Richard Burt
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- Bu səhifədəki naviqasiya:
- Burn After Rereading Reread Before Burning Insupportable Reading
- Burn by Heart
Survivance—as a structuring strucutre that genrates a series of differeneces that matter or don’t accrding to at various historical moments, what copy you have, what lanuguage it is in, what edition, hardcover or apperback, paper used,etc. and revivified by the reader. Wetwares storage notion of the archive. Diffference betweenarhcival materials and their publication—recursive since new editions can be published.Assumption is that paper only is paper once it is written on—only papers with writing in the ordinary sense can be archived. But move from archive to publication introduces media that remediate the archival materials. Unreadable is part of an infrastructure of sur-vivance—also about contingencies created by media transfers. For us, unreadability is a point of purchase on sur-vivance. Survivance is, in a sense of survival that is neither life nor death pure and simple, a sense that is not thinkable on the basis of the opposition between life and death. (130). Relation of selection and sur-vivance. Is the “Envois” a disturbed or unfilled fantasy of genetic criticism, the author telling the story about what was or was not destroyed, what was allowed to live? In Beast and S 2, Derrida mentions RC and later versions, but starts with the first edition. First word before the first word—first publication before the first publication; a last publication after the last word, as in last word after the last word? Bears on the problem of the material support, the problem of reading (or not reading), and the problem of narrative.19 I have already sufficiently formalized readability under erasure and the logic of the event as graphematic event—notably as event of the proper name, in which the little devil arrives only to erase itself / by erasing itself—to be spared having to add anything here for the moment. Resistances, 48. Derrida does not provide a citation. “Off the record” means not recorded, outside the archive. We are thus brought back to the difficult question of the record, history, and the archive. Is there an “outside-the-archive”? Impossible, but the impossible is deconstruction’s affair. At bottom, beneath the question that I will call once again the remaining [restance] of the archive—which does anything but remain in the sense of the permanent subsistence of a presence—beneath this question of the differance or the distinerrance of there archive. Thus, not with Lacan in general —who for me does not exist, and I never speak of a philosopher or a corpus in general as it were a matter of a homogenous body: I did not do so for Lacan any more than for any other. The discussion was begun rather with a forceful, relatively coherent, and stabilized configuration of a discourse at the time of the collection and binding of Écrits, in other words, in 1966. Resistances, 48-49 Now if there is one text that stands more than any other in this position and at this post of binder [sic], it is the “Seminar on ‘The Purloined Letter.’” As you know, the “Seminar on ‘The Purloined Letter’” is given a “privilege,” which is Lacan’s word; I quote Lacan: “the privilege of opening the sequence [the sequence of the Écrits] despite its diacnhrony.”4 In other words, Écrits collects and binds together all the texts out of which it is composed in chronological order (according to the “diachrony” of prior publication with the exception of the “Seminar on ‘The Purloined Letter,’” which, by coming at beginning is thereby given the privilege of figuring the synchronic configuration of the set and thus the binding the whole together. It therefore seemed legitimate to take a privileged interest in this privilege. If I use the word binding here, the binding that holds together the moment of reading and rereading, it is because of one of the two sole occasions in my life on which I met Lacan and spoke briefly with him, he himself spoke to me of binding and the binding of the Écrits. I am not telling these stories for the same of amusement or the distraction of anecdotes, but because we are supposed to be talking here about the encounter, tukhe, contingency—or not—and what binds, if you will the signature of the event to the theorem. Resistances, 49 Here Derrida stops reading the publishing history, the gap between 1975 and 1966, and moves to an extra-discursive but somehow more immediate and therefore better justification for what he did because Lacan personally, as it were, gave him permission. He proceeds to tell the anecdotes about meeting Lacan over the next two and a half pages before returning to “the republication of the paperback edition in 1970” (52). But Derrida forgets that the Écrits publishes the “Seminar on ‘The Purloined Letter’” in two versions; the essay begins over. Seminar is not an isolated heading, a caption that binds; it already subverts that function. Furthermore, Lacan cites Beyond the Pleasure Principle and. Although Derrida reads some of Freud’s notes very closely, he does not read the paratexts of the Écrits. Instead, he reconfigures the configuration: I link this and bind it once again to the binding of the great book. I go back then to the period (the end of the 1960s, 1965, 1966-67) when Écrits was being bound under the sign of the “Seminar on ‘The Purloined Letter.’”
