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Before completing his uncharacteristically hopeful filmic vision of an African Oresteia, Pier Paolo Pasolini invented a theatrical continuation of Aeschylus's trilogy. "Pilade" (1966/70) imagines what happens after Orestes, having being absolved by the Aeropagos in Athens, goes back to Argos. With its clear allusions to political developments in the last century - fascism, the Resistance, and Communist revolutions - the play reads as a mythical allegory for the situation of engaged intellectuals in thetwentieth century. As Christoph F. E. Holzhey's contribution '"La vera Diversità": Multistability, Circularity, and Abjection in Pasolini's "Pilade"' shows, Pasolini's imagined continuation of the Oresteia challenges an ideology of rational foundation and progress by moving through a series of aspect changes prompted by sudden events that allow for some integration while also creating new divisions. After all possible alliances among the principal characters - Orestes, Electra, and Pylades - have been played through, Pylades curses reason for its deceptive, consoling, and violent function and embraces his abjected position of true diversity beyond intelligibility. However, Holzhey argues, rather than functioning as the play's telos, this ending is an open one and participates in the paradoxical performance of a self-contradictory subjectivity and a circular temporality without entirely giving up hope for a truly different alternative.
Pasolini's literature, film, theatre, and essays engaged with Classical tragedy from the mid-1960s onwards. As Bernhard Groß shows in his paper 'Reconciliation and Stark Incompatibility: Pasolini's "Africa" and Greek Tragedy', this engagement forms a modality in Pasolini's politics of aesthetics that seeks to grasp the fundamental transformation from a rural-proletarian to a petit-bourgeois Italy. Since the mid-'60s, Pasolini was concerned with the bourgeoisie and its utopian potentials, which he sought to make productive by reading Classical tragedy as a possibility to make contradictions visible. Pasolini realized his reading of the Classical tragedy by having 'Africa' and 'Europe' - as he understood them - confront one another without mediation. By means of film analyses and film theory, Groß argues that this confrontation, especially in the films on the ancient world, generates an aesthetic place where the incompatible can unfold in the spectators' experience.
The body of the actor : notes on the relationship between the body and acting in Pasolini's cinema
(2012)
Agnese Grieco's paper 'The Body of the Actor: Notes on the Relationship Between the Body and Acting in Pasolini's Cinema' deals with the specific physiognomy of the actor within Pasolini's 'cinema of poetry'. It argues that Pasolini's films allow the spectator to experience directly a complex and polyvalent reality beyond the traditional idea of 'representation'. As a fragment of that reality, actors quote and present themselves beyond and through their interpretations of a role. Instead of conceiving of the actor as a 'professional of fiction', Pasolini employs a variety of actors who are able fully to convey their own anthropological history. It is particularly the body of the actor, Grieco concludes, that becomes a door opening towards a deeper reality. For instance, the figure of Ninetto Davoli can push us back towards Greek antiquity, and the codified art of the comedian Totò or the iconic fixity of Maria Callas can interact with the African faces of the possible interpreters of an African Oresteia.
Manuele Gragnolati's paper 'Analogy and Difference: Multistable Figures in Pasolini's "Appunti per un'Orestiade africana"' discusses Pasolini's preference for the figure of contradiction and his opposition to Hegelian dialectics by exploring his attempt to look at Africa's process of modernization and democratization in the 1960s as analogous to the synthetic transformation of the Furies into Eumenides at the end of Aeschylus's trilogy. Gragnolati shows that Pasolini is aware of the dangers of analogy, which risks imposing the author's or filmmaker's symbolic order onto that of the 'other' represented in the text or film, and he argues that Pasolini seeks to deal with this danger by constantly shifting back and forth between differing positions. "Appunti per un'Orestiade africana" can thereby be thought as a multistable figure that is left suspended and not only resists synthesis, but also problematizes its own feasibility and challenges its own legitimacy.
Robert S. C. Gordon's article 'Pasolini as Jew, Between Israel and Europe' examines a remarkable trope in Pasolini's encounter with the cultures and geographies of Europe and its beyond: his imaginary identification with the figure of the Jew. Gordon examines in turn the site of Israel and its Jewish citizens; the 'Lager' and the Jews as victims of genocide; and finally the figure of Saint Paul and his earlier Jewish identity as Saul, both sacred and a figure of the Law, as a model for the twentieth-century Church and its ambiguous response to Nazism. In all three of these threads, Pasolini's Jew is a 'queer' and destabilizing trope for exploring the border of the European and the non-European, the self and the other.
Astrid Deuber-Mankowsky's paper 'Cinematographic Aesthetics as Subversion of Moral Reason in Pasolini's Medea' explores the 1969 film "Medea". Pasolini's Medea, masterfully played by Maria Callas, betrays her homeland and her origin, stabs both her children, sets her house on fire, and dispossesses Jason of his sons' corpses. But Deuber-Mankowsky argues that it is ultimately not these acts that render the film particularly disturbing and disconcerting, but, rather, the fact that the spectator is left behind in suspension precisely because Medea cannot be easily condemned for her acts. Pasolini's film and its cinematographic aesthetics thereby not only subvert the projection of Medea into the prehistorical world of madness and perversion, but also undermine belief in the validity of the kind of moral rationality developed and constituted in an exemplary way by Immanuel Kant in his "Critique of Practical Reason". In particular, Pasolini seems to relate conceptually to Nietzsche's artistic-philosophical transfiguration of Dionysus and to accuse belief in a world of reasons of failing to grasp the groundlessness, irrationality, or even a-rationality of reason itself.
Francesca Cadel's paper 'Outside Italy: Pasolini's Transnational Visions of the Sacred and Tradition' points out that in the 1940s and 1950s Pasolini's themes were all related to the specificity of Italian society, history, and traditions, while, beginning with the 1960s, Pasolini started travelling around the world, widening his perspectives on a rapidly changing world. Hence he developed new critical patterns, combining an increasing interest in sprawling transnational post-colonial economies with his strenuous defence of tradition and the sacred within human societies. Cadel uses different examples - including Pasolini's Indian travelogues - to show how his initial devotion to Italian millenary traditions and peasant cultures finally led to an open vision and understanding of human behaviours and mores, beyond any national boundary.
By focusing on Pasolini's uncompleted film project "San Paolo", Luca Di Blasi's article 'One Divided by Another: Split and Conversion in Pasolini's "San Paolo"' analyzes the notion of split (the split in the structure of time and, above all, the split of the figure of Paul) and concentrates especially on the very moment of Paul's Damascene conversion. Di Blasi refers to the "Kippbild" as a model that can be used to understand better certain ambivalences in Pasolini's Paul. Locating Pasolini's reading of the founder of the Church in a triangulation with two major contemporary philosophers, Alain Badiou and Giorgio Agamben, Di Blasi shows that two opposing possibilities of interpreting Paul - as militant subject of a universal event and its necessary consequences (Badiou) and as representative of softness, weakness, poverty, "homo sacer" (Agamben) - fit perfectly with the two aspects of Pasolini's Paul. Pasolini's profoundly split Paul thus represents a dichotomy which disunites two major figures of contemporary leftist thought.
