Janus Head

This article interrogates the poethical turn in the work of the later Levinas. In the first instance, this reading brings to the fore the extent to which Levinas’ early ethical position paradoxically repeats formerly deni­grated aspects of Heidegger’s philosophy. Secondly, through the aperture of Celan’s poetry, Levinas’ later ethical reformulation is examined. This article demonstrates that it is through a heightened attention to language that Levinas attempts to counter the tacit duplication of Heideggerian ideals. Crucially, this article seeks to establish that it is only when Levinas fully embraces the ‘poetry of language’ that the residual Heideggerian re-inscription is finally redressed; this process of redress being mediated via what Celan refers to as ‘the not-to-be-deciphered’ free-floating poetic word.

In this paper I argue that the Heidegger of Being and Time is a dialogist, and ought to be situated in the tradition of other twentieth-century dialogists like Bakhtin and Gadamer. Specifically, I claim that Heidegger’s conceptions of the “Being-with,” “discourse,” and “solicitude” of Dasein in BT illustrate his endorsement of a conception of dialogicality. There are three advantages to proposing that Heidegger is a dialogist in BT. First, this paradigm offers a more perspicuous vocabulary for describing the discursive nature of Dasein’s Being-in-the-world as a Being-with others. Second, it provides a better way of understanding the normative dimensions of “solicitude.” Lastly, it helps to underscore how Dasein’s identity remains social even in the seemingly individualizing moment of becoming authentic.

It is undeniable that aspects of postmodernist thought are also useful to the feminist goal of unseating the hegemonic dominance of traditional male authority. The threat of moral relativism hangs over the Postmodernist head, and this stance is strongly criticized within feminist circles: As Carol Gilligan has said,” Life can’t just be continually reconstructed; ...There is a complex reality, yes, but there is something called reality, and there is something called a you.” A postmodern feminism can cope with the collapsed notions of foundationalist premises, such as that of the stable and unified self-concept. This article makes an attempt at re-visiting feminist critic of science in light of phenomenological and hermeneutical attempts at bridging the gap between science and life either in the Husserlian project of restoring the structures of the Life World, or in the Heideggerian quest for liberating the ‘Being’ from the prison house of language. Do they share similar concerns for overcoming the limitations of binary structures of understanding? The article makes an attempt at understanding the one from the perspective of the other and vice versa.

For over a century, critics have typically approached Henry James’s The Turn of the Screw from the perspective of its young governess, whose obsession with her charges and the spectral figures that allegedly haunt them ultimately leads to disaster, the death of Miles. This article, however, offers a reading atypical of those previously accomplished. Analyzing the novella from a psychoanalytic and narratological perspective, it argues for a shift in point of view, contending that the locus of the novel, the manuscript ostensibly documenting the harrowing experiences of the young governess, is not penned by a woman but rather by a man, the principle reader of the thing itself, Douglas. Given the shift in point of view, it becomes wholly evident that it is Douglas’s wildly erotic fantasy that becomes the substance of the manuscript, one culminating not in the death of a child but, rather, in the petite mort or the “little death” of sexual orgasm, the equivalent of a masturbatory episode on the child’s part while in the passionate embrace of his governess. Read in this manner, the narrative coheres as a young man’s romantic retrospective of desire, obsession and sexual initiation.

The aim of this article is to examine the ways Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness dramatizes an existential crisis that is psychologically as well as politically underpinned. It explores how the novel is reflective of the ideological complexities of its day while also corresponding to current ideas in cognitive psychology and philosophy of mind which examine the entanglements of embodied feelings, subjective sentience and the ability to narrativize experientiality in shared language. In investigating how the crisis of narration in Heart of Darkness is reflective of the psychological and existential alienation experienced by the protagonist in the novel, the article draws on debates on the role of the literary narrative as a vehicle to communicate the phenomenal quality of consciousness.

Laughter takes a great many forms in the novel of manners, signifying different things at different times for different characters in different situations. Linguistics, philosophy, rhetoric, psychoanalysis, poetry, art, and film have all attempted to tackle the subject of laughter, yet in relation to manners, and the novel of manners, the matter remains fraught and underexplored. By examining laughter in Edith Wharton’s The Custom of the Country (1913), this paper attempts to show how laughter on a micro level mirrors the simulacra and simulations that comprise manners, characters, and even the progression of the novel on a macro level. What the study of laughter in The Custom of the Country reveals about knowledge, sign systems, and commodity and exchange, could nuance the way in which we read laughter in the novel of manners, a type literature built upon knowing and understanding the conditions of the personal and social simultaneously.