The post without post, 159 He has read all of us 148 Phone anxiety, 159 Says Socrates, our friend, whom I rereading in translation of our friends, 158 I am trying anew to work on my legacy and on this accursed preface. 158 Now “Legs” and Legacies” are no longer a title of a book but Derrida’s own legacy. Reread the whole thing (p.100), it’s wonderful. 158 Note p. 150 on Lacan The secret without measure: it does exclude publication, it measures publication against itself. . . at how many thousands of readers do the family circles end? 144 “Dechimenation,” 142 Therefore you must not read me. 142 Who reads me 147 Reread what follows 142 Reading the Post Card after Écrits (2005) Cite Blaise Pacal fire—poem / note to self posthumously published, Derrida’s discussion. Compare to Foucault in response to Derrida, this paper this fire Derrida on signature, 136 Derrida abbreviates titles, truncates them to their first word. Beyond . . . p. 139, 147; legs ; Specter, 132 Idiomatic, 138 “See also” 139 proof 136 but read closely, turning slowly, the for corners, around the 4 times 4 rectangles, perhaps it does not form a single sentence but this is my life and I dedicate it to you. 139 Passage on posthumous publication deserves attention in itself But dead letter and letters. Derrida does not deconstruction that distinction. Always already dead. Yet on the way to being published. Bibliographical information about editions get pushed over into the notes, generally, both by Derrida and by Alan Bass (who operates as both in Living On, and to copyright pages. But all kinds of differences between editions and translations do not get archived. Idiosyncratic narratives may be told, end up as a narrative. . If we want to dismiss these microdifferences as fetishes, in the name of what non-problematic level of generality would we do so? Generality is more a problem for Derrida that fetishism is. There is no parergon of this history, of its traits, retraits, and so on in book history, textual practice, and so on, no frame of reference, confined by the relay “See also”. Commentary without comment, not like Marxism without Marx. When does comment, annotation, become discursive? Anecdote an anecnote? Difficult to tell not because one reaches an aporia but instead confronts not reading and nonreading? Paratext supposed by go to be unread, invisible. JD conceals ciphers illegible. An economy of no returns. Speculation. But kind of investment? Graphic economy as opposed to an “Icon”omy. Value of reproduction(s) of the postcard, the hit of the image, as opposed to describing it. No comment as a comment, a non-denial denial, All the President’s Men. Burn everything as opposed to publish everything. No way to know that it is a postcard, however, as the reverse side is not reproduced, the side with information, caption, etc. This part is not published, not transcribed. Is the first line a quotation of first line of Dissemination, also about prefaces?
