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How To Read Literature Like A Professor

A Lively and Entertaining Guide to Reading Between the Lines

3.6 (32,713 ratings)
21 minutes read | Text | 9 key ideas
In the tapestry of literature, every journey, every shared moment, and every raindrop holds secrets waiting to be uncovered. Thomas C. Foster's "How to Read Literature Like a Professor" invites you to unlock these mysteries with the keen insight of an academic's eye. Ever wondered about the significance of a hero's dusty trail, or the communion hidden in a simple meal? Foster paints a vivid picture of literary analysis, transforming the mundane into the profound. From timeless classics to modern tales, this guide equips you with the tools to see beyond the surface, enriching your reading experience with layers of meaning. Let each page turn become an adventure into the hidden depths of storytelling, where nothing is as simple as it seems.

Categories

Nonfiction, Self Help, Writing, Reference, Literature, School, Literary Criticism, Books About Books, High School, Read For School

Content Type

Book

Binding

Paperback

Year

2015

Publisher

Fisical_Book

Language

English

ASIN

B06XDLT8MV

ISBN

0062301675

ISBN13

9780062301673

File Download

PDF | EPUB

How To Read Literature Like A Professor Plot Summary

Introduction

The difference between a competent reader and a great reader is the ability to see patterns. Imagine standing before a vast tapestry, admiring its beauty but missing the intricate patterns woven throughout. This is how many of us read—appreciating the surface narrative while remaining blind to the rich layers of meaning beneath. Whether it's recognizing a Christ figure in an unexpected character, understanding why seasons matter in storytelling, or decoding why authors so frequently send their characters on journeys, these patterns exist across centuries of literary tradition. Literature speaks in a language of symbols, allusions, and shared cultural references that may initially seem mysterious or inaccessible. Yet this language can be learned, and the rewards are immense. As we develop our literary detective skills, books that once seemed impenetrable suddenly open themselves to us. Stories become conversations across time, connecting us to human experiences spanning centuries. The pages that follow offer not rigid rules but illuminating pathways—tools that help us see the extraordinary connections between texts, recognize time-honored storytelling techniques, and ultimately read not just with our eyes but with our minds, hearts, and the accumulated wisdom of literary tradition.

Chapter 1: The Quest for Meaning: Journeys in Literature

Reading literature is much like embarking on a quest—there's always more to discover beneath the surface. When we encounter a character setting off on a journey in a novel or poem, we're witnessing one of literature's most enduring patterns. From Odysseus sailing home to Huckleberry Finn floating down the Mississippi, these journeys are rarely just about physical movement from point A to point B. They represent transformative experiences, opportunities for growth, self-discovery, and often spiritual awakening. Consider how frequently characters in great literature find themselves on roads, rivers, or seas. This pattern emerges across cultures and centuries because the physical journey so perfectly mirrors our internal human experience. When a character leaves home, crosses thresholds into unknown territories, faces trials, and eventually returns changed, we're witnessing the archetypal hero's journey that resonates deeply with our own life experiences. The road in literature becomes a metaphor for life itself—unpredictable, challenging, and ultimately transformative. What makes these journey narratives so powerful is how they connect to universal human experiences. We all face moments of departure, encounter obstacles, meet helpers and mentors, and eventually return to our starting points somehow changed. When Tim O'Brien sends his characters trudging through Vietnam in "The Things They Carried," or when Toni Morrison's Milkman embarks on a quest to discover his family history in "Song of Solomon," these authors tap into this ancient pattern while adapting it to explore contemporary concerns. The journey pattern extends beyond obvious quest narratives. Even in stories where characters seem stationary, we often find internal journeys of equal significance. Mrs. Dalloway walking through London for a day undergoes profound internal travel through memory and consciousness. In Samuel Beckett's "Waiting for Godot," the characters' inability to journey becomes the central tension—their stasis representing an existential crisis. Understanding this pattern helps us recognize that when an author sends a character on a trip—whether across oceans or merely across town—we should pay attention. The physical movement almost always signals deeper currents of meaning. Characters journey to find something, escape something, or become something new. By recognizing this pattern, we begin reading not just the words on the page but the rich symbolic language that literature has developed over thousands of years.

