Monday, September 23, 2013

Proletariat U.

I chanced upon this article on the NPR website, which seems germane in light of our discussion about Marxism; certainly the politics and realities of class relations are inseparable from academia as well (not surprisingly). This might also be an occasion to cite the new issue of Workplace: A Journal for Academic Labor, which, in the newest volume, is devoted to "The New Academic Labor Market and Graduate Students" (in his article, Paul Cook even uses Foucault to assess the advice that's provided to graduate students by their mentors and by the profession).


Finally, one more link to send your way: "In Defense of the Humanities Ph.D.", from the newest issue of The Atlantic, which assesses the tension between the "lottery setup" of the graduate school endeavor vs. the necessity of following one's passions.


Remarks on Marx & A Mirror on Lacan

Greetings, all! I thought it might be useful to start a thread on our reading & discussion from last week's class, especially since we didn't manage to get to the psychoanalytical material. On Thursday, in the interests of time and in advance of our discussion of "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," I'll likely plan to summarize/consolidate some of the ideas and implications from the Freud piece and then open things up for 30-40 minutes discussion of Lacan.


When Marx and Engels write that "the fundamental form of this activity is, of course, material, from which depend all other forms -- mental, political, religious, etc." (19), they're proposing that culture is not an independent reality -- that, in fact, it's inseparable from the historical conditions in which human beings create material lives. Additionally, these historical conditions are permeated by relations of exploitation or domination, and any sense that you have that you may be a "free" individual is a kind of misrecognition (here you can perhaps see how Marxist theory could be linked with Lacan: our identities are relational, but in this case those relations derive from the social relations of production -- division of labor, distinct social classes, etc.), a result of ideologies working on us and putting blinders on us. This is why the piece you read spends all that time on "fetters": we look back on "accidental fetters" and are not aware of the fetter that is currently circumscribing our own lives and age. Marx, of course, would want us to realize that the capitalist economy is first and foremost a power structure, marked by class oppression.


As you think about applying this to literature, you might begin with a very broad but sill useful question: do characters make their fates or suffer them? Does the "I" freely choose (this question might be useful for Coleridge's Ancient Mariner), or is it determined/circumscribed in its choices? You also might be prone to focus more on group identities -- e.g., oppressed or marginalized groups (such as when Simpson refers to the alienated labor of the crew in "Rime") -- with an eye towards identifying and deploying an emancipatory politics.


The basic question-at-issue that motivates Lacan (a kind of renegade French psychoanalyst who lived from 1901-1981) is to wonder how the organic body is related to the abstractions of representation. He pursues this problem/question by drawing on/adding to Freud as well as to the linguistic insights of de Saussure; additionally, when he sees the mirror stage yielding to "the dialectic that will henceforth link the I to socially elaborated situations" (193), we also sense a link to what Derrida will eventually articulate as "a system in which the central signified, the original or transcendental signified, is never absolutely present outside a system of differences" (197). If you can see the overlap between Saussure, Lacan, and Derrida here, you'll be well on your way to a profitable coalescence!


Lacan sees the Cartesian cogito ergo sum ("I think, therefore I am") occurring later in the formation of the ego, but prior to this there occurs a companion kind of moment when the child recognizes its image in the mirror. This is the moment when the child is first able to recognize a reflection of itself, with the fictional image -- the specular, or mirror image -- now identifying the self ("this jubilant assumption of his specular image" results in the I being "precipitated in a primordial form" (190)). The question for you/us then becomes, though, in what sense (according to Lacan and according to what you now know about poststructuralism) is this in fact a misrecognition? Why does Lacan quickly qualify this by proposing that "this form situates the agency of the ego, before its social determination, in a fictional direction" (190, emphasis mine), and that the mirror image of wholeness "symbolizes the mental permanence of the I, at the same time as it prefigures the alienation destination" (191)? What is this "alienating destination" to which he refers and where is it elaborated on in the essay? Answering this will involve understanding Lacan's belief in a "deflection of the specular I into the social I" (193).


Well, I hope this helpful in at least modest ways, and certainly feel free to share an observation and/or a passage, or to raise a question. How do you feel about Lacan's formulations at this point -- forbidding and impenetrable? Intriguing and persuasive? Are you able yet to situate it against the backdrop of what we've already discussed in the past couple of weeks? I'll try to filter some of the Lacan material through that handout of the opening pages of Woolf's To the Lighthouse, and then, of course, we'll have that interesting Lacanian reading of "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" to discuss. This will likely help us to see the relevance/usefulness of this kind of theorizing when it comes to literary interpretation.


Wednesday, September 11, 2013

"Time Travel that Works"

Hello again, Literati: on the eve of our third meeting, finally a chance to stop by these parts again to try to get this blog launched. I had promised, I think, to provide links to some of the editorials and articles from recent weeks that have revisited some of those all-too-familiar questions about our discipline and profession (Why study English? What is the value of a humanities education? etc.). You will, perhaps, get used to feeling like you're part of a beleaguered discipline, or a misunderstood one, or an undervalued one, and maybe you'll even find low-level doubts of your own sneaking into your consciousness at various times. Fortunately, there are all manner of effective antidotes that arrive, often unawares, but continuously, in both private and collective moments, inside and outside of the classroom, and that remind us how wonderful, affirming, and important (and, yes, even sustainable) our endeavors in literary studies (and the humanities generally) can be. Contributing to the conversation in this case are The New Yorker's Adam Gopnik, in "Why Teach English?", Michael Roth (via a book review of Mark Edmundson's latest work), in "How Four Years Can (and Should) Transform You," and Mark Edmundson himself, in "The Ideal English Major." Perhaps you'll find something worthy of comment in one or more of these columns; do, as well, share any similar essays and articles you may chance upon during our time together this semester!


Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Parlor Talk

Greetings LIT 500 colleagues! It's hardly a jazz-soaked coffee house, but here's another meeting place for us. We'll see if it serves us (at times we may well need to bridge the Thursday-to-Thursday span), but hopefully it will allow us to mix the serious with the frivolous, the theoretical with the practical; certainly some irreverence will be needed as we get deeper into the semester's readings. For now, perhaps that lovely Kenneth Burke passage from The Philosophy of Literary Form offers the appropriate sentiments for launching this new blog, for readying your oars:


"Imagine that you enter a parlor. You come late. When you arrive, others have long preceded you, and they are engaged in a heated discussion, a discussion too heated for them to pause and tell you exactly what it is about. In fact, the discussion had already begun long before any of them got here, so that no one present is qualified to retrace for you all the steps that had gone before. You listen for a while, until you decide that you have caught the tenor of the argument; then you put in your oar. Someone answers; you answer him; another comes to your defense; another aligns himself against you, to either the embarrassment or gratification of your opponent, depending upon the quality of your ally's assistance. However, the discussion is interminable. The hour grows late, you must depart. And you do depart, with the discussion still vigorously in progress."