IS the notion of a beginning merely naïve? The end as the beginning, with the move to “tu” in the footnote. The paratext as a graphic “place” ; Glossary stops shot of an index. Gives the note number, but not the page number. Reading randomly; backwards; by chance, as in “Meschances.” Decipher, 42 Facsimiles in The Post Card. Already reproductions, iconography, versus ekphrasis Cutting and pasting, 41 And moreover I obey at every moment without seeming to: to burn everything, forget everything . . . Facteur de la verite, 40 For the moment I am cutting and pasting. 41 And while driving I held it on the steering wheel 43 Decipher, 43 The stamp is not a metaphor. 46 Who is driving? Doesn’t it really look like a historical vehicle? A gondola? No, except plato is playing gondolier, perched in the back, looking away in front of him the way one guides the blind. He is showing the direction. 46 For us, for our future, nobody can tell. 47 She will put the letter back into circulation once she has read it. 49 And the case will be proven, 51 To enclose myself in a book project. 51 False preface to Freud, 51 And it would also inscribe Le facteur de la verite as an appendix, with the great reference to the Beyond . . . 53 French cover and Chicago book cover both reproduce the image. “Bass Notes” (La-Bas) My post card dissertation 54 But I would really like to call the book philately 65 No, I will never rewrite it, that letter. 57 I’m not making it up! 63 You see him reading me at this very instant 67 No rigorous theory of “reception,” however necessary it might be, will get to the end of that literature. 71 Finally, he would consent, see The Purloined Letter, and the queen too, and Dupin too, and the psychoanalyst too” 71 Purim Pur lot 72; 74-75 Difficult to tell 74 Believe without proof 76 Amnesia 77 Okay, let’s drop it. I am rereading myself, thus at the end of the word “lottery” 81 When you are reading, 79 It has to be read in Greek, 87 Okay, let’s drop it, I will continue to scratch, read while writing my knowing letter, rather than taking note’s on those little white pieces of cardboard that you always don’t give a damn about. 87 And he adds, following my finger (I am citing but always rearranging a little. Guess the number of false citations in my publications . . . ):” 89 Literature epistolary genres, 88 To read among others, the Socratic letters in which he grouped the anecdotes concerning the life, method, and even the death of the Athenian philosopher [Socrates]” 91 Prophylactic guarding of the letter incorporated in the “by heart.” 93 The Oxford card is looking at me. I am rereading Plato’s letters. 93 Always reports, feigns reporting, as if he were reading 93 But contrary to what goes on in The Purloined Letter 95 Reading it will be impossible to understand94 The other does not answer, is not published 96 The one who scratches and pretends to write in the pace of the other who writes and pretends to scratch. 98 Dream of the original imprint . . Visa or Mastercharge. . . tympan 101 Ciphered letters, 93 I have said it elsewhere 124 Phomomaton of myself 125 Derrida anticipates the cell phone on vibrator mode: When will we be able to call without ringing? There would be a warning light or one could even carry it one oneself, near the heart or in the pocket, for certain coded calls, some signal. 87 Rite versus lean by heart 82 Tomorrow, if I want to write this preface, I will set myself to running down all the paleo- and neo-testamentary courriers. And why not, while I’m at all the death dentneces [arrets de mort] and all the police regulations [arrestes de police] on the pretext that they are sent or signify! And htat everything that is is sent willy-nilly is law . . . Alo turns the law,plays on it, but that’s the law. Postcard, 75 This owld be like a purificiation by fire. Not a single trace, an absolute camoflaging by means of too much evidence: cards on the table, they won’t be able to see anything. They will throw themselves onto unitelligible remainders. Come from who knows where in order to preface a book about the Platonic inheritance, the era of the posts, the structure of the letter and other common goods and places. Postcard, 175 Undated (probably the same period) That you have put an end to the “remission” by once again remembering the “dead letter,” the “past” and all the rest does not astonish me. Postcard, 137 For example in le Factuer de la verite a note amoutns to agreeing, a note they have not even been able to read it was so unberable)” postcard, 40 On the dead letter office, 124 14 october 1977“’Divison of dead letters’ is a stroke of genius. Myself, I say, “division of living letters,” and this is what more or less aounts to the same. Everything isplayed out, remains, wins-and-loses, on the basiss of my ‘divisibility’” 124
