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1 The Book s One Its Own Chrcters Author(s): Hélène Cixous Reviewed work(s): Source: New Literry History, Vol. 33, No. 3, The Book s Chrcter, Composition, Criticism, Cretion (Summer, 2002), pp Published : The Johns Hopkins University Press Stble URL: Accessed: 07/12/ :05 Your use JSTOR rchive indictes your cceptnce Terms & Conditions Use, vilble t. JSTOR is not-for-prit service tht helps scholrs, reserchers, students discover, use, build upon wide rnge content in trusted digitl rchive. We use informtion technology tools to increse productivity fcilitte new forms scholrship. For more informtion bout JSTOR, plese contct support@jstor.org.. The Johns Hopkins University Press is collborting with JSTOR to digitize, preserve extend ccess to New Literry History. This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

2 The Book s One Its Own Chrcters H?l?ne Cixous Books re chrcters in books. Between uthors books, not everything cn be tken for grnted. At point where uthor ("I") thinks s/he cn close door on chpter, book puts its foot in door. If I wnt to explin myself, book cuts me f tkes floor in my sted. The story I hve to tell is story writing's violence. I wnt to write wht I cnnot write. The book helps me. The book leds me stry, crries me wy. It wnts to write. It wnts me to write it; /wnt to write book I m pursuing with my drems. Will I ever get it written? A book is not only writing: it is wepon; it is misdeed; it is rce for secret(s). It is struggle ginst memory, for memories. One is in pieces; one ptches oneself bck toger. Tht is why I love Life Henry Brulrd? life tht is book in process growing its own skin, churning its own blood, getting cold feet, rguing energeticlly bout deth destiny in kitchen. There is food drink enough lughter to bring ters, in books where book mkes commotion. And re is "no libi," s my friend Derrid would sy. 1. Die Ursche - The Thing At beginning my utobibliogrphy, I didn't write books, I didn't write, things hppened, t night. Ors would hve sid "books" perhps. But I clled m things, se residues nocturnl erth qukes convulsions. Living speking frightening things. Untitled lv flow, spred crcks in soul. While uthor sleeps, uctor, s/he who dels in relity, belief, uctor who hs right, power, to order, sign, recognize, sleeps, Erth rolls onto its side opens up lips wounds. In morning one found things, s repulsive s poor Gregor Sms. These were still, t tht time, dynights when I wsn't re. Except tht lredy Where ws re, n infernl grden, locked wy inside City. The Grden Things. The dynights when I would not for nything in world hve put my nme to those nimted things tht hd dropped from mentl New Literry History, 2002, 33: This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

3 404 NEW LITERARY HISTORY entrils being tht ws in my plce or in whose plce I ws myself, se were endless hours, uplifted, hunted, invded rmies tht ended up in morning on bttleground where I scrcely dred wlk, columns insects occupied wlls, re were or footprints pwprints on my tble, re were everywhere remnnts, droppings, frg ments, tles, memories events bre. Someone ws drem-gsps, flyed hurriedly jotting down visions, ccidents, primitive scenes, in my h writing, obeying order to write, n order issued no one, issued () Order itself, City or Emperor, some orderer with no identity no fce, but who ws sending letters to me, lredy book, which it ws unthinkble tht I could evde. I gve in. I gve up in spite myself seprtely from myself. I m still giving in, seprtion is lwys prt me still, s it ws in beginning. Wht hs chnged is terror. I hve finlly gotten into hbit this ordering (or order-giving). The Things were no mens inert, y moved, it ws wful. They were still re. They wouldn't go wy until note hd been tken ir ir sttements. It ws wind one shpes windy, rged, wlked in drkness on hlf-buried squirrels tht one didn't dre touch. "The uthor," tht is, slve se nocturnl events who would lter stop running wy from scl dmit defet, in my nme, ws like Goy's hlf-buried dog. I hd never seen tht Dog before, tht hlf-dog, it remined hlfwy between life deth between erth heven in n ochre storm spilled out Goy in opening onto void, in Mdrid, s soon s I sw it, dy I sw it, it ws I, tht dy, without hesittion, I sw portrit my soul, it too unerd, myself s my yellow-nose dog hlf live despite embrce deth. It ws s if I hd found pro origin. I recognized my lv my lrv. At beginning beginnings, re ws bombrdment. Volcnic eruptions. According to me it wsn't communicble. You don't publish lv. These weren't letters: lv. As y settle, though, under pen tht notes, y grow one letter. Lrv. Now y re lrve. They don't know how well y put it. Lrve bring up in us slight unjust feeling repulsion, like every slightly justified repulsion: t issue is deficiency in our soul, our cquired tste for definite, situted. A lrv?n insect lrv: it's not this, not tht, it's n embryonic form peculir to insects tht re lso not this not tht, like timeless cockroch on which whole life G. H. runs ground crcks its keel. These things, roches, lrve, fscinte us. But before y terrify French s lnguge designted "lrv" n intermedite stte in insectuous genetics, rr lte in eighteenth century, before This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

