From Dr. Adam Potkay’s “English Majors Handbook” (College of William and Mary)
Close reading is the art of both understanding the words on the page, and appreciating what it is about an authorâ€™s words that defies your (at least initial) understanding.
Close reading is the art of attending to the play and paradoxes of literary language. Indeed, the tensions and ironies that inhabit our very best efforts at getting something said are what make them, literarily speaking, our best efforts.
For an example of close reading, letâ€™s take a look at a few lines from the one poem every English major should read, Miltonâ€™s Paradise Lost. This is Miltonâ€™s first description of Eve:
She as a veil down to the slender waist
Her unadorned golden tresses wore
Dishevellâ€™d, but in wanton ringlets wavâ€™d
As the Vine curls her tendrils, which impliâ€™d
Subjection, but requireâ€™d with gentle sway,
And by her yielded, by him best receivâ€™d,
Yielded with coy submission, modest pride,
And sweet reluctant amorous delay. (Bk. 4, 304 Â311)
Close reading of these lines reveals nuances and subtleties that may not be immediately apparent. Why, for example, are Eveâ€™s â€śgolden tressesâ€ť described as veil-like? Might this detail suggest that she lacks clear vision or foresight? And to what degree is this blindness balanced by Adamâ€™s superior insight? The poet describes Eveâ€™s hairâ€”and, by extension, her beingâ€”in terms of â€śthe Vine,â€ť dependent on objects that are more rooted and sturdy; metaphorically, the poet thus suggests Eveâ€™s dependence on Adam. However, isnâ€™t a good deal of independence suggested by the phrase â€ścoy submissionâ€ť? The word â€ścoyâ€ť hereâ€”both for us and, as a perusal of the Oxford English Dictionary will show you, for readers of Miltonâ€™s timeâ€”has an ambiguous ring to it: it can refer to a shy reserve thatâ€™s either genuine or affected. Given the possibility of a calculated reserve, can a person really be â€ścoyâ€ť and â€śsubmissiveâ€ť at the same time? A similar question is raised by the phrase â€śmodest pride,â€ť an oxymoron that may make us wonder about the precise relation in Eveâ€™s character between a mode of self-effacement and subtle means of mastering others. Of course, these are all questions that Milton intends us to ponder as he further unfolds the story â€śOf Manâ€™s First Disobedience, and the Fruit / Of that Forbidden Treeâ€ť (Bk. 1, 1-2).
Letâ€™s say you come across Miltonâ€™s description of Eve in class. If nobody in the class can “close read” the passageâ€”that is, if nobody can simultaneously paraphrase it into plain English, and remark on those elements of Miltonâ€™s verse that resist paraphraseâ€”then an hour of class discussion devoted to talk about Good and Evil or Miltonâ€™s Attitude Towards Women or the Sexual Politics of the Interregnum is, in a fundamental way, empty. Close reading is the indispensable basis of all higher forms of literary analysis.
If youâ€™d like to see more close reading in action, let me recommend a number of books that you can skim through:
Better still, ask a professor what readings he or she would recommend in a literary period that interests you.
For other overviews of close reading, see: