I have a growing perception that my approach to literary criticism is embarrassingly old fashioned. What I have to say about this book is no doubt going to sound suspiciously like an undergraduate essay. Any self respecting deconstructionist would no doubt berate me for my tight, sensible readings of texts, but I can't help myself. Every text holds two stories: the one the author intended, and the one we make up about it. All we ever truly read is the latter, which would be lamentable if it were not unavoidable.
The selections from each of Chopin's short story collections lend themselves especially well to a simple, obvious analysis. The selections from Bayou Folk have an obvious common theme, that of longing for what belongs to another. Likewise, the selections from A Night in Acadie share a theme, that of unexpectedly liking that which one might not be expected to--either by society or by the reader. It is tempting to observe that The Awakening takes both of these themes, and turns them nicely into one: longing for what is unexpected. If I were an undergraduate still, and struggling to find a topic, this would be it.
But I am not. As tempting as it is to make a case for that reading--and a case could be made--I choose not to. In fact, I choose not to make any reading at all, but rather to observe that The Awakening is a very nearly perfect account of its eponymous topic, and one akin to my own experience. I found every moment believable, and that shall be enough.
BTD 10
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