Bruno Besana's article 'Badiou's Pasolini: The Problem of Subtractive Universalism' also deals with Pasolini's script about Saint Paul, but from the perspective of Alain Badiou's theoretical essay "Saint Paul and the Foundation of Universalism" and of Badiou's different thoughts on Pasolini, on the logic of emergence of novelty, and on its thwarted relation with universalism. Two main points appear in Besana's comparative reading. First, the idea that radical novelty or change can only be built in a 'subtractive manner', i.e. via the appearance of something that, by its sole presence, erodes the consistency upon which the present is structured. This is developed through Pasolini's ideas of 'inactuality' and 'forza del passato' and by Badiou's concept of 'event'. Second, a fundamental paradox inherent to the logic of change: change is only possible if it is organized in a set of coherent consequences, but the organized mode (for instance, the party) of such consequences inevitably reduces change to a constant compromise with the present.
Berühmt sind Benjamins Überlegungen zum bürgerlichen Interieur vor allem im "Passagen-Werk". Weniger bekannt hingegen sind seine Reflexionen über eine eigenartige Form von Erzählraum, der sich in der Mitte seines Erzähler-Aufsatzes lokalisiert. 'Eigenartig' ist er, weil es dort weniger um mündliches oder schriftliches Erzählen geht, als vielmehr um filmische Projektionen. Was projiziert wird, sind nach Benjamin "Ansichten der eigenen Person, unter denen er ohne es inne zu werden, sich selber begegnet ist". Solche Begegnungen gehören weder zur Erfahrung dieser Person noch zu ihrer Selbsterzählung oder Autobiographie. Diese "Out-takes eines Lebens" werden unwissentlich aufgenommen, unbewusst aufbewahrt und am Sterbebett mechanisch projiziert. Benjamin modifiziert in seinem Erzähler-Aufsatz die geläufige, entscheidend filmische Vorstellung, dass einem kurz vor dem Tod noch einmal das ganze Leben vorgeführt werde: Die Vorführung, die hier stattfindet, projiziert nur die Momente, die nie wirklich zum eigenem Leben gehört haben. Um diese andere Erzählart und diesen anderen Erzählraum zu erkunden, muss die betreffende Stelle im Erzähler-Aufsatz zusammen mit Benjamins Schriften zum buckligen Männlein gelesen werden. Was sich durch diese Lektüre manifestiert, ist eine andere Theorie der erzählerischen Autorität und der Tradierbarkeit von "unvergesslichen" Erfahrungen.
"Das Aussereinander", schreibt Gustav Teichmüller in seiner Abhandlung "Die wirkliche und scheinbare Welt", "bedeutet bloss, dass die Vorstellungen verschieden bleiben und nicht verschmelzen sollen." Wenn aber Räumlichkeit dergestalt relativiert wird, sind nicht nur die Bedingungen jedes objektiven Koordinatensystems und jeder subjektiven Orientierung a priori abgeräumt. Denn die Möglichkeit eines entscheidenden Kriteriums für die Trennung zwischen Innen- und Außenraum wird ebenso außer Kraft gesetzt, im wörtlichen wie im übertragenen Sinne. Ausgegangen wird in den folgenden Seiten von der Frage, wie nach dem Aussetzen oder Einstürzen jeglicher statthaften räumlichen Ordnung weiter erzählt wird. Durch eine Auseinandersetzung mit Friedrich Nietzsches "Also sprach Zarathustra" und Edgar Allan Poes "The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym" soll auszugsweise angedeutet werden, wie diesen desorientierenden Schriften anders charakterisierte Räume eingeschrieben sind.
In recent years, the interest in theory which has once been a moving force of academic research in the field of literary studies appears to have decreased. The status of theory, its relevance and appropriateness for the understanding of literature have been put into doubt. Faced with this observation, some critics have even suggested that we have now entered into a new era of research which can retrospectively be identified as the era "after theory". Against the background of such pronouncements and to a certain extent in opposition to them, the investigations proposed here wish to uphold the idea of the utility and indeed the need for theoretical approaches to literature. To appreciate the status of theory and its possible contribution to a deepened understanding of literature, it is useful not to focus exclusively on the distinction or supposed divide between literature and theory. Instead we should pay attention to what links and unites them. This common ground or common denominator of literature and theory consists in the dimension of language. Furnishing, so to speak, the intellectual material from which both domains of articulation are formed, language constitutes at once the key element of literature and a principal concern of theory.
This paper will explore in how far 'political speech' in the emphatic sense Rancière gives these terms can be found in current discourses of migration. After a discussion of Rancière's theories in relation to language and politics, Kathrin Schödel turns to paradigmatic examples of engagements with migration, especially those trying to establish a more positive view of migrants. These will be analysed with regard to two main questions: firstly, what kinds of interventions can be seen as 'political speech acts,' that is, as constituting a particular rupture in existing discourses. Secondly, what does this rupture entail as to reconsidering migration and ultimately envisioning political possibilities beyond the exclusionary 'partitions' established by national(ist) politics and a global economy of inequality.
In recent times a whole range of theoretical approaches in literary and cultural studies have been inspired by linguistic and philological issues, by questions concerning the functioning of language as well as the conceptual history of cardinal terms of our cultural heritage. Among these approaches the work of the Italian philosopher Giorgio Agamben stands out as a particularly interesting case. Indeed, Agamben's approach can serve to illustrate how a concern with language animates the making of theory. This becomes perhaps most evident in one of Agamben's less widely read texts, namely his "Sacrament of language", an investigation of the historical genealogy and cultural significance of the oath. [...] In Agamben's inquiry into the genealogy of the 'sacramento' he seeks to find out how the oath functions as a linguistic procedure and what issues are involved in this operation. In the following explanations Linda Simonis proceeds in three steps: First, she retraces Agamben's historical and linguistic analysis of the oath and tries to expose the basic lines and principal thrust of his reasoning (I). In a second step, she then turns to a concrete literary example, i. e. the oath-taking scene in Shakespeare's "Hamlet" (II). In an attempt to re-interpret this famous scene, the proposed analysis aims to unfold, in the light of Agamben's approach, some of its less obvious aspects of meaning and implications. To conclude, Simonis asks what insights and conclusions can be drawn from this analysis with regard to Agamben's theoretical approach and in how far the latter can be said to gain from its linguistic awareness and its concern with commissive speech (III).
Theory's engagement with language on the one hand, with literature's potential to generate knowledge that is theoretically relevant on the other, has a long history. One of its roots lies in the approach to culture and society developed by enlightenment anthropology and philosophy. In this paper Christian Moser intends to analyze the function attributed to language in eighteenth-century theories of the origin of culture and society. What we nowadays call 'cultural theory' is genealogically related to these early investigations into the constitution of human society. Social theories of the enlightenment first emerged in the contexts of a secularized universal history and the nascent discourses of anthropology and the philosophy of history. They often took the form of a 'conjectural history': speculations about the origin of society and its institutions; the origin of government, of law, and of social inequality; all of them linked systematically to the origin of language. While present-day cultural theory no longer harbours this obsession with origins, it still carries with it a rich legacy of enlightenment thought, not least its idea that social structure and linguistic structure are interconnected. Therefore it seems apposite to trace back current 'languages of theory' to eighteenth-century 'theories of language' and their interplay with 'theories of society.'
