Textual Intervention, Critical

and Creative Strategies for

Literary Studies
Pope, Rob

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5.3. TYPES OF TEXTUAL INTERVENTION

There are many modes of critical-creative writing other than those of the traditional academic essay,
analysis or dissertation. It is the purpose of this section to summarise and cross-reference the ones used
in this book. This will be done here at the 'macro-textual' levels of genre, discourse, medium, narrative
and dramatic intervention, etc. For a corresponding checklist of stylistic features at the 'micro-
linguistic' levels of word choice and combination, and sound-patterning and visual presentation, see the
previous section (5.2).
At the outset, however, it is worth briefly exploring what these so-called 'alternative' modes of writing
are alternative to. And it should certainly be emphasised that 'alternative' does not mean opposed - but
rather complementary and supplementary. First, then, let's acknowledge that there are many more
varieties and sub-genres of the 'traditional' essay, analysis and dissertation than are commonly
recognised or made explicit. Essays can be in varying degrees formal or informal, depersonalised or
personalised (use of the 'I/we', 'you' or 'one', for instance, may be proscribed, allowed, or encouraged -
as may the use of active or passive and other verb forms, and certain ranges of vocabulary and
construction). They can use 'logics' which are linear, recursive, dialectical, dialogic, abstract or
figurative. And they can involve various degrees and kinds of textual reference, illustration, analysis
and allusion. Specific texts may be invoked constantly or hardly at all. Explicit theorising may figure
prominently or hardly at all. Analyses, too, are of many varieties: written or spoken; individual or
group; practical critical/close reading; personal response; textual-editorial; stylistic; discourse-
ideological; historical-contextual; etc. Meanwhile, dissertations –which are substantially like essays
only larger and usually more rigid in format– may be organised on many different lines and in many
configurations: by text, author, topic, theme, period, genre, theoretical position, etc. (For guidance in all
these areas, see Fabb and Durant, 1993.)
Having said all that, the fact remains that the great bulk of academic work in literary studies in higher
education still tends to operate within a certain narrow –albeit rarely explicitly defined– range of
writing and thought. Basically, it requires or assumes the operation of linear or binary logic, positivist
textual reference and, perhaps above all, the ability of the individual learner to recognise and
reproduce the dominant critical orthodoxy in a particular course. The emphasis on individual –not
collective– written work is constitutive (seminar discussion is generally recognised as valuable but not
essential); and there is a marked attention to essays, analyses or dissertations as written products rather
than as writing processes (also see 5.1). This view of textuality extends to the “set texts” which are the
objects of study. They are just that: “set” and “objects” –given and apparently both unchanging and
unchangeable. For all these reasons, it is worth trying to summarise the types of textual intervention
and critical-creative strategy explored in this book. For they are genuine alternatives to dominant
practices. Though how far they are to be viewed as counter-practices is for learners and teachers
themselves to decide. For ease of use, this summary is broken down into “General Strategies” and
“Specific Techniques” and fully cross-referenced.

GENERAL STRATEGIES

Parallel, counter- or alternative texts?

How far are you writing “with”, “against” or “across” the grain of the base text as you perceive it?
Inevitably, most forms of intervention and re-writing have a mixture of critical orientations.
Nonetheless, it is a good idea to ask yourself early on which of these three trajectories you are trying to
follow. Asking yourself the same question at the end is very revealing too. For there is invariably a
significant difference between aim and result. The actual process of composition often leads to a
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product subtly or markedly different from that initially conceived. Preferences shift in the very
explorations of differences. (See 1.1.2; 1.3.2; 3.3; 4.4.1-3; 4.5.)

Monologue or dialogue?

How far and in what ways are you using one or more voices and discourses, consensually or
conflictually? That is, basically, how far is the world of your text primarily “monologic” or “dialogic”?
Both have their distinctive strengths and weaknesses. Instances of overtly or substantially monologic
(one-way) modes are: lecture, sermon, set speech, diary, prayer, confession, advertising, news bulletin,
mail shots, etc. Instances of overtly or substantially dialogic (two- or many-way) modes are:
conversation, debate, interview, interrogation, exchanges of letters, reviews, critiques, marginalia,
heckling, graffiti, etc. Live speech, or simulations of it in scripted form, tend to be more ostensibly
dialogic because they are always potentially or apparently immediate and two- or many-way.
Conversely, the written, printed, or electronically recorded word tends to be more ostensibly
“monologic” in that it is primarily one-way and only two-way (if at all) after a heavily mediated delay.
These distinctions are initially convenient. Two qualifications must be added, however.

