AN INTRODUCTION TO

CLOSE READING
DAVID SCHUR

1998 David Schur

Harvard University
Second version (2/99)
PLEASE DO NOT DUPLICATE

CONTENTS
Introduction
Preparation
Assumptions and Goals
Straightforward Reading
Descriptive Analysis
Interpretation
Coherence, Conviction, Intention
Conclusion

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Glossary
Tactics for Reading
Advice about Writing
Suggested Resources
Works Consulted

INTRODUCTION
This guide is meant to survey a method of reading valued by most teachers in the
humanities. Although this is a provisional description of techniques, strategies, and terms,
there is enough general agreement among different close readers to justify an overview of
their frequently named but seldom-explained approach. Close reading and explication
have developed over centuries. As a result, many essential, common assumptions
underlie even the most disparate contemporary approaches to the interpretation of written
texts.
What is "close reading"? The expression refers either to a method or to an account
resulting from the practice of that method. After engaging in the activity of reading
closely, you can write down (or simply communicate) a "reading," an account of your
findings. Closeness here describes a practice of reading that is strict, searching, and
minute; it remains close or near to the text.
The reader typically moves through a selection gradually, using highly specific
textual evidence to make broader connections and claims. In this way, microscopic and
macrocosmic views combine in a unified, sustained consideration of form, significance,
and context.

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PREPARATION
The effort to read closely does not require much preparation. You get better at it
with practice and experience. At the same time, some basic areas of study will prove
helpful. One is an understanding of grammar; another, a knowledge of literary traditions
and their conventions. Close reading is also an excellent way to study these things.
Progressive education has undervalued grammar, while fashion has swung critics,
teachers, and readers back and forth between reverence and scorn for information lying
beyond the text at hand. There is some risk that too much knowledge will smother
creative thought; too little, however, will leave a reader unequipped to read carefully.
At the same time, many readers fear that linguistic and historical knowledge will
lead to mechanical study and make their favorite books dry and empty. Instead, this
knowledge provides tools and fosters skills. Grammar is one of the most expressive
aspects of language. And knowing about Elizabethan literature, or poetry, or sonnets will
not keep someone from reading a Shakespearean sonnet carefully, although it could -- if
it led only to the complacent recital of easy answers. Received opinions, like jargon, can
become empty placeholders, displacing thought.
ASSUMPTIONS AND GOALS
Why bother to read closely? Because a casual reader misses out on untold riches:
fresh dimensions of meaning and inspiration. The straightforward reader proceeds in a
linear manner, seeking uniform, superficial meanings; the close reader becomes
convinced that here there is more than first meets the eye. An initial, immediate reading
of the text comes to appear insufficient and impoverished.
For the purposes of this introduction, let's agree that close reading concentrates on
literary aspects of writing. A more literary work invites questions, especially about its
peculiar arrangement; we look to a less literary work for straightforward information and
answers. Strictly speaking, every piece of writing is in this sense literary to some degree.
In its literary aspect, a written work can be resistant to paraphrase, indirect, ambiguous,
opaque, suggestive, implicit, questioning, layered, open to many interpretations, and
capable of evoking delight.

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Resistance to paraphrase is a particularly helpful indicator of writing's literary
aspect. Take a scientific study. It may not be easy to read, and the data presented may be
open to interpretation. Nevertheless, the study has an identifiable main point or argument
that can be paraphrased, restated, rewritten. Perhaps many readers will simply read a
summary, leaving the technical data to a few qualified specialists. When the study gets
translated into a foreign language, nothing important is lost (from a nonliterary point of
view). Textual features such as word choice and metaphor will be considered
inconsequential, incidental, and decorative.
Roland Barthes points out that deeply rooted assumptions divide scientific writing
from literature. "For science, language is merely an instrument, which it chooses to make
as transparent, as neutral as possible . . ." Science separates out "the contents of the
scientific message, which are everything" from "the verbal form entrusted with
expressing these contents, which is nothing." Although the difference between scientific
writing and literature is not always so clear-cut, the scientific perspective, with its
penchant for unambiguous results, has a powerful hold on us all, even when we are
reading literature. We first look, naturally enough, for what each work says outright: a
straightforward message, a story or moral, a theme or thesis.
Arguing for the extreme contrary of this perspective, a poet might claim that form
is content-as-deployed, that the medium is the message. A poem has meaning that cannot
be made by any other means. Through features of language that cannot be replicated in
any other form, poetry defies scientific comprehension by saying things without saying
them in a direct, immediate, everyday, practical manner.
The literary perspective gives verbal particulars special attention. That is because
the story of Hamlet -- which could be jammed into a paragraph -- is not the whole story; a
summary of Pride and Prejudice is more of a remainder than a sum; and a paraphrase of
The Waste Land would be nothing like the poem itself. Whereas scientists may discard
texts like candy wrappers once their contents have been consumed, the formal and
thematic features of poetic significance are only hypothetically separable from each
other.
When focusing on the poetic dimension of language and writing, a close reader
has various overlapping assumptions in mind. Here are three that will be discussed more