Genealogy and philology
(2018)
The present paper deals with the use of the term "genealogy" in theory. Markus Winkler first tries to highlight the hidden metaphorical status of this use and the ambiguity that it conveys. In doing so, Winkler tries to outline how this metaphoricity and its inherent ambiguity may be brought to fruition in the philological analysis of texts and in theory itself. The paper is subdivided as follows: 1. The use of the term "genealogy" in theory and the interest of this use to philology. 2. A philological comment on the metaphorical status of this use and its inherent ambiguity inherited from mythical genealogy as a form of founding narrative. 3. The imitation of mythical genealogy and its inherent ambiguity in theory (Nietzsche) and literature (Goethe). 4. Genealogy's ambiguity in theory: an example taken from current political discourse. 5. Conclusion.
One characteristic of the work of Roland Barthes - and of that of other structuralist theorists - is the attempt to replace traditional forms of academic criticism, its unreflected claim of objectivity, and its dominant methods of 'text explanation' by science-based approaches which draw extensively on the ideas and terminology of theoretical corpora. [...] The relation between Barthes' position and philology deserves a closer look, however. What exactly is Barthes opposing under the label 'philology'? And do Barthes' theoretical advancements actually present a radical rupture with philology or do they not, at least to some extent, also build on philological methodology? To put it differently: do Barthes' works not, rather than entirely refuting philological methods of reading, serve to re-orientate philology itself - in line with or going beyond other contemporary views? To answer these questions, it will be necessary to sketch out at least roughly which notions of philology are and which are not compatible with Barthes' theory of the text, and which notions of philology may even form an integral part of his approach. If we come to the conclusion that philological interpretation does indeed form a part of Barthes' theoretical as well as practical endeavour, it will be important to determine its exact place and function. What happens to philology in such a theoretical environment? Is it simply given a 'facelift' or is it adapted to theoretical insights that cannot be dismissed? Ultimately, these questions point toward the aesthetic aspects of Barthes' theoretical language. Therefore, Regine Strätling examines whether a particular relation between theory and philology has had a part in the overwhelming success and the obvious attractiveness of Barthes' language of theory. Her emphasis will be on Barthes' essay S/Z, one of his most technical literary analyses as well as his most extensive and meticulous analysis of a literary text. Barthes himself promoted his 1970 essay as the first exhaustive structural analysis of a narrative text. With regard to the state of the art of structuralist textual analysis, Barthes claimed that after a period dedicated to extracting the macro-structures of texts, structuralism now had to face a new challenge: it had to proceed to a more comprehensive approach, also taking into account the micro-structures of a given text. And indeed, although Barthes in S/Z does not proceed literally word by word, he very nearly does so.
Borges : philology as poetry
(2018)
The titles of many of Borges's poems refer to canonical texts of world literature. One poem, for example, deals with the ending of the Odyssey and is simply called "A scholion"; others are called "Inferno V, 129" and "Paradise XXXI, 108", referring both to Dante's "Divine Comedy". These titles indicate that in his poems, Borges often keeps his distance from traditional poetical matters such as love, or, more generally, immediate emotions. Instead, he writes poems that gloss other texts, some of which actually relate love stories. Thus, Borges's poems stage themselves as philological commentaries rather than as poetry in its own right. In a similar vein and on a more general level, Borges likes to present himself in poems, interviews, and essays as a fervent reader of world literature, playing down his role as an original author. [...] In the following two sections of his paper, Joachim Harst tackles this question by commenting on two of Borges's philological poems, namely, the two texts on Dante's "Comedy". A ready objection to the idea of "philological poetry" is that despite Borges's selfstaging as reader, his texts obviously aren't philological in any academic sense. [...] The fundamental role of love for Dante's cosmological vision leads Harst to another understanding of the term "philology," namely, its more or less literal translation as "love of the lógos," the "lógos" being the cosmic principle and the divine word. Dante's Comedy can be considered a "philological" text in the sense that it is fueled by the "love of the lógos," and it discusses this love by citing, glossing and correcting other texts on love. Returning to Borges, Harst suggests that his two "philological" poems on Dante refer to this understanding of "philology." But by modifying the epic's theological underpinnings, they work to integrate Dante into a larger system which Borges calls "universal literature." Harst claims that this notion of literature, just like Dante's cosmos, is also centered on a lógos—albeit differently structured—and in this sense "philological."
"The golden age of cultural theory is long past" - with this statement, Terry Eagleton begins his puzzling reflections on the era "After Theory" - that's the title of his book, first published in 2001. If the invasion of literary and cultural theory has come to an end, as Eagleton suggests, theory will probably become a simple object of the history of ideas. But what theoretical implications accompany the discourse of a possible and even probable end of theory? In this so-called era after theory, literary criticism quickly decided to take new steps: the Anglo-American tradition of "Cultural Studies" attempted to replace the theoretical impact of French theory with a more empirical approach to literary texts. At the same time, good old philology raised its hand to oppose the topographical turn of cultural studies as well as the deconstructive turn against all forms of presence. [...] For Foucault, philology is nothing more than a part of the historical discourse of the nineteenth century, an old-fashioned term that lacks any impact on contemporary problems. For this and other reasons, Foucault showed little interest in more recent models of philology. But maybe instead of subscribing too easily to the notion that we live in an era after theory, where problems of literary theory are replaced by concepts of discourse and culture that no longer pay any attention to literature, what is called for is an investigation of the impact of philological understanding in the humanities.
It may indeed seem that while the late 1970s and early 1980s were the period when theory was successfully established in western academic discourse, we have now entered an era "after theory" in which not only 'cultural theory' has come to an end but also a specific culture of theory has vanished from our seminars, departments, and universities: a culture of reflection, abstraction, and self-referentiality that had been at the heart of the humanities from the very beginning. And yet, theory is not so easily abolished but rather stored and maintained within each individual reading of a literary text in spite of empirical trends such as DH or pessimistic manifestos. Therefore, in what follows, Nicolas Pethes is interested in an additional aspect of the textual resistance of theory against the institutional resistance to theory: the relation between theory and practice, that is: the question whether acting is also one of the many languages of theory.
