Why do you think Kristevaʼs article ʻStabat Materʼ is structured in the way it is and what does it tell you about her conception of the self? How might this conception reflect an attempt to engage ethically with ʻthe otherʼ?
Stabat Mater is structured in such a way, I think, in order to make a point about how we tend to fraudulently manufacture a different self when writing. The other self is
not as concerned with the rules that society impinges. It tends to occupy a more physical role in her eyes, while the written self is almost entirely a mental pursuit.
The revision we put ourselves though reveals some fear about the subconscious and the less socially acceptable thoughts that usually remain solely within the mind.
I am not sure whether the self that is solely written or the base self is that which is more capable of engaging with an 'other'. Or perhaps the point is that there is already an 'other' within ourselves which we must come to terms with before attempting to relate to a fully external other.
It is a very interesting piece, though I feel it is somewhat gimmicky, especially as the ways in which it is unusual seem to be more important than its other message. Maybe I just can't engage on an ethical middle ground with her particular other... Her deconstruction of the relationship she has with the academic world isunnerving because it comes across so effectively, yet it continues to have no practical Real-World Application. Since the work is content solely to highlight an issue she perceives as abhorrent without providing a method of solution it becomes deconstruction for the sense of deconstruction and reduces its worth. Opening the door for others to generate a resolution may eventually solve the problem, but leaving the door open seems immoral. Especially since the door she opens is barred to half of the population.
(Placed indented along side the main body à la Kristeva's Stabat Mater)
Tired, eat, finish, work heart, dry open begin consume facile breathe raise rise turn cloud gaze reveal leaves new yellow contrast howl start stare
stark bare nevermore itch you can never scratch Runner observe point make facare furnish produce complete end joke. aww mama, can this really, be the end, stuck in
Critical Theory, with crises of self identity again? And why skylight,
Record your impressions of Cixousʼ writing. Why do you think she writes in the style she does and in what ways does she teach us to think about the relationship between the self and writing? What do you think about her theorisation of the particular feminine aspect of the type of writing she advocates? Would you ever adopt the style of écriture féminine in your own academic writing? Give reasons for your answer.
I really like Cixous' style of writing. I feel that it is very easy to read, with a good flow to it and that the act of reading her work is quite a pleasurable experience. At no point does her writing come across as deliberately difficult or uninteresting, and while it does not feel like it is doing so, after reading you are left with a distinct impression of having learnt what it was she was trying to tell you.
While writing often feels like hovering over a piece of paper and waiting for blood to drip onto it from your forehead, Cixous gives the impression of writing effortlessly and revealing the exact thought that she feels the need to relate to us. The closest comparison I can make is to the Beats. Her writing feels as exposing as Jack Kerouac's reams of free verse and as bafflinglyly heuristic as William Burroughs' cut-up writings.
I think she writes that way in order to reveal a greater sense of her own mind than would normally come across in academic writing. I disagree with the idea that her writing is distinctly feminine and also that by using language we are occupying an overtly masculine place. Rather that such free expression is not open to all, but instead only to that select few that really know their stuff. If we properly understand the nuances of language we might be able to similarly express ourselves on the page. This is perhaps not so much of an option for those who cannot string adecent sentence together in one go, nor those who do not consider the etymologies of words and the different meanings that can be ascribed to various words, although I'm sure that different forms of expression exist for these people. I do not think that to write from the soul is reservedly feminine, it just depends on whose soul.
I personally would adopt such a style for academic works, but only as I see that all writing is to some extent academic, and all academic writing to some extent must betray the underlying shadow of the writer. Most of the better works of fiction maintain the author's thesis throughout and indeed I usually feel that it is the writers that can and do suggest certain outlooks on the reader without coming across as gravely or heavily moralistic that have the most interesting books. And writers that don't do this tend to be closer to second rate hacks, regardless of what genre their pulp is placed under. Similarly a good academic work ought to not be difficult to read or impersonal. The whole point should be to inform the reader, and if the reader has to struggle to finish the fucking thing then the writer probably shouldn't be in the teaching business, but instead they should be occupied pushing boulders up a hill, especially since that is about all an uninformative, difficult, esoteric or heavily cryptic academic work will ever achieve.
Does Irigaray offer a compelling ethical model of sexual difference? What do you think of her theorisations of femininity? Is her attempt to theorise a distinct form of femininity a useful way of understanding divinity?
It seems a little unfair to ask so many questions this week. But I suppose this is what I signed up for, Karma will probably roll around and reduce the workload at some other point, and I refuse to give into a dishonourable discharge at this stage. Irigaray's models are quite compelling. By recognising the inherent physical
differences between male and female but still allowing for the mind to overcome such differences and generate a shared universal humanity she satisfies both the biologically minded and those believing in some underlying human instrumentality of the psychological. Those of us without such beliefs still can yet appreciate the ultimate optimism of her theories and the solutions she puts forward.
Her redefinition of female sexuality, gloriously positive compared to the dreary depressive theorisations of Freud, provides a new, liberating counter to the regular writings of stale male academics who often seem to be deliberately malignant towards women. While I, personally, may be unable to appreciate this liberation, I whole heartedly support it. Especially where the shackles being left behind have also been constructed by those of us who are unable to directly experience those overt and unique aspects of femininity.
I have long held that an insistence on the existence of a divine form was a sign of a weak mind, but of late perhaps my mind has become permanently addled, since I, now, too, acknowledge a need for some force to be tending this garden planet. Irigaray's concepts towards previous misunderstandings of both sexuality and divinity are fair for their time, but now I cannot agree with her complaints since I do not hold the previous regimes in much respectful credence either.
If you believe in some external power then one ought to hep that such a power at least is equal in its opinions. A sense of justice, surely, cannot function in modern society without an idea of full equality. Divinity, therefore, must surely uphold morality on an equivalent level to humanity or it would be terribly unjust. So Irigaray's theories must agree with a modern liberal concept of the divine, in that the divine must not single out one portion of the global population on any grounds. They agree, at least, with my modern liberal concept of the divine. This is of course vitally different to those gods of the past, but if we are to progress as a species, our concept of that which may have created us must advance also.
Headline 2
The many disappearances that occur throughout the year often become ominous and dreadful in the snows of winter. The prospect of finding a body half frozen, killed of exposure is a very real threat for those members of the public services who search for the missing at all times of year. But sometimes the drifts present a far more confusing and mysterious puzzle for the investigators.
Such was the case last December in the town of Clydebank, a suburb of Glasgow, Scotland. An exceptionally heavy blizzard during the night left many unable to leave their homes when morning arrived. The Seward family awoke to find their fifteen year old daughter missing, apparently having run away in the night.
In the virgin snow a clear path was visible from their door and onto the High Park, a local recreational area notable for its complete lack of any cover. Its position at the crest of a hill had aided her departure, as the wind had kept the drifts far shallower than elsewhere in the town, averaging about six inches deep, compared to the two or three feet in other areas.
Since such behaviour was so unnatural for the girl, the father immediately tele-phoned the police who responded straight away, They promptly cordoned off the area and turned the West Thomson Street and the park into a crime scene. Apart from the investigators the only tracks on the entire hill were those of the girl. Hers led from the house directly to the highest point of the park where they were lost in a circle eight feet in diameter which was apparently untouched by the snow.
Her body is yet to be found, and no other clues were discovered, nor explanations how a girl could seemingly disappear into thin air.