An issue that often arises in literary discussions is whether it is beneficial for us, as readers, to consider authors’ biographies in interpreting their work. Should assessing the meaning of a text require an awareness of the author’s life or should the text stand on its own? I argue that readers should not hold any knowledge of an author’s life when interpreting his or her piece.

Analyzing an author’s life and the struggles, beliefs and experiences that compose it alongside his or her literary piece causes the reader to not really evaluate the piece of writing—the reader stops valuing the work for its literary feats and instead begins considering it as a supplement to the life and attitude of the writer. Novels and texts should not be a means to advertise or showcase the author. The purpose of a written piece is to expose a sentiment or an idea; if the name of the author and the implications it carries are required in order to evoke the essence of the piece, we no longer derive our opinions on the piece itself but base our observations on the life and character of the author. To appreciate a piece for its literary value, we should not have to know the history of the author.

After reading JD Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye last year in class—and after having fallen captive to Salinger’s particular approach to the human mind—I began reading a series of short stories he had written after the debut of his novel. I was really drawn to the way he captures psychological tendencies, but at the same time I found that everything I was reading I linked directly back to what I had learnt in class about Salinger’s life. I no longer focused on the meaning of each individual story but tried to find a connection between all of them and Salinger’s story, seeking clues or hints I could tie back to Salinger’s beliefs. I enjoyed reading the anecdotes very much, but I realized that what I had enjoyed the most weren’t the tales themselves but having acted as a researcher or investigator, discovering more about Salinger and his insights rather than analyzing and valuing the pieces objectively. Knowing about the creator influenced my approach to his work and did not allow me to have a fresh and unbiased encounter with his piece of writing—I felt like one of those fans of Francis Bacon’s later works who value them because they are the expression of an insane mind instead of for their intrinsic merits.

Being fully acquainted with the authors´ lives and their personal backgrounds, although I admit may help to unravel the authors’ motives in creating their work, skews our interpretations and affects our thoughts and reactions to the work.

I prefer (and suggest to any reader) to enhance my own insights with the author’s after having read the piece, so as to not be biased from the start. Nowadays, it is very easy to simply Google the lives of the authors, but a century ago (and right from the start), literature was the raw text you had in front of you. Of course, knowing the author’s story may help us better understand the author´s intentions in composing his or her piece of writing. I still feel, though, that literature is not about knowing: it´s about the beauty and significance that each reader individually recognizes in a work of writing, regardless of what the author’s own thoughts and intentions were. If an author—as an example, Carol Ann Duffy—uses her past experiences in a failed relationship as inspiration for her works, what matters is the image and sentiment she conveys, not the name of the person who dumped her.

Yet, there is one circumstance where knowing the author´s background can be absolutely essential and recommended. This is in the setting of a classroom, where the study of the purpose of the piece may include, in order for the assessment to be more accurate, consideration of the circumstances of an author’s life. If we didn’t know about Carol Ann Duffy’s background of amorous relationships, we would have lacked knowledge on what she wrote her poems about specifically. Learning about the author’s life and background or the beliefs he or she stood by can definitely enrich the meaning of the text and add another facet in the analyzing or assessing of the piece, stressing the message the author wants to convey. It is therefore essential that when we read a text in class or for purposes which require us to know exactly the author’s perspective on his or her work, we do go over the author’s past and the conflicts of the time. Though I would recommend this happen only when fully necessary.

While unveiling information on the voice of the work can be helpful in some respects and also extremely tempting in others, I still think it’s better to wait and not base our perceptions on who the creator is or on his or her life story and instead search for information about the author after reading the novel; this way we can still create and have our own impressions of the piece—and add a bit of ourselves when we assess its meaning—without losing full grip on the author’s intentions. I feel that judging author’s works by considering their background takes from our reading, and the novel, more than it adds, and hence should be done after the reading or for purposes of stricter study.