4 THE BOOK AS ONE OF ITS OWN CHARACTERS 405 ling on body those hlf-buried, hlf-immersed thing-beings, word lrv hd lurked in homes. At tht time lrve were spirits ded, who pursue living, spirits in Ltin. The origin lrv is lr. If I were Edgr Alln Poe, I would cll it rt. The lres were clled gods, chrged with protecting herths Romn life, y looked fter living whom s spirits ded y hd erlier pursued. Lres, lrve, ncient infernl spirits, turned bck into ir opposites in mbivlent turn described Freud. But thret is never forgotten. People sk very spirits y fer to protect ir delicte inner herths. They sk deth to gurd life, yes. Everything lrvl is s bd s it is good, living s much s it is dying, ttrctive becuse it is repulsive, terrifying becuse it is inexplicbly seductive. In this lrvl time I ws not yet cquinted with Freudin concept unheimlich but I experienced it quite ten. For lrve, in spite myself, in spite my I hd repulsion, wekness, Fible s Germns sy. (Let us note tht "Fible" is lwys hunting, foreign spirit-body tht one fils to reject in one's inner herth, one ccuses it ccepts it. Thus I hd in spite myself becuse my ded ones in myself?my fr countless ors in his wke? "Fible" (pronounced "fy-buhl" in Germn) for lrve, sme breed s lv, those thing-beings whose stte shifts between two sttes. Becuse lrve re not within embryos mternl body, y led life, free, neirherenorre, outside egg, tht's wht worries me, re not y yet but lredy. There hd been bombings Orn, bombrdments wr, with bombs, descent into shelters, wrning sirens, spce becomes extremely verticl, life is cord stretched between two non-extremities, between bove below between horror ground, jubiltion. Lter I sw cities tht hd become bombed out: inside on disply, privcy domestic life exposed. Antomy Lesson. The Gutted City. Lethrgic. Seeing wht is hidden cuses shudder. One cn't prevent oneself from t wht one shouldn't see. London looking strfed, split open, ribs crcked in 1950 still. There ws (hd been) bombing Slzburg, yet nor. Yet nor. A series bombrdments. Some shttered chest ntl City. Ors crushed imges destiny, dydrems, childhood hopes. We re born to be bombed to see suddenly fmilir plces ordinry things become nked spectculr. Then outside reches inside inside displys itself brzenly, re is nothing we cn do bout it. It is like tht mmticl phenomenon clled Klein's Bottles, n inconceivble thing, yet one tht exists, volume whose outside is inside. This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

5 406 NEW LITERARY HISTORY I shll be ble to give nme my bombrdments. The Destruction world does not hppen only There re Mines evil. once. When my fr left, leving n erthsized crter in plce Universe, I thought tht everything "hd hppened." I thought it ws The End The First Cuse. But nor Apoclypse follows nor Apoclypse. As we hve known since Apoclypse, vision poclypse tkes one's breth wy. One remins without voice for very time. long As soon s one cn recount, re is like n something ppesement household gods. But for forty yers re is n impossibility ny nrrtive. Forty yers: lwys forty yers desert or muteness. The finting spell lsts forty yers. Then memory strts up gin. During finting, world remins, popultion untold, well hidden, crouching in corners, in stirwell, lrve ones young condemned to deth, who return s soon s re ded who us y besiege whom we besiege. The End is not end. No more thn beginning begins. Once my first son died, I ws begun gin. There is not n Ursche. There is no Once ll. for There ws not one just country lost. Nor one son ded. just Wht dvent (event) inexct child cused me (before his return to me forty yers fter our common end, fter we both ended) : slippge, disrry, disloction, dissolution borders, discrediting world mockery destiny with respect to clcultions: intrusion into rel existence trgic irony, device I thought reserved for heroes Theter. The inexct child ws irruption unforeseen, inclcu lble, into clcultions. I ws presumption twenty-two yers old, unknowing totlly clm. I ws t nchor. I remined in silence its inexctness for exctly thirty-nine yers. Slippge, metonymy, replcement, substitution re spirits tht cme in beneth unredble countennce child born to me unknown. The letter intrusion into my consciousness, not yet formed, philosophic irony, ws delivered neirthisnortht child, bckwrds drem. In shock re is mentl clling f: wht one believed one hd under control escpes. The expected child rrives without rriving. The child thing does not come into its plce. In its plce disquiessence oscilltes. Wht is child? Wht is humn being? The words like, norml, lw, This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

6 THE BOOK AS ONE OF ITS OWN CHARACTERS 407 own, ll inherited terms, terms inheritnce, sink wy. Questions come to us violently, tke us surprise, without sking or for witing nswers, no, come in questions plce nswers, y nswer mocking our irresponsibility, globl interrogtion mkes us slip fll in street, shkes our cliche-beliefs. And wht is this odd thing, book? * * * Two scenes: 1. The doll's h 2. Mdison's prrot The Bombrdment bombrds spce lso time. Suddenly time breks. At very moment bombrdment, time pulls bck from under my feet. Time's pth collpses in front me. The future disppers behind horizon clouds. The present hs slid under ground. One looks t very moment bombrdment from viewpoint cooled-down future. A time hs been killed. One no knows wht side one is on. The longer humn who were beings persons n people hour go probbly lie under sentence tht flees itself in errtic leps, s if it could not mke up its mind to "let go," to deliver messge deth. The sentence throws itself into segmented trjec tory, it tkes f with wobbly gllop like horse tht keeps on running with broken ho, it is only stumbling over over tht it pproches wht it ws hiding in end collpses, before immense hep smoking ruins under which frgments time ir former inhbitnts re most likely piled up, s if chnged ll t once into ded ones deth, s Thoms Bernhrd writes. Creful. Becuse under continuing bombrdments we re to rech going plce-moment where hs its source. writing Is born crevsse between nnihilted world next one, from which night wells up overpopulted with somewht foreign beings. It is (will be) recognized fct tht one does (not) recognize this thing tht springs forth, unspekble, through crck. Unspekble: cptivting. Like beuty. There is scrcely ny distnce between thing horror thing beuty. There is wr, cuse instntneous unforeseeble totlly muttion species. At edge ss one needs to rush into keeping diry inconceivble, so s not to fll into mdness. One writes mdness in order to keep it re t one's side not fll into it. To dwell in impotence not drown. In stbilized ccommodted. disqulifiction, grdully This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

