In 1967 French literary critic Roland Barthes declared it was time for the author to die. He was not trying to incite murder, but instead, his statement was about the death of the “original” meaning given to a text by the author. In a nutshell, he argued that what the author “meant” was nothing more than a vaguely interesting piece of context and that it should not influence the reader’s interpretation of a text.
This was a marked shift from traditional literary criticism, which heavily relied upon the author’s intent and biography to interpret meaning. Prior to Barthes, literary critics would use details from an author's life to unlock the “ultimate meaning” of their work; without this knowledge, the reader was powerless.
Barthes was motivated to divorce art from artists because of his belief that the reader was being held hostage—trapped and limited by the writer. In his own words; “the birth of the reader must be at the cost of the death of the Author.” The author must die so we, the reader, can be free to interpret the writing as it is, without the warping effect of authorial influence. Half a century later, perhaps Barthes’ theory is the perfect antidote for the modern malaise of cancel culture.
Cancel culture is a contemporary phrase to describe the social, political, or professional exile of someone who is deemed to have acted or spoken in an inexcusable way. We say that someone has been “canceled” when facts about their personal lives are made public, prompting outpourings of shock and disgust. The severity of a “canceling” varies depending on the celebrity and alleged crimes of the perpetrator, but there is no consensus about what we ought to do regarding their creative works in the aftermath of their public shunning. Some call for a total boycott, while others staunchly [1] defend free speech.
A recent example of a high-profile canceling comes in the form of J.K. Rowling, whose activities on Twitter have caused a considerable backlash [2]. There have been calls to boycott her books and the films still being released annually by the Harry Potter industrial complex.
Choosing to separate the author from her work neither delegitimizes criticism of Ms. Rowling, nor exonerates her. So why should we continue to allow the opinions of an author to cast such an ugly shadow over their work?
According to Barthes’ theory, as soon as an author publishes a book, they no longer have control of it. The words on the page now belong to the reader, who filters them through their own life experience and understanding to bring them to life. To me, a text might mean one thing, to you, another, and that is what literary criticism exists to discuss and debate. It is often said that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” so perhaps meaning ought to be found in the mind of the reader.
Proponents of cancel culture argue that people need to be held accountable for their actions, no matter their status, prestige, or wealth. In many ways it’s difficult to find fault in this argument; no one ought to be above the law, or morality.
However, the cancel culture practice of boycotting or shunning is what many critics take issue with. It is a non sequitur to suggest that censorship is the best practice to deal with someone who doesn’t meet the societal standard of moral behavior. We infantilize [3] the reader when we assume they lack the critical thinking skills to recognize and challenge the ideas that they see, read, and hear.
I believe that we can appreciate an author’s work without approving and ratifying things that they’ve ever done in their lives. If we adopt Barthes’ theory, we can have our cake and eat it too. People are of course, free to shun whomever they so choose, but I, for one, will be dusting off my well-loved copy of Harry Potter, and settling in for my annual re-read of a childhood favorite.