24 her method of distinguishing,for her use of definitions; she was accused of giving "aesthetic pleasure"and of a "certain lack of seriousness about modern problems in much of her work"("AA"307).Arendt responded to these reproofs by explaining to C.B.Mcpherson,a political economist,who was questioning her: We all grow up and inherit a certain vocabulary. We then have got to examine this vocabulary.And this is not just by finding out how this word is usually used,which then gives as a result a certain number of uses.These uses are then legitimate.In my opinion a word has a much stronger relation to what it denotes or what it is,than just the way it is being used between you and me.That is,you look only to the communicative value of the word.I look to the disclosing quality.And this disclosing quality has,of course,always an historical background. ("AA"323) To remember the past is to tell its story.Story- telling,then,is a form of recollection and a way of reconciling oneself to the past--a way of knowing who and what we are in relation to the world.Hence the imbrication of story and history.The world we understand is a written world--a plurality,a multiplicity of narratives.In between the particularity of one's own natality and the plurality of the world lies the story:the mastering of a moment of the past,for a moment. In Lacanian language,the storyteller becomes le suiet suppose savoir,the subject (who is)supposed to know--only for the duration of the story.Then the place of knowing is relinquished once more to the play of forces which Arendt sees (in an interpretation of one of Kafka's aphorisms)as the fight between past and future in which each human being
her method of distinguishing, for her use of definitions; she was accused of giving "aesthetic pleasure" and of a "certain lack of seriousness about modern problems in much of her work" ("AA" 307). Arendt responded to these reproofs by explaining to C. B. McPherson, a political economist, who was questioning her: We all grow up and inherit a certain vocabulary. We then have got to examine this vocabulary. And this is not just by finding out how this word is usually used, which then gives as a result a certain number of uses. These uses are then legitimate. In my opinion a word has a much stronger relation to what it denotes or what it is, than just the way it is being used between you and me. That is, you look only to the communicative value of the word. I look to the disclosing quality. And this disclosing quality has, of course, always an historical background. ("AA" 323) To remember the past is to tell its story. Storytelling, then, is a form of recollection and a way of reconciling oneself to the past—a way of knowing who and what we are in relation to the world. Hence the imbrication of story and history. The world we understand is a written world—a plurality, a multiplicity of narratives. In between the particularity of one's own natality and the plurality of the world lies the story: the mastering of a moment of the past, for a moment. In Lacanian language, the storyteller becomes le suiet suppose savoir, the subject (who is) supposed to know—only for the duration of the story. Then the place of knowing is relinquished once more to the play of forces which Arendt sees (in an interpretation of one of Kafka's aphorisms) as the fight between past and future in which each human being
25 carves out anew an in-between,a gap in which to think,in which to create a present--to create,indeed,the tenses (Between Past and Future 11).According to Arendt, "[m]astering the past can take the form of ever-recurrent narration ...[T]he narrative has been given its place in the world,where it will survive us.There it can live on--one story among many.There is no meaning to these stories that is entirely separate from them"(MDT 21-22). Understanding the past is no longer a matter of applying an inherited set of values or ideals to a particular event making it part of a tradition of thought. For Arendt there is no tradition that can be passed on.The wave of totalitarianism that swept over Europe with the rise of Hitler (it had begun with the imperialism of bourgeois politics that had peaked in the nineteenth century),and ended in the unspeakable crimes of the Second World War, precluded any possibility of passing down a tradition of thought by which one could live and interpret the events of the world."The thread of tradition is broken,"writes Arendt,"and we must discover the past for ourselves--that is,read its authors as though nobody has ever read them before"(BPE 204).Stan Spyros Draenos,writing on Arendt, calls such reading and thinking "groundless"(209-224). There are no eschatologies,teleologies,or transcendent truths.Arendt herself calls this condition "thinking without a bannister"("AA"336).There is nothing to hold onto.The great ideologies that promise,that resort to gaining commitment from people,by whatever means it takes
