Culture / Con texture Explorations in Anthropology and Literary Studies
EDITED BY
E. Valentine Daniel and Jeffrey M. P...
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Culture / Con texture Explorations in Anthropology and Literary Studies
EDITED BY
E. Valentine Daniel and Jeffrey M. Peck
UN IVERSITY OF CA LIFORN IA PRESS Berkeley
Los Angeles
London
Culture/ Con texture
I
The editors wish to thank the University uf Michig-.U1 for its financial assistance in the prepa ra tion of this volume.
ti ni".,~ity
of Cali fom ia Pre""
&rl:.d q and Lt» Angde., california ti"i"e~it)'
of California PreO$ London , England
CoI'}Tight (l 1996 by n 'e Rege"~ orlhe Uni"ersity ofCalifor"i a hinted in the Un ited State~ of America
lZ3 4 .H.;89 ubrary ofCongr"SIj C.... taloging.in_Publication Data Culture / Comel;'icw that is implicated in their methods, and beyond that a ~fi cld " as a compass that sets limits to the expenditure of their symbolic capitalas an American woman talking with a Greek-Cypriot refugee, or a white woman mingling among peripatetic Jackal H unters in South India, o r an academic interviewing C EOs, And res. a field-worker is IeIhertd as much lO fields of knowledge as he or she is to class, race, and gender. Racc and class figure importantly in Trawick's and Rose's chapters, which take the form of storytelling. The average literary cri tic who expects an cthnography to be explicitly analytic, much like an essay of literary criticism, may find these tv.'o anthropologists' essays somewhat disconcerting. Such a critic has trouble even seeing how thc recoun ting of the story so central to the ethnography-what Rose calls narrative-digrcssh'c ethnographies---constitUles in itself the anthropological product and project. \-\'hen scholarly expectations and standards are at stake, the litera ry critic may analyze stories,
24
CU LTURE / CONTEXTURE: AN INTRODUCTION
wise, that t he two genres are identical, we wo uld, as intimated earlier, like to declare our dis tance. But the re are similarities, at least two of which merit mention . First, Azade Seyhan , q uoting Eakin, has this to say abou t aUlo biognl.phy: -rhe writing ofaulobiogra phy is a second acqu isitio n of la nguage, a second coming into being ofsclf, a self-:ive Perspectives in Anthropology." U T/I(m 1985. Uft 14, no. 2 QuI}') : 240-248. Deledall e, Gerard. 1979. ThHrrit tt praliqru du signt. Paris: Payot.
CULTU RE / CONTEXTURE: AN I NTRODUCTION
JI
Deloria, Ella. 1988. Ii-'altrlily. Li ncoln: Vnin'rsily of Nebraska Pre~. Dirks, Nic hol as. 1993. "Is Vice Versa? H istori cal Anthropologies and Anth ropo logical Histo ries." In Thl Hi!itoric Turn in Ik HUT/W n ScinIUS, ed. Terrence McDonald. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Dre)fus, H erbert L. 1991. &inC'in-lIu.-Wm-id: A v mtl:mpomry 0.1 Htid'KK"'s &ingand Time. Division I. Cambridge: M.LT. Pre~. Eiit:n. 1976, Ubt:rdt:n Prrr..eu tW liuifi!ialion. Vol. I. Frankfurt: Suhrkamp. Evans- Pritchard, E. E. ( 1950) 1962. Social Anthropology and Other fus ays. New York: Free Pre~. E"ens. T. M. S. 1982. 'The Concept of Society as a Moml SySlt:m." Man 17. no. 2 Uu ne): 205-218. Fabian, J ohann es. Ti~ and 1M Other: H()W Anlhropology Malus Its Obfrct. New York: Colum1983. bia Un in!f5ily Press. Frazer. Sir James. 1890. Thl CoUkn Bough. London: Mac m illan. GeerlZ. C liffo rd. 1983. Local Kn()Wkdgt. New York: Basic Books. Ghosh . Amitav, 1986. Tk Cirdl: of&aum. New Delhi: Ra,i Dar"!. 1989. Tk SluuUmI Lin~. New Delhi: Ra', Dayal. 1992. In ml Antiql.u Ltmd. New Delhi: Ra\i Dayal. Graff, Gerald. 1987. Profl!lsi ng Lilt:ralun:: An Institutional Hi!itor')·. Chi cago: Universi ty of Chicago Press. Handle r, Ric hard. and Daniel Self"!' 1990. Janl: Auslnl and thl: Fiction of Cul/Un!. Tucso n: Un iversity o f Arizon a Pre$S. Hill, Geoffrey. 1984. Ltrnis oflk Limit: Enuys 0.1 Lileral"n: u,ui Irhas. London: Deutsch. 1991. 1M Enemy's Country; Words, Cont~tun!, mid Other Circtl l1l.ltmil;~ of Limguagr:. Stanford : StanfOl'd U ni",: ... ity
P rlg 1M ptasantry by ruins who wishnl /0 IhlDmine 1M Umper a/lhrir propk. O"VlD HAWKES
OPENING GAMBIT: PLATH'S
~WO RD S"
A= After whou stroke llu UI(lQ(f riup. And lhi! u hoe!i.l Ech.oo Imvt!lIing
Off/mm Ih, (min' liM hor=.
Tiu sap Wells liu lears, liu tM Walt'>" $triuing
To TH$/(J.b/ish. its mirror C>vc- llu fWk Thai drops and turns, A while 5Jmll, l:"'ale11 by wa il), gr«1u.
Yrors Wi" I EnrounlerlMm on tht roadWords dry and ridukss, Tiu in.ufaligabk hoof/aps. 1171ik From 1M bollam of tht pool. fi:ud ,lars Govern a lift.
This rarel y cited poem illustrates some decish'e con nections between poeu-y and culture. As we start into the poem, "axes" seems to all ude to the c raft or craftsmanship with whic h the poet is fashioning some t hing from lhe This ~Ma)' is dedicated to the living memory of Paul Riesman.
37
38
NARRATIVE FIELD S
wood of a living tree. The echoes traveling otT like horse s are the crafled words going QUI into the wood to make it ring and into the world to make people listen. The sap welling from the tree is an extension of this conceit, like the human tears oCthe poct-craftsman. from wh ich there is a sudden as. sociation to the water of the female sources of this poet's work Lhallries, in the face of vicissitudes, to reestablis h the order of a mirror before transmutation into the stre ngth o f a rock and then the morbid but a lso regenerating image of the greens, the poet growing into new paths. Years later, the poet, now far along the road of life, encounters her words and poems and their sound. an encounte r o f read ing and remembering except that they arc now dry and riderless, on the ir own o n their tireless hooves. In a final shift, the poet is plunged into or e\'en identified ....i th a pool's depths, another dimension of water symbolism , whose stars, the same as those above, govern and control her life and ve rbal creativity. We see that ~ Words~ is integrated in man y ways. To begin, the rings of the tree resonate with the cenlfifugal sound wa\'es of the echoes and also wi th the equally centrifugal ripples of the water that tries ~to reestablish itself. ~ A second, similar geometry takes us through a half-dozen angles and directions: (I) the oblique downward mo\'ement of the axes; (2) the outward move ment of the echoes; (3) the inv.'3.rd movement of the water; (4) lhe horizontal plane of the waler itself; and lhen (5) its downward motion and the words going off centrifugally, or perhaps intersecting on a tangelll with the vertical, up-down that connects the stars in the pool with the ~ tars in the sky: and, last and most, (6) the way the entire poem is governed by the figure o f a whirlpool or vortex. Since we are tal king about a poem and since poetry, by one definition , forefronts the phonic sha pe of the m essage, is partly about the music of the language (Wfight 1986). we should note that the poem as a whole is keyed on atsounds (~axes, s."lP, taps, ~ etc.) and an equal tissue of sibi lant/ shibilant ( s) sounds (often working with k sounds). The abo\'e is th e begi n ning o fa partial-subjectivist and fonnalist- interpretation: other approac hes would yield oth er generalizations. The longer we look at this mastcrpiecc, in fac t, the more meanings, cohere ncies, and subtexts we will fin d , until the philistine reader is moved to ask, ~Ye s, but what good is poetry?~ ~ \Vhat good is poe t'1'?~ is a cyn ical questio n that, ex plicitly or implicitly, we arc confronted "'ith often eno ugh. We rots.ld rejoin , I suppose, with, ~ What good is anthropology?~ A PRI VILEGE D ENTRYTO CU LT U RE
Students of culture, like poets, are e ngaged in construcling a worlchiew, whether sudden insig hts into ~th e mind of primitive man ~ o r the vision in Leaves of Gmss, the nitty-gritty of a ~linguaculture~ or the piecemeal induc-
CUL TU RE IN POETRY AN D POETRY IN CULT URE
39
tio n of matrifocality from the a rc haeological remains of twenty Pueblo households. In these and other instances, the o~jeClive is not only to get a worldview but to get inside a world view, to COnSlru("l texIS of one 's o wn t hat reveal maximu m e mpathy and comprehension. When looked a t this way, the poems or songs that one finds, panicularly whe n they are generally kn own and instantly understood by people, can constitute an incredibly swifl and sensiti,'c cntryway. Eskimo poems and songs that deal with seal hUllting, or the realities of old age, o r the vu lnerability of the single woman, or one's embarrassment or fear of embarrassmen t at forgetling the words of one's song, all seem to provide in d istillate form some of the deep concerns, values, attitudes, and symlXlls of individ uals or even of the e nti re commun ity; one is often given the gist of the c ulture in a way that would be difficult or impossible to infer. These insi ghL~ and intuitions arc of singular value because t hey c har:u;teristically deal with and involve the emotions. the c ultura l experience as fe l! as well as unde rstood-th m is, in psychological terms, the phenomena of intention, id entification , motivation, and affect that are often neglected in cultural analysis-includ ing m uch of the recent research that combines an ideology of emotional ity with practices tha t feature analytical instruments and objcctivized data, In societies like the Eski mo, a large body of oral literature is shared to a sig nificant degree by everyone and is aptly an d frequen tl y cited by man y persons; in other words, the poetry is a constitut;nt as well as a vchicle o f t he c ulture and, more particularly, thc li nguacultu re, t hat is, the "domain o f ex perience that fuses and intermingles the vocabulary, many aspects of grammar, and the ve rba l aspects of culture~ (Friedrich 1989: 306). Poetry in th is sellse is at once Mdata Mfor analysis an d itselfa body of generalizations about life that are at least as subtle as what the social scientist normally comes up with. Th ese poetic d ata and insigh ts in the interstices of culture are dealt with below with particular reference to Tu Fu and rang China. There a rc many possible relations between a cul ture and its subcultures o r between IWO o r 1110re subcultures ( including the case of poetic subcul· tures) . Fo r example, the culture of Everyman (to the extent that there is o ne) may overlap or be coordinate wilh a/ the poetic subculture-as in the case of t he Polar Eskimo mentioned above. [n othe r c ase~, there is considerable overlap and m uch agreement (T ang poetic culrure wit h in national culture) . In othe r cases, there i.~ little overlap 0 1' consonance between t he culture at large and a sm,lll enclave of socially alie nated poetic specialists: witness the you ng Chicago bard who used to read his wor k in the entrance to one of t he train stations-an island of postmodern poetry amid a stream of totally uninterested suburban comm uters. But even this bard and the commuters, when inten'icwed about his poetry, would havc provided a prl\'ileged entree and an original angle on Ame rican values in the 1990s. We can shift our focus and see poetry as a way to establish better relations or as a
40
NARRATIVE FlEl. DS
son of projective techn ique that \ViII stimulate value-laden discourse among the people we arc interested in. At a deeper level. poetry is a consti mem of the imagination of any stud ent of culture and, like other imaginative ingredients, \\-111 emer into the p rocess of theory building, empathetic description, and lhe naming and classification of phenome na. The basic charaCleristics of most good poetry--economy, elegance, emotional condensation-will contribute to superior culturaJ studies. But let me conside r in greater detail the pragmatic interweaving or, beuer, interpretation of p0etry and cultu re.