7 408 NEW LITERARY HISTORY There hd just been bombing. The inhbitnts hd suddenly chnged species. Some were now ded people, ors hd undergone different muttion: hd become "Seekers." tht's wht y Scvengers, were. y "At tht moment," sid Thoms Bernrd, "I sw ll powerlessness those who hd entered into wr without trnsition." As if one hd pssed without trnsition from one country to nor, this is how it is to enter without n entrnce, to lep over time. Yesterdy hs become dizzyingly remote. Yesterdy hs dropped to bottom pluperfect. Then Thoms Bernhrd tkes rod tht leds to Gst?ttengsse. In front B?rgerspitl church, he hd wlked (tht ws yesterdy, but yesterdy crried f in story depths pluperfect), he hd on "st stepped object." I believed, when I glimpsed this st object {weichen Gegenst) [while I ws t glncing Gegenst], tht it ws doll's h {ein Puppenh), my clssmtes too hd it ws thought doll's h, but it ws child's h, torn from child. It ws only when I sw child's h tht this first Americn bombing my hometown cesed being senstionl event exciting I boy hd been becme horrible intervention violence ctstrophe. The turning point is re: everything is turned in foreign sense. It is only t tht moment tht wht hd been ble to pss for eine Senstion cn become something else entirely: thing belonging to relm ter, excess. onto l Everything chnges. Everything leps mine, tenses. From one second to including nor, one stops being little boy moves on to pluperfect ftlity. Time tense lep round tht unprecedented thing tht hs to be red in Germn for its full import to sink in. It is story doll's h, Puppenh. It is story Puppenh. The story is in Germn, lnguge tht mkes compound words redily in lrge numbers. Where we sy, in English, doll's h, " h doll," Germn sys Puppenh, dollh. A h-held-reported-defined-undetchble. We decompose, we rticulte; in Germn, it is opposite, word mkes single whole bits pieces, single word tht shkes its own h. Anor striking word here: ein Gegenst, object, word tht now commonly hs philosophicl vlue. There in street someone steps on n "object" tht belongs to philosophicl sphere. Or words express object in Germn, from word objekt to thing, ds Ding. But little little Gegenst tkes up spce in Germn lnguge, it is mde up st, being re, n upright being, gegen, which expresses in ll senses word wht "ginst" "ginst," This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

8 THE BOOK AS ONE OF ITS OWN CHARACTERS 409 is very close, wht is right up ginst, but lso wht my be ginst ntgonism. Gegen is lso wht is towrd, round, bout. Around this time, word gegen is used. The "object" is wht holds toger in region tht is defined directions, orienttions, proximities, or distncings tht re gegen. Then Gst?tten Street in front church, he steps on Gegenst tht expresses indefinite, ginst, thing tht is not-me (n irreplceble word, it hs to be trnslted in English "object," which is not wrong, since ob, Ltin ob, ob/ject, functions little like gegen/ st, but Gegenst is more bstrct, more cerebrl thn word object). Auf dem Weg B?rgerspitlskirche, es hle sich? in die Gst?ttengsse uf einen weichen wr ich uf dem Gegenst getreten, Gehsteig, und ich vor glubte, der I emphsize this heln through which, surreptitious, h rrives; hle in English relly mens "mnipulte," h is t work. In Germn, heln hs sense "to be in question." But this completely trivil word puts h, H, in circultion. As if before exct nture comes to Gegenst cler consciousness, phntom h were lredy sying its nme, premonition.?es hle sich, wie ich uf den Gegenst schute, um eine Puppenh, uch meine Mitsch?ler htten es geglubt, helte sichum eine Puppenh I thought it "ws question," while I ws h, my clssmtes too hd thought [Emphsis dded] t looking Gegenst, doll's tht it ws question dolls-h But ll t once h is not wht it is thought to be, tht flse h is nothing or thn h tht hd been?before looking like simulcrum h? h nor h rticulted species, with child, h third kind: neir doll's nor child's, but more child's-h-torn-from--child exctly: Aber es wr eine von einem Kind bgerissene Kinderh gewesen [emphsis dded] but it ws -from--child-torn-child's-h See gp in observtion difficulty djustment: Kinderh / Puppenh. We re not told: but it ws child's h. Nor re we told: it ws h torn from child. We re told tht it ws This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

9 410 NEW LITERARY HISTORY Kinderh torn from child. In wholly subtle wy, he tells us tht wht hs been torn from child is not its h, not h, it is Kinderh. In fct re is no cler seprtion between Kinderh Puppenh. If someone ters f one your legs, you will not sy tht it is mn's leg torn from mn. Wht sentence sys in n unheimlich n wy, uncnny wy, is tht wht hs been torn from child is child's-h. Species rise, like species seekers, Here is scvengers-in-ruins. nor still unknown species: it "is question" child's-h, which is comprble, subs ti tu tble, which is confused with doll's-h. And in tht moment when one is stepping on deceptive thing one is slipping into world in which only writing cn render se slippges, se humniztions-dehumniztions. (I shll dd too tht one cn llow oneself to think bout von, if one does not remin in sort relist respect for scene, becuse tht von could function like child's h, but it cn lso men child. We re not going to think tht it is child, but re is multivlent mbiguity in von tht cn mke us think bout this.) This Kinderh is struck, contminted thingifiction: if it hs been on stepped becuse it ws thought to be doll's h, this is becuse it is sort doll's h. A child's-h-torn-from--child becomes Puppenh, becomes Gegenst, sort object, it is piece, scrp, scrp but one tht is whole, it is sort terrifying thing. Someone hs torn -child's-h from child, s if tht Kinderh were foreign supplement proper to child's body. Through tht h tht-ws- child's, tht h disconnected from humn recon nected to humn its very detchment, through tht lost, mutted h, writing comes. I plce my foot on h tht puts its h on my soul. A very slight hostility shoves my thought long. We hve just rrived t genetic moment ll writing, ll literture. I thought it ws doll's h, but doll ws not doll, child ws no longer child. The doll child rub shoulders. You remember riddle cemetery in Hmlet. Hmlet interro gtes grvedigger: "Wht mn dost thou dig it for?" "For no mn, sir." "Wht womn, n?" "For none eir." It is for I m thing, digging for some thing tht ws mn or womn, tht is no longer mn or womn, tht is one those indefinble ppernces tht re longside us, mn, womn child, humn being, like totlly unlike, tht bring into our experience feeling ltertion, or ness, nor species which we re. Tht hppens to us Gegen. With Gegen writing begins to be born, in murky region connections, recognitions, identifictions, mrgins, for tht, for re this foreign Gegend to tke plce, this disturbnce seprtions, distinctions, re hs to hve been bombrdment. This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

