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Well, That's Interesting

There's something oddly existential about this. It resonates deeply, but not as much as it might, because I don't think we get a choice to make our meaning, or to imagine our audience. Whichever one we have, we may not even know all that much about them, unless they choose to interact with us, or us vice-versa. But I really don't know much about literary criticism. What I do know is that the indomitable Alan Noble of Christ and Pop Culture said he was leery of critics becoming artists, presumably because it was yet another derivation from that which was created. That, or artists don't like others making a buck off of them. In fairness, all kidding aside, I think Alan simply wants to recognize the distinction in what the artist and the critic are doing, and that's fair enough. (I'd quote you, Alan, but I can't find it. I hope you trust me.)

In broad outline though, Hirsch's analysis here is amazing, because it hits upon the central resonant truth of the whole discussion: Creativity and the conversation about it, along with whatever impact it has on us, is a culture. A good culture puts truth into the world, just as a good person puts truth into the world. What makes it a culture is that two or more people define the terms of that goodness in a similar way.

Here, Hirsch is lamenting the loss of common terms, a language that defined an earlier existing culture of literary criticism. I can certainly sympathize with that. But let us notice how the loss of a culture only truly matters if that culture, subculture, et cetera is good. What makes something good? This is where it gets interesting. Something is good if it corresponds with reality--the world as it was intended, or as it is being renewed (oh, fine, I'll be overtly Christian) by God.

So, here, he's got two apparent goods in conflict: the good of self-defined meaning, and the good of a shared culture. In truth, it is three: the third good is the fruit of a shared (good) culture, which is constructive mutually beneficial dialogue. One of the goods has to die: self-defined meaning, the heart of existentialism, which is lurking in this otherwise glorious essay.

Sooner or later, someone says, "Actually the David is superior objectively to your tin-can sculpture of a pig," and that's the way back to real truth, goodness, and beauty in all culture. To Alan: do we need to make a firm distinction in what they do, if the artist and critic share a culture that is oriented to the good?

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