Modern literary theory brings out things to light

Dr. Wilfrid Jayasuriya the author of Libyan Episode: A Romance of the Tea Trade, Christine's Story, The British Diaries and Sri Lankas Modern English Literature: A case study in Literary Theory, had been short listed for a Gretiaen in 1997 for Christine's Story and received the State Literary Award for the Libyan Episode.

His upcoming novel Joy of Our Youth combines his experiences as a young District Land Officer in Ratnapura and his time as a student in the US, after his retirement.

Q: How did you first get into writing?
 

A: We studied in the English medium and I used to write from my adolescent days. If you have a love for literature it will find some way of surfacing. My mother was a great influence. She was a Cambridge junior which was a huge achievement for a woman of her time.

Q: What do you prefer, being a critic or a writer?

A: People who study English in the universities become natural critics since universities focus more on criticism than creative writing. But I like both.

Q: How does literary theory give you a new perspective into literature?

A: New Criticism, which came up in UK and USA in the 1930s and 1940s focused on a certain text without taking into consideration the background of the author or his work.

This is an excellent teaching tool, which I very much approve of. It teaches students to make independent judgements.

In the Reader Response theory the meaning of the text depends on the reader. The text comes alive when you read it. Each reader could have his or her own interpretation. In deconstruction not only does the reader have a different interpretation, but the reader breaks the text down and creates his or her own text.

In structuralism everything is binary. Take a cowboy movie for example. The good guy always dresses in white and rides a white horse, the bad guy dresses in black. Good is represented by white and evil by black.

This is nothing new to cowboy movies, nor for the human mind. Structuralism focuses on this 'deep structure of the human mind.' Modern English literary theory strives to bring in to account things what New Criticism did not throw light on.

Q: What's your opinion on the current state of literary criticism, in the local setting?

A: Criticism practised under the criteria of the universities are not solid. There are no strong schools. We are still pretty much in the New Critical era.

Q: You mostly deal with old topics, government service for example, why?

A: Basically people write about what they know. When I used to work as a District Land Officer, I came across diaries written by former British Government Agents.

For me it was of great benefit sharing knowledge with someone from over fifty years ago. Likewise writing does not necessarily have to be private. Writing under subjects as the government service is a part of describing the world.

The first set of novels written were actually travel stories, written in order to describe the current conditions of the newly explored land.

This introduced people to each other and acted as a source of unification. Old themes are important and people are interested in them.

Q: In the Libyan Episode: A Romance of the Tea Trade, was the protagonist yourself?

A: Yes it was based on real life experiences. I wanted to write something about Libya and the tea trade.

Q: You were shortlisted for a Gretiaen in 1997 for Christine's Story and received the State Literary Award for the Libyan Episode. How did you feel?

A: Receiving the prize I felt great. It's always a good thing to win a prize. But you never know, when you are shortlisted, whether you will get encouraged or disheartened. You can always dispute the basis of their judgement.

Q: Do you feel that Sri Lankans writing in English is a sign of cultural alienation?

A: We studied in the English medium throughout and when I first became a government servant, after the Sinhala Only Act, when we put out a circular, the original in Sinhala would follow, because everything had to be in Sinhala and we couldn't write in anything other than English.

It all depends on the subject. Some things can be written in Sinhala, some things can be written in English and some others in both.

Q: Do you consider English language as capable of effectively expressing local themes, emotions, sensations, etc....

A: Writing in Sinhala is clearly different from writing in English. Each language has its own message. The word 'tree' has the same meaning as 'gaha' in Sinhala. It has nothing to do with the reality of the thing. The reality cannot be conveyed other than by the word, it cannot be compared.

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A mother's love!

Punchimenike sat huddled against the half crumbling wall. Her thoughts flew back to the night her husband came home with a strange smile on his weather beaten face. She had looked at him with great concern, but as was her habit never would she question him.

"Don't you like to see what I brought you?" he had asked, as he unfolded the stained handkerchief. In it was a beautiful gold pendant with a red stone embedded. "Today has been my lucky day", he had said "for I have had the biggest haul ever, and then on the sand half buried did I find this. You've always wanted a pendant for your gold chain and so I thought this would be just right."

And then came the biggest blow. Two days later the rain came down in torrents. It was as though the heavens had opened up. The sea was rough and fisherman were warned not to venture out to sea. "This will soon subside", Simon had said as he set out to sea not heeding to the pleading look in her eyes. His body was washed ashore at dawn and she could only gaze at his body with no emotion whatsoever.

From that time she had worked from morn till night to fend for herself and her little girl Premawathie, who was now her sole consolation. All the weariness she had suffered would vanish when her little frivoulous daughter put her chubby arms around her hugging and caressing her.

She was bright for her age and everyone said she had a bright future. "Someday she will keep you in a mansion", they had said. Premawathie would study late into the night, and she would sit up with her a cloth wrapped tightly around to keep away the cold.

She thought of the morning she took her to the high priest to get his blessings before she went for the scholarship examination. "Your daughter is a clever child. Don't worry she will do well and bring you consolation" he had said. His words had come true, and it was Premawathie who had scored the highest marks.

Her joy knew no bounds as she started making arrangements to send her to a good school in the city.

On that day she brought a red suitcase to pack her clothes when Premawathie had asked, "Why did you spend so much mother, the trunk we have would have quite served the purpose, isn't that so?" But Punchimenike had wanted the best for her. When she left her daughter at the hostel a lump rose in her throat and her eyes welled up with tears. But she quickly walked away best it, might cause misery to her dear little one.

She thought of how things had changed gradually. Each time she went to see her daughter she was impatient to see her leave. She had some excuse or other. It was either drama practice, sports practice, or something or other. She had not thought twice about it though.

Then she had got a letter asking her to bring her a pink dress for the concert. How was she to get a frock sewn? She hadn't been able to work for some time due to the terrible pain in her spine. She had lain in bed wondering how she could raise the money when she remembered the pendant. Rising quietly she had fished it out of its hiding place. There it was bright and shining as it had been in that soiled handkerchief.

Next morning a bundle of notes lay in her hand in exchange for the glittering pendant. The best beauty satin was bought and the frock sewn with frills and buttons and bows.

How many times she had held up the frock and imagined how it would look on her daughter. She had been impatient to take it to her and felt the bus was not fast enough.

"Have you brought the frock?", Premawathie had asked her as she rushed into the parlour, and as she unwrapped it a scowl came over her face, "What on earth is this horrid looking glittering frock? However could I wear it? Everybody would only laugh at me. Take it away.

I never want to see you again," she had said as she threw the frock at her and rushed out. Punchimenike came home half blinded by tears. It had been the last straw.

She had nothing to live for, anymore!

Mrs. H. M. W. Abeywickreme, St. Noel's Estate, Balangoda.

***

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