Since at least modernity, theory has been marked by prominent efforts to revolutionize or reform its own vocabulary and concepts. [...] One example is the work of Bruno Latour, who undertakes comprehensive redefinitions of an already existing scientific terminology in order to propagate new ways to conceive the relations between subject and object. His proposals have far-reaching epistemological and political consequences, not only for the sciences but also for an everyday understanding of our position in the world. Michael Eggers has chosen Latour's project as the main object of this essay but refrains from any extensive comments on the intentions of his theory, in favour of an investigation into his linguistic and rhetorical approach. [...] Proposing the rhetorical procedures of actor-network-theory (ANT), whose most prominent proponent he undoubtedly is, Latour repeatedly underlines the strong necessity to dispense with the customary vocabulary of the sciences which represents attitudes he wants to overcome. He demonstrates how this might be done by redefining many established terms and using them with their new meaning thereafter. Notwithstanding these continued verbal reinventions of his terminology, it is possible to identify a number of linguistic and stylistic elements in Latour's texts that have a longer history and tradition. This article tries to pair Latour's own rhetorical features with examples from different theoretical contexts, not in order to weaken his argument or to question his intentions but to show that despite his claims to initiate new scientific idioms, he relies on traditional formal devices. It is the basic assumption of this essay that even after the gradual disappearance of classical forms of rhetoric, the ambitions brought forward by many modern thinkers, some of which have been mentioned above, have generated a new and powerful set of recurring stylistic elements that constitute a verbal practice with identifiable effects.
In the age of globalization, we cannot reflect about Comparative Literary Studies and "Languages of Theory" without contemplating how cross-liminality and transculturality might be lived in a mobile, medialized and rapidly changing world. Art and literature have always mirrored, transmitted and evaluated critically social, moral, and aesthetical values. How, then, can this task be fulfilled on a transnational literary and cultural level in a rapidly growing world community of letters, authors and readers? In this paper, Dagmar Reichardt promotes the notion of "transculturality", first proposed as a basic model of conviviality by the Cuban sociologist Fernando Ortiz (1881-1969) in the 1940s and then, from the 1990s onwards, taken up and adapted, both terminologically and conceptually, to Third Millennium culture by the German philosopher and theorist of postmodernity Wolfgang Welsch (b. 1946). Reichardt argues that at this moment in history, in the interest of peacemaking and sustainability and for the sake of humanity, transcultural skills and a shared understanding of transcultural coexistence, both theoretical and practical, are indispensable. From a methodological point of view that is related to the History of Knowledge, Reichardt begins chronologically by introducing the work of Fernando Ortiz and then briefly tracing the reception of his most crucial cultural analysis in order to connect, in a second sub-chapter, its theoretical interests to Wolfgang Welsch's publications. In a third step, Reichardt briefly demonstrates the potential of the transcultural approach by showing paradigmatically its applicability to a colonial (Italian) novel, reread, as it were, through a transcultural lens, before coming to her conclusions.
The rise of the New Historicism or Cultural Poetics in the nineteen-eighties introduced a new school of cultural theory and inaugurated the end of the so-called New Criticism in English studies at American universities and beyond. As a founding member of the movement Stephen Greenblatt is closely associated with the New Historicism, which emerged in the 1980s. [...] What, then, are the key terms and principal aims of Greenblatt's innovative approach? The contextualization of poetic texts within cultural and political history as well as within an intellectual network of different discourses seemed vital and productive. [...] New Historicists operate by fusing two key issues in criticism since the 1960s: the 'linguistic turn' of post-structuralist and deconstructive criticism, and a return to historical readings. [...] Moreover, Stephen Greenblatt, proves to be very language-oriented in his studies. [...] In the following, Annette Simonis' contribution investigates on which levels and in what different respects Greenblatt focuses on (poetic) language and script as key elements and the foundation stone of modern cultures in his recent book "The Swerve. How the World Became Modern" (2011). Moreover, it explores in how far Greenblatt, in the wake of a recent material turn in the studies of culture, considers the process of writing itself as a crucial component in the analysis of cultural development, which he therefore closely examines in its particular material and aesthetic dimensions. As will become evident, the author is fascinated by Renaissance book culture serving simultaneously as a vehicle of intellectual ideas and a medium of art. It seems rewarding in many respects to analyze more closely Greenblatt's recent publication on the Renaissance. On the one hand the work indicates a careful reorientation in new historicist methodology, reflected in the author's attitude towards the texts themselves, which now takes into consideration the material basics and environments of writing as a cultural technique sui generis; on the other the book testifies Greenblatt's surprising accomplishments as an essayist and storyteller, as he elegantly moves on the borderline between fiction and non-fiction.
In Carl Barks' 1963 comic strip "The Invisible Intruder", the bed becomes the main theme of the story. We get to know how Uncle Scrooge became a creative and successful entrepreneur. Since his parents were too poor to provide a proper sleeping place for their son, Scrooge had to sleep in a cabinet drawer. Therefore, Scrooge's only aim was to buy himself a bed. His capitalist creativity is, as he himself admits, driven by the "desire for a better bed." With the economic growth of his company, his bed becomes bigger too. But in the end, he throws out his enormous mattress because it is too sensitive to the vibrations caused by the money rammer in the money bin; and moreover, the investigation into the cause of the vibrations became far too expensive. Eventually, Scrooge is returning to his childhood bed: the cabinet drawer. What is striking about this story is not the idea that objects of everyday culture play a leading role within a narrative; it is the fact that the usual cultural function of furniture is altered in a significant way. The misapplication of the drawer draws attention to the object of everyday culture as signifier of the everyday experience in capitalist societies. The function of the bed is no longer defined by criteria of good sleep but of economic calculation. The bed thereby becomes an agency within the narrative that questions the stability of the cultural and linguistic semantics of the everyday. In the following, I will press the point that the representation of the bed in literary texts from Homer to Kafka can be read as an implicit linguistic theory of cultural signification.
Towards a visual middle voice : crisis, dispossession, and spectrality in Spain's hologram protest
(2018)
As a legitimizing mechanism for a doctrine of 'no alternatives,' crisis rhetoric tends to rely on distinctions between 'right' and 'wrong' that often turn political decisions into pseudo-choices between a legitimate and an illegitimate (even catastrophic) alternative. This binary logic also pervades the ways subjects are cast in this rhetoric as either active or passive, guilty or innocent, masters or victims. [...] The rhetorical reliance on the oppositions of passive/active or victims/perpetrators extends to several contexts of 'crisis' in Europe today, as Maria Boletsi shows. Against the backdrop of the crisis rhetoric and the monologic narratives and dualistic distinctions it produces, the need for alternative forms of expression is amplified. In this article, Boletsi makes a case for the "middle voice" as an expressive modality that can introduce alternative 'grammars' of subjectivity and agency to those on which dominant crisis rhetoric hinges. [...] To that end, Boletsi centers on a peculiar public protest in front of the Spanish Parliament in Madrid in April 2015, opposing a (then) newly introduced Spanish law—the "Law of Citizen Security" - which significantly restricted the citizens' freedom of assembly and expression in the name of security and crisis-management. Unlike any other protest, this one was not carried out by actual people, but by holographic projections of protesters. This 'hologram protest' put forward a form of dispossession, whereby bodies asserted presence in public space through their absence. Unsettling the boundaries between fiction and reality, materiality and immateriality, power and impotence, past and present, the protest fostered a spectral space that functioned as a visual analogue of the middle voice. The spectral subjectivity that this 'ghost march' enacted, both underscored and challenged politically induced conditions of dispossession and precarity, through and against these conditions. As a result, the protest recast crisis as a critical threshold from which alternative narratives of the present and the future can emerge.