CLOSE READING 5
fully below. First, a straightforward reading is insufficient. A text's immediate, explicit
meaning (its story or moral, perhaps) and its structure serve as starting points for further
interpretation. Second, there is no such thing as mere rhetoric. Ignoring how a text is
formulated or articulated is like reading with blinders on. Third, there is no one single,
correct interpretation of a text. A reading is not a verifiable answer. Instead, readings are
better or worse according to how convincing, comprehensive, and intellectually engaging
they are.
Despite the dogmatic and negative ring of these three assumptions, they clear the
way for convincing and insightful readings. They point toward the following goals. One
is to reveal things that a hasty, straightforward reader would miss. Close readers seek to
discover and identify implicit formal and thematic elements, thereby making them
explicit. Another task is to draw meaningful connections between these specific forms
and broader themes. The final challenge is to unite these observations in a coherent (if
necessarily partial) version or view of the text's meaning.
Each step toward a coherent close reading presents particular difficulties. After
grasping a text's basic form and explicit themes, the close reader's work has only just
begun. The next four sections sketch a sequence of likely hurdles.
STRAIGHTFORWARD READING
People read in all kinds of ways for all kinds of reasons, which is surely for the
best. Right now, however, straightforward reading is a serviceable villain.
Straightforward reading is just a step on the path of close reading, though it is
unavoidable and useful. It is linear, seeking to extract uniform answers and explicit
themes. It can be a practical, powerful way of getting information quickly and directly.
When we say that someone can read, we have straightforward reading in mind.
American exams such as the SAT and the GRE have sections called critical
reading and reading comprehension. Students must read a passage and then answer
questions about it within a limited amount of time. Correct answers are presumed to exist,
of course, and no one is expected to reread a passage in order to ponder literary style or
subtle ambiguities. Guidebooks say, don't read the passage thoroughly -- that's a waste

6 CLOSE READING
of time; don't get caught up in details. On these exams, straightforward reading is
appropriate and institutionally sanctioned.
It is important to remember that, however useful, this sort of reading is different
from analytical and interpretive reading. The move into close reading is a challenging
conceptual leap.
Like an absentminded professor who searches for her glasses when they are
perched on her nose, a close reader must look at things that are so obvious as to escape
notice. Since we ordinarily treat a piece of writing as if it were a transparent window, it
takes a special effort to notice the text (the glass) itself. The word "text" comes from
Latin; like "textile," it has roots in the meaning "woven thing." Thus it might be helpful
to think of the text as a transparent, woven fabric. The straightforward reader, willing to
look only through it, tries not to get distracted by the fabric per se. The close reader
scrutinizes its weave or texture intently.
Yet straightforward reading is a crucial starting point. The broader genre or type
to which a passage may belong; the explicit point of the passage; the overall structure;
and the story, if there is one: these are all important. In fact, overeager students
sometimes make the mistake of ignoring these essential features, which as it happens are
not always so easy to grasp.
Besides the main literary genres of lyric poetry, drama, fiction (including epic,
novel, and short story), and the essay, countless variations and subgenres exist. Each has
its own conventions and expectations. Learning to recognize general types and to handle
specific cases with sensitivity is an ongoing challenge.
Focusing on the literary dimension of various writings, including pieces of prose
and nonfiction as well as lyric and fiction, is not to suppose that they are all the same, but
that they share features fruitfully explored by the method of close reading. Nor does each
case fit easily on a spectrum that runs from extremely scientific (direct, literal, explicit) to
extremely literary (indirect, figurative, implicit). A work of science might contain striking
metaphors; a lyric poem might be markedly simple rather than bewilderingly archaic,
allusive, or cryptic; a spy thriller might be packed full of carefully researched factual
details. Nonetheless, our perception of literary significance in any text can lead us beyond
straightforward reading.

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DESCRIPTIVE ANALYSIS
After an initial look at a text's main explicit features -- its apparent type, overall
structure, and thesis, themes, or story -- close analysis and interpretation can begin. I shall
discuss description and interpretation consecutively; in practice, they are entangled if not
indistinguishable. Analysis is the process of breaking something apart. Interpretation is
somewhat like putting the pieces back together, from a different point of view.
Both activities involve constant decision-making. Each reader will dissect a text
differently, choosing to emphasize some elements and downplay others, and each choice
will ideally share in the concurrent development of a coherent interpretive viewpoint.
Which elements we notice, what we call them, and what we make of them constitute
interpretive decisions. Reading is in this sense an exercise of intelligence, the human
capacity to "choose between," as suggested by the Latin word legere, meaning both "to
read" and "to choose."
Some literary theorists describe the straightforward reader as oblivious,
complacent, anesthetized, blind, ignorant, charmed, unconscious, asleep, brainwashed,
unaware, superficial. Accordingly, the text is said to harbor forgotten, unnoticed, hidden,
latent, repressed, concealed, esoteric, overfamiliar, implicit, ignored layers. A close
reader may experience heightened awareness, alienation, and defamiliarization; the text
may, through a jarring combination of elements, draw attention to its texture, thereby
waking interest in a dimension typically taken for granted.
Upon first reading a piece of writing, many intelligent people do not have much to
say. After all, a quickly executed, straightforward reading should distill the text's explicit
message. Once we have said (restated) what the text simply "says," what could possibly
remain for us to say? Nevertheless, another level of reading can be reached through
intelligent description. The close reader has plenty to say about a text.
Description may sound mechanical, but it is an interpretive process because of the
many choices involved. Description provides evidence. We base our own claims on the
evidence, and by means of the evidence, conclusions can be convincingly communicated
to others. Every text under scrutiny presents a wealth of elements waiting to be noticed,
identified, and, in turn, meaningfully connected.