I’m taking ntoes for the preface . . [Socrates and Plato] stand guard and satellize every one of our phrases (one day, I will be dead, if you reread the post cards I sent you, by thousan,ds not so, even before I fell upon S. and p., . . 121 Perversion of the playback, 120 One can say he is writng, a mirror, or on a rearview mirror 119 Like music paper, 118 Once again I am affixing myself to put an endto my letter: another photoaumaton of myself,pitiless, no? 125 13 August 1979 You are right in part, it would have to have been made into, precisely, a post-face, this is indeed the word, in particular because it’s uninteilligible fif you do nto beginw ith what follows—if notby the end, and as they never reread . . . Too bad. Postcard, 240 I scratch and I erase everything with the other hand. Therefore you must not read me. Postcard,143 Reread what follows . . . Postcard, 142 Burn by Heart Strange story. Again you suspect me of have sent it. I do no dare open it to reread it . . . But I will not send it to you a second time—in any case, I will never reread it. 76 No more than this card that you are reading now, that you are holding in your hands or on your knees. 73 Signature 73 Reading the last one (for it is he who reads me, you see him here . . . 63 Another way of saying that you had reread it, no? which is what one begins doing when on rereads, even for the first time. Repetition, memory, etc. . . . P. asks D. to reread before burning, so be it, in order to incorporate the letter (like a member of the resistance under torture). 59-60 Rearview mirror of an automobile that pauses 60 One day, please, read me no more, and even forget that you have read me. 36 And soon we will be able to afford that answering machine. 36 I’ll see you before you read this. 36 I always come back to the same card. 34 Repetition compulsion is understood even less, 35 All this because you didn’t want to burn the first letters, 14 With stupefying dexterity they move three cards after having you choose one. 36 The coded “words” to which Alan Bass refers in his glossary are “EGEK HUM XSR STR” p. 148 (Bass does not give the page reference, and is no longer glossing, though the last entry does refer the reader a footnote.) I await everything from an event that I am incapable of anticipating. 47 Speaking of which, M., who has read the seminar on Life Death along with several friends, tell me I should publish the notes without changing anything. This is impossible, of course, unless I detach the sessions on Freud, or only the one on Freud’s legacy, the story of the fort/da with little Ernest. 41 Without seeming to burn everything, 40 I think I made this film for myself even before I knew how to drive. If I were not afraid of waking everyone I would come, in any case I would telephone. When will we be able to call without ringing [anticipates the vibe setting on cell phones]. There would be a warning light or one could even carry it on oneself, near the heart or in the pocket, for certain coded calls, some signal. 87 “and not only in the way a negative is developed” PC, 43 “These letters of “Plato,” that Socrates, of course, would have neither read nor written., I now find them greater than the works. I could like to call you to read out loud several extracts from the “stands” they have mandated, commanded, programmed for centuries as I would like to use them for my legs. I am typing them, or rather one day you will return this letter to me). . . . And if I read out loud, the most irreplaceable ones, don’t you think . . . you always imitate better than I). Listen . . .[reread it as if I had written it myself, starting from the “philosopher’s notes, especially the end which more or less [note Derrida’s comments on “more or les” a phrase his father used, in “For the Love of Lacan”] says this—but the whole thing would have to be retranslated: This letter, all three must be read together as much as possible, if not at the same time and as often as you are able. Look at it as a way to take an oath and as a convention having the force of law, on which it is legitimate to swear with a seriousness mixed with grace and with the badinage of the serious . . . Take as a witness the god chief among all things present and future, and the all-powerful father of the chief and its cause, whom we all know, if we philosophize truly and with all the clarity possible for men enjoying beatitude.” It has to be read in Greek, my very sweet one, as if I were writing it to you. Myself.) So then I pick up my citation again, 8586; 86-87 Derrida will make more mistakes, 27 (“reprosuction” instead