In this brief excursion into the poetry of Dante and Montale, Rebecca West suggests some approaches to only a few issues that emerge out of the creation of both the primary beloveds of Dante and Montale and of those feminine figures that have been characterized as ostensibly 'antitranscendental' and more secondary in their roles and meanings. As regards Montale's primary feminine figure, Clizia, West argues that she is, to use Teodolinda Barolini's term for Beatrice, a 'hybrid' poetic character, and ultimately exceeds the limits of the poetic beloved as traditionally conceived and read, not only in the courtly tradition upon which she is modelled but well beyond it. In the case of the so-called secondary 'other women' in Dante's and Montale's poetry, West seeks to show that they are much less separable from the primary feminine figures than such binaries as major/minor, transcendent/erotic, soul/body, and traditional/experimental may lead us to believe. Lastly, West considers specifically the wife-figure, in her conspicuous absence from Dante's corpus and in her late appearance in Montale's. For both poets, there are complex intertwinings, interferences, and non-dualistic patterns that form a densely textured poetic weave, in which both the primary and the secondary feminine figures provide "fili rossi" as well as not so easily graspable dangling threads of meaning. These threads have to do with the preoccupation of both poets with the possible integration of immanence and transcendence, embodiment and abstraction, and with the very limits of poetic language. West's topic is also motivated by a feminist-oriented search for modes of deciphering the figure of the feminine beloved in lyric poetry that are not conditioned exclusively by the traditional emphasis on the male poet-creator, but which allow for a shift in focus onto the female figure who is, of course, the creature of the poet's imagination and skill, but who also often takes him into regions in which the excesses (commonly associated with the female) of non-binary thought and the mysteries of alterity - the feminine symbolic sphere, in short - do not so much allow the emergence of neatly squared-off meanings as the evolution of more oblique, circular conduits of potential significance. As a specialist of modern literature, Rebecca West concentrates on Montale more than on Dante, mainly noting the Dantesque aspects of the former's poetry.
Even if the title of Wolfgang Koeppen's last novel, "Der Tod in Rom", alludes quite obviously to Thomas Mann's novella, "Der Tod in Venedig", Koeppen's text must be understood first and foremost as a response to Mann's most controversial novel, "Doktor Faustus". The novels of Mann and Koeppen rank among the most well-known literary examinations of National Socialism but stand in a complementary relation to each other. "Doktor Faustus", published in 1947, analyses the cultural and intellectual origins of German fascism, while "Der Tod in Rom", published only seven years later in 1954, criticizes the continuity of National Socialist ideologies in post-war Germany. Both authors focus their analyses of fascism on fictional avant-garde composers who seem at first glance detached from any political context. [...] The actual starting point of Florian Trabert's paper, however, is the fact that both novels are preceded by epigraphs taken from Dante's "Inferno". Trabert begins by commenting on the references to Dante in "Doktor Faustus" and then continues by analysing the allusions to the "Commedia" in Koeppen's novel, which constitute, as Trabert demonstrates, a complex constellation among the three texts.
This paper is a study of language disorders in two works by twentieth-century poets in dialogue with Dante's Paradiso: Vittorio Sereni's "Un posto di vacanza" (1971) and Andrea Zanzotto's 'Oltranza oltraggio' (1968). The constellations that Francesca Southerden focuses on are linguistic, and the specific 'disorder' she wants to consider is aphasia - the dissolution of language. Charting the way in which Sereni and Zanzotto construct the universes of their poems as 'per-tras-versioni' of their Dantean counterpart - something 'turned aside' or 'diverted', which 'cuts across' the ideal, Dantean scheme - she shows how, in different ways, the intertextual dialogue between modern and medieval author manifests itself as a 'resemanticization' of the language of "Paradiso" or, better, of that coming-into-language of desire and the poem which, textually speaking, Dante's third canticle takes as its alpha and omega.
The subject of this paper is a recent comic movie version of Dante's "Comedy": a 2007 puppet and toy theatre adaptation of the "Inferno" directed by Sean Meredith. It is certainly not the first time that Dante and his theatre of hell appear in this kind of environment. Mickey Mouse has followed Dante's footsteps and very recently a weird bunch of prehistoric animals went a similar path: in part three of the blockbuster "Ice Age" (2009), a new, lippy guide character named Buck uses several Dante quotes and the whole strange voyage can be described as a Dantesque descent into dinosaur hell. In the following pages Ronald de Rooy argues that Meredith's version of Dante's "Inferno" is not only funny and entertaining, but that it is also surprisingly innovative if we compare it to other literature and movies which project Dante's hell or parts of it onto the modern metropolis.
Although Dante’s influence on modernism has been widely explored and examined from different points of view, the aspects of Virginia Woolf's relationship with the Florentine author have not yet been extensively considered. Woolf's use of Dante is certainly less evident and ponderous than that of authors such as T.S. Eliot and James Joyce; nonetheless, this connection should not be disregarded, since Woolf's reading of Dante and her meditations on his work are inextricably fused with her creative process. As Teresa Prudente shows in this essay, Woolf's appreciation of Dante is closely connected to major features of her narrative experimentation, ranging from her conception of the structure and design of the literary work to her reflections concerning the meaning and function of literary language.
Dante's 'Strangeness' : the "Commedia" and the late twentieth-century debate on the literary canon
(2011)
A reflection on Dante and the literary canon may appear tautological since nowadays his belonging to the canon seems a self-evident matter of fact and an indisputable truth. It is for this very reason, though, that a paradigmatic role has been conferred on Dante in the contemporary debate both by those who consider the canon a stable structure based on inner aesthetic values and by those who see it as a cultural and social construction. For instance, Harold Bloom suggests that 'Dante invented our modern idea of the canonical', and Edward Said, in his reading of Auerbach, seems to imply that Dante provided foundations for what we call literature "tout court". While his influence on other poets never ceased, the story of Dante's explicit canonization through the centuries revolved around the same critical points we are still discussing today: his anti-classical 'strangeness' in language and style, the trouble he occasions in genre hierarchies and distinctions, and the vastness of the philosophical and theological knowledge embraced by the "Commedia" (and, as a consequence, the relationship between literature and other realms of human experience). Dante's canonicity is also evinced by the ceaseless debates that he has inspired and the many cultural tensions of which he is the focus. In the next few pages Federica Pich tries to reflect on the features that make the "Commedia" central both to the arguments of the defenders of the aesthetic approach, such as Bloom and Steiner, and to the political claims of the so-called 'culture of complaint'.