10 THE BOOK AS ONE OF ITS OWN CHARACTERS 411 Suddenly, one writes. One writes things, which re foreign things forth from our One writes with child's-h-torn night. foreign body, from our childhood. One recognizes nothing. Lter, much lter, I get used to clling my former lrve books. come / WANT THE FREEBOOK. BOOKS LIBERATE, DELIBERATE, DELIVER. Sved from funerel publishers' firs, flse politeness. Books re not wht y wnt us to think, not chstened mde-to-order compelled to mold flow into flowmold printed volume, muzzled in brgin: when one becomes book one must not sing, shout, whisper, or?especilly?be silent. But book when it rrives, in ll its sttes it vibrtes, growls, sings, ten remins silent. In my book re re chickens, dogs, insects. Reciting lesson Rousseu sees fly l on his h. A fly lesson, tht is wht book gives me in pssing. A lesson silence surrounding/source buzzing. There re pins s well. The pins do not spek in liner, monotone fshion. They crck. They shout go on shouting. Suddenly brek f. Everything tht hppens to breth, to soul, mkes music tht I mke my book ply bck to me with no holds brred. Lnguge cn render everything bout soul, grmmr hs infinite resources, it crobts, it sinutes bends, it hs spine ct, it cn pss subject's hed between its sentence-feet. Into published volume, in middle story, I let in, let pss, n irruption forgettings: for exmple mongoloid chorus. The percussion chorus chickens. It resembles scene on stge nimted solely interruptions. Stops, fishbones, ngles, trcing gittion soul. It resembles puses in Beethoven score. I dore Stendhl in his personl writing: he gllops down street in Grenoble, swoops into rvine, holds bck his sentence t lst possible moment. Pulls himself toger. I m wering he sys. And tkes f in opposite direction. True flse movements. I dore miswerings. Verstility is vitl vice- vers-tility. SENTENCES There is bond exchnge-engendering between fct tht we? persons, beings, Mensch?produce, send forth, emit things from This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

11 412 NEW LITERARY HISTORY soul tht re Sentences, virtul presence book tht wits only right moment to mke itself mnifest. We re chttered chtterers. Exhlers-brers sentences (= pre cipittions, elocutions soul sttes). Words, sentences (1) express (2) shpe our stte our fte. I m registrr, grer sentences. Here re ought to be long dremy reflection on semntic, syntctic mystery sentence. Sometimes nominl, body without verb, movement without motor. Sometimes without subject, without mster, direction without driver. A book lurks, witing, lert, pulling itself toger? long gesttion, yers, decdes. A Body pulls itself toger, rticultes itself. Striker-spirits. Struck. A foreign body prepres itself to spek in plce my more or less fmilir body. Sentences re spirits books. Sentences re genetic keys, unwitting vowls, miniml becons, stem engines, tnks, horses, skein... pper, In every book sentence lives in secret, dimond hidden in under story. It is book's its sel. Its confession its co-signture, regret. For exmple this one: "Ws I hppy? No, I tsted plesure." Or this one: "I should hve been hppy: I ws not." Or this one: My imgintion hd been employed forestlling hrm my tyrnts did me cursing m; s soon s I ws free, t H, in my mor's drwing-room, I hd leisure to tste develop for ws: something. My pssion medllions moulded in from plster hollow mounds sulphur. Before I hd hd minor pssion: love thorn-sticks, gnrled sticks cut from hwthorn I hedges, believe; gme-shooting. My fr hd curbed both m. Tht for thorn-sticks S?rphie vnished under jibes my uncle; tht for shooting, bsed on voluptuous reveries nurtured M. Le Roy's lscpe lively imges my imgintion hd mnufctured when reding Arios to, becme ment frenzy, tht I dored L Mison rustique, Buff on, tht I wrote bout nimls, expired finlly only from surfeit. At Brunswick, in 1808,1 ws one leders on shoots on which we killed or fifty sixty hres with pesnts s beters. Killing doe horrified me, tht horror hs grown. Tody I cn think more nothing contemptible thn turning chrming bird into four ounces ded flesh. If my fr in his bourgeois ferfulness hd llowed me to go out shooting, I would hve been more gile, which would hve me helped in wr. There I ws gile only dint being strong. This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

12 THE BOOK AS ONE OF ITS OWN CHARACTERS 413 I shll spek gin bout shooting, let us return to medllions.... After four or five yers deepest most bnl I unhppiness, only bred n when I found myself lone locked up in prtment Rue des I Vieux-J?suites, plce hd detested until n. ( The Life Henry Brulrd, tr. John Sturrock [London, 1995], pp ) I love long, segmented, mddening, uto-erotic, obsidionl sentences, convoluted hypotxes, distilltions, stills, lchemy dreming Whole Gold. I love prtxis. Stops. Decisions. Flls. I love nomin?is. I love. Gems. J'ime. I red intimte Stendhl out pssion for his rhythms. He streks hed like horse like hound t hunt like hunted hre like flcon like flse consul I men flse Np., s he clled Npoleon. red intimte Derrid out pssion for his Stendhlin sentences. "I m lst Jews" he sys "I posthumte sys. Out pssion for wy he rides clich?s, everydy lnguge. wy I bre" he his wy on spurring I A BOOK HAPPENS Where do books come from? A surprising messge, sent yesterdy-foreigner who hs tody become fteful necessry strnger. For book to come, one must go to quite foreign country, be born into nor memory. It is mtter Describe lwys found mnuscript. Sweden, describe rised stones Ales Stenr t sourn tip Sweden. There re, in tht plce where erth thrusts tip its tongue into se, up high, where sky comes down to erth, fifty-six rised stones left?in pryer??once upon time Viking bout whom we no longer know nything t ll, legcy stone, with commentry countless chorus totlly invisible lrks. On this timeless jetty re remins book tht is like bot. Every book is bot tht remins on l fter crossing. The bot: stem is plow, se is plowed seeded, erth is plowed seeded we do not know it. Describe Rome ruined live seen from rock on Mount Jniculus mgnificent sun is shining, every time, it is here, one tells oneself, tht Trnsfigurtion ws (Rphel's) dmired for two hlf centuries. The ide Trnsfigurtion trnsfigures us; for book to come, re must be City where ll memories come flocking bck; city ncient modern with tombs rchives grdens, And in ppritions. This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