POET RY IN CONVERSATION
Just as the language of conversation can inform poetry, so poetry can and often does inform conversation . This is partly because, at o ne level, conversation is always organized or at least c hanneled in terms of figures-irony, mcmphor, ch iasmus, a nd so forth-a nd to this extent conversation is petry. Al a mo re concrete level , actual words, p hrases, lines, and e\'en longer units may be components of conversation with h igh frequency and high symbolic import. The conversation ofliterate Chinese and e \'en Chinese advertising is occasionally studded with fragme nts from Tu Fu a nd o ther poets (probably thousands of poets if we take into account the myriad minor and anonymous ones who have made thei r little contribution to the panjutiw silk, in I~ WQT/d of I1Unllingi which tach of 1m individualJ rnay unconmmuiy aM/mel for hiwmlffrom hi.! pa>1iripolitm in theM. j"leraclio,u. -F.. SAPIR
Poems in folklore collections or in the texts of a dead language arc rarely individ ual in the sense o f allowing us to infe r an individ ual author, alth ough th is has been possible in notable cases. T h e individ ual authors of Bed ouin two-liners as described by Lila Abu-Lughod ( 1986) are sometimes kn own , alt hough in general anon ymo us. But in all cultures, including prim itive and peasant ones, poems are to begin wi th created by o ne person and for a li tlle wh ile at least are known as a personal expressio n an d may even be possessed inalienably, just as, to turn the tables around, the a nonymous poem is t he exception in large, literate societies. T hese hard fac ts aoout poetic and simila r artistic creath~ ty and productivity force the respo nsible student to deal not only with the significantly individ ual sides of suc h phenomena hut, mo re generally, with the con tention that all c ulture may be seen as, to a significant degree, a world of individ ual(ized ) mean ings, or, com m uting the Sapir quote above, the possibility that the individ ual agent or actor is our basic datum from which arc constituted and from which we constitute our interpretation o f such things as g roup, society, and nation. To ill ustr.ue this point of M mcthodological individualism n wit h individual authorship in peasa n t society. I turn to a snatch of my own fieldwork: Of m y tive )'car~ of jieldwork, lhe majo rity (l954-!'i6, 196.'>-67, 1970) have bee n spent among the Tarascan Indians of w uthwestern Mexico. I recall watching, sometime in 1967, a young m an wander aiml essly in a field at high noon. and th e n I hea rd from him that he had been composing a story ror me: -rhe Three BUH.crf]ics. T his man was a linguiSti c virtuoso in his a ptitudes but w
CULTURE IN POETRY AND POETRY I N CULT URE
47
also a mad poet in a fami liar Spanish or Amcrican .'\Cnsc; the most prolifi c and obscene joker in ha"'est brigades; the man ""ho knew the most stories in town ; who!le sentences were the longest and must complex, but "" hose scores on my teslS for Ta ......'lCan grammar were the most de\ian t, and at times wild; who, in a brawl, used the fine , long j ackknife [ had given him to seriously sla.~h his brother's hand; who, when his mothe r, a re puted "'itch. was being buried, leapt down into her grave and stood for a long time on he r coffin, apostrophizing hcr and wu ping piteously; who. when I had to go to a neighboring hostile village to get boxes for my wife's pottel)' collection, led me up the ravines where I would be in the least danger from sniper fire; who overidentified wi th me and, when I took a different vinuoso back to the States, suffered pathological jealousy and chagrin; finaJly, a thoroughly macho woma nizer. who eventually j oined the Mexican cavall1·. where he did vel)' well. Most Tarascan \;rlllosi I have kn O\\'fl (in ceramics and guitar making as well) had similarlye)(Ceplional and emOtional imaginations. (l98fi; 46) Vet there is a ni p side to t h is un iquely individual a uth orsh ip a nd t he correspondi ng tendency a nd temptation to embrace ~methodo l ogical individua li sm. ~ In t he same way, while discussions o f the culf.u re/ poetry inte rface usually ro
and anOlhcr try to haul the ne t in. Something stops their e ffort, perh a ps the catc h is too heavy. B then adds, "lei go," andjusl as th ey let it go a bit, C speaks OUI . ~Shifl further," and D seeing they ha\-c found an advantage, exclaims. ~Lift the ne tl" Although we could imagine that this was an entire language game, itdoes not help us to understand much what Hes beyond the immedia te con text of the situation , just the situation in wh ich thc immediate words occur hcre fish ing in the lagoon . Thc context of the exclamations and directives each fishe r man exchanges with the other mUSt be expande d , something like: Fishing so the famil}' members will ha\·c someth ing for dinner a nd some extra to dry in the sun for when the fis h are not running. I just said, ~ It docs not help us, ~ and by t hat I meant that in returning to Ma linowski 's essay on the meanings o f a primitive language in whic h he shows us that it must be understood in its wider social eontext..~ of utterances fo r purposes of tra nslating words and sentences into English . the situation itself is not suffi cient to und e rstand the uses to which we put la nguage . These re fl cctions on Malinowski's paragraph diverge from his intention an d arc e mployed to dramatize ano the r o~j ective, whic h is definitely not to make translations based o n the discovery of nati ve meani ngs in the use of phrases. The idca is to go back to the kernel notion within Malinowski 's tQnI( x/ ojsi/UGlirm, whic h he revealed in the paragraph quoted above, and to let the phrases which I have placed into the mouths of A, B, C, and D in t he coordination of thci r fis hing e fforts , direct o ur thought toward soh1 ng a certain puzzle or confronting a pa rticu lar challcngc; tha t challcn gc, in a small way addressed here, is to c haracterize and understand the use of language in thc co ntemporary culture o f the market. T he inquity begi ns with the assumption tha t thc world marke t now pulls human language into itself so that ne\.\"ness will be e ndlessly created by means of effective discourses, often using images to produce products, adve rtising, and services. The utterances tha t feed into the exchange possibilities ofthe marke t are a pragmatic rh e toric in wh ich statemcnts are relen tlessly made, day in, day o ut, of steps to go throug h again and again, the speech o f algorithms and heuristics, that is, imaginati\"e, practical talk about assembling some sort of mund ane p roject no maller how minute or e xte nsive; and the analysis of lhe way to put things togelhe r. such as pla nning a Dee re and Company combine factory fo r China, is also mcant to persuade those persons wo rki ng on complex tasks toward aidi ng in forming some !IOn o f marke table assemblage. A key
ETHNOCRAI'HY, ELITE CU LTURE , LAfI."CU AGE OF THE MARKET
109
assumption here is that the market pulls our speech from us; it demands a pragmatic shaping of mutual current and subsequent activities, It can be argued that we now aCI unco nsciously in relation to this vast market in the (concealed) il1lerests of a larger huma nity that benefits hOI,-e\"er directly or indirectly from our discursive labors (and from whose linguistic exertions we also gain ), whether we identify with those distan t others or not. The Dela....'3re Valley, Philadelphia with its old mo ne}' (much written about) and Wilmington, Dela\\'3re, with the rich and populous d u Pont family (also much written abou t), stimulated the inquiry in the first place and offered itself as a site of possibility. The way I would formulate it now would be to say thai I have tried to find the high altitude in American life from which the world is viewed as if from the top down and outward to a world o f peers, as if dwelling on a promontory from which are visible others on their promontories and then figuring OUI what the bonds are between those available to o ne another. With h ighly stratified class relations that arc pai nfully evident in America and increasing in extellt worldwide with the formation of new elites controlling fabulous weahh,2 it is no t difficult to think of society in spatial imagery, such as viewing downwal-d. The objecth'e I have evoked is to study down (and up there, to study sideways), to invert Laura Nader's phrase, ~studyi ng up." Except fo r a handful of books and articles on dynastic families o r their fiduciaries by anthropologists, or on upper-class leisure and aesthetic pursuits (t.'iarcus 1983, 1990; McDonough 1986; Miller 1987) and that perennial interest by sociologists in the interlocking directorates thoug ht to directly inn uenee Amer ican business life,S there has been little enough face-to·face investigation in the higher latitudes beyond the formal interview. As a result of its central role in the formation of the Atlantic market economy in the scventeenth century and the American industrial revolution in the nineteemh, the Delaware Valley is a vast laboratory for any ethnography--or any archaeology--of the culture of the market. It has a history of white settlement dating to the colonial period (Warner 1987) and like the mid-Atlantic region in general, quickly became ethnically and racially heterogeneous (Golab 1977), hetcrophanollS, and high ly .~ tratified; it has an extensive wo rking class and a rather large, insular upper class of old and new money (Baltzell 1979). The economy of the region replicates that of the country in a shift from manufacturing toward services; and in terms of set· tlement patterns, the middle classes of the area have suburbanized like those of other U .S. cities in ways that only \"dry locally. It would seem that all of the readily visible, hidde n, or partially or full y obscured wOI'kings of modernity are more tha n amply represented in this location (Dorst 1989), a site in which the transactions of the world market arc locally fascinating as examples of global processes.
110
NARRATIVE FIELDS
The fishcnnen have lifted the nets heavy with fish into the canoe and have decided (0 paddle back to shore. As they arrive a number of children help them carry the catch to the huts. where some of them are given to their wives and mothers. Others are placed in overnight storage. The next morning they hang remaining fish on racks lO dry in the sun . Half of these will be kept for later use in thewomcn's cooking; the other halfwill be taken to the village quay where they will be sold. We could now trace where the sold fish will be taken, how tbey will be processed, packaged, distributed, marketed, and purchased, say, in Singapore. All along this valuc-addt.-d process, this ex-
tended journey of the fish after they left the water, we could record the speech of the men and women who ha\'c something to do with them, including the meal in the Singapore apartment during which they are quickly consumed. There we would abandon speech-connected-to-fish. The route of the fish through the production process nttessilatcs speech to coordinate their flow to market, purchase, and consumption . This is the !l Cultural Economy.~ "'uhlir Cullur,, 2: 1-32. Bakhtin, M. M. 1981. 1M Dialogic Imaginalion. Tr,ms. Caryl Eme rson and Michad Holquist, Austin: University of Texas Press. Baltzell, E. Digby. 1979. Puritan Brulon and Qualttr Philaddphill: Two I>roUlla lll Eillirs and 1M Spirit (}j Clem Authority mId I~tkrship. New York: Free I'res.~. Birdwood, Sir George, and William Foster. cds. 1893. Tht IUgislerajLtllm &,. oflht GwnnOU1 and Compall)' oj Mm;hallu oj I.,(mdOl! Tmding in/a 1M t.iullnditf. 1600--1619. London: Bernard Quaritch.
FIVE
Exogamous Relations: Travel Writing, the Incest Prohibition, and Hawthorne's Transformation Susan Stewart
I NCEST
One musl lraveilo fi nd a male. That is, one IllUSl 1l0l look too closely, and one must no t look too fa r afield . T his aphorism links two proj ects-travel wri ling and the p ro h ibi tion of ince s t- that ha"c LO do wi th th e anicu ladon
and maintenance o f cultural boundaries in time and space. If we in fac i look to the notio n of such a ~l ink,M we find a rule of metaphor: a poin t of compariso n m ust be artic ulated ...;ithin an acceptable field , ye t must be novel enough to be ~striking, to m ake a sign of difference. Such a rule of metaphor is the reby also a rule ofwriling. or marking. which must be recognizable to others and meaningful to one's kind. Let us begin by considering some of the ways in wh ich the prohibition of incest operates, no t so much in culture as in cui rural thoug ht, o n the bounds--not quite out ofbounds----of this rule o f metaphor. First, as Claude Uvi-5trauss has explai ned, the incest proh ibition is the cultural rule app earing a t the limi t of c u h ural rule-that is, the one most resembling the oxymoronic possibility o f a rule of nature. M
Suppose that everything universal in man re lates 10 the natural o rde r, a nd is characterized by spontaneity, and that everything subject 10 a no nn is cultural and is both relative and partic ular. We are then confronted with a fact , or rathe r, a group offacts. which, in the light ofpre\'ious definitions, are not far remove d from a scandal: we refe r to that co mplex group of beliefs, custo ms, conditions and institutions described succinctly a.~ the prohibition of inces t, which p resents, without the slightest ambiguity, and inseparably combines, the 1\\'0 characteristics in which we recogn i7.e the conflicti ng feature~ o f IWO mmually exdusive orde~ , [t co nstitutes a mle, hut a rule whic h , alone among all the social rule s. possesses at the ~me lim e a univcr a co m pletel)' free choice, the rule being no t that one can marry anyone in the system. but o nly those not ex pressly forbidden " (xxiii ). Clearly issues of intelligibili ty corne to tite fore in situations of complex kinship in which the sct of marriageable persons is less articula ted than the set o f those who arc expressl)' fo rbidde n. 2. Levi-Str.lllss, Elnnmtary Stru ctures, 9. 3. Ibid. , 10. 4. Quoted in Le" i-$tTauss, Elt:mmta')' Structu res, 42, 43. See also J ack Goody, "A Comparad\'e Approach to In cest and Adultery, ~ in l\Jama~, Famil)' and &!iidmu , ed. Paul Bohannan and John Middleton (Garden City. NY: Natu ml History Press. 1968) : 21-46. Good}' cites Malinowski's treatment of in cest, as the prohibition on sexual inte rcourse, and exogamy. the prohibition on maniage. as "being but twO sides of a coin ~ (22). He fmd s this positio n un!latisfactory, for he claims that it does not account for th e asymmetry betwee n in-group maniage rules and intr.tgroup maniage ru les, nor does it accou nt fOl- the "symmeli')' belween ma'Tiage, which "affects the alignment of relationships between groups" and sexual in tercourse, which when conduc ted in "scmi-sec recy" does nOI affect such alignmen ts (43-44 ) . Allhough Goody's argument makes a strong methodol ogical point reg'd rding the anthropologi cal study of incest and exogamy, this c hapter must ncces!larily deal with codes that a re not "semi-sec re t.· and so eXOif.lmy and incest arc treated as cogni!i\'!' offenses and not "merely" sexual offenses. Othe r standard readings on incest can be: fo und in Emile Durkheim , h uest. the Nat!lfl and Origin of tht: Tflboo, trans. Edward Sagarin ( New York: Lyle Stuart, 1963); E. B. Tylor. & m m:Jrej intQ the Earl)' History of Ma nkind and the Dt:wIOPmt:Ilt of Ci"ili::.alion (London: T. Murray, 1870); '"On A Method of Imestigating the Develo pment of
152
NARRATIVE FIEL DS
Institut ions, Applied to Law.~ of Marriage and Dl'scem," Jrmrnal of II~ Royal Alllhrop%giaillns/itule 18(1888): 245-272. J ohn T. Itwin's Doubling and inasl/RzpetiliOll (md Rnxngt: A Sptt;ulnliIH! !/,adiljg of Faulkner (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Prcs§, 1975) provides a v.tluab1c parddigm for thinking about the relatioll between time, space. repetit ion, and repression. Otho:: r studies oCthe thematic of incest in literntu rc include Sandr-.t Sandell, "A Vn)' POrlic Cirr."m.ilnrw:": /"USf and 1M EllgUsh Lilera,)' hnagi .1tt Iialy. 211. 37. Ibid., 52. SB. Coope r, Excur-sion.s i .. 11(11)', 17. 39. 1'MMarbie Faun, 140. 40. See Henry SUS$man, "'/'M MarbkFaun and the Space of American Letters." in High &o/uli011 (Oxford: Oxford University Press. 1989): eh. 6,129-1 5 1, for a discussion of the ~igni ficance orthi~ "goddess" as part ofHawthome '~ "fic ti-'e program , in ..... hich th e image is the source of e nergy and illuminatio n " {l 48}. Funhennore , the Story of Ken )"on'5 miraculous discovery ec hoes tha I of the m iraculous discovery of the Laocoon. Here "unco\'e ri ng" lhe an of the pasl is a foml of animation more powenul than co pying. Felice d e Fredi. wh o discovered the Laocoon among th e ruins of the Baths of Titus on Ja nuary 14 , 1506. has hi s good fo rtune recorded o n h i~ tombstone at the Aracoeli churc h.
