Literary Analysis - November 7, 2025

Before this class, I was familiar with a few of the authors we discussed; however, my understanding was primarily surface-level, focusing on the bigger picture. Now, more than halfway through this semester, I’ve come to enjoy learning about specific ideologies and theories (especially from The Norton Anthology section) because it has fundamentally changed the way I approach reading, helping me to recognize the underlying historical, cultural, and theoretical frameworks that inform and critique literature. The two readings that expanded my insights into analyzing literary texts are The Shush by Kyla Wazana Tompkins and The Historical Text as Literary Artifact by Hayden White. Through these authors’ concepts, arguments, and the broader connections to my anchor text, I’ve learned that literary analysis is both a rhetorical construction, as White suggests, and a political act of reading, as Tompkins reveals how power and interpretation are always connected.

For starters, Tompkins highlights her main idea, arguing that method wars are, in fact, resource wars in disguise. She calls these conflicts, especially those presented as intellectual debates, a “fight for material resources pretending to be something else” (Tompkins 419). Since English department professors and other scholars often argue over theory, ideology, or methodological approaches, there's a hidden struggle for material and institutional power behind these debates. In reality, academia and its divisions pretend to focus on issues like which procedures matter in literary studies, but ultimately, they are motivated by concerns such as jobs, funding, and departmental prestige to uphold their appearance of objectivity, authority, and legitimacy. Essentially, Tompkins wants us to see that this facade of neutrality masks academia’s material interests and maintains existing hierarchies. Connecting to her broader critique in The Shush, she shows how discomfort is often quieted in these spaces, revealing who is allowed to speak and who is silenced. Therefore, she contends that the future of the English department must move away from old practices and adopt new, inclusive forms of intellectual engagement. In literary studies, Tompkins envisions responsive and accountable structures that share power, resources, and attention more equitably.

Additionally, White has a lot to say about literary studies in terms of history, and the key term that caught my attention was emplotment, which ultimately connects to metahistory. Emplotment is the technique of arranging a sequence of historical events into a narrative with a plot. He even goes as far as to claim that this process is an unavoidable part of historiography, as a historian's choices in storytelling shape and create the overall meaning of history. It goes beyond simply reporting facts to giving specific interpretations and morals to events by deciding how they are ordered and related to one another. Specifically, emplotment uses narrative themes such as romance, tragedy, comedy, or satire, which, in turn, shape the events of the historical account. When considering The Historical Text as Literary Artifact as a whole, White’s argument extends beyond emplotment to his larger project of metahistory, which analyzes the underlying narrative and rhetorical structures that support all forms of historical writing. Through metahistory, White reveals that “in the interest of appearing scientific and objective”, the field of history “has repressed and denied to itself its own greatest source of strength and renewal” (White 1480). In other words, historical discourse functions much like literature, but by denying this, it limits its own creativity and expression. Overall, White’s analysis challenges the line between history and fiction.

After reading Tompkins and White, I understood that what we often see as a neutral interpretation is actually guided by hidden systems of power and influence, both in how we write history and how we study literature. First, when analyzing a text, it’s not about uncovering the truth but about recognizing our methods as historical and political acts. What I mean is that our focus can be shaped by our biases and experiences. Because of this, I now see literary analysis as an ethical and self-aware practice, and I ask myself: Who is speaking? Whose voices are missing? Additionally, when paired, they show that literary analysis can serve as a form of resistance, making visible the power dynamics that shape what we call knowledge. Overall, these authors expanded my perspective on history, literature, and authority, demonstrating how people use reading, writing, and authority to construct meaning.

The overlapping ideas in The Shush and The History Text as Literary Artifact, together, add a new dimension to one of my anchor texts: Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Specifically, the scene where the main character, Ifemelu, writes a blog post titled, “Understanding America for the Non-American Black: A Few Explanations of What Things Really Mean,” lists three examples: “Americans are uncomfortable with race,” “diversity means different things to different folks,” and “sometimes they say ‘culture’ to mean race” (Adichie 358). Just from the title, I could tell it would connect to Tompkins' view of method wars versus resource wars. Because the blog critiques social institutions that hide racism behind claims of objectivity or liberalism, it echoes Tompkins’ argument that intellectual discourse conceals what they really mean, material power. Ifemelu’s writing also reflects Tompkins' main message, questioning who gets to define expertise and whose voices are considered legitimate. Furthermore, White’s ideas of emplotment and metahistory are more broadly implied in this book. For example, her blog acts like a metahistorical text: she interprets events, frames them with tone and structure, and creates meaning (exactly what White calls emplotment). Ifemelu literally builds narratives about race and turns lived experiences into analytical stories. In short, Americanah shows how literary conventions shape readers’ emotional engagement with characters’ histories, emphasizing that the meaning of events is crafted through narrative rather than simply reported. Overall, I have new ideas to explore for an anchor text, as Tompkins and White explain how meaning and authority are woven into every act of interpretation.

In conclusion, these authors’ concepts, arguments, and overall perspectives have taught me that analyzing literary texts is never neutral or detached. Instead, it's a historically and politically situated act that reflects who is permitted to speak and create meaning. Reading Tompkins and White alongside a text like Americanah, I’ve come to see literature not just as interpreting words on a page, but as engaging with institutional and cultural forces. Ultimately, these insights encourage me to approach my primary and future texts with greater awareness of the politics of storytelling and a commitment to recognizing the voices and experiences that traditional narratives have often overlooked.

Works Cited

Adichie, Chimamanda Ngozi. Americanah. Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, 14 May 2013.