13 414 NEW LITERARY HISTORY city, solitude. A solitude sitting would feel lone. on my lp, without which I Add to tht n enormous inner chos, commotion nooks crnnies, griefs rising nmeless, mournings without objects, regrets without ttributes... Fers tht hve tken flight. Fers. Long muzzled months. Immense events powerfully minimized (filed love, ded child, be tryl, slvged love...) The Soul seeks n imge in which it cn resemble itself. * * * A book rrives from country tht yesterdy one does not know. There is gint clled Finn?who clings to pillr merges with it in crypt cdrl in Lund. Pillr gint re inseprble like construction ruin. Tht is it: figure book. When one hs encountered it one hs received it like n rrow in shoulder, yet one hs not recognized it. But it hs fished us out. Finn to begin. comes bck, s Jmes Joyce remembered. The end, comes bck HOSPITALITIES How does book rech me, from where? When? In summer. The seson birthings. Subterrnen origins, multiple. It grs like slow, subtle storm. Redies itself. I do not know it. Until moment it sends me its first signs. Glimmers, phrses, emotions tht belong to world writing. I recognize m with dely. They re recognize Welcome! lredy in plce, writing. I m joy. A senstion greeting. I open doors: I sy. I do not yet know to whom. A hospitlity begins. The book signls, mkes "its signs." It dvnces nnuncitions, As in representtives. Bible, one does not recognize m but one receives m. Like it or not. The widow Zrephth sys to Elijh: "I hve nothing to et." Elijh, book, sys: "Do not worry, I tell you tht re is wht you need in your home. Believe me." This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

14 THE BOOK AS ONE OF ITS OWN CHARACTERS 415 I open doors. A little girl comes in hlf devoured. A film bout Eichmnn. A squre in Pris, St.-Germin-des-Pr?s, My 1 with flse dogs, explorers. A three-legged dog. Wht is tht? An inventory? The dy I m not re? Wht hppens. Blows from world. Fir or foul. My instinct, my lw: let blows rech me. Write "The Dy I Ws Not There." flse I obey, I listen. I love voices. Docility in fce storms. The City is full Voices. It seems to me tht re is lwys () city in my book. I m in my book s in city, foreign. The city my own birth, foreign. Like my mor, foreign. There is foreign city in city my birth vice vers: re is birthplce city tht keeps wtch for me in every foreign city. I could hve been born elsewhere. Ws I born in Orn or in Osnbr?ck? I ws born Osnbr?ck in Orn, Orn in Osnbr?ck. From Osnbr?ck to Montigne. From Montigne to New York. The City is first book tht I red tht red me. With ll my body, ll my blood, ll my ters. I ws inside. I live in book, I trvel book. And or wy round. Die Ursche is nme book Thoms Bernhrd. It begins with se words: Der Stdt ist, "The City is,". These words re followed fter comm sentence incredible length, segmented, jumble cluses. But first re is City s Being. The origin origin, beginning Beginnings: re is City, re ws City. The City is lwys big, it is lwys kingdom people. Even "smll," it is lrge. Even smll like Troy its three thous inhbit nts it is lrge like ll memory, ll literture. A City is?to tke. Even if we leve it behind it never leves us in pece. It reclls itself. To wht extent do Orn, Algiers, never stop reclling mselves while pssing through pssing for Osnbr?ck or New Delhi? The city spce is crisscrossed with plesures hostilities. Especilly hostilities. The first Cities in literture re cities under siege. We too, re cities under siege from inside out. The most powerful enemy is within. The city spce puts originry kernel into orbit, originry polemic kernel, pol?mos, wrrior kernel, re is where it lwys begins; it is fmily tble, tht is where wr, conflict, polemics begin, in room, in ply, in dining room. And n it diltes, exps, This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

15 416 NEW LITERARY HISTORY we hve city, city is merely ply in which wr is tking plce. Eir it is wr, one Thoms Bernhrd describes for us in The Origin, die Ursche, it is stroke luck, it is not metphor, it hs power extrordinry degrdtion, deflgrtion. This does not men tht wr is not it cn rech us with its metphor, only metphors, s So eir it is tht metphor. wr, with bombs, ntiircrft plnes, defense, or else it is lrvl wr with virtul bombs, from re we shll neverless return to sitution polemics tht is spirit city. Next one hs ll ll ll scenes tht re plces, pieces, rrnged on gret stge city, every time y re minitures city, or on contrry enlrgements fmily scene. In Rousseu re re countless In his he exmples. peregrintions goes from city to city, from dwelling to residence, where every time events tke tht re in mselves events plce stge plys, polemos, overt or covert confronttions, between representtives clsses, or between representtives pssion. The counterpoints points flight, evsion, re repose brief moments on isls or lwys ephemerl, in woods. Retrets, shelters. refuges, * * * SHELTERS The word shelters, its chrm in my childhood; its etymologicl chrm: from Ltin to wrm oneself in sun. When sirens pricri, sounded lrm, t in Orn we went down s to "wrm night, fmily ourselves in sun" in bsement on Rue des Jrdins. Shelters re not on erth. re re ntiircrft They underground, y shelters, tunnels, lirs, cverns, cves. The mor ll cves is Plto's. Afterwrd it multiplies into poclyptic dwellings, plces where books re htched. Or else y re cves on high floors, fices, smll rooms tht protect four delicious solitry occuptions whose generic nmes Proust ters These four supplies?reding dreming voluptuousness. occup tions re wht put books into ger. But ll se rooms re plces origin primitive visions. They re cmer, chmbers (Kmer, Kmmer), boxes for sometimes shoe mnufcturing imges; boxes, like one in which I ly Fips my mrtyred dog or one in which Jcques Derrid rised his silkworm. The City is n enlrgement shoebox inhbited smll nimls. The Theter is its synecdoche. There one is lwys plying life ginst This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