carves out anew an in-between, a gap in which to think, in which to create a present—to create, indeed, the tenses (Between Past and Future 11). According to Arendt, "[m]astering the past can take the form of ever-recurrent narration .... [T]he narrative has been given its place in the world, where it will survive us. There it can live on—one story among many. There is no meaning to these stories that is entirely separate from them" (MPT 21-22). Understanding the past is no longer a matter of applying an inherited set of values or ideals to a particular event making it part of a tradition of thought. For Arendt there is no tradition that can be passed on. The wave of totalitarianism that swept over Europe with the rise of Hitler (it had begun with the imperialism of bourgeois politics that had peaked in the nineteenth century), and ended in the unspeakable crimes of the Second World War, precluded any possibility of passing down a tradition of thought by which one could live and interpret the events of the world. "The thread of tradition is broken," writes Arendt, "and we must discover the past for ourselves—that is, read its authors as though nobody has ever read them before" (BPF 204). Stan Spyros Draenos, writing on Arendt, calls such reading and thinking "groundless" (209-224). There are no eschatologies, teleologies, or transcendent truths. Arendt herself calls this condition "thinking without a bannister" ("AA" 336). There is nothing to hold onto. The great ideologies that promise, that resort to gaining commitment from people, by whatever means it takes
26 have become the fictions of mankind,of history.To paraphrase the title of an essay on her work by Melvyn J. Hill,there are no fictions of mankind,only stories of men (275).Arendt declares that "[n]o philosophy,no analysis, no aphorism,be it ever so profound,can compare in intensity and richness of meaning with a properly narrated story"(MDT 22). It is in a trenchant reading of Walter Benjamin's work in her introduction to his collection of essays called Illuminations that Arendt gives us much of her understanding of experience,history,and language.The element of experience in Arendt's story writing is essential,but that experience is not always immediately apparent.For Arendt, it is not so much what has happened?but what does it mean? What can be discovered,found (out)from a narration of an event?The etymological connections between discovery, finding,and invention are luminously insistent here and reveal Arendt's affinity with the literary world and the centrality of language to her work (MDT 204).As Hill writes:"stories are always inventions or,as Hannah Arendt preferred to say,discoveries"(297).We both discover and invent experience through the telling,the writing of experience.The emphasis is on language,on writing,not as an instrumentality but as the way the world--and the subject of writing--is constituted and known. She might not have used Derridean terms,but she shared with Benjamin the belief that as we live in the world,the way we come to know that world is in a delaying,deferring process
have become the fictions of mankind, of history. To paraphrase the title of an essay on her work by Melvyn J. Hill, there are no fictions of mankind, only stories of men (275). Arendt declares that "[n]o philosophy, no analysis, no aphorism, be it ever so profound, can compare in intensity and richness of meaning with a properly narrated story" (MPT 22). It is in a trenchant reading of Walter Benjamin's work in her introduction to his collection of essays called Illuminations that Arendt gives us much of her understanding of experience, history, and language. The element of experience in Arendt's story writing is essential, but that experience is not always immediately apparent. For Arendt, it is not so much what has happened? but what does it mean? What can be discovered, found (out) from a narration of an event? The etymological connections between discovery, finding, and invention are luminously insistent here and reveal Arendt's affinity with the literary world and the centrality of language to her work (MPT 204). As Hill writes: "stories are always inventions or, as Hannah Arendt preferred to say, discoveries" (297). We both discover and invent experience through the telling, the writing of experience. The emphasis is on language, on writing, not as an instrumentality but as the way the world—and the subject of writing—is constituted and known. She might not have used Derridean terms, but she shared with Benjamin the belief that as we live in the world, the way we come to know that world is in a delaying, deferring process
27 (differance)that is writing,that is always a scene of writing.In Derrida's words,"the subject of writing is a system of relations between strata:of the Mystic Pad [a child's writing toy which Freud used as a model of the memory system],of the psyche,of society,of the world.. .[W]riting is the stage [scene]of history and the play of the world"("Freud and the Scene of Writing"113,116). on that stage and in that play of relations,I shall attempt to read Hannah Arendt,Margaret Drabble and Marguerite Duras.It is a scene in which the play of difference can be seen grounded in memory and given in writing. It is in the relation of the world and psyche,of memory and writing--the present writing and the past literary tradition--that is articulated in Margaret Drabble's writing style.From the north of England,she was graduated from Cambridge with a double first in English literature,with a strong interest in philosophy and metaphysics.She is now in her late forties and has produced,among other writings,nine novels between 1963 and 1980.She has succeeded in the difficult task of writing prose about women's experience in community with men that is readable (and indeed misreadable)with or without access to the pervasive irony and literary parody with which her writing is laced.Hers is a double-tracked prose--an old, venerable part of the English tradition,a tradition she has fully absorbed.Yet each of her novels is so convincing as a "good old-fashioned read"that her critics are often apt to dismiss her as simply a "middle-browed"(Rose,critical
