Deconstruction and Literature:
towards a Future of Expression

Richard Wagner (c) 1871 Franz Hanfstaengl

Friedrich Nietzsche (c) 1875 F. Hartmann

Piet Mondriaan - Composition In Yellow, Blue, Red, 1921 (c) Tate Gallery

Kazimir Malevich - Suprematism 1916 -(c) Krasnodar Museum

Paul Delvaux -The Conversation - 1944 - (c) ARS - SABAM

Rene Magritte - Time Transfixed - 1938 - (c) ARS - SABAM

Anton Bruckner - 1890

Franz Kafka - 1906

In the film of Pulse (Kairo) by the great modern Japanese filmmaker Kyoshi Kurosawa, we are faced with the rapid growth of the internet; we all connect to the cyber world, but what does connection mean? Kurosawa’s commentary was for the most part concerning social connections which of course inevitably lead to the idea of communicative connections and as such we can also come to a new dimension of literature and the involved humanism present within literary expression. The key to Kurosawa’s Pulse is best summarized by a line uttered by the main female character who asks the questions if we really are connecting.

Disseminating this query we may ask whether or not we truly communicate and more importantly whether or not we truly express our-self. With the eruption of the cyber-world and ‘social networking’ (whatever that may mean and concerning which we may write volumes) we find that more than ever people are ‘writing’ and ‘finding expression’. As such a whole new realm of art, philosophy and intellectualism has been born but with its continued expansion we find more and more emptiness and hence we arrive at the peculiarity of ‘cyber niches’; an expanded desire ‘to belong’ in order to get the desired feedback. Modern man thus finds himself in a position opposite of Kierkegaard’s purity of thought and has become even more trapped in bourgeois sterility.

Literature and the cultural world in general are in a state of malaise because the very essence of art (man as spirit) has been forgotten and as such art has become something productive rather than essential inclination towards comprehension of fate. It is almost as if man wants to be literary yet does not want to truly care about literature; as if we want to force a certain meaning upon it all. The problem with all this, is that there is no honesty! A problem similar to Wagner’s discomfort with the state of opera and the swell of degenerative music and tendencies towards pleasing the listener; and it was in order to grow out of such a mentality that he “took off” several years in which instead of composing he worked on ‘theory’ and it is because of such a notion of ‘theory’ that he became who he is. The concern over literature and concerning people who write, is that for the most part people do not want to make a theoretical effort, but how could expression grow if we do nor dare to go beyond what is already given?

From Impressionism to Dada, there were (are) definite ‘theoretical’ impulses driving the artistic Spirit; however, after the globe found re-stabilization having gone through two world wars, these ideas of theory got hijacked and found obliteration in what we may call a canon, a dogmatized history, a series of events leading to the here and now and it is here that the problems of modern aesthetic cognition begins, because what exactly is this here and now? Without falling into absurd metaphysics of ‘now’, we still can say that the now of now is absurd because if and when we look out of our windows (be they glass windows or computer windows) we often find that there is no longer much of a ‘now’ to discover; it is as if all reality has become suspended in some false sense of animation. There is not much left to discover and perhaps that is why some people have this irrational clinging to ‘truth’ as something that must be defended at all cost. What however is this truth so desperately defended? As it is found in Nietzsche, causality is always inherent, so if we cling to a declining society in order to prevent further decline, we really are embracing the decline.  Society is declining not because of something external, but precisely because of what society is ‘now’, which is why looking outside the window we no longer find a ‘now’ but only decay.

What the words ‘theory’ and ‘theoretical’ mean has become misunderstood. The most obvious problem was already observed by Nietzsche namely that theory can easily become misunderstood for mere system. More important however and more dangerous, is the sterilization of theory, theory becomes cold and dead intellectualization. Such hostile atmospherics are contrary to the true purpose of theory, which always is a furthering of Spirit; it implies liveliness. More importantly it asks for breathing and this obviously calls for clean air rather than the exhaust of pointless escapades. True theoretical possession means to be of pure Spirit; daring to move beyond conventions wherever destiny may move your-self; so theory is never generic but always is living (is human) which is why artistic inclinations are often called ‘movements’ (standing in sharp contrast to that modern notion of ‘genre’) something which in spite of possible manifestos is never definite; so the Surrealism of Magritte is different from that of Delvaux; the Abstract Geometrics of Mondriaan are different from those of Malevich. The idea of movement is best illustrated through its use in music, where each movement has its own tempo, but the tempo is never to be taken at face value; tempo is not a totalitarian metronome; rather what we find is a certain approach. So for instance when Bruckner indicates the first movement of his ninth symphony as “Feierlich. Misterioso.” Then this means the general approach to this movement; what we may call the overall spirit. With the nonsense of historical sterilization however, we find that movement is a mere encyclopedia entry and with this the spirit of movement loses its vigor.