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Before I discuss some broader aspects of this procedure, a sample description
might be helpful. I present it in the crude form of a list, leaving an interpretation for later.
Text: My Country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing.
Straightforward observations: beginning of a well-known American hymn; three lines of
poetic verse forming a sentence.
Restatement of main point: the speaker praises American liberty.
Description of details:
unusual word-order; verb and subject postponed
rhymes, assonance, and alliteration: t and e sounds stand out
synonymy: country and land
archaic vocabulary; letter i lost in contraction of 'tis
variation: of repeated with variation in function
personification: country
apostrophe (impassioned address)
metaphorical adjective: sweet land
song identifies itself as quintessential "patriotic song"
speech act of singing (language that performs an action)
First and foremost, every observation concerns specific, quotable evidence found
in the text. Various rhetorical and linguistic terms aid in the characterization of the
specifics. The description is fairly objective but also reflects choices. As it stands, it is
scarcely more than a sterile, arbitrary list, though it already represents an individual view
of the text. Note that repetition is a common point of focus. Each formal element
displays some degree of dependence: few stand alone, some are linked together, all are
noted because of their function within a frame of reference.
Close readers usually look for patterns that stand out. Sometimes a single
punctuation mark, letter, or word (like 'tis) attracts attention. As a rule, though, repetition
leads us to link small units together. In the phrase sweet land of liberty, specific
consonants and vowels are repeated, and by linking them together we identify sound
patterns. On its own, the word country could potentially perform many functions; in this

CLOSE READING 9
actual context, the country is addressed by the speaker/singer, giving us personification
and apostrophe.
Elements are most commonly linked by repetition, variation, or contrast.
Repetition is probably the single most important factor in descriptive analysis. It can be a
surprisingly flexible type of formal feature, noticeable not only as a kind of rule-breaking
but also as a form of over-regularity. Some theorists refer to linguistic repetition as a
conspicuous sort of "density," adding that a text can become "saturated" to the point
where a particular formal feature appears as the rule rather than the exception. A text can
thereby act as its own context, developing internal norms apart from the rules or
conventions of everyday usage.
Smaller contexts include patterns of forms and themes within a passage; and then
there are surrounding stretches of text, from neighboring words to entire works; other
works by the same author; other works by contemporaries and predecessors; historical
background about the text itself, its author, languages, literary and social conventions;
theories of literature, psychology, and philosophy; as well as the reader's expectations,
predilections, and presuppositions. Context is the reader's ever-expanding universe.
When close readers attempt to describe the twists and turns of poetic language,
they usually draw on rhetorical concepts and terms. Originally viewed as the
(predominantly oral) art of persuasion, rhetoric has come to provide a framework for
describing a huge range of verbal phenomena. Rhetorical terms can aid in describing
anything from phonemes (the smallest unit of speech) to genres and speech-acts (such as
praising and wishing). They map out the framework that allows us to gather formal,
generic, and functional (formal-thematic) evidence. They can be learned by taking
classes, studying introductory books, and reading examples of criticism. Their purpose is
simply to help us describe what we read, so we do not need to make up a whole new
system from scratch.
Since rhetoric has the potential to describe such a wide range of specifics, the
framework just mentioned deserves elaboration. Rhetoric is a fine tool for describing
poetic language. It is traditionally based on a practical distinction between norms and
deviations. For example, figures of speech are considered deviant in comparison with the
norm of literal usage. If you say, "I am a lowly worm," this is metaphorical because the

10 CLOSE READING
"worm" turns or deviates from its straight (biological) definition. Thus figures of speech
are also called tropes, from the Greek word for "turn."
Deviation is an effective working concept, not an absolute: as a descriptive
system, rhetoric justifies our labeling poetic language deviant. You might even call it the
poetry with which we talk about poetry. In addition to deviation and trope, many of
rhetoric's underlying premises are metaphorically concerned with turning: verse, version,
conversion, perversion, indirection, distortion, deformation, discourse. Similar
metaphorical notions support the term metaphor: transfer, translation, transformation,
performance, trespass, transgression, metamorphosis. Compare also: implicit,
implication, explication, complication, complexity, replication, deployment, employment,
unfolding.
Lyric poetry is the field where these concepts apply most readily and widely. So
Helen Vendler speaks of lyric poetry as "transforming" and "converting" implicit ideas
into unified form-ideas. For students seeking to describe lyric poetry, Vendler provides
information on prosody (versification), grammar, speech acts (like singing), rhetorical
devices (such as metaphor), and lyric subgenres.
Given that poetic language is rhetorically describable, these categories are
germane to the close reading of any text. Certainly there are crucial differences between
genres. The study of narration, for instance, introduces many categories of its own. And
some individual poetic features deserve special mention: diction (key-words, wordchoice) and imagery, for instance. Distinct as it is, poetry provides a representative
collection of poetic creatures and their habits, so to speak. And these are the creations
described in close reading.
The conversion or transformation seen in poetic language therefore pertains to
close reading generally. The rhetorical turn is what our straightforward, linear reader
underestimates or overlooks. Narrative is a prime example. A written narrative, which
specialists also call a discourse, is a text that tells a story. In fiction, the story exists
nowhere else; a nonfictional story is factual and potentially verifiable. Either way, we
conceive of a linear sequence of events, a story, which has been converted into textual
discourse. Even though story and written discourse are inseparable -- there is no such
thing as a story without a narrative -- the story is ordinarily given priority in our minds.

