We cannot empathise with the trauma and angst of Emily Dickinson without disturbing the calm nerves of our brain and forcibly pulling the unexorcised poltergeists of feminism in making a nonsense of the sense of her poems.
It is nearly impossible for us to go into the souls of Thomas Hardy and his characters without disturbing both their real and imaginary epitaphs by pulling in the concepts of naturalism and realism and what not ,just for the simple sake of understanding his Mayor of Casterbridge.
We are unconcernedly ready to forsake and sacrifice our instinctual sense of aesthetics without being affected by the books and their creators in the name of literary theory.
Over the years we have witnessed an ever ascending trend of disturbing the ghosts of Foucault and Derrida without any need. We repeatedly do this just to prove that we have touched the leaves of their books to sound more literate,sensible ,modern(or may be postmodern 😂 )trendy and intellectual.
Our education system has also trained the academicians in such a manner that it seems horribly futile to them to teach anything in the Indian Universities specially in the Departments of English without showing off their indulgences in the writers like Foucault ,Derrida , Edward Said, Julia Kristeva, I. A. Richard , Marx, and so on.
Literary theory and theorists have become a euphemism for something which cannot be understood properly because their propagators and the plagiarists who are copying them quoting them without understanding them.