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Entry tags:
flash point
Despite all my years of resisting it, I have lately begun— for the first time— to actually explore Derrida & Deconstruction theory and I feel like I'm gaining a sense of understanding it intuitively. I feel like it could actually be a very useful methodology of approaching texts and that it's not as resolutely evil as so many people (a number of my critical heroes, in fact) make it out to be. I've been working on this journal entry a while in private and finally get it going today. You may find it insufferably boring so I'm hiding it behind this cut: I think it's somehow safer because Derrida is dead now and his corpus can be approached with a little more boldness. Or something, anyway. I get the sense that deconstruction and its practitioners' methods lack some things I have come to rely on myself for critical analysis, but I can also see ways to use it quite handily. I also feel like I perceive some of its limitations and shortcomings. One such shortcoming is that whenever people who are in the know get asked "what is deconstruction" they always go off on this nattering discourse about how they can't really answer that question. I gotta call bullshit on that.
I think those who answer that way are being careful in a way not merited by the subject, to wit, they don't want to put their own words into a deconstruct-able container and so twist around and usually wind up saying "it is much easier to say what deconstruction is NOT." I think that it's okay for a person to say what a thing is, while reserving the knowledge that a later critic could and probably should take apart what they have to say. But instead they get all "I can tell you what it is NOT." (one of my favorite words in biblical criticism is "later redactors" which gets thrown around in biblical conversation so easily. as in later redactors may collect these criticisms and criticisms of criticisms into a self critical document that immediately implodes. hee hee) If the theory has any merit and power, it's going to be able to both stand and be deconstructed simultaneously and that simultaneity is in fact a third or middle path through which meaning travels.(this gets into my crazier triadic theories which are not well considered yet) Everyone spends so much time on oppositions, dichotomies and the like, they miss out on the whole wild world of trinities.
Anyway, for those of you scoring at home, what I think deconstruction is is the essence of Socratic questioning! Do I think asking questions of a text is useful? Yes I do! Deconstruction is the moment when a reader becomes aware of hidden differences set up by a text and which reader subsequently realizes are actually a little fraudulent, rendering the authority of the text itself a little fraudulent (if not totally fraudulent). But at the same time, properly handled, it doesn't obliterate the text but rebalances it into a wider zone of possible encounters with a reader. And usually, the text provides its own material for this. You don't have to necessarily know the context of the author's life experience or circumstances under which the text was written. That's in fact beside the point because maybe just maybe you'd like to take the text seriously on its own terms--isn't that what authors hope for anyway? that you'll take their words at face value? It's like, you read something, take it seriously, then ask it a question like "why?" or "so what?" and then pursue the whys and so whats all the way down.
Examples?
Okay!
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by frost.
- - - -J. R. R. Tolkien "Lord of the Rings"
That's a nice piece of poetry. So think about it this way:
why is gold important? what is the problem with being lost? do you mean being strong and not withering are valuable? is the condition of being reached by frost undesirable? are those who are reached by frost or do not have gold or are lost less than those who exhibit the text's conditions?
Presumably gold is important and it's important to act to distinguish gold from things which merely glitter. Is this because that which IS gold has intrinsic value? In fact we might deduce people within the text come to believe that gold has an extrinsic value. There's an agreement between speaker in the text and the listener that gold is valuable and must needs be distinguished from things that do not glitter. But why?
And any frickin three year old knows how to ask why, because it's right there that lies the most important question and I'm a student of three year olds and have learned that they tend to know how to ask questions that are inherent in any moment. Why is gold more valuable than not-gold? Who decrees it so? Is it because of wealth? And does wealth mean benefit to people? Since people benefit, will they not be induced to rally around wealth? Will gold mean the power to amass armies and dictate wars? Perhaps. Perhaps that is a problem?