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The written version will deviate more or less from the presumed story; it may contain
gaps, flashbacks, digressions and other distortions, forming a texture distinct from the
story.
It follows that every text, if viewed as a specific manifestation of ideas, presents
such a texture for analysis. Whether we envision a perfect articulation of the author's
intended message or a twisted sample of writing gone awry -- two hypothetical extremes
-- every piece of writing is inherently rhetorical. To speak of "mere" rhetoric, as many
do, is like remarking on a mere tombstone when flying over a pyramid in an airplane.
INTERPRETATION
To the extent that description and interpretation are simultaneous, steps toward an
interpretation have already been made by the time a reader has focused on certain formal
properties in a text. For this reason, description now needs to be considered in a new
light. If the describer is looking for interesting details, the interpreter's task is, among
other things, to figure out why those details seem interesting. In other words, they seem
significant, but why?
The close reader's search for details is guided by a desire for coherence and
supported by a sense of conviction. Hence the immediate attraction of patterns and
repetition; we look for significant connections (coherence) instead of random accidents.
One might try out all kinds of connections, but a good reader will discard those that do
not prove convincing, viable, or recognizable.
Yet all of this is easier said than done, especially as description becomes
interpretation. The main question here is, how do readers get from explicit to implicit
ideas by means of textual evidence? We have already conceived of the literary dimension
as a specific formulation of thoughts: each text, therefore, consists of underlying thoughts
that have been converted into specific forms. The "underlying" character of these
thoughts betrays another pervasive and indispensable rhetorical assumption: our
experience of reading takes place on more than one level. Interpretation occurs within a
complex and layered network of forms and meanings.
While scrutinizing detailed evidence, the interpreter begins to reconnect the
details in a new way, exploring and uncovering relationships between different kinds of

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elements, including but not limited to manifest themes, narratives, images and the like,
which occupy surface layers. Potentially deeper levels of meaning, to twist a common
phrase, are hidden on the surface. Interpretation is therefore a continuation of the search
for coherence begun in descriptive analysis. After linking details to each other, the reader
continues building an interpretation by connecting formal properties and themes, and by
making claims grounded in the connections.
This process can eventually result in a relatively straightforward hierarchy of
claims and conclusions. The close reader, explicating the implicit like a detective or
archeologist, brings a previously unknown version of the text to the forefront or surface
of consciousness.
A crucial and extraordinarily complex side of close reading remains to be
discussed. If repetition is a cornerstone of description, thematic context is an equally
powerful factor guiding the interpreter's choices. Thematic context is a web of abstract
topics, ongoing concerns, and claims found in the text. It emerges as one reads, starting
with the explicit themes and meanings observed in straightforward reading. "My Country,
'tis of Thee," for example, is manifestly about American freedom. This simple topic is
bound to influence any intelligent search for significant details and implicit meanings in
the text. But the search quickly becomes far less simple and predictable, and the context
rapidly expands.
Consider the unusual word-order of the patriotic selection. "My Country, 'tis of
thee, / sweet land of liberty, / of thee I sing." Although it does not affect the
straightforward meaning of the sentence, the word-order is a recognizable formal
property -- it can be identified and described. The postponement of verb and subject is a
deviation from everyday syntax. In fact, it nicely illustrates that poetic language can be
backward instead of straightforward. Note that variation fortifies the postponement: four
references to America (country, thee, land, thee) come between the words my and I,
which are themselves linked both by rhyme and by their grammatical representation of
the singer.
Having observed these interrelated formal features, the reader might then ask,
what is the relationship between this postponement and the theme of American liberty?
You can see that the question already involves a fairly tangled network of repetition,

CLOSE READING 13
variation, synonymy, rhyme, word-order (syntax), and grammar as well as a manifest
theme. The interpretation could go in countless directions. To take one, the sentence
places the country before the citizen, thereby enacting or strengthening the patriotic
declaration. It acts out patriotism by showing, on a formal level, that "my country comes
first."
Here strong connections have been made between very different kinds of
particulars. I used "enacting" to explain a major link between a theme (patriotism) and a
formal property (word-order). The link exemplifies the poetic conversion of thoughts into
forms and forms into thoughts. To make the link is to recognize a meaningful enactment,
which amounts to making a claim. In addition to an enactment, the connection could be
understood as a translation, an analogy, a projection, or a circular movement.
These last two, projection and circularity, require explanation. Projection is
another way to conceptualize the transfer of significance from one category to another. In
a relevant discussion, Tzvetan Todorov writes, "Imagine a small slide projected onto a
huge screen: the appearances are quite different, but the relationships of the parts to each
other remain the same." In our example, it is as if patriotism had been reduced to a small
slide of word-order and then enlarged through the process of close reading.
This process does not move in only one direction at a time; instead, it is circular.
On the one hand, larger, explicit themes and contexts influence our handling of details.
On the other hand, smaller pieces of evidence point toward larger themes. This is the
interaction between description and interpretation touched on earlier. According to Leo
Spitzer, close reading is a "to-and-fro voyage from certain outward [formal] details to the
inner [thematic] center and back again to other series of details."
In this manner, readers experience a constant interplay of emerging explicit and
implicit elements. The two extremes of explicit and implicit or macrocosmic and
microscopic are unlikely to prove strictly parallel -- close reading often discovers
tensions within a text. Many kinds of relations are again recognizable, including contrast
and contradiction as well as similarity and variation. Whether an author or work's single
and stable "inner center" could ever be found is largely beyond the purview of this
treatise. Suffice it to say that some ideal of coherence is presupposed by most readers.