of “reproduction”), 27 Typo versus slip, 513 Typo? 216, “head” instead of the more obvious “had” Typos, 152, 228 Reproduction of reproduction, 35; 37 It is Socrates’ writing surface” 17 Thereby to give the slightest hope of reading it one day 127 I want to reread the entire corpus platonicum 129 Brotherl 129 You can feel he has a hard-on in his back 128 And they publish everything 132 I remember the ashes. What a chance, to burn, yes yes [no punctuation] 23 This entire post card ontology 22 Two hands, the mystic writing pad, 25 That we will be able to send sperm by post card, 24 For example, I write on post cards, oh well I write on post cards. “I” begins again with a reprosuction (say, I just wrote reproSuction: have you noticed that I make more and more strange mistakes, is it fatigue or age, occasionally the spelling goes, phonetic writing come back in force, as in elementary school, only to others whom I confusedly looked down on—the lapsus or “slips” obviously). And by means of a reproduction that is itself reproduced serially, always the same picture on another support, but an identical support, differing only in numero. 27 The postal principle 27 7 hours in the car with the old film of the accident to resolve everything, 87 I still do not know how to see what there is to see. 16 As if he were running to catch a moving train, 17 On the back of the same card, I write you all the time, 16 Out of this atrocious exclusion that we make of all of them—and every possible reader. The whole reader. 16 I had read in his glance that he was begging for the impossible. 14 Write it in cipher, 1 Silent move, 13 But that which checks As if what is invisible here could take a reading into account. 502
archive, 506 the decrypting, in these conditions, can no longer come from the simple and alleged interior of what is still called, provisionally, psychoanalysis. 540 Rene Major: I first of all would like you to convey to you the profound malaise I experience reading Glas, Du Tout, 499 I ask you to forget, to preserve in amnesia. 12 The secret of reproduction, 12 Look closely at this card, it’s a reproduction. I confide to you this solemn and sententious aphorism: di not everything between us begin with a reproduction? Yes, and at the same time . .. the tragedy is there. 9 I will have sent you only cards. Even if they are letters and if I always put more than one in the same envelope. 8 What a couple. Socrates turns his back to plato [sic], who has made him write whatever he wanted while pretending to receive it from him. This reproduction is sold here as a post card, you have noticed, with greetings and address. Socrates writing, do you notice, on a post card. 12
“and not only in the way a negative is developed” PC, 43 “Tell you a brief story,” Op cit 518 [This story is like Lacan thinking that Derrida is “inanalysis” [a neologism]—this time the person, a woman, thinks Derrida is the analyst, and never names the person he is supposedly analyzing]. “Du Tout,” PC, 514-15 This text is not cited in the headnote of “For the Love of Lacan” in Resistances of Psychoanalysis. I am afraid that the readers will exclude them too quickly, will conclude precipitously that: these are third parties, they cannot be the secret addressee of these letters. 223 Versus the bad reader who does not rad slowly. But you cannot avoid avoiding, so “the readers” can’t fall out into two groups, sorted into slow at the correct speed and get a ticket for reading too fast, going over the reading speed limit. Burning everything in The Post Card with the burning of Archive Fever, the ash. On the last page of the volume of Letters to Milena, which I wouldn’t have read without you, Blanchot cites Kafka” [Derrida then cites the Kafka citation Blanchot cites]PC, 222 [reference to Kafka letter, Kafka now named, whereas p. 35 referred to without a name “You had me read that letter to me where he [no referent of the pronoun] more or less says that, speculating with spirit, denuding oneself before them; he wrote only (on) letters that one, one of the last along with Freud finally. 35 circumcise 222 I am here signing my proper name, Jacques Derrida.1
Introduction / Glossary Voler, see “Le facteur,” note 9. PC, xxix At the end of the letters 15 June and 20 June 1978, you will find some “words” in capital letters. These have been transposed from the original, but they are particularly problematic in the translation. If the original text is crypted, as it claims to be, is the translation equally crypted? Is there a possible key to the translation of a crypted text? Does the translation hold out the same promise of decrypting (of translation) as the original? Such are the question of EGEK . . .”
