Whaouu, reading Fish is terribly convincing. Convincing because yes, the act of reading is an “action” performed by a real person, therefore, yes, we never read a text without interpretating it with who we are…that is to say, our brain, our past, our cultural background, our (distorted?) vision of what is literature. But terrible because does that really mean that even when we all agree about the …(and I am not mentioning “beauty” ever again ah ah)…”literary quality” of a text, when we share the experience of a moving piece of writing, it has nothing to do with the text itself and some supposed essential qualities, but just because we are all part of the same interpretive community…? the worse is to realize, reading Bourdieu, that it might also be because I am just part of a certain social class… I knew those texts but facing (social) reality once again still aches a bit.