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Now let us continue to interpret the patriotic song. While putting America first,
the syntactic subordination of the citizen demonstrates a paradoxical moral about
freedom: I am free because submissive; I, the (grammatical) subject, am a devoted
subject. In this view, the interplay between themes and forms is less straightforward,
though just as coherent and supported by evidence. The repeated of, twice meaning
"about" and once characterizing the land, suggests that singing of the country goes hand
in hand with being of it. Within a single sentence, the country belonging to me and the
country to which I belong coexist.
Again, this may be implicit in the nature of patriotism as well as in this particular
text. American notions of patriotism certainly contribute to the song's context. Indeed,
some basic background can enrich our close view of the song's text while also leading
back to broader conclusions. The text, written by Samuel F. Smith, a Boston clergyman
and Harvard graduate, was first published on July 4, 1831. Its title at that time was
"Celebration of American Independence." The theme of independence, clearly important
for a union of former colonies, is celebrated in the phrase sweet land of liberty.
Less obviously, not only the country but also singing itself are celebrated through
song. By insisting 'tis of thee... land of liberty... of thee, the singer emphatically proclaims
devotion, reassuring the land that it is not taken for granted. Only once this pledge has
been made does the singer sing I sing. The speech act self-consciously celebrates freedom
of expression, which is as though suspended until the land has been given its due. The
freedom to sing is celebrated, asserted, and concretely demonstrated (that is, enacted) by
singing.
The American text was put to the tune of the British national anthem "God Save
the King." Accordingly, musical, historical, and retrospective contexts will color our
view of the text, which is alluding to a preceding text. A degree of irony lurks in Smith's
earnest appropriation of the preeminent royal anthem. Stealing the British ruler's thunder,
the American song substitutes country for King. From this angle, the King is a very
specific alternative; the American declares independence by saying of thee -- and not of
the King.
The word King does appear at the very end of the hymn, when the singer seeks
protection from a mighty King, but not from King George. Ending with the words "God

CLOSE READING 15
our King," the song lets no earthly King intervene between my country and God our
King. Instead, the song itself, freely sung, is what leads from one to the other.
God, in the last stanza, is the "Author of liberty" to Whom "we sing." Thus the
individual authorial voice of the worldly text has (having gone from I sing to we sing)
joined us in the audience, subsumed by one nation, where those reading God's text of
liberty are in effect singing it back to Him in praise and prayer. The circularity of our
microscopic sentence (singing I sing) has been enlarged to a macrocosmic level of liberty
given and received by God through song. If there is a contradiction in the author's
submissive type of liberty, it is mitigated rhetorically by attributing the greatest liberty to
the highest author.
Although countless avenues and intersections remain unexplored, this reading has
yielded a coherent interpretation; a hierarchy of observations, claims, and conclusions.
On the surface, the sentence simply expresses devotion to America. A close reading has
revealed deeper implications. The singer is celebrating independence by exercising
freedom of expression. Even more importantly, this freedom is not taken for granted.
That is why the singer, passionately addressing the country, insists that it takes priority
over individual freedom. Liberty must be commemorated first because no song would be
possible without it. Thus the hymn is simultaneously a pledge of allegiance and a
declaration of independence, the former making the latter possible.
Our patriotic American has not so much eliminated subjugation as made it a
matter of self-determination. To sing the song is to make a free choice, to celebrate,
remember -- and submit to -- that freedom. I mention this again in order to rejoin the
topic of close reading. Our patriotic text is an instructive selection because it is
tremendously familiar. Americans usually call the song "My Country 'tisofthee," running
the last three words together in a pattern of stress that sounds like the word "Italy." Since
no meaningful emphasis is placed on thee, the lone line is virtually incomprehensible.
This is a sign of complacency.
Insofar as Americans take this song for granted, chanting it without consciously
or closely reading it, the hymn loses much of its meaning and even turns against its
readers. What could be a conscious recollection of freedom becomes an oblivious gesture
of abdication. As if oblivion were not bad enough, this thoughtless gesture of devotion is