Now I know Derrida was concerned with margins, but knowing the margins requires knowing the centers about which to place those margins. So it's like, ask where the centers are in the text itself and then you realize that the center places itself in prominence over the unspoken opposite. In fact, that's one key to the usefulness of the enterprise: the center of any text sows its own seeds of displacement because it arrogates to itself privilege over other things, things which are negative and they must be excised from the text. When something is given a role in a text, its opposite (would we be getting a little loosey goosey here to say its 'shadow' paging dr. jung?) is rendered unspeakable. What if we establish then that the opposite is its own center, its own place of privilege because it is considered so powerful that the text dare not speak its name! Heirarchies! Gold over not-gold, strength and not withering over not-strength and withering, depth over not-depth. Thus what is declared "good" by a text silently decrees something that is "evil". But Who says? Who gets to say? Why? So what? Instability! Suddenly the text shears off!
Why is something that is written in a text more important than the unspoken things? Sure, usually it's to move the damn plot along you ninny. Fine, I can live with that. I enjoy plots and stories. But if I'm not just reading for plots and stories, if I'm reading critically, I have to ask questions of a text and these are the ones I want to ask today! What is the purpose, the meaning, the authority of the text to set one thing above another? It might be there is a literal (and literary ha ha!) violent struggle taking place behind the scenes to uphold the arrogance of the center of a text. perhaps that violence is useful, perhaps a bunch of peasants don't agree. Why does a text get to establish a hierarchy? Now as![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rubel has very effectively pointed out (imho), hierarchies are not evil per se and are useful most of the time. For this case today, I am simply pointing out that deconstruction as a theory thrives on discovering these instabilities and holding them up to the light and that when a text arrogates privilege to a thing, it establishes, perhaps unwittingly, that thing's opposite as a different center, another way of looking at the text. So as a critical reader, one can stand on the two opposites, balance precariously between the centers, and ask "why?" Rather than a mere game or unspeakable horror perpetrated against literary criticism, I think deconstruction could be a good and useful approach for reading. It's not the end all and be all, but I'm not violently opposed to it like I used to be. The ability to ask "why" is a useful and appropriate ability for human beings.
I think what's also happened is that deconstruction has been used on very difficult texts and thus has created these incredibly dense and obtuse volumes. When Derrida was performing deconstructions, he was working on stuff by the likes of Heidegger. I mean, that's going to result in some hard to read shit! And when critics have used it to deconstruct other critics, you get these gordian tangles of language that totally suck to read. But maybe for the rest of us, we can enjoy the freedom to, for once, take texts seriously at their word, and to ask why they say what they say.
I think those who answer that way are being careful in a way not merited by the subject, to wit, they don't want to put their own words into a deconstruct-able container and so twist around and usually wind up saying "it is much easier to say what deconstruction is NOT." I think that it's okay for a person to say what a thing is, while reserving the knowledge that a later critic could and probably should take apart what they have to say. But instead they get all "I can tell you what it is NOT." (one of my favorite words in biblical criticism is "later redactors" which gets thrown around in biblical conversation so easily. as in later redactors may collect these criticisms and criticisms of criticisms into a self critical document that immediately implodes. hee hee) If the theory has any merit and power, it's going to be able to both stand and be deconstructed simultaneously and that simultaneity is in fact a third or middle path through which meaning travels.(this gets into my crazier triadic theories which are not well considered yet) Everyone spends so much time on oppositions, dichotomies and the like, they miss out on the whole wild world of trinities.
Anyway, for those of you scoring at home, what I think deconstruction is is the essence of Socratic questioning! Do I think asking questions of a text is useful? Yes I do! Deconstruction is the moment when a reader becomes aware of hidden differences set up by a text and which reader subsequently realizes are actually a little fraudulent, rendering the authority of the text itself a little fraudulent (if not totally fraudulent). But at the same time, properly handled, it doesn't obliterate the text but rebalances it into a wider zone of possible encounters with a reader. And usually, the text provides its own material for this. You don't have to necessarily know the context of the author's life experience or circumstances under which the text was written. That's in fact beside the point because maybe just maybe you'd like to take the text seriously on its own terms--isn't that what authors hope for anyway? that you'll take their words at face value? It's like, you read something, take it seriously, then ask it a question like "why?" or "so what?" and then pursue the whys and so whats all the way down.