I’m going to read L’enfant du chien-assis by Jos, alias L’ete rouge. Or quite simply because he is---reading and that is always on some reading, you know something about this, that I transfer. 218 He is taking notes having in mind a prospect of publication in modern times. He is pretending to write but he has a small pocket tape recorder under his mantle, or rather above his head, under his pointed hat: the arm of the mike is stretched above the head of plato. 218-19 Dream, 216-17 Vacation reading, 252I’ve just received the slide in color. Be very careful with it. I’ll need it in the reproduction. I have never found them so resigned to their beauty. What a couple. 250 Right in the moment of slipping this into the envelope: don’t forget that all of this tookthe wish to make this picture into the cover of a book, all of it pushed back into the margins, the title, may name, the name of the publisher, and miniaturized (I mean in red) on Socrates’ phallus. 251 The most anonymous support, 175 That Plato is calling Socrates, gives him an order (jussic performative one says at Oxford, of the “send a card to Freud” type there, right away, it’s done.) . . . you all transfer everything, and everyone, onto Socrates. You don’t know if this is an order or an affirmation. Nor if the amorous transference takes place because Socrates is writing or precisely because he is not writing, since armed with a pen and the grattoir [scapel, knife], presently he is doing both while doing neither the one nor the other. And if he is not writing, you do not know why he is not writing presently, because he has suspended his pen for a second or because he is erasing by scratching out or because he cannot write or because he can not write, because he does not know how or knows how not, etc., or quite simply 218 In the first publication of this text. . . The deletion of this phrase (which is inconsequential) is the only modification of this essay since its first publication. Footnote 68, 495 to Le facteur Derrida reshelves the entire book: On the contrary, the necessity of everything [du tout] announces itself terribly, the fatality of saving everything from destruction: what is there, rigorously in our letters does not derive from the fort: da, from the vocabulary of going-coming, of the step, of the way or the away, of the near and the far, of all the frameworks in tele-, of the adestination, of the address and maladdress, of everything that is passed and comes to pass between Socrates and Plato, Freud and Heidegger, the “truth,” of the facteur, “du tout,” of the transference, of the inheritance and the genealogy, of the paradoxes of nomination, of the king an, of the queen and of their ministers, of the magister and of the ministries, of the public and private detectives? Is there a word, a letter, an atom of a message that rigorously speaking should not be withdrawn from the burning with the aim of publication? . . . If I circumcise, and I will, it will have to bleed around the edges, and we all put in their hands, under their eyes, shards of our body, of what is most secret in our soul. Very intrigued, at Oxford, by the arrival of the kings and the answers by 4. They intersect with the Facteur, its title and its theme. 222 Rereading the Legacy 225 March-April 1979. I’ve started to reread, to sort, to dig around in the box (my first gift, suddenly, it no longer sufficed.) 186 Derrida satirizes a reading of his work that fold it back into Lacan, one that say that Derrida s only saying what Lacan already said. 150-51 S/p is for Socrates and Plato but p/S is “for Poe, for Dupin, and the narrator. 148 When one reads everything that is still written today, and so seriously, in such a businesslike way (spoudaios!) on the subject of this great telephonic farce . . . 146 Not a word that would not be dictated upside down, programmed on the back [au dos], in the back of the post card. Everything will consist in describing Socrates with Plato as a child in his back, and I will retain only the lexicon required from every line [trait] in the drawing. In a word, there will only be back (du dos), even the word “dos,” if you are willing to pay faithful attention to it and keep the memory. 187 “If you’re not there, leave an message on the answering machine.” 189 I am haunted by Heidegger’s ghost in the city, 189 “the crushing repetition compulsion” 458, PC, then Derrida cites marie Bonaparte using the same phrase , 458 Here, the insistent monotony has at least led to the construction of a textual network, the demonstration of the recurrence of certain motifs . . . outside The Purloined Letter. Thus the letter hanging under the mantelpiece has its equivalent in The Murders in the Rue Morgue. For us, the interest of this recurrence, and of pointing it out, is not that of an empirical enrichment, an experimental verification, the illustration of a repetitive insistence. It is structural. It inscribes The Purloined Letter in a texture, to which it belongs, and within which the Seminar had effected a cursory framing or cross-section. We know that The Purloined Letter belongs to what Baudelaire called “A kind of trilogy, along with The Murders in the Rue Morgue and The Mystery of Marie Roget. The Seminar does not breathe a word about this trilogy; not only odes it lift out the narrated triangles (the “real drama”) in order to center the narration in them hear the burden of the interpretation (the destruction of the letter), but that it omits like a naturalized frame. 