(differance) that is writing, that is always a scene of writing. In Derrida's words, "the subject of writing is a system of relations between strata: of the Mystic Pad [a child's writing toy which Freud used as a model of the memory system], of the psyche, of society, of the world . . . . [W]riting is the stage [scene] of history and the play of the world" ("Freud and the Scene of Writing" 113, 116). On that stage and in that play of relations, I shall attempt to read Hannah Arendt, Margaret Drabble and Marguerite Duras. It is a scene in which the play of difference can be seen grounded in memory and given in writing. It is in the relation of the world and psyche, of memory and writing—the present writing and the past literary tradition—that is articulated in Margaret Drabble's writing style. From the north of England, she was graduated from Cambridge with a double first in English literature, with a strong interest in philosophy and metaphysics. She is now in her late forties and has produced, among other writings, nine novels between 1963 and 1980. She has succeeded in the difficult task of writing prose about women's experience in community with men that is readable (and indeed misreadable) with or without access to the pervasive irony and literary parody with which her writing is laced. Hers is a double-tracked prose—an old, venerable part of the English tradition, a tradition she has fully absorbed. Yet each of her novels is so convincing as a "good old-fashioned read" that her critics are often apt to dismiss her as simply a "middle-browed" (Rose, Critical
28 Essays on Margaret Drabble 54)chronicler of contemporary English life.While feminist critics do not dismiss her, they too take her words at face value and many see her work as having "no redeeming social value,"so to speak,for feminism. In my view,Drabble is a feminist in mufti,that is, one not easily recognized by current feminist checklists. She is accused,for instance,of allowing some of her heroines to be "trapped"by maternity,or even worse,to succumb to the condition of marriage,as in the case of Rose Vassiliou in The Needle's Eye.She resumes a marriage with a man who abused her and whom she does not love,for the sake of the children.Cronan Rose sees Drabble's feminism as equivocal,as either feminist or humanist:the one or the other appearing,depending on which the reader reads as manifest,while the other is subliminally absorbed (127). What Cronan Rose asks for is a future Drabble work that will be "an unequivocally femninist blueprint"(129).On the contrary,I find Drabble to be pondering,meditating, questioning the old humanist values.She looks for them, would like to find them perhaps,but comes up short.At the same time,her feminism runs out of parochial steam because she sees men as no less battered by experience than women, and that women are not only victimized by their experience at the hands of patriarchy,but that they as well as men are subject to the exigencies of World History.The festering sores on the world (and national)scenes intrude in her later novels especially:Africa,the Middle East
Essays on Margaret Drabble 54) chronicler of contemporary English life. While feminist critics do not dismiss her, they too take her words at face value and many see her work as having "no redeeming social value," so to speak, for feminism. In my view, Drabble is a feminist in mufti, that is, one not easily recognized by current feminist checklists. She is accused, for instance, of allowing some of her heroines to be "trapped" by maternity, or even worse, to succumb to the condition of marriage, as in the case of Rose Vassiliou in The Needle's Eye. She resumes a marriage with a man who abused her and whom she does not love, for the sake of the children. Cronan Rose sees Drabble's feminism as equivocal, as either feminist or humanist: the one or the other appearing, depending on which the reader reads as manifest, while the other is subliminally absorbed (127). What Cronan Rose asks for is a future Drabble work that will be "an unequivocally femninist blueprint" (129). On the contrary, I find Drabble to be pondering, meditating, questioning the old humanist values. She looks for them, would like to find them perhaps, but comes up short. At the same time, her feminism runs out of parochial steam because she sees men as no less battered by experience than women, and that women are not only victimized by their experience at the hands of patriarchy, but that they as well as men are subject to the exigencies of World History. The festering sores on the world (and national) scenes intrude in her later novels especially: Africa, the Middle East