In all honesty, the very idea of ‘movement’ is a guide, an inspiration rather than mere influence. Within this immutable and impassive ‘now’ there is however no longer any source of inspiration because for the most part the world no longer allows for the presence of anything aesthetic. As such, within the literary body as it stands today, we find there is a general tendency towards necrophilia and Hollywood(isation); all emotions (and all dialogue) become simplified banter, so there is no longer the appeal to a complexity of emotional life, or indeed to a true humanism, instead we have oblivious shortcuts and silly outbursts of anger. No longer is there the general inspiration of an overall guiding Spirit; yet if we want literature to survive, if we want art to continue we must re-discover this Spirit, because without it there can be no authenticity to art, literature and culture in general.

The way towards expression, is to find a connection to that long forgotten self, a realization of being driven (force-d) to express. True expression as such is a bold move into the blue; the future of literature does not lay in catering to an audience but rather the essence is what literature has always been about: expression; if the written word is to be taken serious it first of all must dare itself to be written.

Movement is always towards something, this something is however always elusive and similar to the indeconstructible towards which deconstruction moves. The literary expression always moves towards that which can not be expressed, in respect of which narrative coherence (in the ordinary sense) is always secondary, because in essence literature is always concerned with exploring the literary landscape and artistic compulsion as a whole is this constant sailing of strange waters, this non-stop intrigue which turns the writer in a literary Sinbad.

To return to the problematic setting at the beginning: there no longer is any connection; so if we are to find literary re-creation, we must find, first of all, that connection towards the self from which alone there may unfold genuine expression; above all the writer is a person of pure Spirit and with this comes to idea of the hero (as the aforementioned Sinbad is) so the writer should never be the shadow of some ideal, should not allow himself to be this or that dramathurgia acted out by fragments of a faded conscience. In order to be true to the self and have authentic expression, the writer must refrain from being a mere mask, to not fall into a trap of well-defined consensus that merely caters to consumerism and entertainment. Literature is not about readership but always is about its self; the most illustrative example here is Kafka who ordered his works to be burned. Kafka never meant to entertain anyone (least of all his own self) his work was a compulsive exploration of the ‘landscape’ in which he found himself; because looking at the world he always found himself to be an alien. The writer is a hero, but the word is not to be understood in a traditional and triumphant sense, because what the word ‘hero’ truly designates, is the presence of a constant ‘burden’; one never chooses to be a hero but rather the hero ‘has been chosen’. The idea of the ‘author’ is thus that of a special ‘authority’, something that remains clouded because we can never truly apprehend the literary landscape, we can only approach it, so in this sense literature is the compulsion towards eternal (and infinite) approach. The authority of the writer lays in the fact that he has not chosen to become a writer, has not chosen to be an authority; the writer did not choose his destiny, so what his authority consists of, is that spiritual essence of compulsive exploration and expression.

So the writer is an unlikely hero (we could even say that like Parsifal he is foolishly drawn)  born with this compulsive drive solely to understand that same compulsion, a paradoxical feat which nonetheless is easy to understand since as with all art, it is the writer’s destiny to inquire into destiny. It is towards this idea of destiny the writer must find a connection, because the self can only unfold when there is a genuine connection (approach towards) destiny. So within the presence of the writer, we find this element of the Nietzschean ‘outsider’, the writer has a sense of loneliness about him because more than anyone else he realizes the decoherence lingering between self and other. The movement towards a future in which we may find certain stability between self and other, is part of the literary project, because with the realization of the landscape there always is the implication that human existence is never a straightforward being; ‘literature’ applies to everyone in the sense that every person is a narrative creature. The primary awareness that comes from within the literary landscape is that people never are ‘easy’, complications always arise because human interactions do not follow pre-given schemata of communicative structure and feedback. Suffice to say that to a certain extent every literary work is autobiographical  because literature is never about mere storytelling; there never is real and simple ‘moral to the story’ because literature  always seeks to understand destiny and that alienating flux between self and other. The literary work is a living process which seeks to explore relationships and psychological manifestations. The story is a context rather than an actuality, it is the vessel with which to explore those strange waters, the essence however, that which truly matters are those waters themselves. If we are to move towards a new future of literature and expression, we once again must dare to be like Sinbad and sail those seas of frightening reality.

(c) 2007 Steven Van Neste

Home