458-59 But it happens that her [Marie Bonaparte’s] laborious analysis opens up textual structures that remain closed to Lacan. 459 Headnotes about publication of various chapters in Écrits along with notes in the Biographical Appendix as well as the Index Jacques Lain Miller provides, but is not keyed to words but to concepts. He returns to Archive Fever in “Typewriter Ribbon” 302-03. “Typewriter Ribbon: Limited Ink (2) (‘within such limits,’)” in Tom Cohen et al (eds), Material Events: Paul de Man and the Afterlife of Theory, Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 2001), p.286, 289; 331 originally published as the first chapter of the French edition of Papier Machine. “Fichus” is not in the French edition of Paper Machine while “Typewriter Ribbon, Inc” is not included in the English translation (three other short essays along with “Typewriter Ribbon, Inc” which is the subtitle and centerpiece of the French edition drop out in the English translation; Bowlby does have a note about the excluded and included essays, pp.ix-x). Jacques Derrida, “Fichus: Frankfurt Address,” in Paper Machine, trans. Rachel Bowlby (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2005). I am dreaming. I am sleepwalking” (169) “First, when I dream of an absolute memory—well, when I sigh after the keeping of everything, really (it’s my very respiration)—my imagination continues to protect this archive of paper. Not on a screen, even though it might occur to me, but on a strip of paper. . . I wouldn’t write, but everything would get written down, by itself, right on the strip. With no work. . . . But what I thereby leave to write itself would not be a book, a codex, but rather a strip of paper. I would roll itself up, on itself, an electrogram of everything that happened (to me) bodies, ideas, images, words, songs, thoughts, tears. Others. The world forever, in the faithful and polyrhythmic recording of itself and all its speeds. Everything all the same without delay, and on paper—that is why I am telling you. On paperless paper. Paper is in the world that is not a book.” “Paper or Me, You Know . . .” 65 Fichus is a separate publication in French. A stand alone book. It is not included in Papier Machine. Translation of Derrida into English (among 39 other languages) is a kind of dissemination that in philological terms recollects the writings and rebinds them into new “cuts.” Essays not in the French book are cut form the English, translated in two different collections (Typewriter Ribbon); essays not in it are added Editors and translators reshelve Derrida. Next to last words, next to last story; 124, 150, 152, 154, 156 cf. Typewriter Ribbon, Ink Where was I? 147 not just in the universal structure of survivance . . . but in the funeral itself, in the organized manner, in the juridical apparatus and the set of technical procedures whereby we . . . deliver the corpse over to its future, prepare the future of a corpse and prepare ourselves as one says prepares a corpse. . . . this fantasmatics of dying alive or dying dead (132) In Robinson Crusoe, Robinson Crusoe himself, both the Robinson Crusoe who speaks and the one keeping a journal, all that they—there are already a lot of them-might have desired is that the book, and in it the journal, outlive them: that might outlive Defoe, and the character called Robinson Crusoe. . . Now this survival, thanks to which the book bearing its title has come down to us, has been read and will be read, interpreted, taught, saved, translated, reprinted, illustrated filmed, kept alive by millions of inheritors—this survival is indeed that of the living dead. As is indeed with any trace, in the sense I give this word and concept, buried alive and swallowed up alive. And the machination of this machine, the origin of all techne, and in it of any turn, each turn, each re-turn, each wheel, is that each time we trace a trace, each time a trace, however singular, is left behind, and even before we trace it actively or deliberately, a gestural, verbal, written, or other trace, well, this machinality virtually entrusts the trace to the sur-vival in which the opposition of the living and the dead loses and must lose all pertinence, all its edge. The book lives its beautiful death. That’s also finitude, the chance and the threat of finitude, this alliance of the dead and the living. I shall say that this finitude is survivance. Survivance in the sense of survival that is neither life nor death pure and simple, a sense that is not thinkable on the basis of the opposition between life and death, a survival that is not, in spite of the apparent grammar of the formation of the word (ueberleben or