Chapter 2: Symbols and Patterns: The Language of Literary Expression

Symbols are literature's secret language—they allow writers to say multiple things simultaneously, adding layers of meaning that enrich our reading experience. A symbol might be anything: an object, a character, a color, even weather. What matters is that it represents something beyond its literal self. The white whale in "Moby-Dick" is not just a whale but becomes a complex symbol of obsession, the unknowable divine, and the human struggle against nature. Once we start recognizing these patterns, literature opens up in remarkable ways. Water appears throughout literature with astonishing consistency. Rain rarely falls in stories without significance—it cleanses, transforms, represents emotional states, or signals moments of transition. When a character plunges into water, we should immediately recognize the possibility of baptism, rebirth, or transformation. Consider how Edna Pontellier's final swim in "The Awakening" functions as both literal death and symbolic rebirth into freedom, or how the river in "Huckleberry Finn" becomes a flowing symbol of moral conscience and liberation. Seasons carry their own symbolic weight. Spring consistently represents youth, rebirth, and new beginnings. Winter brings thoughts of death, stasis, and endings. When T.S. Eliot opens "The Waste Land" by declaring April "the cruellest month," he deliberately inverts this pattern to signal a world where natural cycles have been disrupted. By recognizing these seasonal patterns, we understand why Shakespeare sets his comedies in spring and summer while his tragedies often conclude in autumn or winter. Food in literature is never just about nourishment. When characters share meals, communion occurs—bonds form, communities establish themselves, revelations emerge. Conversely, when meals are disrupted or food is rejected, we witness alienation and discord. James Joyce's "The Dead" culminates in a feast laden with significance about Irish identity, marriage, and memory. The simple act of breaking bread becomes a window into human connection. Geography matters profoundly. Mountains, valleys, forests, and cities each carry their own symbolic associations. When characters journey south in literature, they often encounter passion, danger, and moral ambiguity. Northern journeys frequently involve rationality, clarity, and sometimes emotional coldness. Recognizing these patterns helps us understand why Heart of Darkness sends Marlow up a river into Africa's interior, or why Gothic novels place their haunted houses on desolate moors.

Chapter 3: Biblical and Mythological Echoes in Modern Works

Literature speaks in a language of allusion and reference that connects texts across centuries. When writers incorporate elements from Shakespeare, Greek mythology, fairy tales, or the Bible, they aren't simply showing off their education—they're engaging in a conversation with literary tradition. These references create resonance, allowing authors to invoke entire stories and their associated meanings with remarkable economy. Recognizing these connections transforms our reading experience from isolated encounters with individual texts into participation in a vast, ongoing conversation. Biblical patterns appear throughout Western literature with remarkable consistency. When a character experiences three days of darkness, suffering, or isolation before emerging transformed, we're witnessing an echo of Christ's death and resurrection. Characters with mysterious origins who sacrifice themselves for others, experience betrayal by close companions, or share meals with symbolic significance often function as Christ figures. These patterns appear in unexpected places—from Stephen King's "The Green Mile" to Hemingway's "The Old Man and the Sea." Greek and Roman mythology provides another rich source of literary patterns. When characters face impossible choices between equally devastating options, we recognize the echo of ancient tragic dilemmas. Stories of hubris and its consequences, journeys to underworlds (literal or metaphorical), and encounters with supernatural forces often draw directly from classical sources. Toni Morrison's "Song of Solomon" incorporates the myth of Icarus, while James Joyce structures "Ulysses" as a modern retelling of Homer's "Odyssey." Shakespeare's influence extends far beyond direct quotations. His character types, plot structures, and thematic concerns permeate literature. When we encounter pairs of lovers separated by social boundaries, mad characters who speak uncomfortable truths, or individuals consumed by ambition, we're often witnessing Shakespearean patterns at work. Tom Stoppard's "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead" explicitly reimagines "Hamlet" from minor characters' perspectives, while countless novels subtly incorporate elements from Shakespeare's comedies and tragedies. Fairy tales provide another crucial source of literary patterns. The abandoned child, the wicked stepmother, the magical helper, the impossible task—these elements appear throughout serious literature in sophisticated forms. Angela Carter's "The Bloody Chamber" explicitly reimagines traditional fairy tales with feminist perspectives, while writers like Gabriel García Márquez incorporate fairy tale elements into magical realism. Even realistic fiction often draws on these ancient narrative structures to explore contemporary concerns.