16 CLOSE READING
still a potentially consequential speech act. Should one pledge allegiance lightly? Might
thoughtless reading become irrevocable commitment? When does harmless singing
become coercive propaganda and loss of freedom? The hymn provokes such questions,
allowing me to point out a parallel between the conscious exercise of freedom and the
close reading of written texts.
COHERENCE, CONVICTION, INTENTION
As an interpretation grows increasingly elaborate, incorporating evidence from
different strata and categories of text and context, coherence becomes more visible. By
the same token, things come together and the interpretation becomes more convincing. At
this stage, claims about the text are supported by coherently connected evidence.
Connections that now seem irrelevant may be discarded; contrary evidence must be taken
into account. A willingness to let go of some leads and to explore unforeseen possibilities
makes for a stronger interpretation.
Along with the reader's sense of conviction comes the ability to convince others
that the new close reading is a meaningful interpretation. A successful close reading
culminates in a main point that (1) is firmly anchored in a convincingly coherent network
of textual evidence and (2) reveals implicit layers of significance.
Many readers have been educated to seek a single, correct interpretation,
equivalent to the author's conscious intention. In straightforward reading, this approach
can work smoothly. In close reading, it breaks down. For one thing, the poetic
dimension's layered complexity gives rise to multiple, and even contradictory or
unconsciously created meanings. The author's declared or suspected intention is only one
among many potentially significant contexts considered by the close reader.
For close readers, the text, not its author (whose identity is in some cases
unknown or inconsistent), is taken at its word. Focused on the text, not on a personality
or a free-floating idea, the close reader is free to weigh all available evidence. But if we
do not give priority to the author, the question remains, where does our experience of the
text's coherence come from? Within the limited and practical arena of close reading, this
question is nearly moot. Each reading may justify itself simply by being convincing and
satisfying.

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Nevertheless, we have already outlined a series of assumptions about the
production of meaning, most of which were anticipated by Freud at the turn of the
century. Close readers view the text as a peculiarly human creation. And any text created
by a human being is the result of extraordinarily complex operations. In essence, it is a
mentally determined manifestation. Before seeing the light of day, the mind's racings are
presumed to have been unconsciously and/or consciously developed, connected, and
arranged; the poetic dimension of the text is a distorted manifestation of latent mental
states and movements.
So a text will never, as a rule, be regarded as the result of random, vegetative, or
mechanical activity. As a practical matter, readers nearly always study passages that they
already respect. While making their case, readers usually allow the intellectual,
emotional, sensuous, and kinetic qualities of a text to reveal themselves during the
unfolding of textual evidence.
Indeed, the whole of each reading is ideally a human unfolding of observable
thematic forms and formal themes. Our claims and conclusions should direct attention
toward previously ignored realities.
CONCLUSION
Predecessors of close reading include ancient rhetoric, biblical interpretation, and
medieval commentary. Classical philology and linguistics are two current, established
disciplines that often involve the close scrutiny of literary texts. And then there are
literary terms such as explication, textual analysis, practical criticism, and stylistics -- all
of which may be synonymous with close reading.
In the 20th century, the practice of literary criticism has evolved in tandem with
developments in the philosophy of literature (now often called literary theory). For close
reading, the most prominent of these theoretical movements have been Semiotics,
Formalism, New Criticism, Structuralism, and Deconstruction. Nietzsche, Freud, and
Heidegger have fundamentally influenced these and related philosophies of reading.
Explication de texte and practical criticism are exercises still used in French and
British educational institutions respectively, and are usually part of examinations taken
before students graduate from high school. Explication became an official part of the

18 CLOSE READING
French curriculum by 1880; practical criticism became standardized at Cambridge
University in the 1930s, when I.A. Richards and F.R. Leavis were leading the way to
New Criticism.
A French explication is normally an oral exam on a passage drawn from a list of
prepared books. After situating the passage -- with such information as author, date, and
the like -- and giving a brief overview of its main structure, the bulk of an explication is
devoted to a detailed examination of how textual specifics convey the meaning of the
passage. This kind of reading is meant to follow the text's lead; instead of imposing
coherence or developing an argument, the reader submits to the text, guided by
observations that reveal how the writer is making a point at a particular moment of the
book. Traditionally, this approach has been a technical exercise in the recognition of
rhetorical devices and their function within historical or biographical contexts.
Unlike its French counterpart, the British examination focuses on an "unseen
passage" (an unexpected selection), is usually written, and emphasizes internal aspects of
the text rather than external contexts. This approach sees the text as an autonomous
creation, born through the interplay of forms and ideas meeting on an equal footing.
Throughout its development in the 20th century, close reading has placed great
emphasis on form and structure. Formal and structural features can be defined quite
broadly, however, by rhetorical means. Rhetorical terms and strategies can characterize
how a text has been articulated, allowing a reader to explore tight connections between
specific, identifiable features of language and meaning. Formal properties are concretely
textual; themes are abstract topics. The interaction between formal and thematic evidence
is rarely simple, but it is always of interest to a close reader.
The kind of close reading described above has great latitude. I have tried to be
more inclusive than narrowly prescriptive. A wide variety of critical views are here
combined in the interest of practicality and universality. Instead of adopting a strict
notion of literature, I treat written texts generally as the object of close reading. Holding
an expansive sort of rhetorical analysis in mind, I believe that anything remotely poetic
may be read with a degree of care -- and with many of the tools -- usually reserved for
lyric poetry itself.