EXOGAMO US RE I.ATIO:-JS
60. NauboQ/u, 92. 61. Noteboo«s, 93. 62. flawlhurn e'5 Short Sirmes, ed. Ne.... ton Al'in (New York: Alfred Knopf. 1961) : -rhc Binhmark, ~ 177-193: "Alice Doane's Appeal." 411-422. We should note that as the passage ends. Leonard decides to carry Walter's body: "that the face still ....ore a like ness ofmr father: and because my soul shrank from the fixed glare of the (:yes. I bore the bodr to the lake, and would have buried it there. But before: his icy sepulchre was hL.....l1, I heard the voices of two tr
THE WORLD IN A T EXT
169
m ISSiO n ... is to undersl.and Being in re lation to itself, and nOl in relation to oneselr. "19 But what is most in teresting is tha t this conviCtion, amo un ting indeed to a proper fai th, that ~savages" are best k nown not by an attem pt to gel, somehow, personally so dose to them that one can share in their life but by stitc hing their cultural expressions in to abstrac t patterns of relationships is represeillcd in Tristes Tropiquesas arising out of a rcvelatory (or, perhaps bette r . antirc"e1atory) climactic cxperience: the barren, defeatcd end of h is Qucst. Whe n , finally, he reac hes the ultimate savages he h as so lo ng been looking fo r-the ~untouched" Tupi-Kawahib--he finds them u n reachable. had wanted to reach extreme limit.~ of the $ldi, the an of understanding, and the ar.; expliw ndi, the art of presentation, is 50 imimate in amhropology as to render them at ba.an R.'s narrative amobiograp hy, I hope to have de monstrated the necessary relationship among genealogy, narrative, and historical consciousness. If genealogy is an essential method o f reconstruction and narrative the form byw h ich that reconstruction o btains meaning, then h istorical consciousness is the ....'ay one situa tes and evaluates that meaning in time and space. Each performs ajo b that predicates the others in reach ing the common goal of cuI lUra! understanding. Susan's story seems a perfect demonstration o f Foucault's statemen t abo ut genealogy: "The forces operating in h istory are not controlled by destiny or regulative mechanisms, but respon d to hap hazard conflict. They do not manifest the successive forms ofa primo rdial intention and their am'action is not that of a conclusion, for they always appear throug h the singular randomness of events" (Fo ucault 1977: 154-155) . Indeed, Susan's narration of her story in the wan ing days of the cold war dramatized the "single randomness of
IDENTITY MARKINGS
Henke, Klaus-Dieter. and Hans Woller, 1991. Politische Saudenlng in Europe: Dit: Abrechnung mit Faschismus und Kollaboration nach dem Z..... eiten Weltkrieg. Munich: Deutscher Taschenbuch. Heraeld, Michael. 1985. 'I'M PlJelics of Manhood: Con~1 and !denlif)' in a C,'llan Mounlain Villa~. Princeton: Princeton Univer$ity Press. Long. Scott, andJohn Borneman . 1991. ~Po ..... er, ObjeClhity, and the Other: Studies in the Creation of Sexual Species in Anglo-American Discou~.~ Diakelital Anlhropo/ugy 15 (4 ): 285-3 14. Marcus. Ceorge, and Michael Fischer. 1986. AnlhropolOfJ)' as C!lllural Critique. Chicago: Univer$ity of Chicago Press. Mink, Louis O. 1978. Narrative Form as Cogniti\'t~ I nstmmenl.~ In TIl t Wriling of Hislory: Liltf'tH)' Farm and Hi$lorital Undenlanding, cd. Robe n H. Canary and Hen ry Kozicki. 129- 149. Madison: Uni versity of Wisconsin Press. Mitchell. W.j. T .. ed . 1981 . On NarTaliVl!. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Niethammer. Lutz. 1988. ~Entna.:dfi lierung: Nachfragen dnes H istoriJ;.ers.~ In Von tUr Gllade tUr 1?5cMnkiro Nation, ed. Hago t"unke and W.-D. Narr, 115-131. Berlin: ROlbu ch Verlag. Nie!7.5che. Friedrich. 1964. -rhe Wanderer and His Shadow." In Human, All Too HluMn. II. TIv. Cnmpkl~ W",i,{ of FriMrich NitIUCM, Vol. VII. Ed. Oscar Levy. Ne ..... York: Russell and Russell. 1980. 011 Ille AdlNlIIlllgt Ilnd DiJtuivanlllgp of Hi$lury for Lift . Trans with intro. by Peter Preuss. Indianapolis: Hackett PubJlshing Company. Osto ...... Robin. 1989. Jt:ws in eo"f'!1lipnmr)' EaSI &r,'UJII)': 'I'M ChilJrm of M0Sl'5 in 1M Land of Marx. New York: 51. Martin's Press. Ricoeur, POIU!. 198 !. Hm/ltfJP.Utic.! /lIWIM Hum( in helping me clarify the relationships diM:ussed in this chapte r. 2. The usual distinction made be tween ethnographer and an lhropoiogisl is thai the fonner merdy engaged in fieldwork, that is, in data colle-sica, o rganismos tao indcfesos contra a doen(a e os vicios, que e uma interroga"ao nalura l indagar si esse est.1do de coisa5 nao provem do intenso cruzamento das r.!."as e subra,,;u;.... No Br.uil, si ha mal. dIe esta feito. irremedian, lmenle: I!spere m os, na lentidao do
RACE AND RUlr-: S
2'1
processo cosmico, a decifra~ao do enigma COin a scrcnidade dos cxperimentadores de laboratorio. il is lO Paulo Prado tha t Mario de Andrade, folklorist, poet, and theorist dedicates Macunaima . Mario de Andrade states that one of his goals in Macunairna was lO deregionalize his creation while Lrying to ~conceber literariamente 0 Brasil como entidade homogenea ~ (conceive Brazil literarily as a homogeneous emity).:iO Like Mario de Andr.lde, the modernists in general searched for a v.'lly to MBrazi[ianize ~ Brazil. For them, however, this MBrazil_ ianizing~ was to be accomplished through artistic and literary e(forts whose aesthetics and techniques were almost entirely drawn from those of contemporary Europe. Let us remember that the cubists had already discovered the value of incorporating Africa. The modernists' me thod was o utlined by O swald de An drade in ~O Manifesto Pau Brasil (The Brazilwood Manifesto) and the MManifesto Amrop6fago ~ (The Cann ibalist Man ifeslO) . This method consists of swallowing and absorbing what is useful in a culture and excreting what is not useful. The supposed cann ibalism oCthe indigenous population served as a model for a different cultural rela tionship between Brazil and the outside world (defi ned largely as Europe)- a relationship wherein foreign influe nces would not be copied but digested and absorbed as a precondition to the creation of a new, more independent national civilization. Macunaima is o ne practice of the modernist project and has been upheld as a celebration of Brazil's Mindigenous past. ~ In fact. we shall see that the indigenous past is merely a repository of possible paradigms and that Macunairna is localized in a metaphorics of the body in which eating, incorporation , and disease are foregroundcd . The story, or mpsOdia, to use Mario de Andrade's term. traces Macunalma's origins in the Amazonian forest, his u'ip to Sao Paulo. and his return to the forest before ascending in to the heavens to become the Big Dipper. In his letters and in the in troduc tions to Macunairna, Mario de Andrade describes how MacurW lmawas composed mainlyorround texts that he then exaggerated. In the epilogue, the narrator describes how Macun aim a 's story comes to be told. M
There in the foliage the man discove red a green parrot with a golden beak looking at him. He said. ~Come down , parrot, come down !The parrot came do"'ll and perched on the man 's head. and the two went along together. The parrot started to talk in a gentle tongue, somcthing ncw, completely new! Some of it was w ng, wille like cassiri sweetcncd with honey, w me of it had the lo\"ely fickle flavor of unknown forest fruits. The vanished tribe. the famil y tumed into ghosts, the tumbledown hut undermined by termites. Macunaima's ascent to hca"en. how the parrotli and
242
IDENTITY MARKINGS
macaws fonned a canopy in Ihc far-ff limes when the hero "-d.S the Creal Emperor, Macunaima: in (he silen ce of Uraricocra only Ihe paITO{ had rescued
from oblivion th ose happenings and the language which had disappeared. Only the parrot had prescl".ed in that vast silence the wonh and deeds of
the hero. All thi s he related to the man. then spread hi s wings and se t his course for Lisbon. And that man, dear reade r, ....'all myse lf, and I stared o n to tell you this SIOI')',11
Entao 0 homem dC5Cobriu na ramaria urn papagaio verde de bieo dOllr.ldo e:e.. gan his extensive Indian research with work in numismatics and geology and began his anthropological research in 1 894.~ His first ethnographic writings were on the Todas, which though superseding in ~scie ntifi c importance" the earlier writings of missionaries, was itself superseded by W. H. R Rivers's publication of The TOOas in 1901. But by that year his Methnographic
284
UNS ETfUNG TEXTS
researc hers in the South or l ndia~ were already ......'cll known, and Risley in particular was delighted with Thurston's availability because of their COIllM
man enthusiasm about anthropometry as the principal means for collecting physical data about the castes and tribes of India. Thurston '5 obsession with
anthropometry was so marked that before he delh'cred a lecture to the Royal Society of the Arts in London in 1909, Lord Ampthill introduced h im ....ith the following story: "A visit to the Government Museum at Madras was always a vcry pleasant experience, al though at first alarming. Such was the a uthor's zeal fo r anthropometry, that he seized every man, woman, or child in order to measure them. M In the proposal for the ethnographic sUIVey of India, the secretary to t he government of India wrote, ~It has often been obselvcd that anthropome.try yields peculiarly good results in India by reason of the caste s}'stem which prevails among Hindus, and of the divisions, often dosely resembling castes, whic h are recognized by Muh ammadans. Marriage t.akes place only with in a limited circle; the disturbing element of crossing is to a great exten t excluded; and the diffe rences of physical type, which measurement is intended to est.ablish, are more marked and more persistent than anywhere else in the world. "6 Thus the go\'ernmentjustified its project-and its ch oice of Risley and T hurston-for a sur\'ey that was specifically directed "to colleo: t the physio:al measu remenu of seleo:ted
c aste~
and (dOCK. ~ R isley's advo-
cacy of anthropometry and h is theo ries about the relation of race and caste were clearly fundamental to the defi n ition of the e lhnog~phic project in wrn-of·thc..--IIaT(aliQl/s, kaflC" souwU. - W"LLA,C [ ST t VE:-<S, ~TH E IDEA
or
O R /)~R I S KEY
w£ST "
The most scandalous literary figure in twenlie th-cclHury Japan , Mishima Yukio, once wro te a short contribution fo r a newspaper column in which
writers and critics commented on the prose masterpiece of their choice for the wee kl y edification of the reading public. Mishima c hose a small text called Th e
T,,~
oj77mo (Tono m o nogat.l ri ), a worK publis hed in 1910 that
had come to be recognized as the founding work of Japanese folk lore studies as well as a literary classic.! He says this: ;' T he Tales oJTfmospeaks, coldly, of innumerable deaths. T aking those deaths a.~ its place o f o rigin , japanese folklore studies is a discipline in whic h the smell of corpses drifts. "'.! This essay finds its own point of origin in Mishima's lurid assertion, unraveling its implications in an at te mpt [0 rethink the relationship of e thnography and literature within j a panese modernity. What kind o f discipline is fou nded on death a nd its after-effect, the smell of corpses. a linked image both horrifically con crete and ungraspable? Indeed, Mishima's trope plays out in its \'ery form the general contradic tion of an e thnographic im pulse that wo uld want to docume nt the punctual e...ent. the unwritable (kdeath "), but wh ich must always displace that impulse t hroug h the vagaries of the figuratively written-what some would call the literary. The Tales of Trmo emerged in the early twentieth century both to embody and to a llegorize that particular cOl1tradiClion of modernity-that is, t he ditTerence oclwt.'1:n ~sc ience " and ~literatu re ~-with its li te ra ry rewritings of oral tales of ghosts and gruesome goings-on in the japanese rural re mote. What is a t the specific o rigin of j apanese fol klore studies as a scie nce (gakumon). as a fiel d of schola rship, is not simply death but a text t hat speaks, figurally, of deaths. To anticipate my own end(s) here, literature and ethnography (in japan , in modernity) are always in a deathlr-and thus ghostlr---complicity with one another. E\'en when one would most like to disa\'o w that complicity (or con296
294
UNSETf LI NG TEXTS
REFERE NCES
Arnold, David. 1986. Polia PfIWt!r and Colonial Ru le in Madra.!. Delhi: Oxford University Press. de Geneau, Michel. 1986. H,ln'oIogies: Dilcou~ on I}~ Other. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Oifford,James. 1983. "On Ethnograph ic Authority. ~ !hfnesmtaliQ'f.$ 1: 118-146. QifTord , j ames, and George Marcus, eds. 1986. Writing Ct.!ltUfT; 1'M Patlia and PolitiC.! of Elhnogr-aphy. Berkeley, Los Angeles, and Lond o n: Un ive rsity of California Prc5S. de Man, Paul. 1983. '"The Rhe tOric of8lindness. ~ In Blintirws and /ruight: Essays in 1M RMqric oJCuntempomry Criticism. Minn e apolis: University of Minnc50ta PreM. Dirk5, Nic ho las B. 1987. The Hollow Crown: £Ihnohistory oj an lndilln Kingdom. Cambridge: Uni· versity Press. Reprinted 1993, Ann Arbor: Univenity of Michigan Press. - - - . 1992. "Castes of Mind." ~ltllit)fU 37 (Winte r): 56-78. - - - . In press. "Is Vice Versa? HislO rical Anthropologies and Anthropological HislOrie§." In TM H is/me Turn in 1M H UlfIIln Scimus, ed. T. McDo nald. Ann Arbor: Un iversity of Michigan Press. DUillOll t, Louis. ( 1966) 1980. Homo Hioarehicus: An Essay on Ihl Casu Systnn and Its Implicalitm!J. Ch icago: University of Chicago Press. Geeru, Clifford. 1988. Worl:J and Live;: TM Anlhrop.ologisllU AUlhor. Stanford: Stanford University PreM. Ginzburg, Carlo. 1989. QU6, IH)"l h, and 1M H islmeal Mrlhod. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University PreMo (;Quid, Stephen J. 1981 . TM Mismmsurt of Man. New York: W. W. Nonon. Greenblatt, Step hen. 1988. S~sPtamm Nqrotiations. Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London : Un iversity of Califomia Press. Levinson. Marjorie. 1992. "Mter the New HislOricism: Posthumous Critique.~ Un published manuscript (quoted with permission). M.-leij i period. Yanagita Kunio. then a young bUI'caucr.tt in the Ministl1' of Agriculture and Commerce and a productive poet as well (and founder of the Ibsen Society ofJapan ), took an active part in these de-
GHOSTLIER DEMARCAT I O~S
JOJ
bates and was a friend of many of the luminaries ofMeiji lilCrary society: Kunikida Doppo, Shimazaki Toson, Tayama Katai , Izumi Ky6ka. Coming from a line of Shimo priests, Yanagi ta was invo lved with state agricultural policy, traveling to villages and talking to fa rmers about rural uplift. His rural background and his continuing concern with nonurbanJapan meshed with his literary p reoccupations throug h a set of circumstances that brought the problematic of oral narrativcs to his attention. In an essay published in 1907, " 'Sketching Technique' and the Essay~ (Shasei to ronbun), three rears before the publication o f The Taks oj TUn o, Yanagita came OUl in support o fa colloquiallilcrary styleY The essay is an examination of the premises of shaseibun, the ~direct descriptio n " technique advocated by Masaoka Shiki. Yanagita states that previously he thought that literature was somelh ing constrllcted with difficult characters and crafted sentences; it was not something that \\FdS natural o r casily achieved. But since the ad\'cnt of the tec h nique of d irect description, literature is conceivable as something that "anyone can wri te ," since it is written "just as one has seen and heard, wi thout any artifice." "Direct description" destroys the notion that literature, as a means to express tho ught, cannot attain its object unless it is difficult. To wri te essays, to wri te literature, merely cultivate your own sensibility, and write what rou see, hear, think, and feel j uSt as it is, Yanagita admonishes his readers. In this admonition, we hear clear echoes of his famOliS prefatory rema rks to The TaksojTimo, whcre he would avcr that he wrote down the tales "as they were related to me without adding a \\'ord or phrase. ~IA Yanagita continues in his essay on ~sketc hing techniqu e~: Heretofore, if an eS&1.Y [rrm!"",] were not wrillen in literal,), style [bungmm1. it did not seem like a rcal essay. and it was said that its power was diminished. But that i~ a narrow.-iew caught up in convention. It is natural to as.~ume that since writing is a method for expressing thought. the style ofth at writing should be as close as po.'lSible to thought .... Both ~pecch and writing [gmgu to bl/nsh01 exist as means for cxprcSliing one's thoughts. but at pr6e7lt writing iJ nlJill.l dlJ~ 10 Ihooght IUlfN'uh is. If specch is able to express eight thoughts out often, writing i.~ only able to express six .... Just because col1oquial style (gm. b.",ilrhilm1
i~
o:1o .... r.o
~pccc h
!.h"n Htcr.t'1' language i., I t hink il i. ahl" to e x -