Chapter 4: Geography, Weather, and Seasons as Symbolic Systems

The settings in which literary events unfold are never accidental. Geography in literature isn't merely backdrop—it actively shapes characters, influences plot, and carries symbolic weight. When Mark Twain sends Huck Finn and Jim down the Mississippi River, that specific waterway becomes essential to the story's meaning. The river represents both freedom and danger, and as it carries them deeper into slave territory, it creates the central irony of Jim's "escape" that leads him further into peril. Mountains, prairies, cities, and seashores each carry their own symbolic associations. When characters travel south in literature—whether to Italy in E.M. Forster's novels, to Africa in Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness," or to Mexico in D.H. Lawrence's works—they often encounter experiences that challenge their established identities. The sunny south becomes a metaphor for the subconscious, where characters confront desires and fears they've suppressed in their northern lives. Similarly, high places (mountains, towers) and low places (valleys, swamps) carry traditional associations with purity and corruption, clarity and confusion, isolation and community. Weather functions as another powerful system of symbols. Rain rarely appears in literature as mere precipitation—it can represent cleansing, renewal, fertility, or destruction. In Ernest Hemingway's "A Farewell to Arms," rain accompanies every major tragedy, culminating in the death of the protagonist's lover during childbirth. The irony is heightened because rain, traditionally associated with life-giving properties, instead marks moments of loss. Snow, fog, and sunshine carry their own symbolic freight, creating mood and suggesting psychological states. Seasons provide perhaps the most established symbolic pattern in literature. Spring traditionally represents youth, rebirth, and promise; summer suggests maturity, passion, and fulfillment; autumn evokes harvest, middle age, and the beginning of decline; winter brings thoughts of old age, dormancy, and death. These associations are so deeply ingrained that writers can use them straightforwardly or subvert them for ironic effect. When T.S. Eliot begins "The Waste Land" by declaring "April is the cruellest month," he deliberately inverts our expectations about spring as a time of renewal. The power of geographical and seasonal symbols lies in their universality. We all experience weather, landscapes, and the changing seasons, making these elements ideal vehicles for communicating complex emotions and ideas. When Shakespeare compares his aging self to autumn in Sonnet 73—"That time of year thou mayst in me behold/When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang"—he taps into a pattern of meaning that resonates across cultures and centuries.