'Perhaps the sodomites should be written out of Dante's "Inferno"', Jarman wrote in his journal on 1 August 1990: 'I'll offer myself as the ghostwriter.' What does he mean by 'ghostwriter' here? How queer is this odd speech-act? What is he offering to do to the homophobic landscape of the "Inferno", that forbiddingly sealed textual prison, with his Hollywood pitchman's casual bid to 'write out' the sodomites as if they were a slight embarrassment to the divine justice system? Is he speaking in jest as a writer of gay satires and sacrilegious memoirs, or in deadly earnest as an activist who had renounced the middle-class pretensions and frivolities of the pre-AIDS gay world? [...] Jarman counters the trope of homosexual theft visually with the triumphant figure of Man with Snake. The Dantesque merging of snake and thief is replaced by an erotic dance in which the gilded youth raises his phallic partner above his head and seductively kisses it on the mouth. Whereas Dante would have us notice the grotesque parody of the Trinity played out in the seventh bolgia - with the unchanging Puccio as God the Father, the two-natured Agnello-Cianfa as Christ, and the fume-veiled Buoso receiving his forked tongue from the serpent Francesco in a demonic replay of the gift of tongues from the Spirit - Jarman clears away all overdetermined theological meanings to revel in the purely aesthetic impact of the phallic dancer. All the ghosts from Dante's snakepit are conjured away in the film and replaced with the solid presence of a single gorgeously spotlit male body. Ghostwriting Dante, for Jarman, meant more than a mere appropriation of homoerotic scenes from the "Inferno" into his screenplay. It meant a complete reimagining of their aesthetic significance within the filmscape of his Dantean transformations.
Dante's "Inferno" and Walter Benjamin's cities : considerations of place, experience, and media
(2011)
When Walter Benjamin wrote his main texts, the theme of the city as hell was extremely popular. Some of his German contemporaries, such as Brecht or Döblin, also used it. Benjamin was aware of these examples, as well as of examples outside Germany, including Joyce's "Ulysses" and Baudelaire's "poetry". And he was - at least in some way - familiar with Dante's "Inferno" and used it, and in particular Dante's conception of hell, for his own purposes. Benjamin's appropriation of the topos of the Inferno has been seen as a critique of capitalism and as a general critique of modernism by means of allegory. In the following analysis, Angela Merte-Rankin takes a slightly different approach and, despite Benjamin's status as an expert on allegory, considers hell in its literal sense as a place and examines the issues of implacement that might follow from this standpoint.
Manuela Marchesini brings Agamben's ideas to bear on Gadda's "Pasticciaccio" and vice versa. While preserving the specificity of their different fields of operation, this mutual exposure contributes to reframing the Culture War of yore. On the one hand, we have a novel published after World War II with a tortuous gestation and convoluted publication history and reception, written by an author who happened to outlive his creative 'canto del cigno'; on the other, a philosophical and essayistic speculation on contemporary events. The function of Dante's "Comedy" in each author spans from the textual to the allegorical, but rests upon one single crucial common denominator: both Gadda and Agamben take literature seriously. [...] The present essay, part of a larger project unfolding along the same lines, attempts a 'close reading' in the spirit that Edward Said has solicited from the humanities in his lectures at Columbia - or, to put it differently, a tentative 'exercise' of critica in the wake of modern Italian Romance philology and textual criticism from Pasquali through Contini and Debenedetti (a lineage of which Agamben's approach appears to be mindful). [...] Marchesini passes over the general Dantesque infernal allegory of "Pasticciaccio" in order to expand on its final scene. Her thesis is that "Pasticciaccio's" allegorical use of Dante's "Comedy" does not just unravel its interpretive knot. It also points to a utopian overcoming of binarism that concurs with Agamben's reflections. "Pasticciaccio's" closure is neither an epiphany (in the sense of a final celebration of the missing piece that completes the puzzle of the novel), nor does it signal a collapse into ambiguity or irrationality (in the sense that everything is left undecided, wavering between one possibility and its opposite). Gadda maintains his interpellation of wholeness unequivocally throughout the novel.
During the Black Revolution, LeRoi Jones used a radical adaptation of Dante to express a new militant identity, turning himself into a new man with a new name, Amiri Baraka, whose experimental literary project culminated in "The System of Dante's Hell" in 1965. Dante’s poem (specifically, John Sinclair's translation) provides a grid for the narrative of Baraka's autobiographical novel; at the same time, the Italian poet's description of hell functions for Baraka as a gloss on many of his own experiences. Whereas for Ralph Ellison and Richard Wright, Dante marks a way into the world of European culture, Baraka uses Dante first to measure the growing distance between himself and European literature and then, paradoxically, to separate himself totally from it. Baraka's response to the poet at once confirms and belies Edward Said's claim that Dante's "Divine Comedy" is essentially an imperial text that is foundational to the imperial discipline of comparative literature. That Baraka can found his struggle against imperialist culture, as he sees it, on none other than this specific poem suggests the extent to which it is a richer and more complex text than even Said imagined. To see exactly how Baraka does this, Dennis Looney proposes to read several extended passages from "The System of Dante's Hell" to take stock of its allusiveness to the Italian model. For all the critical attention to Baraka, surprisingly no one has undertaken the necessary work of sorting out his allusions to Dante in any systematic way.
Early in his life Pasolini showed interest in Dante: in a letter sent to Luciano Serra in 1945, he declared that 'la questione di Dante è importantissima'. He later reaffirmed his interest in Dante in two attempts to rewrite the "Commedia": "La Mortaccia" and "La Divina Mimesis". [...] In 1963 he mentioned "La Divina Mimesis" for the first time. [...] Critics have mostly focused on the work's unfinished condition as a sign of the poetic crisis which Pasolini experienced at the end of his life. Scholarly interpretations of "La Divina Mimesis" can be divided into three main groups: the first strain can be primarily attributed to a 1979 essay by Giorgio Bàrberi Squarotti, four years after the publication of La Divina Mimesis. Bàrberi Squarotti attributes Pasolini's difficulty in completing his rewriting of the "Divine Comedy" to the author's ideology. The work's intermittent irony and its unfinished state are good indicators of the impossibility of recreating Dante's achievement, in particular the Dantean ideology. [...] The second strain of interpretation stresses the work's linguistic dimensions. The period when Pasolini conceives of the project of "La Divina Mimesis" corresponds, according to his repeated declarations, to a time of dramatic change in the Italian linguistic context. [...] Finally, the third type of interpretation locates "La Divina Mimesis" in the theoretical context of Pasolini's final conception of poetry. Here critics stress in particular the difference between the poet's intentions and the final result.[...] These three interpretative strains share the conviction that, in comparison with its model, Pasolini's project ends in failure. It is a failure in at least three senses: on the level of its ideology (not as strong as Dante's), on the level of reality (because of the linguistic standardization of Italian society), and on the level of aesthetics (even though the author pretends that his failure possesses an aesthetic value). This paper would like to question this conclusion: by redefining the object of mimesis and its conditions Davide Luglio tries to understand the reason why the author decided to print his work in a form that at first sight appears ill-defined and fragmentary.
In a 1949 letter, Cesare Pavese describes with great zeal the genesis of a new work - one he compares, albeit with a certain amount of irony, to Dante's Commedia. [...] This embryonic project would quickly become the novel "La luna e i falò", completed in less than two months and published shortly before Pavese's suicide in 1950. On the surface, there would seem little reason to take seriously the analogy drawn by the author between "La luna" and the "Commedia", for the novel in question contains no explicit references to the medieval poet. Tristan Kay argues in this essay, however, that the presence of Dante in "La luna" is both more pervasive and more significant than has previously been suggested. While critics have noted in passing several narrative and structural parallels between the two texts, which Kay details in Section II, no attempt has been made to consider their wider significance in our understanding of Pavese's novel. What follows is a reading of "La luna" which shows that the "Commedia" functions not simply as a formal model for Pavese, but, more importantly, as an ideological anti-model, in dialogue with which the author articulates his deeply pessimistic understanding of the human condition.