Examples?
Okay!
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by frost.
- - - -J. R. R. Tolkien "Lord of the Rings"
That's a nice piece of poetry. So think about it this way:
why is gold important? what is the problem with being lost? do you mean being strong and not withering are valuable? is the condition of being reached by frost undesirable? are those who are reached by frost or do not have gold or are lost less than those who exhibit the text's conditions?
Presumably gold is important and it's important to act to distinguish gold from things which merely glitter. Is this because that which IS gold has intrinsic value? In fact we might deduce people within the text come to believe that gold has an extrinsic value. There's an agreement between speaker in the text and the listener that gold is valuable and must needs be distinguished from things that do not glitter. But why?
And any frickin three year old knows how to ask why, because it's right there that lies the most important question and I'm a student of three year olds and have learned that they tend to know how to ask questions that are inherent in any moment. Why is gold more valuable than not-gold? Who decrees it so? Is it because of wealth? And does wealth mean benefit to people? Since people benefit, will they not be induced to rally around wealth? Will gold mean the power to amass armies and dictate wars? Perhaps. Perhaps that is a problem?
Now I know Derrida was concerned with margins, but knowing the margins requires knowing the centers about which to place those margins. So it's like, ask where the centers are in the text itself and then you realize that the center places itself in prominence over the unspoken opposite. In fact, that's one key to the usefulness of the enterprise: the center of any text sows its own seeds of displacement because it arrogates to itself privilege over other things, things which are negative and they must be excised from the text. When something is given a role in a text, its opposite (would we be getting a little loosey goosey here to say its 'shadow' paging dr. jung?) is rendered unspeakable. What if we establish then that the opposite is its own center, its own place of privilege because it is considered so powerful that the text dare not speak its name! Heirarchies! Gold over not-gold, strength and not withering over not-strength and withering, depth over not-depth. Thus what is declared "good" by a text silently decrees something that is "evil". But Who says? Who gets to say? Why? So what? Instability! Suddenly the text shears off!
Why is something that is written in a text more important than the unspoken things? Sure, usually it's to move the damn plot along you ninny. Fine, I can live with that. I enjoy plots and stories. But if I'm not just reading for plots and stories, if I'm reading critically, I have to ask questions of a text and these are the ones I want to ask today! What is the purpose, the meaning, the authority of the text to set one thing above another? It might be there is a literal (and literary ha ha!) violent struggle taking place behind the scenes to uphold the arrogance of the center of a text. perhaps that violence is useful, perhaps a bunch of peasants don't agree. Why does a text get to establish a hierarchy? Now as
rubel has very effectively pointed out (imho), hierarchies are not evil per se and are useful most of the time. For this case today, I am simply pointing out that deconstruction as a theory thrives on discovering these instabilities and holding them up to the light and that when a text arrogates privilege to a thing, it establishes, perhaps unwittingly, that thing's opposite as a different center, another way of looking at the text. So as a critical reader, one can stand on the two opposites, balance precariously between the centers, and ask "why?" Rather than a mere game or unspeakable horror perpetrated against literary criticism, I think deconstruction could be a good and useful approach for reading. It's not the end all and be all, but I'm not violently opposed to it like I used to be. The ability to ask "why" is a useful and appropriate ability for human beings. I think what's also happened is that deconstruction has been used on very difficult texts and thus has created these incredibly dense and obtuse volumes. When Derrida was performing deconstructions, he was working on stuff by the likes of Heidegger. I mean, that's going to result in some hard to read shit! And when critics have used it to deconstruct other critics, you get these gordian tangles of language that totally suck to read. But maybe for the rest of us, we can enjoy the freedom to, for once, take texts seriously at their word, and to ask why they say what they say.