(1) There is no such thing as an absolutely unanswering or unanswerable “monologue”.

For every utterance or text is always prompted by another, however indirectly, and every utterance or
text is directed towards some kind of effect –even if an “answer”, as such, is not expected or wanted.

(2) Conversely, there is no such thing as an absolutely equal “dialogue” and an utterly “free exchange
of information”.

For every dialogue is implicated in the imbalances and inequalities of power structures, however
indirectly. Consequently, there is always something partly or potentially monologic and “one-way” in
the communication of any utterance or text.
For all these reasons, then, it is important to recognise that all texts –our own included– move
dialectically between “monologue” and “dialogue”. In Bakhtin’s terms, they are subject to the variable
interplay of centripetal (monologic) and centrifugal (dialogic) pressures (see Bakhtin, 1981: 272-3,
425). Apparently “single-voiced” discourse always turns out to be many-tongued. And an apparent
polyphony of voices always turns out to have a dominant harmony or melody. How far, then, and in
what ways is your text dialogic and/or monologic? And through what kinds of monologue-dialogue are
you engaging with the base text –which itself, in turn, is caught in its own play of one –or many–
voices and discourses? Such questions are necessarily complex and contentious. But they must be if we
are to grasp the full subtlety and power of openly intertextual strategies –and of any form of interactive
critique. (See 2.5; 3.1.3; 4.1.)

De-centring and re-centring?

How far and in what directions and dimensions are you shifting or switching the centres of interest
offered by the base text? And is this de- and re-centring being effected: (1) textually, in the margins of
the base text; (2) contextually, in its larger social-historical context; or (3) cross-textually, in another –
albeit relatable– text entirely? (See 1.2; 3.3;4.5.)

Personal, interpersonal, depersonalised?

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How far and in what ways are you intervening in the distinctive configuration of subject/agent
positions offered by the base text? Is your alternative text primarily articulated through an “I/we”
(personal, speaking subject); a “you” (interpersonal, spoken-to subject); a “she”, “he”, “they”, or “it”
(progressively depersonalised, spoken-about subjects)? And are these the same “I” s, “we” s and “you”
s, etc., as those you found? Put another way, how far are you reconstituting the various selves and
others of the base text? And are you according greater or lesser agency to any of the available subjects?
(See 1.2.1; 2.2; 3.1.3.)

Genre, medium, discourse?

How far is the alternative text you are producing different from the base text in terms of: (1) kind or
type (genre); (2) material (medium); and (3) way of saying and seeing (discourse)? Moreover, as all
these categories are plural and to some extent overlap, what particular hybrids do you recognise
yourself to be involved with, both in the base text and in your own text? (See 1.2.4; 2.6; 3.2.4.)

Specific techniques

All the following techniques can be applied very variously and in ways which draw upon all the above
strategies. That is, each and every one can involve various kinds and degrees of: parallel, counter- or
alternative text; monologue or dialogue; de- and re-centring, and be textualised in various genres,
media and discourses articulating various configurations of personal, interpersonal and depersonalised
subject/agent positions. Precisely which will depend upon the materials you are working on and how
you decide to work them up.

A. ALTERNATIVE SUMMARIES AND THE ARTS OF PARAPHRASE

Summarise the text in a variety of ways so as to draw attention to different aspects of its
preoccupations or construction –and to your own methods of paraphrase. For instance, a series of
summaries varying between a phrase, a sentence, 50 words, and 100 words can be very revealing in
establishing what you consider progressively more or less central in terms of themes, events, figures,
strategies, etc. Each of these can then be compared with those of colleagues so as to identify areas of
overlap and difference.
Devising posters, adverts, songs, trailers and reviews based on the text in hand is another, critical-
creative way of exploring summaries.
Alternatively, you might “paraphrase” the text drawing on one of a range of critical-theoretical
discourses: Leavisite; “Anglo-american new critical”; Marxist; feminist; psychoanalytical;
post-/structuralist; post-/colonialist; post-/modernist; etc. In all these ways you would in effect
“translate” and thereby transform the base text. You would also learn to treat your own apparently
“merely descriptive” summaries as forms of discourse –and your own apparently “natural” and
“neutral” discourses as specifically valued-laden ways of categorising, labelling and explaining.
Summary/paraphrase might then be recognised not so much as a “heresy” but an “orthodoxy”! (See
Selden, 1998ª: 28-9; also Carter and Long, 1987:5-15; and Nash, 1992,: 67-82; cf. 3.1.6; 3.2.4; 4.5.4.)