The 'fortuna di Dante' among English and American poets of the twentieth century is a rich story that continues on into this millennium with new permutations and undiminished energies. Pound and Eliot canonized Dante for more than one generation of poets and readers. It was "Purgatorio" rather than "Inferno" that both Pound and Eliot valorized, its charged and affectionate poetic encounters serving as a model for key moments in both their works. [...] Yet it was two American poets, James Merrill and Charles Wright, who focused their attention and delight specifically on the "Paradiso", a much less common predilection for both poets and general readers. [...] Wright says that he writes for the dead; sometimes he seems to write as the dead. It is this premature identification with the dead, even if sporadic, which makes Wright so different from both Dante and Merrill, for whom the afterlife is ultimately an affirmation of life. Both Dante and Merrill make us understand the usefulness of the fiction of the afterlife as a way of staging a dialogue with the dead - which is what much of poetry, perhaps much of life, is about. What all three poets share is a dream of paradise as a site that emboldens the imagination.
The 1935 Fox Films "Dante's Inferno" (directed by Harry Lachman) traces the rise and fall of an entrepreneur. Its protagonist, Jim Carter (played by Spencer Tracy), begins the story as a stoker on a cruise liner. The narrative opens with a burst of flames from the ship's boiler, and the ensuing scene goes on to show the protagonist competing at shovelling coal for a bet in the sweltering engine-room. Interspersed are shots of the superstructure directly above with a number of elegant and vapid passengers following the game below. This initial sequence thus concisely conveys the main features of the film's social agenda through imagery that anticipates that of two of its later 'infernal' sequences. [...] Spectacular admonition and concern about the ruthless pursuit of wealth are the main features which link this "Inferno" of the thirties to the one that had appeared some six hundred years earlier. Wealth and avarice were, of course, demonstrably serious concerns for Dante: as Peter Armour, for example, has shown, there is a recurrent and pervasive concern with money, its meaning, and its misuse throughout the "Commedia". So it is not surprising that the "Inferno" should also have been appropriated by social critics some hundred years before the 1935 Hollywood fable. [...] Some of the narrative and visual patterns in "Dante's Inferno" imply an uneasy underlying vision of the movie industry and its practices. Other productions, publicity, and journalism of the time reinforce suggestions of such a metafictional approach to movies, morality, and the market in the 1935 "Dante's Inferno".
"Nel regno oscuro" is the first part of a planned trilogy inspired by the "Divine Comedy", integrating the Middle European style of Giorgio Pressburger's previous works with the attempt to engage with the first part of Dante's poem. The role of Virgil, Dante's guide in the "Inferno", is taken by Sigmund Freud, and the journey of the melancholic protagonist begins as psychoanalytic therapy to enable him to come to terms with the loss of his father and his twin brother, but soon turns into a journey through the realm of the dead which, like the "Divine Comedy", takes the shape of a series of encounters with the shades of historical figures. Thus Dante's descent to hell metamorphoses into a phantasmagoric voyage to the most intimate and obscure dimensions of the human psyche as well as a journey through the tragic events of history in the twentieth century - and the Shoah in particular. The combination of the personal, the collective, and even the universal is one of the most interesting aspects Pressburger takes from Dante's poem. In the following analysis Manuele Gragnolati explores how both Dante's "Divine Comedy" and Pressburger's "Nel regno oscuro" place personal and collective suffering at the centre of their own narratives and stage writing as a political, ethical, and possibly 'salvific' way to deal with this dual suffering, even as they differ in their concepts of identity and selfhood on the one hand and in their models of history on the other.
Dante as a gay poet
(2011)
The reception of the "Vita nuova" among contemporary Italian poets is not based on the love theme. The "Vita nuova" provides Italian twentieth-century poets more with a model of autobiographical writing than with an erotic paradigm. What is essential is that the imitation of the "Vita nuova" expresses a clearly polemical anti-Petrarchan poetics - something which, of course, one would have no reason to look for in American poets. The American poet Frank Bidart's idiosyncratic appropriation of the young Dante, as opposed to the Dante-versus-Petrarch-based interpretation of Italian poets, is peculiar but by no means as exceptional in the American panorama as it might at first appear. Other gay American poets also treat Dante as a model: Robert Duncan, J. D. McClatchy, and James Merrill. In this essay Nicola Gardini attempts to explore, however rapidly, the grounds on which Dante may have become so essential for such poets. To be sure, the Dantism of these gay American poets may be viewed as a particular moment of the well-established American interest in Dante which goes as far back as Emerson and Longfellow and had its peak in Pound and Eliot. But Gardini argues that such gay Dantism - which no survey of Dante's twentieth-century influence has yet brought to the fore - is a kind of cultural allegiance stemming originally and specifically from the soil of gay discourses and gender preoccupations. Interestingly, Dante, not Petrarch, also serves as a model for some Italian homosexual poets: Michelangelo, Pier Paolo Pasolini, and Giovanni Testori. What, then, is it in the work of a poet like Dante, who confined the sodomites in hell and mostly sang the praises of one woman, that is so compatible with, indeed inspiring for, gay views?
In December 1960 the Leo Castelli Gallery in New York displayed a series of thirty-four illustrations of the "Inferno" by the avant-garde artist Robert Rauschenberg. Rauschenberg had developed this project over the previous two years, working on it almost exclusively, first in New York City, and then in an isolated storage room in Treasure Island, Florida, where he retreated to concentrate on the last half of the cycle. [...] Whatever the spark that set the project in motion, we find Rauschenberg's reply to his detractors here: the refuse that crowded his "Combines" was no joke, nor was it there to undermine or deride high art in the spirit of Dada. With his collection of things, he was composing a new language, turning fragments - the ruins of his environment and culture - into emblems. And what is an emblem if not a composite figure, an assemblage of diverse fragments into a new unity and order? As such, it is an elusive visual allegory whose pictorial image tends to lose its consistency and become a sign open to interpretations; in it, the different narratives springing from its multiple nature come together and give birth to a polysemic language. It is with this language, abstract and referential at the same time, that Rauschenberg translates Dante's poem and makes it new by linking it to something in existence, present in the viewer’s reality of mechanically reproduced images. By choosing 'to ennoble the ordinary', he, perhaps unconsciously, became the hermeneutist of his age and gave durability to what was trivial and precarious.