This essay offers a Schutzian reading of Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, arguing that the so-called critical ambivalence in Chinua Achebe’s hermeneutic of the colonial experience makes sense if situated within his lived experiences in colonial Nigeria. Grounding its interpretation of Achebe’s meaning-making of the colonial experience in Schutz’s phenomenology, the essay begins with a close reading of the novel itself, highlighting significant areas of ambivalence. Next, it explicates Schutz’s (1967) constructs of intersubjectivity and phenomenology of literature. In the next section in which Achebe’s biography is examined, an attempt is made to show how a Schutzian reading of Achebe’s social relationships can help us understand his account of the colonial experience as represented in his first novel. Ultimately, the paper concludes by noting that the ambivalence that charactterizes Things Fall Apart reflects the author’s realism and investment in both the African and European cultures he sought to critique.

This essay offers a psychoanalytical reading of Christopher Nolan’s The Prestige (2006) by principally focusing on the discourse of lack. I argue that the visual, structural and thematic composition of the film provides a means to confront the fundamental sense of lack – a central tenant of Lacanian psychoanalysis – at the heart of being. In particular, I contend that Nolan foregrounds lack by using reflexive techniques that call attention to the film’s production processes which in turn, highlight the spectator’s desire for a sense of (unattainable) unity.

This paper is a recommendation for phenomenologists to use film as a perceptually-faithful language with which to disseminate research and in­sights about lived experience. I use Merleau-Ponty’s philosophy to illus­trate how film can evoke a state of profound, embodied empathy between self-and-other, which I refer to as “the cinematic chiasm”. I incorporate a case study of my experience as audience member becoming intertwined with the flesh of the film “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly.” I discuss four aesthetic techniques of this film through which I became enveloped in a state of visceral empathy towards the “other” on-screen. The cin­ematic chiasm offers exciting, creative possibilities for phenomenologists, particularly those who are interested in evoking widespread empathy for social justice purposes.

This exploratory essay aims to open différance to a form of enquiry it has not seen coming. A consideration of the complex temporality that attends its historical emergence leads to a specifically différantial articulation of spatio-temporality. A residual element of spacing before/behind spati­otemporality provokes further consideration. The notion of verbality is introduced to provide analytical purchase. Analysis identifies a fundamen­tal mannerism in différance; a participative and orchestrative spacance. Dif­férance participates too determinately in this spacing, as this spacing. The paper thus urges différance to rewrite this element quasimetaphorically. In the ensuing drama, différance can rewrite the metaphor of spacing only by relying again on the spacing of metaphor. Unable to rewrite itself quickly enough, nonetheless compelled, an unexpected dimension opens.

Simone de Beauvoir’s contribution to ethics and politics is articulated through a methodology that successfully renders philosophy as literary and literature as philosophical. Her existential-phenomenological stance permeates her corpus and dictates a philosophical approach that avoids theoretical treatises in favour of philosophy as a way of life which is com­municated in a variety of modes of expression. The Ethics of Ambiguity furnishes us with an example of said philosophy insofar as it performs the philosophy it offers and thereby appeals to the reader to engage in ethical and political action in her own life.

This essay offers a phenomenological interpretation of symbolic violence. According to my thesis, the craving for violent imagery derives from the audience’s unconscious desire to liberate itself from pain’s destructive effects. I argue that this unrealizable project of liberation can take three forms: it can aim to express the inexpressible, escape the inescapable, or transfer the non-transferrable. I further contend that the audience’s approach to contemporary representations of violence is paradoxical: its irresistible craving for pain’s virtual manifestations is no greater than its incapacity to tolerate pain’s actual manifestations. After addressing some objections that my interpretation is bound to provoke, I conclude with some reflections regarding the possibility of an ethical engagement in symbolic violence.