press thought more intimately than literat')' language.'Y In this essay we find a theory of language couched primarily in terms of expressing "th ough lS~ (shisii) . Thoughtsare placed on the same plane as exte rnals, as realities to be ~expresscd ~vi a language; embodied speech, placed in intimatc proximity to thinking, naturally takes its place as the more desirdble mode of expression. A wriling lhat mimetically traces the con tours of speech will thus accede as closely as possible to the transparent reflection
304
UNS ElTLiNG TEXTS
of the object-whether conceptual, visual. or aural. An d the writi ng that makc.~ the closest app roach to speech is the genbunitchi srylc. 20 Yet something happened to Yanagita's theories of literature and representation between 1907 a nd 1909, a period in whkh he was beginn ing to
thin k morc deeply about what he called the "invisible world ....11 This shift marked a series ofrclurns to the formal and figura l powers ofa wriling that no longer pretends to transcribe speech in all its transparency, a speech he now d i\'csted of its unique capacity to act as the most imimate metaphor of inner thoug ht. While it is not clear what precisely prompted Ya nagita's move to what has o ften been described as a n ~anlinaturalist~ stance, his essays from this period suggests that a growing familia rity with Japanese naturalist writings and h is own attempts to write in genbunitchi style convinced him of its impoverishmen t, as his 1909 essay, "The Distance between Speech and Wriling- (Genbun no kyori), reveals. 22 In th is essay. Yanagita makes a full-blown attem pt to discredit the techniques of direc t description; he now argues instead for the unabashed rhetoricity of texts. For Yanagita, this rhetoricity consists in 1101 giving all the facts, which paradoxically gives the wo rk more verisimilitude, more of an appearance of truth. He up holds a form of withholding. a reticence wi thin a rhetorical cronomy that-rather than attempting an impossible transcription---conveys the ~rear all the more s harpl y lI" 'ough il.S construc te d .. b!Senccs. In stead of reco"ding th e brUle
fact it.~lf, the work of literature should ~sound as ifit were fac tual~ (jijilsu rashiku kikccu) .13 YanagiL.l seeks 10 impress. to COI1\'CY feeli ngs. and to move the reader, who has now emerged as the object of literary writing. He insists on the paradoxical revenal of literary e[fects whe n wri ters attempt to imitate life too di rectly: the more onc tries to imitate speech and thus ~reality,~ the mo,'c "un n atural~ the result. Yet Yanagita goes even further. Completely dismissing the claims o f genbunitchi, he states that on the contrary, the spoken language should instead draw closer to the written . Instead of believing in a world of oral d iscourse that writing reflects by drawing doser to speech, Yanagita rcvc rscs the terms by ad\'ocating an improvement, through education, of spoken J apanese- an improvement that would then bring spoken discourse doser 10 bungotai, or "literary style. "2i Li terature could only take its place as truly literary by keeping its distance from the chaos of Uapanese) speech as well as from the pre te nsions of a p hotographic/ phonograp hic reproduClion of the world (he even $peaks ofJapan esc naturalist writers as bad amateur photographers). The anticipation and containment of many of the concerns of grammatology---of the philosophical prerogatives of speech and its relationship to truth, of the problem of wri ting as a $ubsidiary form of representation-are in striking evidence he re. with an eventual reversal (the preem ine nce of writing O\'er speech) that seems 10 double but of course historically differs (in its discursive effects and location) from
GHO STU ER DEMAR CATIONS
)05
Jacques Derrida's deconstructions proper. Nowhere d oes Yanagita question the "distance" between speech and writing thai Dcrrida wo uld put into undecidability. That Yanagita as the future founder of folk lore studies would advocate not only a distancing from the (oral) object of nostalgia but a disciplinal)' tam ing of vocal forms o n the model of orderl y wri ling reiterates the split in representation that the Tales would come to embody.t5 Near the e nd o fll is 1909 essay on the distance between speech and writing, Yanagita states, "I would like to try and write some sort of strong, solid book using literary style. "2ti That book would no t be a fi ctional work but Tiu TaILs ofTimo, the one and only work ofYanagita's that is considered a masterpiece of prose literature, yet a work that Yanagita insistcd was based on "present-day facts. "27 The book-the substitute for the novel he never wrote-would become, in time, the undisputed origin of the discipline of nativist e thnology, the science oftheJapanese cultural unwritte n.2lI It was during this precise time, starting in November 1908, that Yanagita began to liste n to the stories of Sasaki Kizen in Tokyo. From his n otebooks from November 4 comes the following statement: ~Sasaki is a person from Tono in Iwate prefecture, and the mountain villages of that region arc very interesting. I shall construct TUllO mOl/ogatari by writing down the stories o f those villages just as they are.~ The e ntry fo r November 5 declares, MI shall write Timo monogalan·...../9 The vel)' title of the collection-the rubric that would unify the real diversity of Sasaki 's rumors, stories, and recollections under the name of "narrath'e" (monogatan) -had been fixed. The wriling of the tales was notjusl a chance encounter with a rural storyteller (who was in fact a universi ry student and an aspiring writer) and an equally casual and unmediated transcription of the facts, although Yanagita's ~ Preface " to the Taks and o ther writings create that sense. II was instead a coherent and deliberate project that went through a whole series of mediations. It is entirely dea r lhat there is a theoretic trajectory that cuhninates in the writing of the text of the tales, and the question is, why? Why does TM Talis of Too o provide Ihe theoretic space that Yanagita needed al that time? We know that he was deeply in terested in what he called the ~co n cealed " world-a world of ancestors, of the monstrous, of the unseen, of d eath. The co ncealed world indi cates a discursi ,'c space articulated in peasan( practice
and by Tokugawa nativist thinkers; by the late Meiji peliod, it doubly pointed to the marginalized ob\'erse of Meiji civilization and enlightenme nt: the rural , the unwritten , the vanishi ng.·'10 But was it sheerly Yanagita's interest in the concealed world-and his political concern to recove r itthat attracted him to these tales that speak so obsessively o f ghosts, deaths, and disappearances? That attraction would not acco unt for the centrality of thfit stories in all their particulari ty. Nor would it fu lly account for their p0sition as the book that crystallized Yanagita's thoughts on representation and literature. I would argue that part o fYanagita's interest lay in that which
306
UNSETTLING TEXTS
resists representation, that which is left out of any attempt a t naturalized direel description. Thinking about that whic h 4 The novelist Tayama Katai, who is often credited with introducing the word naturalism into Japanese, stated, Whik Kunia ma intains thai I. a nalur.tlist write r, cannot understand his feelings and am nOi really qualified to evaluate his work, I find lhe work infused with an extr.lvagance ofafTected rusticity. I remain unmoved. His use of on-site obserY.ltion to create the background in an essay is signifi cant. The work's im pressionisti c and artistic qualities, howl'Ver, deri\";
Another famo us author and friend, Shimazaki Toson (also an exponent of naturalism) wrote in an essay 011 Tima m()1lQgatari, That work ['rOno lIIonogatanl consists in its entirety of a collection of legends [dnrutsu] from a remote region. As the author ~tates in his preface, after having heard these stories and seen their place of origin, he felt compelled 10 convey them 10 others, so f;u.cinating we re the realities contained therein. The concise and ho nest style of the stories--as well as the critical preface and thematic arrangement of the tales-immediately attracted me. The copy that Yanagita presented to me is here before me now, and I ha\"ejust finished reading it.... After reading these kinds of story, 1 feel that I hal'e come to know something, howe...er faintly, about the wonder [kyol1 and terror [kyo/til found within the midst of rur.tl life [ruraru raifu]. These storie~ of mountain gods. goddesses, and strange men and women who live in the mountains-as well as stories of mysterious ret actual occurrences. like the tale that rem inded Yanagita of Maeterlin ck 's '"The Intruder--have made me feel this way. Even though this work was written O Ui of a scholarly interest in e thnic development [mi l1.wJru hattatsu], 1 still felt as if I could hear something like th e distant, distanl voices of the fields in this work.... I would like to know more about the place where these stories were born and passed down. The reason I \\'ould like to know more is due, I think, to the fa ct that the author of TiYllO tnOrnJglltari, more than beingjust a collector of 51r.tnge tales or a scholar of ethnic p syc: hology. is a traveler ";th acute po""e,,, of perception. A. far a. I kn ow. the re are few tr.ll·elers like Yanagita, and there are even fewer tr.l\·elers \'o;th Yanagita's powers of obse""lItion.~
Shimazaki's critique astutely points out the ~ethnic ~ dimension of Yanagita's tales, yet in 1910, there was no clear perception of fo lklore studies as a pursuit. Instead, Methnology" was in its early stages of rormation, preceded by the founding of ethnological societies and journals. Shimazaki may have been one or the few critics to point out this dimensio n o f Timo mmlOgatan', a dime nsion to which Yanagita himself does not dearly allude.
}14
UNSETTLING T EXTS
The first person to recognize lhe value of The Tales of tmw as folklQre, nO( lite rature, was in faCl a C h inese author and st;hola r of Japanese literature, Chou Tso-jcn (Shilsakujin, in J apa nese) J>7 In 1933. twenty-three years after Yanagita had published the tales, Chou Tso-jen disco\'cred the text and praised its peerless value fo r fo lklo re smdies.!>I! The preceding len years had wimessed the formation of nativist eth nology as a discipline. In 1925, Yanagita founded the journal Minw ku, which marked the beginning of all anthropological studies in Japan , according to the eminem eth nologist Aruga Kizaemon ,59 NO( until the 1930s, however, d id nativist ethnology attain widespread credibility. The Tales o/Timoanly be· came a recogn ized classic on its rep ublication in an expanded edition in 1935. Not coincidentally, 1935 marked in man y ways the apogee of nativist ethnology as a discipline. It was the year ofYanagita's kanreki (sixlieth birthday celebration. always a landmark event in Japanese society); the year the j ournal M inlran d£1Hho (Oral Tradition) was formed; and the year nativist ethnology as a d iscipline was finally established on a national scalef') It is significant that the ]'epublication of the Ta le!; coincided with the moment of nativist ethnology's disciplinary consolidation, the momen! of high fascism and militarism in the Japanese empire. II is possible to see the e nlire trajectory of na tivist ethnology with its emphasis o n the unwritte n , the marginal. and the impove rished as a species of resistance to el ite, dOellmenta.,', modernist scholarship as such , providing a n alternative to statesponsored mainstream scholarship. Yet to the extent that it became disciplinarily constituted as the study of what was uniquely .Japa nese, that whic h was outside the corruptio ns of Western mode rnity, Yanagita and his folklore studies ( there \~as no doubt it was his discipline) contributed to the chau vin ism and cultural nationalism ofthe wartime period. 61 It was with the expa nded republicatio n of the text in 1935 that The Talf~ of 1'000 emerged as the found ing text of native ethnology. It finally achiel'ed the complex acclai m that did not--could not-greet it o n its initial publication . Only the deferral of O'o'en ty-five years and the constructio n of a discipline allowed the retroac tive recognition of the strange birth that the text com memorated. As Yanagita h imself remarked in his comments to the second edition, In fact, when Trow mDlwgatml first came out, thc public still had no knowledge ofthesrob. /.twu in 1M Omlainment of~tation (New York: Oxford Uni versity Press, 1991): 74. 5. Masao Miyoshi has writlen of the J apaneM: rejection of Mishima 's literature, declaring, "Much of Mishi ma Yukio's dazzling perfonnance n ow looks merely namboyant, or even kitschy, The list of his works is long, but the list of thoM: that might as well remain unread is nearl~ as long." Mishima's shon review of TM TaILs of To no remains a piece that bears reading. See Masao Miyoshi, O./JCmtt:r. Pawer and CIIIIII.Tt !Utations klW«nJapa1t and Ih, UnitM Stales (Cambridge: Harvard Un iversity Press, 1991) : 149. 6. The Mdji Restordtion aimed to "n:store - the emperor to his rightful place of authority after centuries of merely titular kingship under lhe military government of Japan, which held de facto po,,'er. For an analysis of the Meiji Restoration as the complex culmination of intellectual debates about aUlhorit~ and representation, M:e H. D. Harootunian, Toward Reslrna/iOlt: Th, Grow/h of Political Corl.lli01IS/1t$S in 1'011.11.' gawaJapan (Berkeley; Los Angeles. and London: University of California Press, 1970). 7. The concept is Kanllani Kojin's, de\'dopcd in his NihOlt hindui InmgaJlu no higm (Tokyo: Kodansha, 1980). Karatani' s book is an examina tion of the formation of modem Japanese literature, in which h~..ts dee p ly invested in the p rocess of collection it.self, indicated by his later mobilization ofscore~ of d isciples 10 g-dther data for h is science. T his investme nt is also clear from the relat ionsh ip of rivalry that later d e\'elopcd with Sasaki Kizen o\'er the publishing of future folktales. 40. Mi~ hima, 1'("1(} »wTloga/ari, 198. Fu.wku na lIiki might be liter.lIly tr.mslated as "unforeseen ghastliness." What I think is implied here, however. is the ghastliness of a ce rtain insufficiency, "like whe n someone starts to talk and then suddenly stops speaking, ~ and thus I also find lhe p hrase "ghasdy insufficiency" suggesth·e. 41. TMVgt>uuajTrino, 3 1-32. 42. [am indebted to Ml aden Dolar's explication of the modem unca nny (and the distinction between Todorov's and Lacan 's reading~ ) in hi~ " '1 Shall Be ",;th Yo u on Your Wedding-Night': Lacan and the Uncanny: October 58 (Fall 1991 ): 5-23. 43. See the dassic discussion of the uncanny in Sigmund Fre ud, "The ' Uncanny' ~ ( 1919), in "J"M S/a7ldun/ tAi/ian aj /M Compkk Psychological Worl:s, ed. James Strddley, Vol. XVIII (Lon don: Hog-drlh Press. 1955), 44. Kuwabara T a keo. " T (; ,!O manoga/ari b ra: in Yanagila Kunia 1I.enllyii, 128. Essay originally published ill 1937. T he original phrase is ~rd:.ish i izen no sekai." 45. Qda, "Shokohon TfjTla manoga/ari no mondai," 75. 46. Questioners at the conference "[magi ning J apan: Narrdtives of Nationhood" at Stanford Un iversity in May 1993 re m inded me tha t much of Japan's "tale literature" also has this fragment.ed. e pisodiC quality, The Nihanr~lIi '''" took ol'er with the Military Police Breaking doors and signs, whooping their battle cries When t.hey bumped into people on the streel With the flat of the machete they tenderized them,just short of killing, To don Anselmo Cetro, it happened; at fin: in the morning on his way to work they got him good To Dionisio Mercado-to disann him of his machete. they shot and left him; mouth shut tight, body fried To don Manuel Pizarro it happened that the MPs took his 400 pesos When the man saw himself lost he went directly to the town mayor [Zambrano], and the mayor said to him: "Get out of here yQU bum before [ have you shot!" When the man understood he'd lost his entire econo my. All he could do w-as repeat MGod Bless the Virgin Mary." To Felix Malia Acuna, the MPs paid a \isit And the money in his trunk disappeared in an instant One night they SC t off so joyous in their lorry, But it got stuck al the comer and so they went to worry The daughters of Evaristo O spina. But since at first this didn't work out They rolled down the ditch to relax at jos.efa's, that bitchy bitch Raving like m;tdmcn They got those daughters, filling their mouths with shit Saying to each other, MOh! We'll be bringing back the dough!M But it didn·t work out that wa)·, cos· on seeing the soldiers in droves Them CUle linle blacks sli pped wrai thlike into their cocoa gro,·es, wandering, massing, wandering Until they gOt to the road Where the jeep, ·cos of a ditc h , disgorged it, pa.'\SCngen M And now those bla(ks are nring on me like rm a wOllnded bear Run ! Run ! Compaiierosl This black fella· s gonna kill me Leap. F1)ing into the jeep. Oh ! The pain!