B. CHANGED TITLES, INTRODUCTORY APPARATUSES AND OPENINGS

Intervene in these areas of the text so as to disturb and reorient them. Aim to cue the reader for a
slightly (or very) different reading experience –one with slightly (or very) different expectations as to
genre, centre of interest, discourse, outlet, market, communicative relations, etc. (See 3.2.4; 3.3.2;
4.5.5.)
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C. ALTERNATIVE ENDINGS

Alter the ending of the base text so as to draw attention to some option not explored or in some
way foreclosed. Go on to explore the reasons why such an ending was nor desirable, advisable or
possible in the base text at its initial moment of production. Then consider why you, in your own
moment of reproduction, opted for it. Notice that, like all the exercises, this is an opportunity to explore
historical differences and not simply express personal preferences. Arguing vigorously, both “for” and
“against” all these endings, each in its own historical moment, is a good way of interrogating
assumptions about “progress” or “regress”, absolute “preferences” and “eternal values”. (See 3.2.6; 4.3;
4.5.5.)

D. PRELUDES, INTERLUDES AND POSTLUDES

Extend the text “before”, “during” or “after” the events it represents so as to explore alternative
points of departure, processes of development, or points of arrival. What overall premises,
procedures and aims are highlighted by this strategy? And how far are you seeking to complement or
supplement the base text? Really “ludicrous” preludes, interludes and postludes often sport with a
variety of historical moments as well as a variety of genres and discourses, and narrative and dramatic
strategies. (See 3.2.6; 3.3.3-4; 4.3; 4.4.3; 4.5.5.)

E. NARRATIVE INTERVENTION

Change some “turning point” in the narrative so as to explore alternative premises or

consequences. Also consider ways of framing or “re-focalising” the narrative so that the very
process of narration is reoriented, and perhaps made more (or less) obvious. This method of
exploring continuities and discontinuities, kind of textual cohesion and perceptual coherence, can be
applied to “histories” as well as “stories”. It can also be applied to single sentences and propositions, as
well as to lengthy novels, films and treatises. It all depends how –and how far– you distinguish
narrative from other modes of representation and exposition. (See 3.1.4; 3.2.5-6; 3.4.)

F. DRAMATIC INTERVENTION

Change the direction of a scripted drama or transcribed conversation by intervening in a single

“move” or “exchange”. Also consider figures you might reorient or insert so as to alter the
emphasis or choice of topic and the course of the action. This can be done in conjunction with E and
G. (See 4.1-3; 4.5.5.)

G. NARRATIVE INTO DRAMA; DRAMA INTO NARRATIVE

Explore “showing” through “re-telling”, and “telling” trough “re-showing”. And thereby examine
the peculiar configuration of re/presentation in your base text. (See 3.1.3; 3.2.3; 4.4).

H. “IMITATION”

Recast the base text in the manner –and matter– of another author (director, theatre or film
company, etc.). This is no mere matter of “slavish imitation”, even if such a thing were practically or
theoretically possible (which strictly it isn’t). Rather, it entails transformations of fundamental issues
and discourses, along with settings and contexts, etc. For it soon becomes obvious that re-writing, say,

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some Shakespeare “in the manner” of Ibsen, Brecht or Churchill (or Austen, or Dickens, or Joyce, etc.)
is no mere question of “style”. It also entails transformations of “matter” as well. Another’s “word”
always implies a whole “world”. Negotiating the different ways in which different authors or directors
might work up ostensibly the same figures, situations and issues is an excellent way of seeing that they
are not quite –or at all– “the same”. A variation on this activity is to select some contemporary item (a
new story, anecdote or joke) and work it up in the manner and matter of the base text under
consideration. (See 3.2.4 and 4.4.3.)