16 THE BOOK AS ONE OF ITS OWN CHARACTERS 417 deth. Thoms Bernhrd plyed with ide suicide on his violin in little room full shoes. The book is City in reduced form. There one plys t suicide. The book hs form fossil shoebox. 2. The Book Mkes Its Entrnce THEATER OF THE BOOK Dremed lst night fully wke tht I ws writing next book, I ws beginning to write it in middle night, in highly wkened drem stte, wht I ws writing rpidly with intensity power dense rhythmic wreness, cdence ws symphonic telling story beginnings book, it ws gring toger ll events circumstnces tht were round writing produced uthor's pln, her desire her personl life, book followed itself step step, noted its own reflections, remembered drfting text, ds Urteil, which one night feverish nottion hd sufficed to bring to light, it resembled, it thought, member fmily texts similr to herd humn zebrs or wild horses, niml things, nocturnl boriginls, geniuses, cretures produced uthors in grip defening trnce I ws writing in thick, lucid bustle, rushed shortness time drem, I ws gring toger dytime cuses this week I hd red uphevl, during story ds Urteil, t lest I thought I hd followed its unfolding seted in first row pit, but now story hd trnsformed itself into hllucintion, hd gone to my hed, hd pssed into my blood, hd spred through my brin, I hd smelled its odor, I ws hering its street noises, it ws totlly contgious, I cught it I ws in its dnger ll t once whole workroom some structure ws vibrting I ws city, I ws in city, I ws rooming, I ws roming pst pges beginning, subject my book ws its own construction, it ws its bttlefield, its fctory, its mternity clinic but t sme instnt I ws struck ide world, howeverness: for during this lying-in world round me ws in lbor, book tht ws developing in drkness promising to be strong well-nourished ws fted to encounter violent world story tht ly in wit for it outside like twin born brely n hour before. At window room in which, legs crossed under tble, hed down, hs ( left h) clutching This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

17 418 NEW LITERARY HISTORY pper so it would hold still under pen tht ws engrving its spine body bent, weighing, on body I ws fshioning with hrdness tht cretes, I ws ll life to scrificing process, shots rng out in close succession, slvos shouts s rge dense tireless in ir repetition s contrctions sprys words tht book ws phrsing. It cme to my mind obsessed vitl fomenttion tht book did not know tht it ws fspring wr, did not yet know this, tht it ws being born in night which forgets, in grce night, but since night is short, but deep thick vst enough for work to develop ripen in it entirely occupied with its own mystery, it does not yet know, work, hppily immersed in night wter, bd in oblivion misreding, it believes while believing it holds ll itself in itself. Thus begins book like god delighting in plesure his own gestures, totlly bsorbed in ply sentence, hypnotized linking words, cptivted to bone, it does not her clmor, bursting shells, screms rge, it remins def for hours, s if ded, s if totlly nestized, s if soul become s pper, if unwre blood, wer, dismemberments s if it could not be torn up seted in depth night legs crossed under immortl tble for hours, s if drowned hours in md insolence street s if for wnt drowning tritor to twin who is screming in s if lrvl worm in process lrvl bsorption s if bsorbed?bsolved? without sin without sin for six or seven hours, t lest, not more. In beginning book bsorbs everything it is completely b sorbed in its birthing, on wtch for its fleeting imges, lening over its own edge, it is fishing, it is fishermn line fished-out drgged-up sin. It hers nothing it sees nothing except line held out from its h towrd object ll its wishes. How beutiful it is tht line whose fr end is lost in sprkling pge wter. In beginning book thinks only line, thinks thinking line ll wy to its end, following it, remembering it suddenly forever, its brillint long stroke, tking plesure in ech its points, not moving wy from it while enjoying strightness its thrust, seizing spurt, secret its chrm. It purity, pours its whole self into fishing, into sinning, for this is ll it likes to do. Wht is sinning? Write story from ten o'clock t night to six o'clock in morning on night 22nd/23rd. The terrible ftigue joy, wy story unfolded before me while I mde my wy through wter. Severl times tht night I bore my own weight on This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