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Already I'n: been shot. Look here at the wound! If we don 'I gCI OUia here real quick. the game is up. " So the pale heroes come back to Puerto Tejada At the hand s o f the sweet black folk, how many came wounded! I've got to tell )'OU Zambrano, 01' buddy o ' mine Never, ne\'CT, can I go offwi lh you again Beca use brought from afar, life's just too fine. "You co me right along, bUl not "'ith an y ambassadors If you try to be br.l.\'c, we'll kick yo u along." And offhe went propelled by the flat of th e mache te To be dumped with rifl e bUIl$ inside the jail. "You "'c gOi to pay twO thousand pesos to get yo urself free
And if you don ' t, you'll go to etern ity!" And so, 10 free him o f his doleful song
From this poor citizen too, they got their due And, speaking I'oilh valor, Zambrano came up with an idea. "I' m going to Villa Rica with a ll my means of State.~ So Spoiu the Means of State If yo u go to Villa Rica then we ' ll come, Sire, And if th i", y or. ., ,
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' Have you got the book Mantillo, Number One?' I asked ,H
~Yes,"
~ H ow much?H "Three reals, H ~Sell me o nc and teach mc thc firstl csso n.~ ~ I gave him the three reals and he gave me the book and he taught me the ABC fo r the first time in my life, then a second lime, the n a third time, then a fourth tim e, and then he left me the re and wandered away selling his stuff. So I struggled and when I forgot a letter I would go back to the mar" ketplace and he would teach me that letter. H We could not but be re minded of this feat whe n we came across the o ld man's poem that we fo und toward the end o fa tape marked january 1970." It is what he called ~A composition I made fo r a young girl going for the first time to school";
346
UNSE TTLI NG TE XTS
Adi os querid .. niiia, Ie alejas de em: hogar ~laiiana (uando panas, no vayas a lIor.tr T e t!spera un llCU\'O ambiente, la pucna del saber
Que d e-vcra tu alma a un mas alto ni\'e1 Y ttl he nllanita Adela se queda sin consue1o
Que por Ii p ide bendicioncs al Sant o Dios d el CicIo Manana (uando \'UChrdS a cstc querido hog-dT Traycndo la semilla que )"d d e bes sembrar Put:s tu hennanit;\ Adela te ha dt: acom p,lnar
Por llanos Y lllontanas que han de trabajar Jesucrislo fue maestro en lali lribus dcJudi! Yel qut: tenga vocac ion, eslO debt: sembrdr. Farewe ll dear c hild. 1ea\1ng home Tomorrow when ),ou go, don ' t cry
For there's a new world awaiting through the ga tes of knowledge An d while )"our sou l will be uplifted Your little sister Adela remain s without comfort
Asking benediction for you from the Lord above T omorrow when rou return to this dear home Bri nging with you the seed rou need to sow Your siste r. Adel a. will be there to hel p rou Through the valleys and mountains that have to be worked J c m s ChriS! w-.... teacher among the tribes o f J udah Whoeye r has the ,·ocation. this is what has to be sown .
More than a gift, such a rhetorical gem stands ritually like a talisman . signaling and offe ring warranty of safety thro ugh a ri te of passage. With its promise of education, the school elevates the soul . Such a generous view of the ideal of formal ed ucation is only likely to come, we are tempted to say, from a person who had n ever been to school, and surely il is a view deep ly shared by Colombia·s peasant farmers whose respect for the local school is bou ndless. More than that, we wonde red if the poet·s at titude toward the wo rld o f letters and poetic forms was the result of j ust this misn:cogn itio n , just this generosity and idealism.
PEASANT FARM I N G AND EP I C POETRY
Indeed , might not his position as a reade r who never went to school, a peasant farme r with on e foot in the market economy and the other fOOl in subsistence, migh t not this marginality vis-a.-vis formal institu tion s of state, econ omy, and culture be the ~struc lural condition ~ of his m ix and swepo'e, now and mix, of high culture and popular culture? Might not this marginality with respect to the state and the market. this marginality trembling with con tradiction and ambivalence, with its own mix of pain and desire, blind-
CONSTRUCTION
m' AMER ICA
ness and insight, be precisely the spiritual source of the epic, a poetic form bearing witness to the lived effects of formalization-of the rationalization of the mind, of the body, of social and economic life? Perforce the poetry that fills this conflictual locus will also bear the brand of law, the state's mighty instrument o f formalization, as we see dearly in Tomas Zapata's output with its endless civil suits o\'er jurisdiction of land, police who take the law imo their own hands, town marors who reson to violence, and presidents who make laws to force marriage instead of free unions, Certainly we can read the Od)'ssey, as Robert Fitzgerald so pithily describes it, as "about a man who cared for his wife and wanted LO rejoin her. ~l1 But we can read it in a more historically pungem way embedded in philosophical pro blems of representation and the mythological basis of modern reason. We can see it as the pre-Socratic ur-tale of mimetic forms of knowing succumbing to the impersonality of capital and the modern state, the epic rendition of how yielding to the particulate sensuousness of worldly detail through imitation is turned against itself in the vast story of worldly progress known as the domination of nature (and no doubt this vast story is still Fitzgerald's story of a man who cared for his ....ife and wants to rejoin her), This is how H orkheimer and Adorno read Homer in their DiakClic of Enlighlnlme71t, a book of special interest for peasant poetry if we care to define the poetic as that art of mimetic signification that delights in taking relations of sound and sense, nature and culture, to the ir outermost limits where signs hover in the fragility and power of artifice exposed. And if poetry is that signirying practice that thus exposes or has the potemialto expose signifying practice, is it no t a form of sympathetic magic, too, of like affecting like, of contagion along the sympathetic chain where ideas become forceful presence using correspondences to outwit and even dominate reality? Frazer of 7~ Goltkn Bough sees magic in this way, and Benjamin scruti n izes Baude laire's poetry with this very much in mind, tOO, concluding that the correspondences are scored in that poet's work as an attempt to preserve experience in a crisisproof form, bUlthat nevertheless the poetry is formed by a ready acceptance of failure , in the face of the shock force of modernity, to maintain this crisis-proofing.12With particular poignancy these observatio ns touch on the issue or pC;L~anl me mory and [he fOlWard man;h of ma
whole which include~ knowledge, belief, art, morals, law, custom, and any other capabilities and habits acquired by man as a member of society.
For all irs unwieldiness, its omnibus character, and despite its embeddedness in the evolutionary paradigm of the day to which Tylor himself paid ample homage, the definition generated the now-famous view that culture is relative, it defines the human condition , that all h u man beings have it, or rather that it has them, and that one human being's culture is no better or worse than another's. To be fair, it was Franz Boas who, though never offering " definition of his own, breathed lile into the implications of the T ylorcan definition by putting it into the practice of his craft.l Of course, I am sure he did not foresee the silli ness into which relati\>ism, freed of its original polemical context, was to degenerate a generation later. And then there \\'as Bronislaw Malinowski, who, though never calling himself a cultural anthropologist, introduced the discipline's methodological sin#! qua non, participanl--observation. The humanities, for its part, was vaguely aware of the scandal brewing in anthropology, but, perhaps c halking it down to eccentricity (something man y an English anthropologist and a few Americans were guilty of), it was
UNSElTLI NG TEXTS
con tent to contin ue refining the Arnold ian view of culture 2 in practice if not in theory. H istory shared much oflhe prejudice o f the humanities.' T o suppon my argument with an extreme case, take, for instance, that most prestigious of th in k tanks, the Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton. It has four schools: Mathematics, Physics, History, and the Social Sciences. At -rhe 'tute,' ~ as some of the locals call it, "History" means European hislOry. European history is mo re hiSLOrical, no t in the sense ofte;:mporality but in the sense of an imputed cultural richness; "c u ltural, ~ in the Arnoldian sense. Even more to the point, historians of classical Greek and Rome are the "real h islO ri ans~ there, and by the time we get beyond the Renaissance, "History~ begi ns to lose its e mpyrean dignity. Th us we find the o nly French social histo rian, whose work happens to be centered around the eigh teenth to nineteenth cen tury, housed in the Social Sciences. But even among the "less than sterling" historians who chose to write o n the more recent past, the Arnoldian viewpoint persisted in o nly a slightly d ifferent form. Their h istories, fo r the most part, privileged the scripted voices of the powerful and the "cultu red." If this bias is true of European histo riography, it is even truer of those working on the hislOries of non-European peoples, up 10 and including the very latest of historiographies, colonial hislOry. Oral h istory, even when available, wo uld be suspect and would mos t likely be relega ted to that degenerate form, "fol kl ore.~ Speaking of European social historian s. however, it is to some of these that the anthropological concept of cultu re began to ma ke sense and in whose wo rks its implications have been the most profound; mo re profound, I th ink, than in anthropology itself. Tylor's name was rarely invoked, and the phe nomenon in questio n was called "social " rather than "cultural." But as it was to subsequently become clear, the sense in which "socia l ~ was e mployed was more akin 10 "cu llUre ~ than 10 the concepts of "social" and "s0ciety" that we re employed by British structural functionalists . It was "social~ in the Durkheimian sense tha t was to influence the Amwh$ schoo{ ofhi story, especially through Marcel Mauss. The m ove beyo nd the history o f the Middle Ages to the creation ofa space fo r what came to be known as early mode rn history was simultaneously the move from ecclesiastical history to hisloi" Sl'riau. 4 Marc Bloch 's tWO-\'olu me wor k &udal Socidy (196 1) was to become an anth ropological cano n in the sixties and seventies. Culture round its coun terpart in the longueduruof hislOry.5 On the English side, history fro m below was to fi n d its fines t embodiment in E. P. Thompson's classic, Tin Making of lin English Working Clau. The strikingly si milar influence of "culture" on European historian Carlo Ginzburg, on the one hand, and the Americans Robert Darnton and Natal ie Zemon Dav;s, on the other, is remarkable. What distinguishes all these historians is their ability to ~hea r" the voices no t of those who were bearers of Culture (with a capital "C~) but of those who found themselves embedded in culture (with a small "c"),those
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359
whose voices were inscribed in minuscule: the witches, the women, the shepherds, the serfs and peasanL~, the poor. the popular and the public. Enter cultural studies and its counterpart, literary study. Scholars in cultural studies, like the anthropologists and the social historians I ha\'e referred to, began to take seriously the culture of the neglected. In this case it was the cuhure, mainly in the West, of the man yo\'er that of the privileged few. If the Arnoldian definition were a decanter, students in cultural studies chose to study and appreciate the dregs. not the sublimate. Their topics of interest included, among others, the media, film, billboard advertisements, reggae and rap, pOllers and punks, gangs and televangelists, wine, beer, and cheese. ~Cu1ture,- in Raymond Williams's words, became Mordi nary.If c ultural studies, paralleling anthropology's turn away fTom the privileged West, thumbed its nose al the high, Ihe mighty, and the refined, literary stud y thumbed its nose at cOm'elllionalliterary criticism by emulating anthropology (alleasl some branches ofalllhropology) in emphasizing the context in whkh texts are wriue n and, more important, in which they are read. The story I have told thus fa r may sound as though all is triumphant in anthropology: ils goals reached, its intentions vindicated. Anthropologists teach; others, sooner or later, learn. Alas, it is not so. Allow me to backtrack a bit to Roger Kcesing's revicv.' essay of over twenty years ago and in the interest of convenience recommit all his sins of slighl---of Linton, Lowie, K1uc khohn, Kroeber, White, and most regrettably, Sapir. Keesing divided the cullUre theorists into two broad camps: the adaptationalists and the ideationalists. Marvin Harris and a few archaeologists were the leading spokesme n of the forme r, while the major subdivisions among the ideationalists were headed by the cognitivists, the Lcvi-5traussian structuralists, the Schneiderian symbolists, and the Geertzian interpretivists. The adaptationalists de rigueur, who had attempted 10 define culture as merely adaptation 10 economic , demographic, technological, and ecological forces, have by now, for all practical purposes. fallen by the wayside. I·hunan beings turned OUI to be as incorrigibly maladapth'e as they were adaptive, a nd the way they went about being adaptive and maladaptive was as capricious as the proverbial weather in certain temperate zones. As for the cognitivis(S, their early high hopes of finally making the culture concept scientific-and tha t, too, by not having 10 resort to analogies from the physical or biological sciences but by identifying il as a system of rules along linguistic lines--fell faster than they rose. Brent Berlin and Paul Kay's Basic Color Tenns ( 1969) was the last ~lo\'e story- that came out of those heady days of ethnoscience. Cognitive anthropology survi\'es today in a much more modest yet vital form in the fields of ethnobiology. cognitive psychology, and similar subfields. StruclUralism. which, in one of its extensions. came paradoxically dose 10 a
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kind o fbiologism-with the imputed binary structure of the mind seeking homology with the bicameral struClUre of the brain , triune·brain notwith-
standing-has been superseded byposlStrucluralism and postmodern ism in inte llectual circles. Schneide rian insights, articulated in increasingly
COIl-
fused, confusing, and quaint astronomical terms,6 were both better stated and overwhelmed by Michel Fo ucault's writings whe re the focus shifted to tpislemes and epochs. Schneiderian anthropology's disregard for histo ry, its essentialism, its unabashed idealism, its hypcrnominalism , and its absolute disregard of questions of pOI,'cr, rendered it parochial and largely irrelevant in the 1980s. It is not that Foucauh was innocent of at least some of these appare nt drawbacks, but the range of his power and intellect converted them into inte restingly defended assets.7 Fo r Geeru, too, cul ture was symbolic. But as agai nst Schneider, however, he played down the S)'slema licity of culture. He belittled the cognitivists' emphasis on the rule-governedness of culmre. H e found structuralism 's commiunenl to unh·ersalize Culture and to locate it in the Mhuman mind Mdangerously close to biologism. (I , fa rone, am not against making a place for both MCulture~ and Mc ulture~ but am wary of slructuralist conSl11..lction of iLl As agai nst all these co-ideationalists (if .....e acce pt Keesing's label in this regard ), Geeru ....'3.S committed to taking M cul_ ture ~ from OUI of the private, especially from within people's minds or h eads, and recognizin g il as public. And th e n there is th e persistent p res-
ence ofGeeru's prose style in his brand o f inter pre live anthropology. J belicvc that this, morc than any other single factor, more even than the Weberian and Dilth eyan roots o f his interpretive anthropology, is responsible fo r the wide appeal his writings ha\'e had, especially in the Humanities. What is of lasting significance in this aspect of Geertz's wo rk is the unapologetic incorporation ofthc cthnographe r with and in the cthnography, Once, when asked about ethnographic o bjectivity by o ne who still believed that the re was an objective/ scientific prose, Geertz replied, MJ don 't wanl anyo ne to mistake any of my sentences as having being wriuen by an yo ne else but by me. "I! Evcry line bore his signature. Thus ~cu lture ~ was no longer something out there to be discovered, described, and explained but rather something intO which the ethnographe r, as interpreter, enlered. M Self_ indulgence !~ cried the traditionalists. ~ Not e nough reflex iviry !~ cried the new reflexivists. But culture had become dialogic, less in the much-heralded Bakhtinian sense but morc in the lesser-known Peirccan sense, a sense in which the conseque nccs of conversation is shot throug h with "tychasm,"!I Tyc hasm was Peirce's neologism for that element of chance contained in the "play of muse me nt~-a free kind of doing, much like Lord Siva's lalas' ~ mindless ~ erolicisms and asceticisms, acts of wanton love and wanton war, and the cosmic dance lhat spans it all-that is more fundamental than either the gentle persuasion of agapism or the mechan istic nccessity of ana ncasm.