I. PARODY

Exaggerate some features of the base text, or introduce incongruous (perhaps anachronistic)
frames of reference, so as to throw its characteristic style or preoccupations into relief. Crude
parody is burlesque. Subtle parody can be so implicit and ironic that its parodic intent may be all but
invisible. Both can be critically and creatively valid –and great fun. Either way, parody can be an act of
affectionate celebration of an author’s work. It is not necessarily either negative or destructive. In fact,
the most searching and revealing parodies are usually those grounded in a mixture of fascination and
frustration with the base text. (See 1.3.1; 4.5.5; also Hutcheon, 1985; and Nash, 1992: 83-99.)

J. COLLAGE

Gather a diverse and perhaps disparate range of materials directly or indirectly relevant to the
base text: sources; parallels; contrasts, bits of critical commentary; relatable words, images,
pieces of music, etc. –perhaps from other periods and discourses, etc. Then select from and
arrange these materials so as to make a number of implicit statements about the base text. There
is a fascination in both the finding and making of physical and perceptual patterns; and a skill –as well
as serendipity– in inviting your reader or viewer to perceive meaningful differences and discern
implicit preferences. “Collage” is neither more nor less than the art of “sticking together” –with your
base text, your material and any prospective readers, viewers and audiences. It’s as simple –and
complex– as that. As always, the commentary should seek to make explicit what was implicit, and to
lay bare the process of composition. (See 1.2.4; 2.3; 2.6; 4.5.5, also Hutcheon, 1989, and Montgomery
et al., 1992: 147, 173.)

K. HYBRIDS AND FACTION

Recast two or more related texts in a new textual mould so as to produce a compound –not
merely a mixture. Compounding conventionally “fictional” and “factual” texts usually produces
“faction” –in every sense. (Alternative metaphors for this process include grafting a new plant from
two “parent” plants so as to generate a hybrid; or the biological process of cross-fertilisation between
species.) In any event, experiment with ways of making texts coalesce as well as collide. In this respect
the generation of “hybrids” is distinct from the sticking together of “collages”. There is more obviously
the making of a “new and organic whole” than a “ mechanical assemblage of old fragments”. (See
1.2.4; 2.3; 3.3.5; 4.5.7.)

L. WORD TO IMAGE, WORD TO MUSIC, WORD TO MOVEMENT, WORD TO...?

This is a catch-all reminder that verbal texts can be very revealingly understood in the attempt to
transform them into another medium, sign-system or mode of communication and expression.
Film, video, photography, painting and sculpture; all kinds of music; dance, mime and numerous kinds
of performance art; even clothes, architecture, smells, touches and tastes...These all offer alternative
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ways of “re-realising” and “re-cognising” the actual and potential meanings, effects and values of a
particular string of words –long or short, epic or epigram, novel or one-liner, single sound or letter. A
transference always entails a transformation. So these are all ways of interpreting and intervening in
the text’s play of differences and sorting out your own frames of reference in your own preferred
modes and materials.

M. YOUR OWN PERMUTATIONS, EXTENSIONS AND ADDITIONS...

Suggested work-pattern

There are as many ways of re-writing and intervening in texts as there are texts to re-write and people
to intervene. However, the following more general questions and suggestions seem to help.

1. Do you want to do it on your own or with other people? And are you allowed or encouraged to do
the latter? Associations with others can be loose and informal, or close and formal (e.g. assessable).
Working on your own may feel safe because it is familiar. But collective work can have real
benefits in terms of sharing both the excitement and the burden of learning.
2. “Brain-storm” the possibilities early on, throwing everything down on paper. Running through the
above list of strategies and techniques should help. Then focus on what seem to be some of the
more promising ideas. Discuss these with colleagues and a tutor. The main thing is to blend
intertextual activity with interpersonal activity, exploring the materials both dialectically and
through dialogue.
3. Plan and write a first draft. This will allow you to pick out some principal differences and establish
some provisional preferences. What, basically, are you trying to say or show about the base text? A
rough first draft will move you along more quickly than endless prevarication. So, if in doubt –
plunge in.
4. Do some supplementary reading to help extend and refine the initial ideas. Sometimes such reading
may come first. But in general it helps if you sort out what, basically, you want to say and how
before being drowned out by the voices and discourses of others. Reading with a provisional
purpose is also much more valuable than reading aimlessly.
5. Shape your text through subsequent drafts, adding, deleting, and modifying as seems appropriate.
Again, the guiding principle is “What am I/we trying to say or show about the base text?” There
will be all sorts of refinements you can introduce so as to make allusions more subtle and
discriminating –and perhaps teasing. Remember that your reader knows the base text you are
working with, so you can afford to make implicit changes and challenges to it. More express sign-
posting is the business of the commentary. So
6. Make sure you add a commentary. This should include some explicit statement of overall aims and
rationale: what you were trying to do, which textual strategy you chose and why. There should also
be some insight into the possibilities thrown up and problems encountered over the course of
conceiving, drafting and re-drafting your project. Critically, the false starts and dead ends are
important too. So is an open acknowledgement of the problems as well as the advantages of group
work. Add references and a bibliography, as for essays.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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Further reading