The irrepressible 16th century humanist and essayist, Michel de Montaigne, wrote a self-portrait with such unprecedented candour and conversational flair, that he all but jumps from the page and shakes your hand. At Mon­taigne’s invitation, I bring together psychotherapists and the Essays in a conversation that revives the notion of friendship, and evokes the pleasure of mutual revelation in the search for understanding. In the light of the Essays’ “gay and sociable wisdom”, I see essaying and therapy as discrete yet closely intertwined cultural tasks. Each is an openhearted work of being together, of making room for alterity rather than conquering it with theory. Only in a world made coherent through the practices of friendship and hospitality can we come to cultivate the otherness of painful separations, tolerate the strangeness of our ordinary foibles, and draw closer to life.

Stephen Crane had not advanced beyond his teenage years before twelve of the sixteen original members of his immediate family had died, and by his early twenties he was becoming symptomatic with the tuberculosis that would kill him at twenty eight. Death, ever present, overshadowed his life and like a threatening eclipse looms, markedly, in his best work. “The Blue Hotel,” a crowning realization of the short story form, is a site for the expurgation of that relentless spectre, its alienated and adversarial Swede a personification of Crane’s own dissolution, forthwith to be ritualistically purged. Such sacrifice is shown to be psychosocially well founded, historical in long practice and supported by current theory as a means of restoring order to exigent chaos; here Crane in 1898, nearing his unruly end, implemented sacrificial victimization allegorically, with cardplaying rather than the casting of lots his aleatory selector, for the most vital personal reason.

“That is no country for old men” is the famous first line of Yeats’s “Sailing to Byzantium,” which reflects upon aging, art, and immortality. Yeats sug­gests in his poem that the aged ought to move from the sensual, physical world of their youth to a world of intellect and timeless beauty. We em­ploy this poem and that line to explore the aging male protagonists in two recent novels: Cormac McCarthy’s No Country For Old Men, and J.M. Coetzee’s Disgrace. We suggest that though both of the novel’s pro­tagonists have aspirations to ’sail to Byzantium’, various factors ranging from their characters to the problematic realities of contemporary south­west America and South Africa make such a wholesale, successful journey impossible even though some progress is made.

Stephen Crane’s short story “The Open Boat”—a tale “intended to be after the fact”—affirms Merleau-Ponty’s conclusion that “The perceived world is the always presupposed foundation of all rationality, all value and all existence.” The story dramatizes and reflects on the men’s situation in the world, their inter-subjective experience against the background of non-human nature. In facing the imminent possibility of their own deaths as, for each of them, “the final phenomenon of nature,” the men become “interpreters” of what is primary in the human condition. The line between the world of the reader and the world of the story, like the line between consciousness and being, is less a line than a horizon.

Katherine Anne Porter submitted a group of stories called “Legend and Memory” to The Atlantic Monthly in 1934, but instead of the reception she hoped for, The Atlantic Monthly responded with a request for significant revisions. These recommendations, as Porter adamantly explained, would change the collective meaning of the stories. And yet, Porter ultimately chose to concede, publishing the stories separately in other magazines before finally collecting them together again in The Leaning Tower and Other Stories (1944). Over the next twenty years, Porter would publish the stories (later called The Old Order stories) in two more collections— The Leaning Tower and Other Stories, The Old Order: Stories of the South from The Leaning Tower, Pale Horse, Pale Rider, and Flowering Judas and The Collected Stories of Katherine Anne Porter. Each time she chose not to edit individual stories but rearranged the order of the stories. Individually, each story is like a sketch, or one component of the protagonist Miranda’s construct of identity from the perspective of an adult looking backward and remembering as a child. And yet collectively, these stories reveal memory’s process of reconstruction and how the perspective of time transforms event through addition, elimination, and arrangement. Using text, correspondence, manuscripts, and cognitive research to examine the progression of Porter’s work on The Old Order stories in three collections over more than thirty years, “Representations of Truth: The Significance of Order in Katherine Anne Porter’s The Old Order Stories” traces the progressive ordering of these stories from their original submission to their final collection in The Collected Stories of Katherine Anne Porter (1965). This essay argues that Porter’s rearrangements reflect a reconstructive process of memory. Over time, the reorganization of The Old Order stories demonstrate a shift in Miranda’s memories from a chronological positioning to a representational ordering, allowing Miranda to reexamine her perspective on past experiences.