CLOSE READING 19
I have also avoided jargon and supplied a glossary; more advanced topics and
terms can be found through the bibliography. My aim has been to introduce a method
accessible by college-level readers, one that addresses linguistic details, the reader's
response, contextual information, and theoretical issues.
Anyone reading this knows how to read. Meanwhile, there are as many ways to
read as there are readers. To many people, however, close reading seems unnatural, even
threatening. And so it should, insofar as this is a method of reading that challenges us to
notice things we might not ordinarily observe or think about. Yet it also provides broadly
applicable skills and tools for exploring unfamiliar mental territory. Close reading
exercises a powerful but often neglected muscle of the soul.
GLOSSARY
(These are working terms used in this guide, though some other common definitions are
also given. Synonyms are in parentheses.)
AMBIGUOUS: susceptible to multiple interpretations.
APOSTROPHE: impassioned address.
CLAIM: proposition not yet proven by evidence (theory, hypothesis).
CLOSE READING: scrutiny of text itself for detailed evidence.
COHERENCE: recognizable relation between elements or properties.
CONCLUSION: proposition proven by evidence.
CRITICISM: discussion of specific examples.
DICTION: word-choice; vocabulary.
DISCOURSE: specific telling (narrative) of a story; language deployed, especially in a
particular manner, as in legal discourse; linguistic example longer than a sentence.
ELEMENT: small unit or detail.
FICTION: narrative not considered potentially verifiable.
FIGURE: deviation from everyday use of language (trope).
FORM, FORMULATION: actual example of text; specific manifestation of thought.
GENRE: conventional name classifying type of written work.

20 CLOSE READING
IMAGE: visual detail; also can refer to other four senses.
LATENT: implicit, underlying, hidden.
LITERARY

THEORY:

philosophy of literature; attempt to explain what literature is in

general and how it should or may be interpreted; called poetics until the 1930s or
since New Criticism; poetics that continuously questions its own assumptions and
methods.
LITERARY: dimension of text where forms and themes are viewed as ultimately
inseparable (poetic); not susceptible to being paraphrased or replicated in a different
form.
METAPHOR: implicit comparison -- without like or as.
METONYMY: metaphor based on known connection, as in Crown for King.
OVERDETERMINATION: occurs when one explicit element is linked to multiple implicit
elements at the same time; symptom having multiple causes; form as manifestation of
multiple thoughts at once.
OVERINTERPRETATION: holding multiple interpretations at the same time, potential
consequence of ambiguity.
POETIC: dimension of text where forms and themes are seen interacting (literary); not
susceptible to being paraphrased or replicated in a different form.
POETRY: language used figuratively and indirectly; normally has a visibly strict
arrangement.
PROPERTY or

FEATURE:

specific and describable use of language, may involve a

combination of elements.
RHETORIC: means of describing formal and thematic properties; art of persuasion.
SPEECH ACT: use of language that performs an action.
STORY: sequence of events presumed to underlie narrative discourse.
STRAIGHTFORWARD READING: linear approach seeking uniform answers.
TEXT: piece, passage, selection, work of writing.
THEME: abstract topic.
THESIS: main claim or conclusion; direction of themes.
TROPE: figure; deviation from everyday use of language.
VERSE: language fixed in a conventional scheme or pattern, not necessarily poetry.

CLOSE READING 21
SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDENTS
(TACTICS FOR CLOSE READING)
Reading a selected passage
Reread the selection
Grasp the explicit surface
genre and overall structure (beginning, middle, end)
thesis, main themes, story
apparent speaker/narrator
Scrutinize the passage
mark up your copy
single out unusual formal elements
notice emerging themes
List formal and thematic elements
key words and images
rhetorical figures
tone, attitude
versification (when relevant)
Look for basic connections/relations between elements
arrangement, order
patterns, deviation
uniformity, repetition, variation, contrast, oppositions
emphasis, playfulness, contradiction
condensation, compression
expansion, digression
Take conscious stock of questions that have arisen
seek coherence

22 CLOSE READING
sort through evidence
try out hypotheses
follow your convictions
develop, outline, and organize claims (make written notes)
articulate main point or theory about passage (make written note)
Writing about a selected passage
Though written close readings fit under the general rubric of expository writing,
they present special challenges. Some advice about writing a reading may prove helpful.
If you have been asking questions, describing evidence, and testing out
hypotheses while reading, your answers have been shaping into claims. Try to develop,
outline, and organize your claims on paper. You might find it helpful to make lists or
draw diagrams. Expository writers who work through a draft often see their main point
more clearly by the end of it. Then the main point can be articulated at the beginning of
the essay.
The thesis ought to be engaging, intriguing, provocative, or controversial.
Pointedly state the interesting perspective your interpretation provides. What is the main
thing that you want to say about the selected passage? If you chose the selection yourself,
this might explain why you chose it. When trying out a thesis statement, see whether it
distinguishes between explicit and implicit layers. Close readings usually boil down to
something like, "a careful look reveals X," where X is a surprising or unexpected thesis.
Concerns about going too far (overinterpreting) or missing the big picture
(reading too narrowly) should be overcome by the force of your convictions and your
power to convince.
The body of a tightly organized essay is a chain of interlinked claims supported
by specific textual evidence. Each claim should further convince your reader of your
overarching main point. The thread of your argument may follow the order of the text or
make its own order. Here is one way to proceed after articulating the main point: claim >
quotation > description > conclusion > transition > claim > quotation > description >
conclusion..., and so on.

CLOSE READING 23
It is difficult to avoid summarizing the text. The best policy is to make sure that
all examples (quotations) and comments (claims, descriptions) are to the point. A relevant
description can be an enlightening new version of what might otherwise be taken for
granted. That is also why quotations cannot be trusted to speak for themselves -- the text
is a given; the close reader has a new version to write.
In short:
State your thesis at outset.
Set out to convince your reader of this main point.
Stay focused on claims, developing a hierarchical chain.
Demonstrate awareness of broad structure and theme.
Quote details (words, phrases), not large segments.
Do not leave quotations hanging to speak for themselves.
Describe evidence carefully.
Clearly separate your claims from the author's.
Avoid summary, generalization, vagueness.
Clarify transitions.
If possible, conclude with a thought-provoking insight.

