THE SECRET OF OIL

I sit at my dinner table anointed. I'm having white corn on the cob and spring potatoes. This ritual involves pouring a considerable amount of Israeli oil on your plate, and sprinkling it with rock salt from the Kalahari desert. The salt is very important. You then take your precious little fingers though the mix, and with them thus baptized you grab a potato. First, you smell its peal for the divine earth in it, and then you toss it vigorously though the salty oil, before you bring it to your lips – no, no, no, not yet. You, don't bite it yet. You hold back. You allow your lips to kiss it to the point where you swear that you are one with the potato, that you come from the deepest underground in Africa, and that you are resurrected after having been crucified on Mount Scopus, Har HaTsofim, in Israel at harvest time. Bachelard, the magician, brings you back to your senses, when you begin to contemplate the whiteness of the corn. As the cob also gets enveloped in the Kalahari mine, you start speaking in tongues. Well, in Bachelard's French, to be more precise, which you, however, translate into English: “When a poet tells us of the secret of milk, he is not lying, not to himself, nor to others. On the contrary, he is finding an extraordinary totality” (On Poetic Imagination and Reverie, 8). My partner follows my fingers getting deeper and deeper into my throat, and asks me: “is that oil good?” I faint.

THE WAY OF THE SIGN

NEW BOOK: In my years of teaching literary theory, it has never ceased to amaze me that students find it difficult to understand that – even though a futile act – we still have the obligation to go against myths of self-deception, false principles in the name of whose war is waged, and crass stupidity that is always murderous in its intent. I've published The Way of the Sign as a way of keeping it simple. As a way of suggesting that we must situate ourselves as far away as possible from anything that presents itself as the keeper of traditional values, or as suspicious of new developments. Traditionalists have no imagination, that's why they are called traditionalists. We must go against their idea that everything can be sold and bought; that everything is designed and packaged to cater to our basic needs for sex, security, and soul-searching. These needs do not manifest themselves as empty bubbles into which we can throw our clichés and idiotic 'concrete' solutions. Literary, visual, and cultural theories make us see what is wrong with ventriloquizing what we think others want to hear. They make us see what is wrong with speaking from a place that is devoid of inner strength and conviction.

While I haven't proposed any new idea – in this context, I find the old ones better than any – I ask simple questions. In this sense, The Way of the Sign is a book about extraction, about reducing methods of inquiry to the bare bones. It guides students through 10 schools of theory and criticism. The focus is on ‘asking’ each theory to give its best in the simplest way, by making us see what is at stake and how we might respond to it. In simple Socratic dialogue, I invent scenarios: ‘What is happening?’ Deconstruction asks. And we answer with it: ‘We are buying a mythology.’ ‘How does it make us feel?’ ‘Dumb.’ ‘What is happening?’ Marxism asks. And we answer with it: ‘The rich cheat us.’ ‘How does it make us feel?’ ‘Angry’. ‘What is happening?’ Feminism asks. And we answer with it: ‘Nobody sees us.’ ‘How does it make us feel?’ ‘Invisible.’

By posing such simple questions, I try to bring out the complexity of the ideas formulated in different approaches to texts, and the joy at discovering that some theories are mighty simple, and therefore also beautiful. The book’s aim is thus to contribute to every student’s ‘aha’ experience. Make it richer, so that they might fall in love with theory, and consider that if decisions need to be made at all – about what to think or what is best – then they should be about never ceasing to ask questions. Or consider that it is not our actions that are important, but how we receive the gift of joy. As with Mary Oliver:

“If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.”

Enjoy!

THE WAY OF THE SIGN: CULTURAL TEXT THEORY IN TWO STEPS

EYECORNER PRESS
ISBN: ISBN: 978-8792633101

PRESS MATERIAL

CONTENTS

Introduction | KEEPING IT SIMPLE | 9
Chapter 1 | STRUCTURALISM AND DECONSTRUCTION | 19

Chapter 2 | MARXISM AND PSYCHOANALYSIS | 41

Chapter 3 | FEMINISM AND QUEER | 75
Chapter 4 | POSTCOLONIALISM AND DIASPORA | 109
Chapter 5 | PRESENCE AND COMPLEXITY | 137
About the author | 174

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CHANGING SANCTUARY

Back from Norway and feeling the same old regret for not taking the plunge and moving over there for good, my heart leaps with awe and astonishment at what awaits me. Among things piled up in my mailbox over a month, I find two books by Matthew Remski. I don't know Matthew, but for some reason he seems to know me. A card accompanies Syrinx and Systole, and yoga 2.0: shamanic echoes, which says: “To a mentor, plus inspiration from afar.” Over the years, I've grown accustomed to people seeing me as some kind of a teacher, or some kind of an “esoteric genius,” or other such things related to some form of transmission. True, I have funny interests. And yet, for my part, I'm suspicious of instructing. More often than not the act of instructing is misunderstood. And I leave teaching “positive change” to the host of self-helpers who blissfully remain ignorant of both change and positiveness. For, what form does change assume in relation to what we know, how we are, and what we are willing to acknowledge about our nature? What conditions change, and what does it mean to be positive? That you have to take it all in good stride? Like hell you do. That would require a whole lot of seeing, and seeing is not what we're doing, in spite of the visual culture we live in. Seeing requires time and the recognition of light. Ours and others'. So, what do we really see?

Cognitive psychology of the 'you can fix it' kind never invites us to see anything, only to asses the so-called situation, and then change it. So you change the situation and lose sight of yourself. Nice going. Next step: self-deception. I believe in light, and the nature of light is to enlighten. And the beauty of light is that it comes without forcing. When you see the light, you also see the balance between your intelligence and your acts of kindness. You let it all stream through you, and that is all. Of course, since this theory is so simple, there's no money in it. Hence we don't get to hear about light on TV or other channels promoting happiness. Emanating light is not about petting each other on our backs and instructing each other on how well we're doing and how fantastic we are.

Writes Matthew in the yoga book: “When you open your mouth to speak, nature throws her voice outwards, through you. The land moves your hands. The weather moves your feet. Your point of view is singular yet comprehensive, because the world itself is looking out through your eyes. When something arises to be done, there is no question about whether it should be done. How it should be done arises naturally as you begin to do it” (29). So, no forcing. If a wall is impenetrable, leave it unchallenged. It the world is dense and dull, leave it to its devise. I also read these lines from Syrinx and Systole: “Inquiry begins with the harshest consonants (ts and cts, and dental ds) but opens into a palatal ds and lingering ns: What exactly don't I understand?” There are these 3: liberty, self-sufficiency, and frankness. Anything else is nonsense. These 3 require the kind of self-knowledge that exceeds the cynic's lot. If there's a task we want to preoccupy ourselves with, then it is this one: let us read more poetry. The words of the poets carry heavy light with them, and this light beams far and bounces into our sanctuaries. Matthew Remski, thank you.