fortleben, living on or to survive, survival), [ Like every trace, a book, the survivance of a book, from its first moment, is a living-dead machine, sur-viving, the body of a thing buried in a library, in cellars, urns, drowned in the worldwide waves of the Web, etc., but a dead thing that resuscitates each time a breath of living reading, each time the breath of the other or the other breath, each time an intentionality intends it and makes it live again by animating it, like . . . a body, a spiritual corporeality, a body proper (Leib and not Koerper), a body proper animated, activated, traversed, shot through with intentional spirituality. (131) This survivance is broached from the moment of the first trace that is supposed to engender the writing of a book. From the first breath, this archive as survivance is at work. But once again, this is the case not only with books, or for writing, or for the archive in the current sense, but for everything from which the tissue of living experience is woven, through and through. [“tissue” becomes a metaphor for “living experience,” but “tissue” is not woven, so Derrida deliberately mixes his metaphors and derails “tissue” skips on to “weave” in place of “tissue”] A weave of survival, like death in life or life in death, a weave that does not come along to cloth a more originary existence, a life or a body or a soul that would be supposed to exist naked under this this clothing. For, on he contrary, they are taken, surprised in advance, comprehended, they live and die, they live to death as the very inextricability of this weave. It is against the groundless ground of this quasi-transcendentality of living to death or of death as sur-vivance that, on the one hand, one can say that “Robinson Crusoe,” the name of the character and the name of the book, were, according to a first desire or a last terrified will, according to a will and desire attested to by this book, by all the Robinson Crusoes in their homonymity or metonymy, [were all] buried or swallowed alive; but also, on the other hand, . . . one can and one must, one must be able, in the wake, the inheritance, i.e., in the reanimating and like the experience reanimated, reawakened in the very reading of this psycho-anthropology of cultures and civilizations projected by Daniel Defoe and Robinson Crusoe, one . . . must be able to wonder what is happening today to a culture like ours, I mean . . the procedural organization of survivance, as treatment, by the family and/or State, of the so-called dead body, what we call a corpse. 132 Derrida then proceeds to outline what he takes to be the two options for the disposal of corpses now available: inhumation and cremation. (132-33). He then returns to Robinson Crusoe to discuss Crusoe’s fear of being buried alive. At p. 143 Derrida then returns to inhumation and cremation and finishes the Fifth Session with that topic (146). Derrida returns to the topic in pp. 162-71 of the Sixth Session. Effective exorcism pretends to declare the death only in order to put to death. As a coroner might do, it certifies the death but here it is in order to inflict it. This is a familiar tactic. The constative form tends to reassure. The certification is effective. . . . But here effectivity phantomalizes itself. It is in face [en effet] a matter of a performative that seeks to reassure to but first of all to reassure itself, for nothing is less sure, that what one would like to see dead is indeed dead. It speaks in the name of life. It claims to know what that is. Who knows better than someone who is alive . . . . now, it says (to itself), what used to be living is no longer alive, it does not remain effective in death itself, don’t worry. (What is going on here is a way of not wanting to know . . . what everyone alive knows . . . , namely, that that the dead can often be more powerful than the living. . . In short, it is often a matter of pretending to certify death there where the death certificate is still the performative of an act of war or the important of gesticulation, the restless dream, of an execution. Jacques Derrida, Specters of Marx: (48). “the lifeline of live words [mots de vie]” Derrida, H.C. for Life, 95 “the live-ance of life [vivement de vie],” Derrida, H.C. for Life, 84 When it is not associated—like life, moreover, or a silk paper with a veil or canvas, writing’s blank white, spacing, gaps, the “blanks which become what is important,” always opens up onto a base of paper. Basically, paper often remains for us on the basis of the basis. The base figure on the basis of which figures and letters are separated out. The indeterminate “base” of paper, the basis of the basis en abyme, when it is also surface, support, and substance, material substratum, formless matter and for force in force, virtual or dynamic power of virtuality—see how it appeals to an interminable genealogy of these great philosophemes. “Paper or Me, You Know . . . (New Speculations on a Luxury of the Poor)” Paper Machine, 53. Yüklə 1,02 Mb. Dostları ilə paylaş:
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