SUGGESTED RESOURCES FOR CLOSE READING

Language dictionaries. Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary is a solid resource for
English words.
Writing handbooks with explanations of grammar. (Such as The St. Martin's Handbook
or The Bedford Handbook.)
Various reference works for background, including series such as Ancient Writers and
European Writers (Scribners), the Oxford "Companions," and the Dictionary of
Literary Biography (DLB). Etymological dictionaries, dictionaries of quotations,
The Reader's Encyclopedia, etc.

24 CLOSE READING
Dictionaries of terms:
J. A. Cuddon. The Penguin Dictionary of Literary Terms and Literary Theory.
Katie Wales. A Dictionary of Stylistics.
Richard A. Lanham. A Handlist of Rhetorical Terms.
Robert Audi, ed. The Cambridge Dictionary of Philosophy.
John Hollander. Rhyme's Reason: A Guide to English Verse.
Introductions to Critical Reading:
Helen Vendler. Poems, Poets, Poetry: An Introduction and Anthology.
Klaus, Carl et al. Elements of Literature.
Montgomery, Martin et al. Ways of Reading.
Jonathan Culler. Literary Theory: A Very Short Introduction.
Bonny Stevens and Larry Stewart. A Guide to Literary Criticism and Research.
Some Examples of Close Reading:
Erich Auerbach. Mimesis.
Cleanth Brooks. The Well Wrought Urn.

CLOSE READING 25
Roland Barthes. S/Z.
Gregory Nagy. The Best of the Achaeans.
Barbara Johnson. The Critical Difference.
Helen Vendler. The Art of Shakespeare's Sonnets.

26 CLOSE READING
Works Consulted
Barthes, Roland. Image, Music, Text. New York: Hill and Wang, 1977.
Bergez, Daniel. L' explication de texte littraire. Paris: Bordas, 1989.
Cohn, Dorrit. "Signposts of Fictionality: A Narratological Perspective." Poetics Today
11.4 (1990): 775-804.
Cuddon, J. A. The Penguin Dictionary of Literary Terms and Literary Theory. London:
Penguin, 1992.
Culler, Jonathan. Literary Theory: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford: Oxford U. P.,
1997.
---. Structuralist Poetics. Cornell: Cornell U. P., 1975.
Derrida, Jacques. Margins: of Philosophy. Chicago: U. of Chicago P., 1982.
Ducrot, Oswald and Tzvetan Todorov. Encyclopedic Dictionary of the Sciences of
Language. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins U. P., 1979.
Fish, Stanley. Is There a Text in This Class? Cambridge, MA: Harvard U. P., 1975.
---. Self-Consuming Artifacts. Berkeley: U. of California P., 1972.
Freud, Sigmund. The Interpretation of Dreams. New York: Avon, 1965.
Green, Keith and Jill LeBihan. Critical Theory and Practice: A Coursebook. London:
Routledge, 1996.
Hawkes, Terence. Structuralism and Semiotics. London: Methuen, 1977.
Howarth, W. D. and C. L. Walton. Explications. Oxford: Oxford U. P., 1971.
Jakobson, Roman. On Language. Cambridge, MA: Harvard U. P., 1990.
Klaus, Carl H. et al. Elements of Literature. Oxford: Oxford U. P., 1986.
Lanham, Richard A. A Handlist of Rhetorical Terms. Berkeley: U. of California P., 1991.
Lemon, L. and Reis M., eds. Russian Formalist Criticism. Lincoln: U. of Nebraska P.,
1965.
Montgomery, Martin et al. Ways of Reading. London: Routledge, 1992.
Nettl, Paul. National Anthems. New York: Storm, 1952.
Ransom, John Crowe. The New Criticism. Norfolk, CT: New Directions, 1941.
Richards, I.A. Principles of Literary Criticism. New York: Harcourt, Brace and
Company, 1959.

CLOSE READING 27
Riffaterre, Michael. "Stylistic Context" and "Criteria for Style Analysis." Essays on the
Language of Literature. Ed. Seymour Chatman and Samuel R. Levin. Boston:
Houghton Mifflin, 1967.
Spitzer, Leo. Linguistics and Literary History. New York: Russell & Russell, 1962.
Taylor, Mary A. Famous National Songs. London: Stockwell, n.d.
Todorov, Tzvetan. "Structuralism and Literature." Approaches to Poetry. Ed. Seymour
Chatman. New York: Columbia U. P., 1973.
Vendler, Helen. The Art of Shakespeare's Sonnets. Cambridge, MA: Harvard U. P., 1997.
---. Poems, Poets, Poetry. Boston: Bedford, 1997.
Wales, Katie. A Dictionary of Stylistics. London: Longman, 1989.
Wellek, Ren and Austin Warren. Theory of Literature. Harcourt, Brace & World, 1956.
Wimsatt, W. K. and Munroe C. Beardsley. The Verbal Icon. Lexington, KY: U. of
Kentucky P., 1967.