinds of mental rankings can unintentionally reinforce power dynamics and lead to the marginalization of certain literatures.
For example, in many ways European literatures have been privileged over non-European literatures in the field of comparative literature. This may not only be because the majority of the “founders” of comparative literature were based in Europe and North America, but also because European languages are more commonly taught in schools and universities around the world. As a result, Western literatures are often seen as being more “universal” than non-European literatures, which are often relegated to the status of “local” or “regional” literature. Or worse, handed over to “area studies.”
Imagine that you are a student studying comparative literature or liberal arts at a university in the West. The chances are that you will be required to read works by Western authors such as Shakespeare, Dante, and Voltaire. At the same time, you may not be equally exposed to works by non-Western authors, such as Ghada al-Samman, Shusaku Endo, or Yunus Emre. This Eurocentric bias means that students who study comparative literature may only be getting one side of the story, or a lopsided one, of what we call “literature.”
This kind of imbalance can have a number of less favorable consequences. First, it can lead to a situation where only certain voices are heard and valued in the field of comparative literature. Second, it can discourage scholars from undertaking research on non-European literatures, which perpetuates a cycle of pushing such literature to the outskirts of so called “area studies.” Finally, it can limit our understanding of the human condition to a Eurocentric perspective, which fails to take into account the vast diversity of human experience and literary expression. After all, it would be misleading to speak of a literary history, when reality testifies to the existence of literary histories.
The Lack of Cultural Awareness in Comparative Literature
Another problem with comparative literature is that it risks lacking cultural awareness. This is because students and scholars who study comparative literature may not be able to read a work in its original language, and as a consequence, often are exposed to a tiny fraction of the totality of a diverse literary tradition. For example, a scholar who is based in Europe may study Arabic literature in translation without any substantial knowledge of Arabic or any real access to the Arabic literary tradition and associated culture due to the language barrier. As a result, this scholar, or student, may make all sorts of misinterpretations and miscalculations based on a small, translated corpus.
In some cases, it may lead to people making unintentionally essentialist or oversimplified statements about the cultures they are studying. In other cases, it may result in scholars misrepresenting or misunderstanding certain aspects of those cultures. Either way, a lack of cultural awareness in comparative literature can have negative impacts on both individual authors and entire literary traditions, given that comparative literature has both educational and scholarly objectives.
That being said, I would stress that the biggest problem with comparative literature is that, by its very nature, it pits different literatures against each other. In order to make comparisons, we must first establish differences. This can lead to a situation where certain literatures are seen as being inferior to others, and this is often reflected in the way they are taught or presented in schools and universities. For example, works by women and authors of color are often taught as “other” or “different,” rather than as part of the larger literary canon. They may even be grouped together under the heading of “minority literatures,” which further serves to place them in the outskirts.
As another example, Thomas Bauer, who’s a scholar in Arabic literature, presents a very interesting argument that I believe is valid for the enterprise of comparative literature. Bauer criticizes, amongst other things, the tendency of studies about Arabic literary works to obsessively search for and needing European equivalents in order to “rationalize” indigenous ones, and their preference for using Western literary categorizations, such as the classical division of poetry, prose, and drama. A literary division that in fact runs contrary to the Arabic literary tradition (and others I’d believe) and its development.
Bauer poses a valid question for us, which may be transfered to any other endeavor dealing with non-Western literatures in juxtaposition to Western ones:
But why do we have to prove that there was “real” pre-modern drama in the Arabic world? Has anybody ever questioned the value of English literature on account of its failure to develop the genres of maqāmah and badīʿīyah? (p. 151)
To Sum it Up
Comparative literature may have its benefits, but it also has the potential to inadvertently marginalize certain literatures. This is something that we need to be aware of as both students and scholars working in this field. We must be vigilant about power dynamics and be careful not to take a perspective that fails to value the vast diversity of human experience, on its own terms.
This is not to say that comparative literature is inherently bad; on the contrary, it can be a valuable tool for understanding different expressions of literature and the variety of perspectives therein. However, if not practiced carefully, and if lopsided, its study may result in the exclusion of certain literatures from the conversation. If we want to create a more inclusive literary canon, then we need to find a way to engage with all literatures on an equal footing. Without using a Western canon and literary history to rationalize non-Western literatures and their histories. Otherwise, we run the risk of further diminishing those that are already underrepresented.
In many ways, a sound approach begins with cultivating an awareness of the way we think and talk about literature; and realizing that comparison can only be a thankful and enriching tool if used fairly and critically, and if built upon solid knowledge and proficiency in the literatures read and studied. Also, there’s no shame in being transparent about any traps or gaps one encountered along the way and how those may have affected one’s reading and understanding of the works. Quite the contrary, that’s a sign of integrity and willingness to learn.
Further Reading
Bauer, Thomas (2007), “In Search of “Post-Classical Literature”. A Review Article.” Mamlūk Studies Review, № XI, 2: 137–167.
Heinret, Jennifer and Chick, Nancy L. (2017), “Reacting in literary studies: Crossing the threshold from quality to meaning,” Arts & Humanities in Higher Education, Vol. 16, №3: 320–330.
Koné, Amadou and Poynter, Ryan J. (2003), “Teaching Francophone Literature: Remarks from Two Continents,” Yale French Studies, № 103: 64–71.
Taggart, Andrew J. (2006), “The Function and Value of Literature and Literary Studies Reconsidered,” College Literature, Vol. 33, №4: 204–216.
