“A poetic fragment,
different versions then, has for Spicer the dual charge of being an event in
language, and a piece of something like literary ‘matter’, part of a set of
concerns and topics (to use the rhetorical term). This loose net of literary
matter is kept fresh and alive by variation, substitution, and the
transformation of nonsense into language by a whole variety of activities
Spicer called-almost certainly knowing the rhetorical sense of his word
choice—‘invention’”(Nealon, “Affect, performativity, and actually existing
poetry” 276-277).
In our respective blog posts, we have been exploring notions
of connectivity and collectivity that undermine “traditional” views of
individuals bound in a deictic consciousness. We can see these moves in de-centering
and de-locating for example via Best’s rethinking of historical contexts, in
Latour’s replacing discrete individual subjects with ever-expanding imbricated
networks, and in Derrida’s re-reading of mythopoetics in Levi-Strauss. With
these re-definitions of individuals—of poets and readers— in mind, Nealon’s
argument of poetry as a constructed and malleable matter and/or material buttresses
and serves as a paradigmatic shift in how we read and think about poetic
production and reception.
Therefore, thinking in the historically disparate terms of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and Don’t Let Me Be Lonely, it is possible
to note a kind of writing that exists outside of the modern construction of the singularly-bodied author. Instead, it
feels more appropriate to consider how these two texts function as and orient
themselves around poetic material as a distributable form.
Sir Gawain and the
Green Knight, attributed to an anonymous yet imagined and potentially
collective author(s), gives the reader little choice but to handle the text on
its own terms rather than relying on biographical contextualizations or modern
conceptions of authorship which might otherwise mediate potential
readings. Thinking in Roland
Barthes’ terms, there is not a “mythic” or “oracular” author dictating the
shape or construction of the text, nor a spontaneous constitution of its
materials or ‘content’. Furthermore, given that the text does not provide novel
material, but instead molds and recasts established legends as topoi (the Arthurian
and the romance), Sir Gawain delineates
a well-crafted narrative structure from a creation of material generated by an
‘author-god’. From both the plane of originality and the plane of biography, Gawain lacks an author in modern terms.
If all that is left is a text composed of poetic matter and not oracular
manifestations, then our task becomes the interrogation of the ways in which a
text enacts variations, substitutions and transformations as a form of play.
“The lyric spirit’s
idiosyncratic opposition to the superior power of material things is a form of
reaction to the reification of the world, to the domination of human beings by
commodities that has developed since beginning of the modern area, since the
industrial revolution became the dominant force in life” (Adorno 40)
Commencing with the Early Modern period, and its concomitant
development alongside Capital, there was a concretization of subjective
individuality, including a conceptualization of the singularly-bodied author as
the sole-manufacturer of texts. In this sense, according to Adorno, the
individuation of the poet sets both the author and the work apart from a
collective-imagination which is written over and against.
To our understanding, then, Don’t Let Me Be Lonely, functions as a recovery of an older method
of poetic production and reception which was lost—or better, occluded—following
the advent of the “author-god.” Don’t Let Me Be Lonely dissembles the
modern distinction between form and content, production and reception, by
performing a multiply archivist assembly which reenacts a medieval distribution
of textual materials. Insofar as a 21st century social-imagination
is condensed from highly disparate and diffused materials, the book
transfigures social matter into poetic matter by (re)organizing these different
concerns, topics and received forms (television, literary passages, music,
pictures, etc) into a collage intended for redistribution. By gesturing
outwards to these various sources, the text is read as poly-authored. Once again,
we are left with the experience of poetic matter rather than individual
authorship.
“I also mean … to lure
us away from an absolute distinction between “form” and “content,” because
“matter” in the Arthurian and Carolingian cases contains the sense…of subject
matter given different forms, and expressed as different kinds of content––abridged,
expanded, translated, revised. So
“matter”…will mean for me less a metaphysically substantial “content” lodged in
the abstraction of “form” than a question returned to through different topoi,
in different forms and different genres.
These imply different sense of what texts are, and who poets are, when
brought into the orbit of capital”(Nealon, Matter of Capital 1)
3 comments:
Ashley and Bryan,
I'm intrigued by your suggestion that these two texts present a sort of conception of the anti-author, asking the reader to consider content on its own terms and in a state of flux or play. You mention Barthes, and I'm reminded that he defines the author as one who channels the myriad experiences of life onto the page, so that it is no longer he who writes, but merely copies. Can thinking of texts as originating in this way (channeled rather than written by a sole author) also suggest the necessity of adaptation on the part of the reader and point in time?
Hello Hello,
Like Samantha, I can't help but be reminded of Barthes' "Death of the Author" from your post. Does your post speak at all to Jameson's discussion of the romance genre and how there essentially is no ur-text of anything? That all works are written with the ideas of older texts floating in the conscious and sub-conscious minds of author(s) and so nothing is ever truly original? It seems like your post argues for a form of poly-authorhsip that is akin to intertextuality. If so, then with poly-authorship, it's as if time is built into the text, connecting it to the past and also carrying it into the future - which allows 21st century and medieval texts to still speak to one another as they do here.
Bryan and Ashley, your post really made me think for a moment: how do we as a discipline think about authors and authoring? If you'd asked me that question about twenty seconds ago, I would have muttered something about the death-of-the-author and insisted that most of the criticism I read doesn't address the author but the text. However, now that I actually think about it, the "singularly-bodied author" is clearly doing something for Smyth's argument about cutting and Herbert's Gospel Harmony, in that knowing the poet owned a text created through cutting seems important (right?) to understanding Herbert's "Paradise."
So I guess I'm interested in knowing what it does for our readings of SGGK and Don't Let Me Be Lonely to loosen our ideas about the Pearl Poet or Claudia Rankine. Does this encourage us to think more closely about the sources from which these poems draw their content (though that seems to lead us to the idea of composition, which in turn suggests an author)? Or perhaps we should read somewhat like the Early Modern audiences Smyth discusses, viewing texts less as unities than as collections of fragments?
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