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It is this dialogic aspect of culture, culture no t as a given but as something made or, rather, co-created anew by anthropologist and infonnan( in a McoJl\'ersation, Mthat I in my own work attempted to elaborate (1984), I argued for a conversation in which what was generated, exchanged, and transformed consisted not on ly of words but the world of nonverbal signs as well, not only o f symbols---those arbitrary or conventional signs---but also of icons and indexes and a whole array of other, more or less motivated, signs. Built into a semiotic cOIll:eptualization of (uiture is an argument against a certain kind of essentialism. Given the silliness o f some of the forms of relativism that are on the prowl in anthropologyland and beyond, it behooves me to stress that the antiessentialism I advocate is not directed at what is essentially human-a debatable and refina ble list that should include, besides language, a sense of dignity, a need to love and to be loved, the capacity to reason, the ability to laugh and to cry, to be sad and to be happy, My antiessentialism is directed against those who advocate essential differences between and among cultures, or rather, against those who beIie\'e that the differenccs are essential and morc or less everlasting. lo The Schneiderians are most guilty of this kind o f essentialism. Their position may best be described as essential relativism, which is fundam en tally irra· tiona1 and immoral-a charge I do not have the time to explicate but which will become clear to anyone who ponders a little on the moral implications of sllch a position. What I envisage is a dynamic relativism that d oes not essentialize differences but belie\'es in the essential humanity of humankind, a humanity that is not merely biological but Cultural (with a new kind of capital "C"). Most cultural anthropologists, in focusing their accounts on culture with a small MC~, have been guil ty of neglecting, even if not den yi ng, the importance of this kind of MC uiLUre. ~ At this point allow me to interject what appears to be a radical critique of such a semiotic view of culLUre. The charge is that the goveming metaphor in such a view, Mconversation, ~ exalts consensus at the expense o f contcsta· tion. Onc response to this charge is an elementary o ne. MConversation ~ cn· tails communication or even com munion in the widcslsense of those terms, a sense that includes agreements and disagreements, consensus as well as contcst.·1.lion; but on shared grounds. Such a derense is neither very ingenious nor thoroughly ingenuous. Fo r it is true that most cultural accounts in anthropology ha\'e gi\"en scant atten tion to contestations, even if they we re on ly a subset of a larger conscnsual matrix, Yet, the ~contcstatorS-lIlust concede theargumcnl in principle, But the critique in question suffers from a more serious infirmity. It suffers from what \,'C may, following Hobbes, diagnose as ~bagpipitis,~ ~a going along \\1th the prevailing windy can t, with whatever passes for [radical] afflatus, [becoming] indistinguishable frOIll the tamest of binl5eal1u- (Hill 1991 ; 17). Contestation itself has become a cliche, a call to combat with phrases "on tap,M an obliging man nerism, part
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36J
respect to Kant, I have in m ind the implications of his Critique of Aesthetic
Judgment, whereby we are invited to see the beautiful as the sublime l! and wherein when we contemplate an object and find it beautiful, there is a certain harmony betv.·een the imagination and the understanding which leads us to an immediate delight in that object. That whole which we call culture is supposed to end up, in anthropological analysis, to have a certain harmony, not unlike the Kantian object ofbeaury. If we can only make it true, then we will also have made it beamiful. Or is it the o ther way around? In our monographs, how much time do we spend "rounding it all up, ~ especially through the crafting of a closing statement or conclusion? This ideal is most poignantly captured in W. B. Yeats's description of a poem 's reach· ing this moment of the sublime in a letter of September 1936 to Dorothy Wellesley: Ka poem comes right with a click like a closing box." So would we like our cultural accounts, our monographs, our arguments, to end in a moment of beautiful fin ality. Ah beauty! For John Keats, "the aesthetic impulse is encapsulated in the coldness and sterility of his Grecian Urn" (Shaviro 1990: 10). The point is made even better yet by Steven Shaviro's reading of that marvelous poem by Emily Dickinson. First the poem: I died for Ikauty-but wa~ scarce Adju5led in the Tomb " 'hen one who died for Tmlh, ....-as lain [n an a~joining room-He questioned softly, "Why I failed?" "For Beamy: I replied"And I-for Tmth-Themsetf are OneWe Brethren, are." He saidAnd so, a.'l Kinsmen . mel a l'iglilWe talked between the RoomsUntil the Moss had reached our lipsAnd covered up--Pk, M)'ths of Stale. The thesis is perfectly Hegelian,
370
UNS ETILING TEXTS
except of course for its arrh'al notata summum bonum in equipoise bUlat an onlOlogycondemned to violence. The o nly problem was that no sooner had this and similar theses been put forth than Tamil violence rose lO match Sinhala violence. Furthermore. violence was no longer interethnic but intraethnic, with more Tamils killi ng Tam ils and Si nhalese killing Sinhalese than Si nhalese killing Tamils or Tamils killing Sinhalese. I must pause to emphasize here that my description ofa violent event in which Tamils were victims and Sinhalese the aggressors is fortuitous. Conditions in 1983 and 1984 when I did fieldwork on this topic yielded morc tales of Sin hala on Tamil violence. Rest assured that there fo llowed plenty of equally gory examples ofvio\cnce in which Sinhalese were the victims. The point is this. Violence is an event in whic h there is a certain excess: a n excess of passion, an excess of evil. The \'1;: 1)' attempt to label this excess (as indeed I have done) is condemned to fail; it e mploys what Georges M Bataille called Mmots glissants (slippel)' words) . Even had I rendered faithfully, withollt any editing, the \"ords-both coherent and incoherent-of Nitthi, I would no t have seized the evenL Evel)'thing can be narrated, hut what is na rrated is no longer what happened. I have also interviewed young men who were membersofvarious militant l110vemenLS a nd who have killed a fellow human being or human beings wi!h rope , knife, pis!ol. :automatic nrc, o r grcnadc. "You can tell a ncw "ccruit from his eyes. Once he kills, his eyes change. There is an innocence that is gone. They become focused, intense, like in a trance. Such was the account of a "cteran militant, who has since kft the movement in wh ich he fought. Violence, like ecstasy-and the two at times occome one-is an event that is traumatic, and interpretation is an attempt at mastering that trauma. Such an atlemptmay be made by victim (if he is lucky to be aJive ), villain. or witness. We who are either forced or called on 10 witness the evcnt's excess either nee in terror or arc appeased imo believing that this excess can be assimilated into culture, made, in a sense, o ur own . Regardless of who the willless is-the villain , the survivi ng victim, or you and methe violent cvent persists like crush ed glass in one's eyes. The light it generates, rather than helping us see, is blindi ng. Maurice Blanchot, in Madness of /Jill Day, writes thus: M
I nearly 10~ t my ~igh t , because someone crushed glass in my eyes.... 1 had the feeling I was going back into the wall, or straying into a thicket of flint. The worst thing was the sudden, shoc king cmehy of the day; I could not loo k. but [ eou[d not help looking. To see was te rrifying, and to stop seeing tore me apart from my head to throat . ... The light wa~ going mad, the brighmess had loS! all reason; it assailed me irrationally, without control , without purpose.
(Quoted;n Shaviro 199(): 3) Morc ethnography.
37/
CRUSHED GLASS
Piyadasa (a pseudonym) is a Sinhalese in his late twenties. I knew him as a young boy who played soccer in the town of Nawalapitiya, where I grew up. He lived in a village near Kotmale and used 10 ride the bus back and forth to his school with Tamil schoolchildren who came to Nawalapitiya from the tea estates. At times, after a game of soccer. he and his bus-mates would feel so famished that they wo uld pool all their small change. including their bus fares, to buy and eat buns and plantains from the local tea shop. Then th ey wo uld start walking up the hill to Ko tmale, all of six miles. His village now lies buried under the still waters of a reservoir built by the Swedes as part of the Mahave1i River damming p roject. In 1983, the panlaram (the boy who makes garlands) of the loea] Hindu temple was killed. I was informed by another Sinhala man , a close friend o f one of my brothers, that Piyadasa was among those who had killed the pantaram and that h e too had wielded a knife. I visited Piyadasa, who has been resettled in the north-cenu-al province, and asked him to describe to me what had happened . He excluded himself from having directly participated in the violence but ....'aS able to gh'e me a de tailed accoun t of the e\·cnt. Thc fo llowing are a few excerpts. He was hidin g in the temple when we got there. The priest. he had run away. So they started brea king the gods. This boy. he ....'as hiding behind some god. We caug ht him. Pulled hi m out. So he started begging, -Sami' ~ don' , hit. Srfmidon't h it.~ He had urinated. He pleaded, "Oh gods thai you are. why are you breaking the samis?" They pulled him om 10 the street. The nurses and orderlies were shouting from the hospital balcony. "Kill the Tamils! Kill the Tamils!" No one did anything. TIley all had these to ng k ni\'l~s and sticks. T his boy .....as in the middle of th e road. We .....ere alt going round and round him. For a long time. No one said an)·thin g. Then someone flung al him with a sword . Btood started gushing [{) galii liaval. Then e\'c ryone .\tarted to cut him with their knives a nd beat him with their sticks. Someone brought a lire from the Bro.....n and Com pany garage. There .....as petrol. We thought he ......as fin· ished. So they piled hi m on the tire and set it aflame. And can you imagine. this fellow stood up with cut up anns and all, and stood like that, for a litue white. then fclt back illlo Ihe fire. The constal1 t shift ing fro m the induding 'We ~ to th e excludi ng
~they~
;s
noteworthy. This was in the early d ays o f my horror-slOry collecting, and I did not know what to say. So I asked him a question of absolute irrelevance to the issue at hand. Heaven knows why I asked it; I must have desperately wanted to change the subject or pretend that we had been talki ng about something else all along. "'What is your goal in life ?~ I asked. The re ply shot right back: "I want a VC R.~ I have struggled to understand this e\'ent, to speak about it, and thereby to master it. But I have literally been struck Mspeechless. I am not alone, quite clearly. During my work in 1983--84 and since, in Sri Lanka, India, M
CRUSHED GLASS
J7J
NOTES This is a modified version of a talk delivered as the Second Wertheim Lecture at the Universiry of Amsterdam in the summer of 1991. I. See Stocking (1968). 2. See Amold (1932). 3. J owe lIlanh 10 Prof. Eric Hobsbawm and, especially, to Dr. Miri Rubin for substantive discussions of this and lIle follo....;ng paragraph. The responsibility for errors in intell'retation is e ntirely minc. 4. See Le Roy-Ladurie (1974. 1979). 5. See 8raudcl (19 76). 6. For instance, consider this: "It should be stressed that these co nceplS rest on the premise lila! any symbol has many meanings, on the premise Ihal symbols and meanings can be clu.u ered into ga laxies, and on the premise Ihal galaxies seem 10 have core or epitomizing symbols as their foci": or this: "\ am now dealing with a galaxy [American cuhure] in which coitus is the cpilOmil.ing symbol." Schneider (1976: 218 and 216, respectively). 7. Sec, in particular, Foucault ( 1972, 1973. 1980). 8. o.'erheard from a conversation between Ceertz and lIli~ other sc holar during which I was presellt. 9. One of C. S. Peirce's se,'eral neologisms that he triangulates with anancasm (the force of mechanical necessiry) and agapism (loving lawfulness/ mindfulne$S). See Peirce 6:302. 10. If the essentialist treatments of c ultures are wanting and deser.;ng of interrogation. so do comparable treatmen lli Of"e1iUS" and "gender." In this regard. see ScOl1 (1988: II ) but also the back-and-forth between Scali and Laura Lee Downs ( 1993). 11. As faras the interesti ng distinction that Kant draws between the beautiful and the subli me, and insofar as he aligns Ihe fanner with women and the laller with man, it is but one step away from the Shivaist resolution of the d ic hotomy in the androg. ynous unity ofShi,LIi 'I% '!1!n!deddy ' wef!U![I!lIP'!WV III ' U! ":I!P"I" "J1'!.I:l1!1 '.:l P!'i-':>',!UIl ueJ!-lJUJY f'1=1>1 'OI:I!pm. U1!JIJ:lWV rl>F!II>l 'n"!-l"V) <e 'OIU" "!-l:lWV 6ll 'pue uopeJll!wUJ! ':lJn)1'!.I:ll!I u n ,J:llUV ffi 'pu" WiP1'!.l ' Lt l- 9tl "'ffFm
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om:
) 78
CONTRI BU T ORS
Clifford Gem::. is Harold F. Linde r Professor of Social Science at the Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton. He has carried Out fieldwork in Indonesia and Morocco and is the a ut hor of Tlu &ligiorl ofJava. Islam Obstrvtd, Th" lntnpretatioll of CuUurtS, and Wor*s and LilJt!$. IHarilyn Ivy (caches anth ropology at the Ulli\,crsity of Washington in Scaule.
She has written on mass culture, modernity, and the politics of knowledge, and J apanesc national culturalism, themes she a lso exam ines in her book, Discourses of tht Vanishiflg: Modemit). Phantasm, Japan. Her recent work concerns the relationship among media representation, criminality, and bourgeois sensibi lity in contemporary J apan.
Mary N.
LaJOU7I
is a member of the Department ofComparativc Literature
at the University of Wisconsin at Madison. She teaches and writes about modern literatures and cultures, nationalism and gender, politics and culture, disciplinary h istories, and insti tutional politics and pedagogy. Her books include Travels of a Ge1ll't : IdrololJ)' and the Modern Novel and, recently, BoundaryFixation?-a comparative study of the contradictions of modern nationalism and of Greek, Palestinian, and Cypriot cultural responses to nationalism-in-crisis. David Lloyd teaches English at the Un iversity of California, Berkeley. He is the autho r of Nati011aiism and Mi/IOr Literature:jamts Clanm u Maugan and tlu EmergnlU of Irish Cultural Nationalism. He is co-edito r of Nature and Context of Minority Discourse and has \\'rinen numerous essays on aesthetics and cultural politics. H is most recent book is Anomalous States: Irish Writing in tht Postcoumial Momellt. lito N Ulles is a member of the Departments of English and Comparative Literature at Columbia Un iversity. She has wrillen on the literatures of the Americas and is currently wo rking on Brazilian modern ism and race.
jefJrey M. Peck is a member of the Center for German and European Studies at Georgetown Unh-ersity. He has published anicles on the histo ry and status of Gennan studies in America, the development of cultural studies, racism and ethnicity, and East German responses to the Ho locaust. He has just finished a collaborative book of intelviews and a video documentary on Gcrman Jews who returned fro m exile in All ied countries to live in East and West Berlin entitled &joumers: Tlu Retum of German jews alld the Question of Identity in Cermally. Dan Rose teac hes at the University of Pennsylvania where he is a member of the Departments o f Anthropology and Landscape Architec ture. He has contribmed to litera'1' anthropology in the recent colleclions AnOlropolOff} and Literaturtand A nthropological Poetics, and at the University of Pennsylvania Press, he edits the series in Contemporary Ethnography. H is
382
IN DEX
Aug ... r, ];mguage and, l.8.5 Animation or n ature , in pCtem. ~ 2&i Shabha. Hom; K.. 270-271 n Bhaga''''dgita, in Indian co",.., rsation, olD. Sicame ... l structure ufthe brdi n. 360 Bildung, racial for mation as cultural , ~
2li:1.=265.
Bilingual education, l.8fi Biographical nar ... ti,..,. travel "Titing and. l35 Biology, Brazilian rdcism and, 2.2i "Birth mark, T he" (Hawthorne), laO. Slack. Max. metaphotic con. t.ructioru and. 2li Blac kmail , 28l=288 Rlac'" in America. ~ anthropol ogical di sintere,t in Amccica n, ::tM in Bra:til. ~ 238..:!.H.=2MI Bra:tilian superstitions about. 2l!i::2Ml desire for whiteness amo ng . ~ lac k of "')-th. among Cari bbean , ::tM of Puerto T~jada, ~ racism and , 2fil &.dr Sltin. II'lIi/, M",,1ts (Fan on), 2li2=26ti Blancho t, Maurice. on crushed glass in the e)-es, 1W
Blin dne,.,., ofTom;u 7":']Mta. 3,J.3 Bloch, Marc . ~ BtU! Whale (KaL'<elli j, 9!hlO.2 conclusio n of, 10l historical context of, l.O.k1Q2 loannides's trAnslation of, 103n language of. ~ nar ...!i"e style of. ~ narratOr of, !lO..=!ll occupied C)'Prus and, 91,,99 !Ufo~;" My Hamt/a"dan d . 9!b9J strllCtu,e of. ~ 21.::illi.!l!blOO Blue whales characterbtics of. ~ exti nctio n of. !l!i Bly. Robert. influe nce of T u Fu on. 5.2 Boas. r ... n,., f!.!!,!!.. ~ 351 Boddham-Whetham.J. D., on raciallll)'!holog)', ~
Boeckh ,Joachim , 16 Boga i>ztiirk generational con f lict of, 198d..99. Paul Geiersbach and, 2ll!b2lfi on Turkish li fe in Ge r many, 2 12n
I NDEX BogOt:l, ~
Bu "ga~ .. ,
Bonaparte. Napoleon. To'na., Zapata's story about, ill
&oJr of Smr~.