Chapter 5: Violence and Sex: Beyond the Physical Act

Literary violence is rarely just violence. When a character suffers physical harm in a novel or poem, that suffering typically carries symbolic significance beyond the literal event. In Robert Frost's poem "Out, Out—," a farm boy loses his hand to a buzz saw and subsequently dies from blood loss and shock. While the poem depicts a realistic farm accident, it also explores humanity's relationship with an indifferent universe. The saw that "snarls and rattles" becomes almost sentient in its malice, while the family's quick return to their work after the boy's death underscores the cosmic indifference to individual suffering. Violence in literature often serves as a vehicle for exploring larger social and historical forces. In Toni Morrison's "Beloved," the violent acts—including Sethe's killing of her daughter and the brutal treatment of slaves—connect personal trauma to collective historical experience. The character Beloved represents not just one murdered child but the "sixty million and more" victims of slavery mentioned in the novel's epigraph. Similarly, William Faulkner's violence-filled Yoknapatawpha County stories explore the legacy of the Civil War, racism, and class conflict in the American South. Sex in literature, like violence, typically points beyond itself to deeper meanings. D.H. Lawrence's "The Rocking-Horse Winner" uses a boy's frenzied riding of his toy horse—described in terms suggestive of masturbation—to explore Oedipal desires and the destructive power of materialism. In John Fowles's "The French Lieutenant's Woman," a brief sexual encounter between the protagonists becomes a commentary on Victorian sexual repression and the gap between romantic ideals and physical reality. Writers often encode sexual content through metaphor and symbolism. Ann Beattie's story "Janus" centers on a woman's attachment to a bowl given to her by a former lover. Her refusal to let her husband put his keys in "her" bowl becomes a way of preserving her sexual autonomy and identity. These coded representations allow writers to explore sexuality while avoiding explicit description, which often proves limiting or clichéd. The most effective literary treatments of violence and sex transform these physical experiences into explorations of power, identity, history, and human connection. When Angela Carter rewrites fairy tales in "The Bloody Chamber," she uses violence and eroticism to challenge traditional gender roles and power dynamics. The physical acts in her stories become means of examining how patriarchal structures shape human relationships and how individuals might reclaim agency within those structures.

Chapter 6: Character Types: Christ Figures and Literary Doubles

Literature frequently employs character types that carry special symbolic significance. Among the most powerful is the Christ figure—a character who, without necessarily being religious, embodies aspects of Jesus's story through sacrifice, suffering, redemption, or resurrection. These figures appear across diverse works and historical periods, creating resonance that deepens our understanding of the text. Ernest Hemingway's "The Old Man and the Sea" offers a particularly clear example. Santiago, the elderly fisherman, displays numerous Christ-like qualities: he suffers physical wounds to his hands during his struggle with the marlin; he carries his mast like a cross up the hill after returning to shore; he lies exhausted on his bed with arms outstretched in a crucifixion pose. His ordeal lasts three days, after which he returns seemingly defeated yet morally triumphant, bringing hope and redemption to his community. Christ figures need not be male, Christian, or even particularly virtuous. In Louise Erdrich's "Love Medicine," June Kashpaw dies walking across snow "like water" during Easter, and her death and spiritual presence organize the novel's exploration of redemption and belonging. Flannery O'Connor's stories often feature deeply flawed Christ figures whose suffering reveals spiritual truths to others. The power of these characters lies not in perfect correspondence to Jesus but in how their stories evoke patterns of sacrifice and transformation. Literary doubles or doppelgängers represent another significant character type. These pairs—sometimes friends, sometimes antagonists—reflect different aspects of human nature or different possible paths a life might take. In Robert Louis Stevenson's "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," the two personalities inhabiting one body dramatize the Victorian concern with humanity's dual nature. More subtly, in F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby," Nick Carraway and Jay Gatsby function as doubles, representing different responses to American idealism and corruption. Characters also frequently embody archetypal roles drawn from mythology, fairy tales, and cultural traditions. The wise mentor, the trickster, the femme fatale, the innocent child—these figures appear across cultures and time periods because they represent fundamental aspects of human experience. When writers employ these types, they tap into a collective understanding that enriches their work. The most compelling characters combine archetypal elements with individual specificity. Santiago is both a Christ figure and a particular Cuban fisherman with his own history and personality. Gatsby is both a mythic figure pursuing an impossible dream and a specific man from North Dakota who reinvented himself. This tension between the universal and the particular gives literary characters their lasting power to move and instruct us.

