Here's an elegant little piece from William Deresiewicz's workbench about criticism and theory and tools and machines. The pith of it:
It occurred to me, eventually, that if criticism is a set of tools,
theory is a series of machines. Tool-work—craft—which responds to both
the grain of the material and the sensitivity of the guiding hand, is
always unpredictable, always unique, and always bears the traces of the
craftsperson. Machine-work—manufacture—is always predictable, uniform,
and impersonal. You just feed the lumber into the mill. Tools extend the
human; machines replace it. And that’s exactly what literary theory
does: the work goes missing; the author, famously, is dead; and art, the
highest expression of the human, is effaced.
Nice, eh?!
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