:rr
30ii 'I'M '[ilks { '[q,ro;u, ~ 8u"gufai. l!@.:Yl:l.=3Q5 BunM Aa;/w. 2!l8 8u"Jho. ::101 Bureaucratization ufpower. in J ap;Ul.
Buon.James. l..fi5 undergr:l.duate the$i~ of, 9 Bopp. Frallz, lfi "Borderlands: 19l Bm-dnitJndsjLa F"",ln-a: TM N~ AI" t;"" (Anzald(la). ;m. L&I Borders. betwCf: n cuhures. lli2. 19l Borneman.John. 311 intt'r view narrath'es of. 25. Bororo village shapes, l!l1 Boundary fIxations. of nationalistic cnses, I!R Bourgeois. pcaloan~ and, 35U Bowdl erizatioo , of Edg-dr ThurslOo', work, 2111 Braga, Cin(inalO, l l i Brain. bicameral str ucture of. 300 Brandywine Rive r ba..in, 1290 Brand}""';ne sc hool , ill Br.l''t: Ort:hid. l!!3dlH
V.fulru. in Brazil. ~ Camargo, $tlzana. 215..lli Dunbindo. Eusebio storytelling and, ~ Tomas Zapata and. ~ "Campus Foru m on Multiculturalism" ( Rosaldo~ l..!!9d..!lO Cannibalism ( ullu'-dl , W Macunaima and. ~ ~ Cafntal ( Marx~ 33Il
Brazi !
Ca l, i.ali. tn ,
anxiety among the elite of, 23.2.,,23fi immigntion frum Italy to. l l i Lb: i-5lraU.U on, ~ modernization of, 23.2.,,23fi political unn:st in . 238 Br.,zilian Eugenio Congress uf 1929. 239 BTa1.ilian literature. ~ m::21!i defining. 23!l national identity and. lli::2l1 .-"ci. mand. ~~ Bmzi lian sla'~ trade. lli=239 Brech t. Sertol!. 33Il epic thealer and. m poetry and. ~ BruM;" Conln:l (WiJiell ). 139. Breuer.J oscf. lli British coloni alism, 272n , ~ racism of, 2lil::2fi2 British Raj in India. 2Bl torture under, 29!k29l BroIMr, AI""I Ear Otri""" a..d \laur TDg"lhn! (Geiersbach). l..!!ll=2l12 Browns (pardo$~ in Brazil. 2.56. Buddhism. ~ Chine""" poetry and, 51 I ;;~ i.sl"''''' o n. l.Jild.Jii
feudal./apan and, 300. organization of, l..l5d..lfi. Capitalill..,ffrcli,·e co",~rs.1.li on. ill Capitoline Venus. Ll7d..3!I Caribbean region , l l i Caribbean wrileo, 3!>1 Caribs, creation account of, ~ Carl)'le, Thomas, observations on the Irish, 2fil Carter,Jimmy. 12ll Crua gm~de t s~mllitJ (F~e). racial and anthropological obsen-~tion s in. ~ CmUj a"d 1hb.!:! of Sou lhtrn {..dia, 1'/u (Thuoton ). 2.1lb28O publication of, 2fi1 Caste ~tem. SN al.'een cultures, I9l ChiMrm ofSa"dln, n ", Autol1iography of a Mai"," Family (Lewis), 2l 1n
Children. Stt alsa Infanticide curiosity of Turkish, 2!l.2 murder of, 282 China a5 a markel. 12..Id.22 Maxine Hong Kingston's acCOUnts of childhood in, J..83d1!j China Council for Ihe Promotion of 1mern ational Trade, l2l Chinese chanu:ters JapanelC language and. 3O.l.=302 pronundation of, 318n ChinelC com"=lion, .40 ChinelC (ulture, poetry and, tl"M Chinese poetry, 31 Chou TiIOjen. !l21 n Chml Disputiltg with 1M Datton (Durer), l49. Christianity, J udaism wrsus, 22l=22:1. Chronide, ~
Cltnm~ algirinz ~ (Camus), l49. ChulauilaJ,.555n Ci Mae do Mato. rape of, 213 altl
CirckofllLruolt, 1M (Ghosh ), 6
Citizenship in Ea$t Germany, 2:2li.=221 Susan R. and, 228::230. Susan R. '5 family and German , 223 Civilisation,
II IA
Civilization of theJapanesc outback, 309: unil"rsal communicability and,
~
Cl~
ethnognlphy and, 2l::2:2 CIU'! stratification, in America, l.O9.
Clifford,James, 15 Cocaine, .'H1 Cocaine canel., assassins of, :l55n Cockfights. 218 Code semiotics, 9. Gognit;'" anthropology, 359 Gogniti,,, pi)..:hology, !!.5!l Cold "''ar. 2!!ll:=2!!l Susan R. 's family during. 22l::222 Coliseum, Ha"'1horne on, i l l CoU«W ntwtf of BiU] the KU. TM ( Ondaatie~
•
Collection, of TN l'aln ofTimo, .'IWn Collective memo ry, in immigrant writing, ll!1dl!8 Collor, Fernando, 2.'1.1 Colombia. Sn abo Puerto Tejad a struggle againsl the Spanish, ~ Colombian Anthropology AMociation, 321 Colon;al antllropology, pen,,"';t)' of. 28Il Colonial elhnography, in India,
m
""""'"
ColonialisllI. 3. criminality under, 28Hl!l! ethn ography and, 288d!!!l origins of anthropology in, 28!l radsm and, 2fi.ko26Il Coiowwl Man ATlltlnd IN Ilo.id, A, Etj a
Quadroon (Dorr), l.l!l!., l39 Columbus. Christopher, 35!l hi.tory of, 3.3.b332 Common men, 329: Common sense, ~ 'Commonwealth literatures: It Communism, farming under. ll.6 Communist part)'. Susan R.' s father's membenhip in, 221 Communities foraging, fi2. of ..'()rld corporations, Ui. ~ 125 Compa... tive Hleralure, 11i.d.1 Competition in bwine"", ll.1d.l8 among corporations, 125 "Complex whole,· 3fi2: "Composition 1 made for a young girl going for the lim time to sehool. A· (Zapata),
m
"""'"
Computer networks, 128- 129n Concealed ...'Orld, in TM Tales ofTiino, ""='rporations the Amerkan landscape of. 121. family·run ,-ersus larSe-scal", 128" as pragmatic pc rsuasi\"(, discursiw stn..:lUres, li:!::lli. l22d2.3 rdations among. J..2l".l25 C<mrio f'"u/i,r;,, 7U), 258
Coste . Didier, 104n Coumerdiscouncs. eth nogra phy " Ti ting and , 3"A Coumernarrat;'",~.
89
Counlcrpoim of arnhropolog}', 2S ofcultun:. ~m
Cm.rl tifDrolh. TN (R Pealc), CI9 CramlJanzano. Vince nt. 13 Crime , 2&h288 arnhropolog)' an d, 28b288 caste S}~lem and, 2Sl::288 co lonialism a nd . 2f! 7_2Ii8, 2!l2 o utlaws and. 280 Criminal castcs. 2.8(l anthropomelTl of, ~ characte r of. 28b2B8 in colonial India. 2lih288 Crim inal ide ntifi catiol1 b]i 3mhropomelTy. 2B.!i,,2llli bJ.' finge rpri nting, ~ Crilui'lal TrilJes Act . 2!ll Critique of AmMr;~ judgo""" (Kant ), .!Ifi:b!Ifi3 CriliqUl ofJ11df!.'/l.f"l!t, Tht (Kant). aesthetk c ultu '-e and. " 'i J_ Z'." Cros&casle marriage. 8ll Cross-c ullUr..1id" mity, 255 Cro.. roads. l34 Cryptupositivi.m . 21 Cubism. 231 ClIk•. o f India, M Cultura l cannibalism. ill Cultural citizenship. l.92 'Cultural discuurse." ]A Cuhural di'-ersi t}'.,.. ulldermini ng academic priv ilege . I.llibl!ll Cuh urdl experience. th rough poetry, 39 Cultural in ~. itulio " . , " o rld COq>. J apanese fol klore and. ~ poetr)' cOll(er ning, 'l3::.1li TM Taks ajTulII) and, 3!!5::3!l6 Death ceremonies ....ithin castes, 28B de Bary. Brett, 317n de Certeau, Mich el. on pupular culture in 19t h<emury France. 2!t2 de G::mdillac. Etienne Bonnm, 2.:!1 Deconstruction. 30.5. Deconstr uction of race. in Brazil, 236. Deeds, word, privileged over. 3l!2 llc~re and Compan~' gu'-eruance uf, 123 historr of, lll!. i l l meeting ....ith chief "xeCUtiv" officer of, 1O.~_ ]()7, 110 _111 , 114 _122 12fi relations ...ith Ch ina. 1"1_ 1" " Tt"latiuns "ith Soviet Union, l~ Ddormit)'. reports (ol1ected in India 011.
m
3.'
=
Deities, s,." a"oApp~rition. depicted in 'I'M Ta~ ajTimo, ill of Jackal Hunters, ~ ~ of Parairar. fi2di3 of Sri Lanka, fi3 of Tamil Nad u, li.:hfi5 lldah-an:: Valky, ethnogml'h)' of. lQ!.! Deloria, Ella , career of, Ii de Man, Paul. ill on autobiogrAphy and fi ction, UU On textual tjxi ty and (iosure, ~ De nazification, 233n Dent, Fred, 12l Dnl/u, 2!l9. lle rrida.,Ja('l"';$, 1. 319" , 322n Yanagita's ...Titing and, ~ de Sau~ure. Ferdinand, phonQlogy and 5qof India. 28!I::28.a Elhnogmphies. lB composition of. { Ethnogm phy. ~ in BTa1.i I. m GlSte ,,.,Icm and. 2TIb28O Oifford Geeru and. 23 COIOllialism and. 2B!b29.1 fiction and , 6:l fint honom.), 5uperimendem of. for ~bdl"~"
:.tftl
imntig ....uu 1iter:IIl....: and. l11d18 of India, 2.25:2!!5 Indian g(wernmenl support of. ~ ~
J apanese, 29!1k32:2 metaphoric CQn""uction in. 26 narlOllh-e-digressi\'c, 2l. ll!I:::ll.l.
!1!!.
aesth .. tic cul tuft' of 18th- (Ommilln entlO cultur;oJ study of, H.d.!i Foreig n languages. leaching in America. IA - Fo reign"1i1S. Gla,nuS!, l20 Gluckman, Max, 5 Gobineau, Arth1l1~ 251 God , 329 Goethe, !1Q, l.tl Gii kbcrk. Ul ker, on minority literamre,
=
COOkn &u.gh, 'f'IIe (Frnzer), .HZ GOmez, Laureano, lli fare,,'ell of, 3.38 GOmez-Pena. Guillermo, on immigrant literature, l..:libl.8ll Gtm; .. gum;. 3,00 Good)',Ja(k. on ince.n, 151n Graff, Gerald, on race, language, and literature, 16 Grammatology, of J apanese, ~ Gr~msci , Antonio. ol Gmphi(j (R. Peale ), ltid..tli Great Britain. Sn England Greece, nalionali Jm in. \03n Greek civil war. I..8.l.dil.3 Greek G)l'ri01.'l. !l!l::9J Greek history, 358 Greek language, in HI"" IVhalt, ~ Greek mythology, ~ among Colombian pcastn1.'l, i l l Greenblatt, Stephen, m Green party, in India, 14 Green rc.'oIUlion. failu re of. ~ Grimm,Jacob, philologr of. 19
392
INDEX
Grimm. Wilh..!m and Jacob. lQ.:M9. 'I'M Tam cfT6Jlo and, 301 Grotesque births, in TIu: Taln ofTimtJ, !IOO Guide /0 NMth .'!".mean Birds (Peterson ). 53. Guido, lt2. l.tl. lJfi. lA9 Guillaumin . Colen". 269n
on racial
discou~. ~
Guna~ne,
in anti-Tamil riOts,
362. m
i!!'lft. 3fi9 Haddon. A. c., ':' Hamburg. Susan R.·s mother's life in.
""""'"
Handler, Richard, "Ihnographic "'Tiling. of, 6. Haroolun ian, H.. D, . 3 16n, 319n Harri~. Marvin, 3.59: Hauk vu/garilal;rm, 162 Hawke., D""id, 31 poetry of Ttl Fu anthologized and ! rdnllhued by, :!Q, ~ Ha"'" lhome, Nathaniel, 132. Ui. lAlb.lAfi on Italian art, lA.1 The MarlJI~ l'aun and. Ifld51 on romance, lMI. trdYcl "Tiling and, 1.'Ifi
H""thornc. Sofia. ill H egel, philo50phical imperiali$m of, 12 Henq', E. R. , on amhrofXlmctry, ~ 28fi Hermeneutics. 12. SN auo German hermeneutia analysis o f ... lf and Mate and. 25. ... miOlics and, 9:d..Q
tradition of. 1.8. H e"..;!!, Tish, ilL l.l2::l.1!I. H"''';Il, William A .. 128" as amba~dor 10 Jamaica, ill anecdotes of, ll!!::l22. conntttion$!o other corpora te leade .., 12.!1. leadenhip style of, l2.!bl2.5. Lifestyle of, 127n meeting with, 1.!!2::l.Q1.l.li!::ll1.
~
HijueJos, Oscar, 2:\ autobiographical fiction of, l.!!!b18l autobiography of, 189 Hilda (in 1M M"rlJk"'''!'UJba. 300 ImmigranlS. 2:i=2fi autobiograph ies of, g±, l15..d..9i language skills of. l.1fi.d.11 pr~carious existence of. l89 Immigrant ...Titing , l.8lbl&I autobiographiul nature of, m 179_1110, 1110-184, L81d.88 dialogic and ..,If_reflexi''e lo ne of. L8fi im'emion of self in. l.1:!::l1H Immigration lileralur" of. l!M. reasons for, 116 of Susan R.'. family. 2l.I!::22li Immol"31ily, volcanoes and. l39 Im perialism ~encan , ~
resistance to , ~ Iq aq Anliqtll LaM (ChQl;h ), 6 Inc.,.l, ~ [:'[-1 52n of Hawtho rn e, lAS "'ylh~ of, 6!b.M in TIl, Tala D/To,.o, :y)() Inc"" prohibition, ~ ~ uni ...ersal charaoer of. J...'i2d.3l Independence . ofColombi~. ~ India , 2.1!h2!l5. .~ also Bengal: ~adras; Tamil Nadu ethnogrAphic sur ...ey of. 28!=0288. ethnography of. :3 fieldwork in. 21!b28O
J ackal Humen of. .2S=:8l m}1hology of. Iib.Ot Ind ian cusloms. gO\~rnmem suppression of.
