Close reading is a practice of giving sustained attention to small portions of a literary work—with no regard for the identity of the author, the intended purpose of the text, or knowledge of its historical period—in order to analyze the text on its own merit as a single, unified object.
Have you ever heard a song for the first time, and you did not know the singer, but you started singing along to the words? Why did you do that? What is it about the lyrics that make them good?
Close reading is a proven method for answering the important question: what makes a poem, play, essay, or novel good?
Close reading means focusing on just a line or paragraph at a time and figuring out how the elements of literature work to make the line or paragraph better or worse as literature. Reading and re-reading a short passage, paying close attention to the text’s actual words, and discussing how those words use figures of speech, diction, syntax, point of view, tone, imagery, or prosody, is how to close read. (For more on literary elements, click here.)
The author’s identity or the purpose of a piece of writing (e.g. a love poem or a political speech) can come later, after the close reader practices basic comprehension and making qualitative judgments about a text as a work of literature. Close reading sets the study of literature apart from other disciplines such as history, philosophy, or social studies.
Practicing close reading is essential for learning to think like a reader.
Inventing Close Reading
—Laurence Sterne
Ivor A. Richards first proposed his methodology, close reading, a logical approach to reading literature, in his aptly-titled book Practical Criticism.
In the book, Richards describes a teaching method he used at Cambridge University. He would hand out one-page copies of poems with the author’s name removed. It might have been Shakespeare, it might have been Taylor Swift (well, probably not Taylor Swift since she hadn’t been born yet).
Then, he gave his students several days to write their observations all over the paper (and the poem) and hand it back—anonymously.
The poems and students’ responses to them were given numbers, and the class would discuss the merits of their criticisms freely and openly. The class was constantly practicing critical readings of literature without worrying about the supposed reputation of the author, or their own reputations as clever students at Cambridge University. By “practical criticism,” Richards really meant it—his students were consistently practicing criticism.
On the Closeness of Close Reading
In a section subtitled “On the Closeness of Reading,” Richards makes a crucial observation he and his students found about bad readings of a particular poem, “Poem 8.” Those readings were far away from the poem.
“The further away any reading seems to be from the actual imaginative realisation of its content” he writes, “the more confidently it is dismissed” (112).
Earlier, in his Introduction, Richards compared criticizing a work of literature to trying to understand a building from a single vantage point at a distance as opposed to seeing it up close.
By reading and rereading a poem, paying strict attention to its actual words at an intimate range, we see it in detail, for what it really is. We are no longer standing across the street or squinting from down the block, we are walking its halls, noticing the patterns in its flooring, examining its bricks and paint (9).
Close Reading is Authentic Reading
Of one of his students responding to Poem 8, Richards writes, “Since the poem does not turn out to be what he expected, he does not take the trouble to find out what it is” (Richards 112-113).
In other words, we fail to allow ourselves as readers to understand what the poem actually says rather than what we want, need, or expect it to say. The reader must get out of his own way.
It is a strange thing that most of us never really hear what another person is saying. Instead, we insert our own expectations, and then support or dismiss the statement depending on whether or not it matches our own pet narrative.
This is like the trap into which the uncritical reader easily falls.
He never understands what the literature actually says, and dismisses it in ignorance.
Similarly, the uncritical reader may believe he already knows what the literary work says, that it agrees with some preconception of his, and so he accepts it in ignorance.
Either way, ignorance persists.
Consequently, Richards makes the startling claim in Practical Criticism that he wants “to provide a new technique for those who wish to discover for themselves what they think and feel about poetry (and cognate matters)” (3).
Close reading allows us clearly and logically to go about interpreting a literary work on its own merits, rather than what we think it says or what we want or expect it to say. Through close reading, we might generate authentic thoughts and feelings about what we read.
Avoid Paraphrasing
But isn’t the meaning of a story or poem just a matter of opinion? Doesn’t the ambiguity in any literary work mean we can deconstruct it any way we please?
No! There are better and worse readings. And then there are readings that are just plain wrong.
Richards points out that the biggest challenge facing most readers lies in “making out the plain sense” of a literary work (13; emphasis his). Readers most often fail to make out a literary work’s plain, overt meaning, as an ordinary statement in the English language. Instead, Richards writes, “They would travesty it in a paraphrase” (14).
A close reader never leans back, away from the page, and merely paraphrases what she thinks or wants the text to say.
A close reader thinks like a reader—she focuses exclusively on the text before her, interpreting the meaning of the words through the seven elements of literature, and quoting directly from the story or poem as much as possible.
Richards, I.A. Practical Criticism: A Study of Literary Judgment. Routledge, 2004 (originally published 1929).
So, how does one actually perform close reading?
First, study the Elements of Literature on this website: figures of speech, diction, syntax, point of view, imagery, tone, and prosody. Master the terms. This will take time and practice.
As you read, focus on a passage from a story, essay, or play, or on a stanza from a poem, with a pencil in hand, marking up the lines and indicating how the literary elements are working to form meaning.
What is the point of view? Is there a figure of speech at work? What is the definition of a particular word, and does it have a secondary meaning or connotation? Why are the words in their particular order? Is there an important image—if so, then why did the author select that particular detail? What word best describes the tone? Is there any music in the language, i.e. prosody? Answer any or all of these questions as you read. Make notes.
Reread and repeat as necessary.
Finally, when you think you have something to say, explain how one or more of the literary elements is working in the text—and quote directly from the story, essay, play, or poem as much as possible to demonstrate your point.
Any argument you make about the text should be based on its language, not yours. As Richards’ disciple in America, Cleanth Brooks, put it, avoid “the heresy of paraphrase.”
Close Reading in the 21st Century
Concerns about genre and literary period, even the name or identity of the author, are all secondary to the basic process of close reading.
Close reading, in other words, takes priority because it provides for accurate, reliable interpretation of a text in the first place. Ideology, argumentation, historicism, context—all may be built on a firm foundation of close reading, but none may stand without it.
Since the 1980s, the practice of close reading has waned in American classrooms, resulting in an increasing inability of students to interpret literature.
In response to the illiteracy crisis, 41 states adopted the Common Core standards in 2010, which called for a basic practice in its English Language Arts standards—a return to close reading. “Students who meet the Standards,” the document states in its Introduction on English Language Arts, “readily undertake the close, attentive reading that is at the heart of understanding and enjoying complex works of literature.”
The Aspen Institute later produced a single-page document further explaining the centrality of close reading in the Common Core’s national reading standards, and what close reading instruction should look like in a classroom.
For four decades, from the 1950s through the 1990s, college graduates trained in close reading excelled at law, at science, at business, at journalism, at diplomacy, and in any other field where accuracy of interpretation is crucial. A return to the practice would be most welcome.
Close reading is essential to thinking like a reader.
Close Reading Using this Website
Misterdoctorcoachguy encourages you to use the section Elements of Literature on this website whether you are a teacher or a student or, best of all, simply a curious reader looking to improve your understanding.
Use these pages in your classes, in your book clubs, when preparing for the AP literature or language exams, or, preferably, anytime you are enjoying a good book.
The other sections of this website provide genre definitions to help orient close readers, and representative works from a range of literary periods to help close readers find literature in English worthy of their attention from a range of eras. Once you become a good close reader, knowledge of the author and the literary work’s historical period may deepen your understanding.
Are you a teacher with a course page? Are you part of a study group? Or a reading group? Feel free to link to this page or any of the pages at misterdoctorcoachguy.com.
