Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Colin Davis is Professor of French at Royal Holloway, University of London. His most recent books are After Poststructuralism: Reading, Stories and Theory (2004), Haunted Subjects: Deconstruction, Psychoanalysis and the Return of the Dead (2007), and Scenes of Love and Murder: Renoir, Film and Philosophy (2009).

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

CRITICAL EXCESS

STANFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

Contents

Acknowledgments......................................................viiPreface..............................................................ix1 The Ancient Quarrel: Philosophy and Literature.....................12 Derrida, Hermeneutics and Deconstruction...........................263 Deleuze: Against Interpretation....................................564 Levinas and the Resistance to Reading..............................815 Zizek's Idiotic Enjoyment..........................................1086 Cavell and the Claim of Reading....................................1357 Conclusion: In Praise of Overreading...............................164Notes................................................................189Bibliography.........................................................200Index................................................................215

Chapter One

"Both poetry and thinking need each other, when it's a matter of going into the extreme, each in its own way in each other's neighbourhood. Poetry and thinking will determine where that neighbourhood has its place, certainly in different ways, but so that they find themselves in the same domain" (Heidegger 1959: 173). Here, Heidegger describes the need of literature and philosophy, or more precisely what he prefers to call poetry and thinking, for one another. Each remains separate; there is no over-coming of the differences between them. And yet they are companions in the journey into extreme places, each drawing strength from the other's specific resources. Literature is not the "other" of philosophy, nor the illustration or the testing ground of its theses, nor a well-earned relaxation after a hard day's philosophising. Literature and philosophy have equal but different, distinct but interdependent, roles to play if we are to release ourselves from ingrained habits of thought, to find again valid ways of dwelling in what, following Hlderlin, Heidegger calls a destitute time (from "Bread and Wine," Hlderlin 1965: 298; quoted Heidegger 1971: 89).

Some readers will have no difficulty agreeing with the claims made in the previous paragraph whilst others may find them blatantly nonsensical. Many philosophers still have little time for literature, and would regard Heidegger's way of writing about poetry as extravagant, portentous, prophetic rather than properly philosophical, or just vacuous. Other philosophers take literature very seriously indeed, finding in it vital sustenance for their own activity. They learn more, it seems, from a book of poems than from the publications of their professional colleagues. In some quarters at least, it is now uncontroversial, banal even, to insist that literature, music or film are places where thought happens. The most brilliant minds garner the intellectual meat from the obscure recesses of Shakespeare, Celan or Hitchcock. Does this mean, though, that the ancient enmity between philosophy and the arts has been overcome? Or, despite all their protests to the contrary, do the philosophers in fact discover only what they already thought, rather than encountering anything genuinely new, in the works they purport to revere with Heideggerian earnestness?

These questions underlie the discussion of Derrida, Deleuze, Levinas, Zizek and Cavell in the following chapters. The current chapter prepares the ground for that discussion by considering what is at stake in the encounter between philosophy and literature. Why does the ancient quarrel matter and what is achieved by its resolution? Understanding this entails first of all going back to Plato to see why he outlawed the poets from his ideal republic, and then leaping across the centuries to Heidegger, the key thinker whom some consider to have completed what the Romantics began by achieving the philosophical rehabilitation of poetry.

Plato and the Poets

Let's begin at the beginning, or at least quite close to it. In Book 10 of Plato's Republic, Socrates reiterates his conviction that poets should not be tolerated in the ideal city:

Let us, then, conclude our return to the topic of poetry and our apology, and affirm that we really had good grounds then for dismissing her from our city, since such was her character. For reason constrained us. And let us further say to her, lest she condemn us for harshness and rusticity, that there is from of old a quarrel between philosophy and poetry. (607b)

This quarrel, which Socrates also calls the "ancient enmity" (607c) between philosophers and poets, is described as already being "from of old" in Plato's time; yet there is also something inaugural and performative about the Republic. It names the quarrel and outlaws the poets at the same time. Socrates is not, though, advocating that the poets should be executed or violently punished. If a great poet arrives in the city, "we should fall down and worship him as a holy and wondrous and delightful creature"; we should "[pour] myrrh down over his head and [crown] him with fillets of wool" (398a), and then we should ensure that he leaves and goes somewhere else. He should be revered, and politely accompanied to the city gates. He may be bad, but he is not evil.

A number of questions immediately present themselves. Why does Plato want to banish the poets? Does he offer arguments which are coherent and consistent? Is his hostility integral to his philosophical system, or is it an unnecessary or temporary aberration? And how does his rejection of poetry fit with what, from our perspective, look like the eminently literary qualities of his own writing? Plato in fact offers several different arguments for hostility towards the poets. However, in the twenty-four centuries since the Republic was written, few-even amongst his fervent admirers-have been persuaded that Plato was right, and many have been bemused that such a brilliant philosopher was so blinkered when it came to the arts. Nevertheless, the banishment of the poets in the Republic, even if it is not Plato's only or last word on the subject, is directly linked to themes developed elsewhere in his dialogues. In Plato's account poetry is dangerous because it purports to know things of which it is ignorant, and thereby it confuses us in our search for truth.

Some of Plato's misgivings about poetry are adumbrated in the early, short dialogue Ion. Socrates' interlocutor in the dialogue is the rhapsodist Ion, a man who makes his living by reciting poetry. Ion specialises in the work of Homer, whom Socrates describes as "the best and most divine of all [poets]" (530b). Reflecting on the nature of poetry, Socrates argues that epic poets are "possessed" (534a) and "inspired" (534b); lyric poets are "not in their senses" when they compose (534a). A poet is, he says, "a light and winged thing, and holy, and never able to compose until he has become inspired, and is beside himself and reason is no longer in him" (534b). Poets do not speak of truths which they have conceived themselves; instead, "it is the god himself who speaks, and through them becomes articulate to us" (534d). If the poet is the interpreter of the gods, the rhapsodist is the interpreter of the interpreter. Socrates then goes on to question what the rhapsodist actually knows....