""""'"
Indians in Am" rica, ~ feli.hization of. 32,l lndian Subal lern scholars, 272n Indi"idualily, ofpoelS, ilb..i1 Industrial ci"ilization, Le"i.StI"3uloi. dis\a.' le for. l.fi:id1i.2 In fanti cide, 2!IJ repor lS collected in India o n, 289 In feriority, racial, ~ Inn •. U1 Inqui si lions. m tn.tilUt~ for Ad';lJlced Smdy 31 f'rincclon. 3!18. Intellectual discourse, cultur.ol studies and. 11 Intdligentsia. ru lmerdiK iplinarity, 2.8::29: Int erdiscipli nar)' e ~c han ge!. cultural studies and. 11 imerdi!l Kunikida Doppo. 303 Kurds. in Germany. 2:ilIl. 2il2=203 KJlfU., in TN Ta/Q ofToow, m KJiii, in IM 1ill~, o/TOna, m Lacan,jacques. W on p5~'choanal)'lii~, 271 n on th e uncann)', ~ 1-1.4hll1i. ~ 1fi. 82,,8l Lambadis (nomaru). 69 w.wJil. .. "dt, l i 1-1.ndsc~pe. J..:ill Language acquisitio n of a "",cond, 2.1 acquisition of linguistic $k.ills by imm;' granL~,
J..8A.da5
amh ropology and, 8-lO consciousness and, .u dh.,.,rsityof. lIlli emJXl"'.,.,rment and ren, the , 1!J7_1$8, !.!1 Hff. l50 disco\'erl of. E>.'In LA /'msir Ji(Juva~ (Uvi-StraUS5 ~ lilt
""=l6O Latin America , ~ s.r alw Mexico: South America w Vit fa",;/iakd ,ooak da {rldiau NambikWO, l.6.3d.Ji:l as religion, Masaoka Shiki. 303. Masao Miyoshi, ~17n Mass culture. impact on latin America, Y1 Massey Ferguson. liB Mmlm and Slaws, Till ( Fre~Te). rAcial and anthropological ob$crvation s in,
m
"'=2«l Ma~ri;uist hinorian., ta..k of, 2liZ Materiality of comext, 211:0218 "'taUM, Marcel, 358 McGann ,jrrome, ontex.., and te><wal models, 2lfi::212 McGillTay, Dennis, 293n Mead, Margaret, lfi3 ethnographic poetry o f. 1. and politic. of alllhropological "Titing. 6 Me, .'IOO Meiji Restoration , 298-299, 3 17n lingui.tk .truggle. of, ~1-302 ~ Tlu TaUs o[Timoand. :ID!1:.ID!i.. 3l.2::.'ll.3. "Mdti"g pot ," United State. as, ill Melu r. ~!i5..!IT.!ill.. 19 Memorization, eonnruni on a"d, 323 Memory e>gen)'," 25l O'Toolc, J arnes, lil Oral history, "" foJldor~ , 3!!8 Oral literature. 3!bMl Order. in 8JII~ I\ 'hak. 11I1dJ.t2 Originary crime. 280 Orthodox burial position, ~ Orthodox Jew'S, pogroms against,
=
Or!hodo~r, ~
0.. SwIQt' (da Cnnha), 236 Other, the of anthropology and literary slUdy, !:::fr. 11-1 3.211 as anthropology's unc~nny, 12 ello and. 2:filb2fii immigration and, 112 metaphoric constru ctiuns and. 2fi in a Turkish ghello in Germa n)" !J!l. 2ilii. ~
Otu To kihi ko. 32ln Our Hoo~ i~ 1M lA$1 IllIrld (H ijuelos),
lBlldJ!l language and, ~ 0",I",,'S, 28O Owen. Stcphen, !lli I'rijaml, 355n Pale.tin e, nationalism in. 103n P:!/"'dirars. fi2di3. dei ties of, fi2di3. PamOJ, 236 Parent/ child incest, i l l I'a".. SpJHn (Baudelaire). 3.22
4()(}
IN D EX
Parro\to, Anthony, meeti ng. ,,;(h,
~
illd22 Participan(.o.cn';l(ion, ~:rz2
P-.utido Republicano Pauli.ta lL 2lIi Pa.... ion, "iolc:ncc and. l1ll Pa"mCiiS, .lil Paternalism, i.=5. I~dttini
(goddc.s). 6l
Peale. Charles Wilson. art in Philadelphia and. l.37d.38. Peak, Rembrandt, !..M. 154n on dra ..;ng and "Tiring. ill on English-spea king touriSts. i l l On F1or"ntine waxwork., l.4&:lli J ames Fenimore Cooper and, l.3!ld!ID most succe.sful painting of. L'!9 on louring Italy. IAli Pea.'I3nt farmi ng. epic poetry a nd, ~ P"aloantS and the bourgeois. 35!l poetry and, ~ of Puerto Tejada. lli=l21 "'phiniC3tion o f, Y!b.:Hl Pe",~nt sodety, poctq' in, ili=..i9 Pcd. J effpUpu:sas. l.ti.'blti:l Phil(KOphy, ofTom:i. Zapala, ~ l'hi/o.ophy aM IN ,\/irwroj!\'altl'Tt (Rorty).
Lhl2 Pho"u]uK)', I'r-..gue school ant! , !1
Piamii, ~
PicaMO, Pablo, 2:YI. Picwre.oque view, 1.3!ldAO PierTe( Me lvilJe). 1A8 Pilgrimage'!, Lll Pillaimars. SO Pinm", Rojas. 338 Pirddasa in anti-Tamil riots, ~ inter view with. ru PIlla 1m- Us, A: E1Cln Child7'tf\ in A...mCII (Gage~ l.82::l8l Plane of co ntiguity. 161 Plane ofoimilarity, 161 Plath, S)'lvia, 3l::.'i8 naturals)'mbolism in the IlOelr~ of. :i:b55 PlalO. m m 34fi "Pla)'ground," betw1 for Min d, 'I'1v: Pialfd. U vi-SimUlJ, and 1M. SlnUlu mliJl MUI~I (Gardn er). ill Quest Story. Tn'j/l'.i 'I'ropii(1ll'.i as. lfi1d68 R;lbel ais. ~ Rabin o",. Paul. 13 R=
6-257. 2fil spatial and temporal nature of. 24.!b2..'iIl R.~di ca lis m , of Ltvi-Slr.,\lS', l.6.:i Radin, Paul. :'
:m..
ZL H...l5. biograp lly of. 8fbBl Rai n forest, at Puerto Tcjada. R.1ghuparhi ,
pro;s."
~
ill R.l1 noll·Purina corporation. at Puerto Tej ad a. 32ti Rama , Angel. on B"11.ilian literature. 2l!.2 Ramachandrdn. M. G .. 8ll Ramanathapuram , genealogy of TIlli ng fam-
Rain-forest
of Livi-Sml.UloS,
ilyof, 283. !{angarhar;, K .. 28I Hap,"" .,!, ~ u.9. Ras",n"""n. "'",d, "lhllogr~phic f>OC1r}' and, Hd5 Rationali.l m dd>il["s. B.=!l
Reader. the. as object of li terary ",riring. :lli='l> Readi ng imponance 10 :l!llhropolog}' of, 2.L2. 2.1fi..=21l
sh ift in emphasis from writing to, 2.1!b.!1l Rea lity eXlleri enc.;- and. J..Ii8d..6!l as ex perienced by immigrdnlS. llid..26. in TI.. Tall:. fljTimo, 308_309,
==
m
Recorder. th~ (Miguel). :i..U. biography ofTo m ~s Zdp~ta and. 31.'b:Yfi as a historiJtl. ll1::m hi~toric~1 rok of. 3,;,fi I'uertu Tejad,\ and. ~ 'luest o!', 329..=33ll Stol')'leili ng ~ nd . 33 1-332 , ltl=.15!l Tom,is 7.." 1"u" and. 328_329 330_$3 1 ;1 33-:\10, :H O-34 I lli::.'H2
ReddiaTll, ZQ.l!fl Redemption. through latlguage. l..8.5.d.Sfi Redfield. Rubert. " Reduction ism in cultural m,dy, 1.bA3 poetry ~nd . .tbA3 in scientific ideology. 21 Reed. Kenneth. 6 Reftexj" i.lS, 3fifi Reflexivity in ethnography, I.Jl::l.L 22 of religiou~ viewpoints. 221 Reformist tract . T.... ,,, Tropique:< a s, l.fi4..d.fi.'i ~foK"";l1 My IlorNlrl1ld (Ka1.lieIli ), !lIb9l narr~tor of. !ll structure of. !ll Rlfogu il1 My H GrNliJnd. Blue IVlt4hand,
"""
Re fugees, 2.2.=2f! autobiographies of. 2i Refug.", "'ur~', Blue 1\1",11: a•• ~ 1..OOdJ12 Regression anal)"'i~. im'ell\ion of. 2li!! Re is. Fideli s. lli Rel at i,·ism. degeneration of. l l i Religion. ofJ ~d,al H umers. S2"B3 "Remembering. Repeating and Working Through" (Freud ), !H2 Ren aissance. 358 Repelition , 35A memory an d , i l l inpoetry. ~
Represe ntation . :53 ,.eslhelicjudgment and. 2.i2::2.2l language and reali ly and, l.1.2::11fi narratin:1 of. 2..!12]4 -2 15, 25!b2.il lI.epression etitni(ilyand. ill memory and. 3.5.l !U/riJla dfl JJrasil (]'rado ). Mlb2il 1I..-'·"" 8:e. amung the K ~l1ar •• 282.. 2.B7,,2S8 II..-"'Ti ling, lB9d9O II.he loric ofin dllcement. l.22d.1.3 R1t}~n ing poetry, ~ R1tythm. 35.1::lli lI.icoeu r. Pau l. 270n o n culture as I"xt, 18 infln" nc.e of, 10 m"t.1phoric construction. and. 2fi on &Cial action a. a le,.l. 2:12n On len.ion be,,",'een li k"ne~ and dilTer· en('e. ~
40]
IN DEX Risk'}', H. l:L., ethnogrAphic ~un",y of India 3!1d. m::ru Rit~5. lIu'",rml]cm .uppn-s.;un of. ~
Rit"S ofpa$.$age. &l6 Ri,"' .... W. H. R.• i. 283 Roche. Kevin. ill Rockefdkr. David. ill Rodriguez. Richard. 2.1. l..8!.d.85 on affirmati,,,, act;nn. l.88. opposition to bil ingual ed ucation. l.8li Romance. Hawthor ne Orl. l.38 Roman histor)·, 35H Rome . IA;1 travcling to. 11ft, l38d39 Romero. Si!>·io. 2£l
HanOOn. :Yl3 Rony. Richard. Oil anth ropology. ll::1.2 Ro.a. Sah-dtu.-, l.4l Rusaldo. Rt:nato. W. I..S9d.9O Ro"". D~ n . 1. ll!5.. TIlb329. "t hnographic poetry of, 'I e th nogrAphy a nd, 2k22. meetings"ith, I06- I0 7, ll.i.d..22 Ro the nberg. J erome. eth nographic poetry of. 'I Round trip. Uol Rou"",!au, 1M Ru ral 1ife . depicted in 'I'M ,(,,/'.$ of Tij,lO.
32.3
Rural misel")'. in TM '/ilk!. Of'l"O'IO, .'Il.Q Rllshdie, Salman. Ul un Amcrican litenl tur". 11:9. on immigrant "Titing. ill un liberAtion through language. l1l..5: Ru ",ia. Sff "lwSo"iet Unio n; Ukraine 1}'I'ie poetry o f, 47-48 . 52 Saarinen. Ecru, n.:cre: and Wlllpall)' ( 0 '1>0roue headquaneT$ dcsigned by. lQfi Said. Edward w.. 1. 232n. l7!l. on genealogkal na'Ta ti,",!. 21.6. Saidapet, Zll. 8ll Sainsbury, Mark. on anthropology. 269n Saldi\':J.r. Ram6n . Oil the for matio n of Ame ri_ can culture:. l1:9. Sanja'':Iripllram Road . 00. 8.1 Sapir. Ed""dfd, 8 ethnograph ic poetry of. Z Sasaki Associate!!. l2li Sasaki Ki ... "
dialect of, i l l ,;"cond .. d ition uf 'I'M li1l", oflono and,
'"'="-' Mor),telling of. 30fi 1M Tal'S of Tono and,
=
m
!ill5.. :lmi
-S:1\'3ge races, - inferiority of. 25.l::2.ll Sa'":J.ges. in '[);.•us ./"rofn'l"'..I, lfi!.I Sch iller, Friedrich , 22 on pl"(;scn tation and repreSClltation , 2aS Sch ne id"r. David M., ~ 36.1 Scho IMship.Japanese.316n Sch ultz. George. ill Sc ien( e co nflict with liter.llllre, 29Ihl1fi J apan",;" folk.lore studies as, ~ mi suse o f me thods in ethnogmphy.
28ll..=22!l Sciemific id" olog}', reductionism in. 2J Sciemism. 3 s...co nd lang " ag"" pride of masteri ng . l.B.5 s..-g a1. Daniel. et hllographi( writings of, fi Self. tht: as autobiographical nar .... tor, l8!hlI!l invention of. 1..71id.9i sociulogical studies all d . l!U Sdf·an k ulation. struggle for. i l l St'Jfhood. 2.l..i.=2.li co nstitut ion of. 111 Self·indulgence , in ethnogral)hy. lJbJ.l Self"'e preSt:llt3tion, in amohiographical "Tit· ing. l8ll Self-sa(rifice. in S)'h·ia Plath's poetry, M St'l",kumar. 3fi8. i Il(el' ..iew "ith . .~M_.'IfJ8 . 3fi!.I Semana de Anc Modema, The (Week of Modern Art ), 2l.h238 Semio log)', 2::.lJ1 29n Semiotks. 2'9n. 1.l!!d.B:!1 .'i« a/Jo Fl"(;n(it !
Sla\"ery in B.-.u:il, ~ in Colombia, 32R reports collened in In dia o n. 289. Smallpox goddess. fi3 Smothering. mothering, the Other, and, 1; Snyder. Gary ethnog.-aphic poetry of, 2 influence ofT" Fu on, 52 Social action. 2!J2n Social activi.m. in India, N.=15 Social categorie •. romciou.n ess of, ol3. Social Contract, 1M Sociali.m, organization of. l.lbl1.6 "Socialist " poetry, ~ Sociali.t Unity party ( SED ~ 22li=o227 Social neuroses. 2fi3::2M. Social rebirth, nO\"eb dealing "'ith. I.!!8:o2Q2 Soridi naWd"U modd, 1M Sociel)' for tile Ad\'an cement ofJ ackal Hunters, 6!l Sociocuhural determinan1S ofpoelr)', oJ.Ji.=t9 SociologiS1S. c ulture ~nd. 15
.'l/Ii=lJllllgiltlti, 300
Sociology
~'" ::KKI
ofimmigration and emigration, 11fid1.1 of the wealthy. 1.05d..ll Socr,ues, 330. Scjt:rumm; TIu Rallm ofGmna"ftws a"d 1M Qtwlion of Idntlity i" c.""""y (Borneman and Ped~ 233n SolloR, Werner. on preservation of in herited cultural identity, l1Bd.19 "Some Psychical Consequenc~ of the Anatmnic;al Sex Di.tinction" ( Freud~ 260. SommeR, Frederic T•• on political corre.:tnO$$, 19!1 Somag, Susan, l56 SOn;bu", :iill South America. S«also B.-.u:it; Colombia; Latin America LJh'i-StrAuM on. l.66.dii1 South Asia. Sn abo India; Sri Lanka chastity and ""xual purity legends of,
"'='"
Seyhan. Azade, lli. 319. on aUlobiogr.lphies, 2!l ideologkal conflicts and, 25..=26 Shadow and.s