The following books feature versions of many of the strategies and techniques reviewed above –and
more besides: Carter and Long, 1987, 1991; Collie and Slater, 1987; Carter and Nash, 1990; Hackman
and Marshall, 1990; Durant and Fabb, 1990. Also see the earlier references in 5.1.

Most of the following references are to books or parts of books. The following journals are also
particularly relevant: Textual Practice, Language and Literature; Style.

Abrams, M. H. (general ed.) (1993) Norton Anthology of English Literature, vols. 1 and 2, (6th edn),
New York: W. W. Norton.
Allen, R. C. (ed.) (1987) Channels of Discourse: Television and Contemporary Criticism, London:
Routledge.
Allnutt, G., D’ Aguiar, F., Edwards, K. And Mottram, E. (eds.) (1988) The new British Poetry,
London: Paladin.
Andersen, R. (1988) The Power and the Word: Language, power and Change, London: paladin.
Angelou, M. (1969) I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, London: Virago, 1984.
Althusser, L. (1971) Lenin and Philosophy and other Essays, trans. B. Brewster, London: New Left
Books.
Armstrong, I. (1988) Jane Austen: Mansfield Park, Harmondsworth: Penguin.
Ashcroft, B., Griffiths, G. and Tiffin, H. (1989) The Empire Writes Back: Theory and Practice in
Postcolonial Literatures, London: Metheuen.
Attridge, D., (1988) Pecualiar Language: Literature as Difference from the Renaissance to James
Joyce, London: Metheuen.
Attridge, D., Bennington, G. and Young, R. (eds.) (1987) Poststructuralism and the Question of
History, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Attridge, D., Durant, A., Fabb, N. and MacCabe, C. (eds.) (1987) The Linguistic of Writing:
Arguments between Language and Literature, Manchester: Manchester University Press.
Augarde, T. (1984) The Oxford Guide to Word Games, Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Austen, J. (1814) Mansfield Park, ed. T. Tanner, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1966.
Austin, J. L. (1976) How to do Things with Words, rev. edn., Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Bakhtin, M. (1968) Rabelais and his World, trans. H. Iswolsky, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
__ (1981) The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays, ed. M. Holquist, trans. C. Emerson and M.
Holquist, Austin: University of Texas Press.
__ (1984) Problems of Dostoyevsky’s Poetics, ed. and trans. C. Emerson, Manchester: Manchester
University Press.
__ (1990) Art and Answerability: Early Philosophical Works, ed. M. Holquist and V. Liapunov, trans.
V. Liapunov, Austin: University of Texas Press.
Bal, M. (1985) Narratology, trans. C. Van Boheemen, Toronto: University of Toronto Press.
Barker, C. (1977) Theatre Games,: A New Approach to Drama Training, London: Eyre Metheuen.
Barker, F., Hulme, P., Iversen, M., and Loxley, D. (eds.) (1986) Literature, Politics, and Theory:
Papers from the Essex Conference, 1976-1984, London: Metheuen.
Barthes, R. (1970) S/Z, trans. R. Miller, London: Cape, 1975.
__ (1977) Image-Music-Text, ed. and trans. S. Heath, London: Fontana.
Batsleer, J., Davies, T., O’Rourke, R. and Weedon, C. (1985) Rewriting English: Cultural Politics and
Gender and Class, London: Metheuen.
Beckett, S. (1956) Waiting for Godot, London: Faber.
Belsey, C. (1980) Critical Practice, London: Metheuen.

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Belsey, C., and Moore, J. (eds.) (1989) The Feminist Reader: Essays in Gender and the Politics of
Literacy Criticism, London: Macmillan.
Benjamin, W. (1970) Illuminations, ed. Hannah Arendt, trans. H. Zohn, London: Cape.