Between 1816 and 1821, the philologist François Raynouard (1761–1836) published a "Choix des poésies originales des troubadours". His connections with Madame de Staël's cultural circle at Coppet determined the construction of the myth of courtly love as a forerunner of Romantic love. [...] Acording to this cultural tradition, Dante is an intermediate (although pre-eminent) step in the history of Western desire, a process begun in medieval Provence and revitalized by European Romanticism. When Lacan approaches Dante, it is therefore one Dante - this Dante - that he is approaching. The present essay, in which Fabio Camilletti analyses three tightly interwoven texts, explores some of the reverberations of this encounter. In 1958, Lacan published in "Critique" an article entitled 'La jeunesse d'André Gide, ou la lettre et le désir'. This text, later included in Lacan's "Écrits", was meant to be a review of a biography of the young Gide published in 1956 by Jean Delay, entitled "La jeunesse d'André Gide". In comparing Gide's life with his works of youth, Delay notably focused on Gide's novel of 1891, "Les Cahiers d'André Walter", the third text on which Camilletti focuses his inquiry. These three texts evoke in various ways the relationship between Dante and Beatrice, using it as a cultural allusion through which specific problems of sexuality (or, better, of the absence of sexuality) are conveyed. This essay aims therefore to be a study in the rhapsodic and subterranean presence of Dante and the "Vita Nova" between the end of the nineteenth and the twentieth centuries, as well as in the relationship between literature and psychoanalysis through the quartet Dante-Gide-Delay-Lacan.
'Dante and Ireland', or 'Dante and Irish Writers', is an extremely vast topic, and to cover it a book rather than an essay would be necessary. If the relationship between the poet and Ireland did not begin in the fourteenth century - when Dante himself may have had some knowledge of, and been inspired by, the "Vision of Adamnán", the "Vision of Tungdal", and the "Tractatus de purgatorio Sancti Patricii" - the story certainly had started by the eighteenth, when the Irish man of letters Henry Boyd was the first to produce a complete English translation of the "Comedy", published in 1802. Even if one restricts the field to twentieth-century literature alone, which is the aim in the present piece, the list of authors who are influenced by Dante includes Yeats, Joyce, Beckett, and Heaney - that is to say, four of the major writers not only of Ireland, but of Europe and the entire West. To these should then be added other Irish poets of the first magnitude, such as Louis MacNeice, Ciaran Carson, Eiléan Ní Cuilleanáin, and Thomas Kinsella. Therefore Piero Boitani treats this theme in a somewhat cursory manner, privileging the episodes he considers most relevant and the themes which he thinks form a coherent and intricate pattern of literary history, where every author is not only metamorphosing Dante but also rewriting his predecessor, or predecessors, who had rewritten Dante. Distinct from the English and American Dante of Pound and Eliot, an 'Irish Dante', whom Joyce was to call 'ersed irredent', slowly grows out of this pattern.
Transforming a text - narrative or poetic - into a play, made of dialogues and organized into scenes, has been one of the most frequent forms of literary transcodification both in the past and in the present. We can find examples of this procedure at the very origins of Italian theatre, which indeed began as the rewriting of earlier texts, both in the "sacre rappresentazioni" and in the profane field: the Bible in the first case and the Ovidian mythologies in the second. Poliziano's "Fabula d'Orfeo" and "Cefalo e Procri" by Niccolò da Correggio are the first well-known examples of this process. Thus, the metamorphosis of a text into a dramatization has many models in the history of theatre and literature. It would be of great interest to start with an overview of the different types, aims, and forms of transcodification of texts that are enacted in order to create dramatizations capable of being performed on stage. Erminia Ardissino attempts to offer an introduction to her study of Giovanni Giudici's play about Dante's "Paradiso" with a brief discussion of three different practices of theatrical transcodification. She looks at three pièces written at the request of the Italian scenographer Federico Tiezzi between 1989 and 1990 as stage productions of the three cantiche of the Divine Comedy. Although they belong to the same project, are inspired by the same person, and share a unified aim, the three pièces created by Edoardo Sanguineti, Mario Luzi, and Giovanni Giudici show three different approaches to the task of transcodifying a text in order to produce a drama - the task, in Genette's words, of creating a theatrical palimpsest.
'ici uniglory' is an installation on paper. The piece intertwines fragments of six texts by Bruno Besana, Fabio Camilletti, Antke Engel, Sara Fortuna, Laura Taler, and Andrea von Kameke, written in response to the video installation UNIGLORY, a work-in-progress exhibited at ICI Berlin. The responses are edited, fragmented, and re-assembled to reflect the way the filmmaker worked with the filmed dance footage in the original installation, essentially re-choreographing words. The subtle tensions between the different responses allow for shifts and movements within the piece. The result is a poetic intermingling of voices that rub up against one another. Tension also acts as a binding agent, holding all the fragments together and allowing them to be woven into a collective text.
The article offers a philosophical reading of Mazen Kerbaj's sound piece "Starry Night". Recorded in 2006 during the bombing of Beirut by the Israeli Air Force, the piece stages an acoustic encounter between the improvised sounds of the trumpet and live bomb explosions. Arguing for a formal examination of the ways in which Kerbaj stages the problem of the genesis of musical order in the exchange between trumpet and bombs, the article draws parallels with explorations of the problems of the State and of political contradiction in the Marxist tradition. Three common points are identified: the contingency of the appearance of order, its inseparability from an excess of violence, and its spatializing function. The last part delineates parallels between Kerbaj's subversive aesthetic strategies and Badiou's elaboration of the concept of the subject as the interruption of a repetitive logic of placement.
This contribution consists of an explanatory introduction and extracts from recent fiction works, 'White Tales' (novel) and 'Peep Show' (novel in progress). Both fiction works explore the spiralling tensions between intensity and excess, desire and jouissance, via the structure and methodology pioneered in the author's previous work with 'subconscious narrative' film. The result of this prior work was the 18-minute subconscious narrative film 'The Dangers', which explores an experimental narrative structure and is fascinated by the creation and sustenance of suspense, particularly when created with the notion of the uncanny in mind.
The article sketches a critical paradigm for interdisciplinary work that is centred on tension as a highly ambiguous and ultimately deeply paradoxical notion. It highlights that a unifying account of what tension is or a systematic classification of its diverse meanings would risk resolving tensions between different approaches and privileging a particular mode of doing so. Successively focussing on aesthetic, socio-political, and physical tensions, the essay articulates tension rather as a broad umbrella term that is stretched by multi-perspectival articulations, unified through its intensive surface tension, and at the same time full of transformative and generative potentials. In particular, it proposes that tensions between different cultural or disciplinary fields can be made productive by inducing tensions within each field so that different fields can be related to each other on the basis of tension rather than some substantial commonality.
The article analyses A. Boissier's image "Les Amants électrisés par l'amour" in view of the larger question of how something is able to arouse interest on first sight, but also in repeat encounters. Highlighting the engraving's didactic iconography, the article shows how it revolves around the solution to a riddle and uses a typical design of the Enlightenment to show the uncovering of a deception. As such, the engraving is part of a long tradition of showing (supposedly) supernatural events, more specifically the tradition of Magia naturalis. At the same time, the image contains dissonances and can be seen to simulate suspense through dichotomies that can be identified as antagonistic historical concepts. The article furthermore discusses the amalgamation of love and electricity in contemporary discourses and addresses the temporal dimension of the engraving, which constructs itself out of an absence, out of something yet unseen.