18 THE BOOK AS ONE OF ITS OWN CHARACTERS 419 my bck. How everything cn be risked, how for ll strngest ides re wits gret fire in which re reduced to shes rise y up gin. The sight intct bed, s if it hd just been trnsported into room, Kfk wrote on 23rd t seven o'clock in The morning. certinty tht I m in shmeful dregs writing. Only thus cn one write, only in this contempltive stte, only with such totl opening body soul cn one ccomplish sin writing. An opening onto shmeless depths, fr, fr wy from world hurrying in street. The shots ringing out on bridge go unherd. Between ten o'clock six o'clock in morning. Suddenly door opens mid crosses hll, I wrote lst sentence. Or else it is reverse: I wrote lst sentence when door opened mid cme in. This is sin: in story G. B. is writing letter to friend who is living brod. It is long letter. Once letter is written G. B. thinks bout it, bout letter he hs just written. With letter in his h he remins seted t his desk his fce turned towrd window. The pges pss, from ten o'clock to six o'clock in morning. G. B. follows thred letter tht he is holding in his h. A friend psses in street. The friend fers greetings in vin. The mn who is sinning brely responds with n bsent smile. He is under shmeful spell book. At end? time? bsence? story? door opens. All t once. The world enters. The mid. A burst rifle fire breks out. Hs writerdremer dremwriter plunged into dregs soul fr wy from world writing? Or rr in order to write hs he plunged in frr frr wy from world? Hs he fled world in writing? Hs he written in order to flee? Or hs he lost world while pursuing sentence for hours??all t once burst rifle fire erupts, pen flls from his hs. Or opposite. As long s he holds pen he does not her bullets whistling. How forgettble this world is, how one cn move forwrd in wter or world crrying one's own weight on one's bck for six hours, pursuing unfolding sentence. Suddenly door slms. The world is rolling long on pving stones. Two men re running cross bridge. They re tossing young wounded fellow bout. The boy is losing lot blood. The shirt is drinking it in. The clrity this red strikes me with stonishment. Everything is so cler. The blood, noise, blue sky. Clrities like se re unforgettble. One cnnot turn one's gze wy. They open violent windows in book. Rifles re spitting out green flmes. This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

19 420 NEW LITERARY HISTORY 3. The Letter There is lwys letter in Book The Book writes letter The book writes nor letter, letter or thn one it thought it wnted to write. The book is lwys nor letter, n or letter. A letter is missing. The 600 letters from my fr rrive ll t once like " mn" single The lst letter is missing, book sys. All letters re missing: y rrive: Tht mens: y re not yet rriving, y re going to rrive. The Messih is rriving! The future present. The book is written in plce letter tht one will never write. One thinks bout it. One flees from it. Kfk's Judgment Letter (Ds Urteil) Georg writes letter. To frwy friend. It is his letter. His letter to himself. How to send it? To whom to send it? He closes it slowly, fiddling with it, tpping it. He looks out window. One cn see river. The or bnk? The or book. He is on this book he sees or book. Between two lips tongue flows? He slips letter into his pocket. The letter is in his pocket. It begins to ct on him. Unknowingly he does wht letter dicttes. It writes him. He does everything tht he would never hve done tht he should not do. Insted going to mil letter to his friend, to tht end leving his house crossing over to milbox he crosses nrrow hllwy he goes to his fr's bedroom in which he hs not set foot for months he goes in. There he is in box Letters re mnifesttions disorder our times. We re temporlly disordered, we re prey to Time tht is to its essentil discordnce. We re divided, buffeted, displced in plce, pssed in very moment. The nowlessness, mindlessness letters frightens me. Their elusiveness, ir crftiness, ir trnsgressive power. They re lwys virtully posthumous. Between deprture rrivl how much time, how mny yers, even deth. This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

20 THE BOOK AS ONE OF ITS OWN CHARACTERS 421 In French letter being, lettre l'?tre, re homophonous twins. As soon s I sy one I m sying or. Being is letter is being. Alwys stolen. Wht m I sying! At moment I write I hve pssed, re future thus pst, neir one nor or is ever sme instnt. Deconstruction illusion communion. I m pst, you present "Regret?" No. Sd mrvelous plesure mystery humn spirit which is crved into time. Letter: missed lwys ppointment. Love letters: we write m nywy, with Letter we despir. lwys sys: missed ech or we miss ech or, I miss you, you re lcking to me, I m filled with your bsence. K. to Milen: I loved you too lte Sero te mui They sy we miss ech or in relity but in eternity which does not know time it is written tht we met, we pssed through this plce, "in time" Love letters re in truth trces in/for whoever will come lter. t Sometimes I hve feeling tht we're in one room with two opposite doors ech us holds hle one door, one us flicks n eyelsh or is lredy behind his door, now first one hs but to utter word immeditely second one hs closed his door behind him cn no longer be seen. He's sure to open door gin for it's room which perhps one cnnot leve. If only first one were not precisely like second, if he were clm, if he would not to only pretend look t or, if he would slowly set room in order s though it were room like ny or; but insted he does exctly sme s or t his door, sometimes even both re behind doors beutiful room is empty. You must lso consider, Milen, kind person who comes to you, 38 yer journey lying behind me ( since I'm n even Jew much longer one), if t n pprently ccidentl turning rod I see you, whom I've never to see expected lest ll so lte, n, Milen, I cnnot shout, nor does nything shout within me, nor do I sy thous foolish re not things, y in me (I'm omitting or foolishness which I hve more thn enough), fct tht I'm I kneeling discover perhps only through seeing your feet quite close before my eyes, cressing m. And don't dem ny sincerity from me, Milen. No one cn dem it from me more thn I myself yet mny things elude me, I'm sure, perhps everything eludes me. But on encourgement this hunt does not encourge me, on contrry, I cn n no longer tke one step, suddenly everything becomes lie hunted choke hunter. I'm on such dngerous rod, Milen. You're ner sting firmly tree, young, beutiful, your eyes subduing with ir rdince suffering world. We're plying "sktule sktule hejbejte se", I'm creeping in shde from one tree to nor, I'm on my wy, you're This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