Chapter 7: Intertextuality: The Ongoing Conversation Between Texts

Intertextuality—the way texts speak to and through other texts—stands as one of literature's most fascinating dimensions. No work exists in isolation; each connects to a vast web of literary tradition. Writers constantly borrow, adapt, challenge, and transform elements from earlier works. Sometimes these connections are explicit, as when Jean Rhys's "Wide Sargasso Sea" reimagines "Jane Eyre" from Bertha Mason's perspective. Other times, the connections operate more subtly through shared imagery, structural parallels, or thematic concerns. Irony functions as a powerful tool in this intertextual conversation. When authors deliberately invert expected patterns, they create meaning through contrast with established traditions. T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land" draws on fertility myths and religious symbolism but subverts their traditional meanings to portray a spiritually barren modern world. Anthony Burgess's "A Clockwork Orange" presents a protagonist with qualities that ironically echo Christ figures, creating disturbing tensions between traditional redemption narratives and the novel's exploration of free will and violence. Genre conventions provide another framework for intertextual connections. Detective fiction, romance, westerns, and science fiction each establish patterns that readers recognize. When authors work within these conventions, they participate in ongoing conversations about human experience through established forms. When they deliberately break these conventions, the departures create significant meaning. Toni Morrison's "Beloved" incorporates elements of ghost stories but transcends genre boundaries to explore historical trauma and its lasting consequences. Political and historical contexts inevitably shape literary works, creating another dimension of intertextual connection. George Orwell's "Animal Farm" functions both as a self-contained fable and as an allegory for the Russian Revolution. Charles Dickens's novels respond directly to Victorian social conditions while drawing on earlier literary traditions. Understanding these contextual connections helps us recognize how literature engages with its historical moment while speaking to universal human concerns. Personal experience inevitably influences writers, creating autobiographical dimensions in fictional works. James Joyce's "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" transforms his own experiences into art, while Virginia Woolf draws on her struggles with mental illness in "Mrs. Dalloway." These personal elements connect to broader literary traditions exploring artistic development, psychological states, and human vulnerability. By recognizing these various forms of intertextual connection, we begin to see literature not as a collection of isolated works but as an ongoing conversation across time and cultures. Each text exists in relationship to what came before and influences what follows, creating a rich tapestry of human expression and understanding.

Summary

The journey through literature is ultimately a journey into ourselves and our shared humanity. As we develop the ability to recognize patterns, decode symbols, and connect literary references, we gain access to conversations that have sustained human culture for millennia. The skills explored throughout these chapters aren't academic exercises but pathways to more meaningful engagement with stories that help us understand our world and ourselves. Whether recognizing Christ figures in unexpected places, understanding why seasons matter in storytelling, or appreciating how geography shapes character development, these patterns connect us to the vast human experience captured in literature. The greatest reward of reading like a professor isn't showing off literary knowledge or impressing others with clever interpretations. Rather, it's the profound pleasure of deeper connection—to texts, to writers across time and space, and to the fundamental human experiences that literature explores. When we recognize how a contemporary novel draws on ancient quest narratives, or how a poem's imagery creates emotional resonance beyond its literal meaning, we participate in a conversation that transcends individual lives and historical moments. Literature offers us this extraordinary gift: the chance to see through others' eyes, to experience lives vastly different from our own, and to recognize our shared humanity across boundaries of time, culture, and circumstance. The patterns and techniques explored here aren't ends in themselves but doorways into this richer, more connected experience of reading and living.

Best Quote

“Education is mostly about institutions and getting tickets stamped; learning is what we do for ourselves. When we're lucky, they go together. If I had to choose, I'd take learning.” ― Thomas C. Foster, How to Read Literature Like a Professor

Review Summary

Strengths: The book is praised for effectively consolidating core truths about literature and presenting them in an accessible manner. It is noted for its impact on the reviewer’s approach to book reviewing and is recommended as essential reading for book reviewers. The book is also appreciated for its use in educational settings, facilitating discussions on symbolism and literary analysis. Weaknesses: Not explicitly mentioned. Overall Sentiment: Enthusiastic Key Takeaway: "Reading Literature Like a Professor" by Thomas C. Foster is highly regarded for its ability to demystify literary analysis, making it an invaluable resource for both educators and reviewers. It is recommended for its accessible presentation of literary concepts and its utility in enhancing understanding and discussion of literature.

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Thomas C. Foster

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How To Read Literature Like A Professor

By Thomas C. Foster

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