Wimsatt and Beardsley - The Intentional Fallacy (1) (2).pdf
The authors argue that a literary work should not be judged mainly by what the author intended to say. In other words, the writer’s private plan, feelings, or purpose should not be treated as the final authority for interpreting a poem.
They call the mistake of relying too heavily on authorial intention the “intentional fallacy.” Their key claim is:
A poem should be judged as a work that exists publicly, not as a private message whose meaning must be discovered from the author’s mind.
The poem belongs to readers and the public once it has been written and published. The author cannot completely control how it will be understood.
The authors define intention as the author’s design or plan in the mind—what the writer meant to do, how they felt, or why they wrote.
Many critics assume:
“To judge a poet’s work, we must know what the poet intended.”
Wimsatt and Beardsley reject this assumption. They believe that the success of a poem should be judged by the poem itself: its language, structure, images, tone, and effects.
The authors agree that poems do not appear by accident. A poem comes from a thinking, creative person. However, this does not mean that the author’s original plan should determine whether the poem is successful.
For example, an author may intend to write a deeply moving poem but produce something confusing or dull. The intention was serious, but the result may still be unsuccessful. Good intentions do not automatically create good literature—tragically, literature has no shortage of ambitious disasters.
Main point:
The author’s intention explains how the poem began, but it does not decide whether the poem works.
The authors ask: How can a critic discover what the author intended?
Their answer is that if the poet successfully communicates an idea or feeling, then the poem itself already shows it. There is no need to search outside the poem for the author’s private explanation.
However, if the poet fails to express the intended meaning, then the poem does not clearly show that intention. A critic might need letters, diaries, or interviews to discover what the author wanted to say—but this information does not prove that the poem successfully says it.
Example:
Suppose a poet intends a poem to be ironic, but the poem sounds completely sincere. The author’s statement, “I meant it ironically,” cannot magically transform the poem into successful irony.
Main point:
The poem is evidence of what was achieved; the author’s explanation is only evidence of what was attempted.
The authors compare judging a poem to judging a pudding or a machine.
A pudding is judged by how it tastes and holds together.
A machine is judged by whether it functions.
A poem should be judged by how effectively its language and meanings work together.
They use the idea that a poem “should not mean but be.” This does not mean that poems have no meaning. Rather, it means that a poem is a complete verbal object, not merely a container for an author’s hidden intention.
A successful poem usually has:
relevant details;
a coherent structure;
carefully chosen language;
unity between its parts;
meanings that work together rather than contradicting one another accidentally.
The critic should therefore examine the poem’s actual words and effects, not ask the author to explain the private plan behind them.
Main point:
Literary criticism should focus on the poem’s internal organisation and effectiveness.
The authors emphasise that a poem often has a speaker or dramatic voice. Even when a poem uses “I,” that “I” should not automatically be identified with the poet.
A lyric poem may express a personality or emotional state, but it still presents a speaker responding to a particular situation. The thoughts and feelings should first be attributed to that speaker.
Only after careful evidence should a critic connect the speaker’s views to the author’s personal beliefs.
Example:
If a poet writes a poem spoken by a murderer, it would be ridiculous to assume the poet is confessing to murder. The same principle applies to poems about love, despair, anger, or religious doubt.
Main point:
Interpret the dramatic voice inside the poem before making claims about the author’s private life.
The authors discuss revision. An author may rewrite a poem and improve it. But this does not mean that the first version contained a fixed, pure intention that the final version finally revealed.
Instead, the author’s intention changes during the writing process. The final poem is what matters, not the original plan that existed before revision.
The authors make a witty distinction:
The author may have intended to write a better poem.
But the specific intention behind the earlier version is not necessarily the intention of the final version.
Main point:
A poem should be judged in its completed form, not by comparing it with the author’s original private plan.
The authors then make one of their strongest claims: once a poem is written, it becomes separate from the author.
It is:
embodied in public language;
available to readers;
open to discussion and criticism;
no longer under the author’s complete control.
Language does not belong privately to the author. Words have meanings shaped by common usage, grammar, history, and culture. Therefore, readers can analyse a poem using publicly available evidence.
The poet is not the ultimate authority on the poem. An author may explain what they meant, but that explanation cannot replace analysis of the actual text.
The authors respond to another critic, Ananda Coomaraswamy, who distinguishes between:
asking whether an artist achieved their intention; and
asking whether the artwork is worth preserving or has genuine artistic value.
Coomaraswamy believes the first question is artistic criticism, while the second is moral criticism.
Wimsatt and Beardsley disagree. They argue that asking whether the work is genuinely successful and worth preserving is actually the more important form of artistic criticism.
Their striking example is the difference between:
a skilfully planned murder; and
a skilfully made poem.
If success simply meant carrying out an intention, then a carefully planned murder could be judged “artistically” successful in the same way as a poem. The authors reject this idea. Artistic value must involve more than successfully following a plan.
Main point:
A work’s artistic quality depends on what it is, how it functions, and what kind of object it becomes—not merely on whether the creator achieved a plan.
In the first five pages, Wimsatt and Beardsley argue that:
Authors certainly have intentions, but intention is not the proper standard for judging literature.
If a poem communicates successfully, its meaning should be found in the poem itself.
If the poem fails to communicate, the author’s explanation cannot rescue it.
Poems should be judged like functioning objects: by their language, structure, unity, and effectiveness.
The speaker of a poem should not automatically be confused with the author.
The finished poem matters more than the author’s original plan.
Once published, a poem becomes a public object rather than the private property of its author.
Artistic criticism should evaluate the poem’s actual value, not simply ask whether the author carried out their intention.
Wimsatt and Beardsley argue that literary interpretation should depend on the publicly available evidence of the completed text rather than on the author’s private intentions, because a work’s artistic success is determined by how it functions, not by what its creator meant to achieve.