21 422 NEW LITERARY HISTORY clling to me, pointing out dngers, trying to me give courge, re ghst t my fltering step, reminding me (me!) seriousness gme?i cn't do it, I fll down, m lredy lying on ground. I cn't listen simultneously to terrible voice from within to you, but I cn listen to former entrust it to you, to you s to no one else in world. Yours, F (Kfk, Letters to Milen [London, 1953], pp ) There re (thus) lso "stht'-born letters. Letter to my son to whom I hve never written letter. My love, to whom I hve never spoken my love, I m writing in house tht I hd built becuse you, in hste for you ginst you while Eve our mor ws keeping you, I ws I ws no building longer writing, insted poems I ws building I ws to responding your rrivl in stones for time times, I ws welcoming you, I ws wrning you, I ws hstily putting up house where we would be protected I ws seprted, mking house to which you never cme. A house on completed September dy your own completion. I never think bout origin this house born your birth. As soon s I knew your nme from one dy to next I stopped writing. I m writing in this house tht I built so s never to write gin. I inherited this house in which I m writing you bout your interminble pssge. I m clling you nme, I m mking you come, I m drwing unknown nest. you out Brief respite for tht he, I tke in my rms phntom skinned lmb. While I ws writing I felt his rough cheek ginst my lips. {The Dy I Ws Not There, Le four o? n'?tis ps l? [Glil?e, 2000], pp. 70ff.) The Fmily Record Book: book dted events, which does not ccount for or strt Time in fmily. Wht is ge? Order? Birth order? Age on pge. In fntsy? Wht is my ge? Wht ge I? I ged. I ge. Gret outpourings mrked does-not-pss- one time in nor Resurfcings "present"-tht "I see." Memoril hllucintions: Tht is wht cme to to me t hppen Sinte-Foy mternity clinic. I see scene s if I were myself outside up ginst nose to windowpne pressed glss mouth rounded curiosity. I see her. She, it is I who tht dy hve just This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

22 THE BOOK AS ONE OF ITS OWN CHARACTERS 423 tipped outside myself re is no longer ny question going bck into house myself tht I hve just fllen out. Time pivots flls. There is no more pst. The future not yet. There remins hesittion present bdly ttched bdly detched suspended bove two beds one big little one. Outside fish re swimming round qurium. She does not over get it. She lingers in peculir hour, floting, between two hours. She hs just given birth, on one h. On or h, wht hs just is hppened tht one who hs just been born hs not yet entirely rrived someplce, he is not in his plce, he is still in stirring wekly on wings, outside s if held bck some s gret if uncertinty, he is shy. On her side she does not budge, she wits. The plce. She does not think: wht surprise this child, this child who seems not to be coming bck to her, who defers, who differs, who does not hve ir, this fish tht is s gsping if it were missing milieu wter, one expects surprise but insted expected surprise re is n entirely different one, o mysterious power newly rrived who undoes millions expecttions thouss yers o imges, nturl phenomenon eternlly stonishing forever never seen. And this one is chmpion. He escpes her bsolutely, she does not remember him t ll. She does not conceive him. She is stopped. Where? At ststill. I see womn in struggle silence with child, it is in one hppening those worlds in which from first step spell closes in on whoever strys or ventures re, where lws metmorphosis reign, where one never knows who is pursuing whom tens during pen-yers, where one cnnot not hunt wy one bres. I see niml womn child, seized live in burning gel fce-to-fce wy two cts cught in lst two meters kingdom sty still for hours gurding lst two meters with ptient tencity gods who re out mesuring mong mselves lst chnce t immortlity. ( The Dy I Ws Not There, pp ) Tht dy when he ws not re cnnot pss. Go into limits between memory oblivion. The Dy when wht I ws not re? * * * Letters hve rrived from Algeri. I sw m twirling before me: y were letters r, v, consonnts seeking ir vowels on my lips. I dremed her, o? elle, 1, wings, iles, Al, lughter. Alredy Les Reveries de l Femme Suvge ws writing itself. I do not remember Wild Womn's Rvine, I still live re with my bror. In Clos Slembier. The letters link rvine, reveries, rrive, shore-rive, tum-vire, \migh-rire, twirl Ordered to write I give in, I tke myself re slowly, s body gives in, tking itself to plce, turning itself over to someone, complying This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM

23 424 NEW LITERARY HISTORY unconditionlly with order. / turn myself over to wht hs been ordering me to Algeri since se primitive scenes. Since se primitive scenes I hve been ordered? this order is order to write, order to write it. I hve given myself over to tht order s if to letters Reveries, I hve gone to rrive ner s ner shore where Algeri everything rrives, I hve given myself over to living non-event rrivl Tht order into which I hve returned? order writing, rrived from Algeri writing from Algeri tht tkes me bck to it t lst, tht order is lso wht mkes me inseprble from Algeri Arbs seprtes me from everything to which I belong, tht is Prisin scene, Prisin culture. is me. I m university, Seprtion prt inseprble from A?ch, Zohr, Hmid, Smi, Orn, Algiers, or, Al, El book tht i do not wnt to write is book tht I do not wnt to (hve) red (to me):?alwys question secret will hve eir led me on or dogged my heels. It Must Not Be Sid title my "lst" book. The book gets out n interdiction unclculted flse steps. It slips in out between brbed wire between hedges, like lwys furtive gy text Henry Brulrd. Who tells me "it must not be sid"? On one h it is Eve my mor. But she is chmpion prlipsis. First she tells, denounces, confesses, dmits her lst sentence enjoins erdiction she ws unble not to everything sy. An u to exmple trnsgression. But on or h, on side Or my or, It must not be sid is divine formidble, it does not ginsy itself, it mkes me tremble with terror, it is pronounced threteningly, if you sy it you will die, if you et it? divine morsel?you will be driven out prdise. Now ll my life ll my sense ll my strength ll my story my destiny re under divine interdiction, interdivine should I sy? I will never tell Things prdise, I tke plesure in mourning unsid. It is not tht I do not know wht to sy, it is tht I do not know how to write wht must not be sid. I seek. Wht is t stke course is sort crime, but innocent ny guilt. Are my books crime-hiders? They re ttempts to confess. "But I shll never confess." I tell myself. And t once I dd: creful not to ffirm certinty. Affirmtion begins right wy to shke it. The bttle begins. Between I book. The book wnts wht I do not wnt. Insidious, book. Most time I do not see it coming or else it is opposite: seeing it come I push it wy, I think I m pushing it wy, in pushing it I yield it field. The Book Tht I Did Not Wnt to Write is Now My Fr's Letters. When This content downloded uthorized user from on Fri, 7 Dec :05:55 AM