This paper was presented as part of a roundtable on Kristeva’s The Severed Head at the inaugural meeting of the Kristeva Circle on October 13, 2012.

In a very late essay on remains, one might say a throw away essay, Derrida doggedly tracks the relation of a certain desire to remains, linking it to sacrificial economy and to a hierarchical ontological order. If our concern is a thinking of desire as it pertains to remains, why should we not turn first, or perhaps exclusively, to Derrida's monumental works on the subject of remains, specifically Glas and Cinders, jettisoning the little-known essay we have not yet named? Certainly (...) Derrida has said much in these well-known works about desire and remains, consumption and excretion, fire and ashes. So, why devote all one's attention, as we will do in this paper, to what might be said to be a morsel of an essay, which has remained largely unread and hence falls outside of Derrida commentary? The essay in question is his 2002 ‘Remains – the Master, or the Supplement of Infinity’, a homage to Charles Malamoud, a French ethnologist and scholar of Indian and Oriental religions whose work, especially his 1989 Cooking the World, was influential on Derrida's thinking concerning the ‘rhetorics of cannibalism’ and ‘eating the other’ and featured prominently in his seminars from 1989–1991 on the aforementioned themes. In ‘Remains – the Master’, a dense and rich essay, Derrida analogically links two vastly different cultures – the Brahmanic of India and the Greco-European – in terms of a ‘law of remainders’, which for both traditions, he claims, is an organizing principle of humans, gods, and the whole of the world. In his essay Derrida returns to or, more accurately, remains with a thinking of ‘the French word “reste”, the remnants [restance] of “reste”’, which, as Derrida notes, is ‘difficult to translate in an exhaustive or transparent manner,’ that is, ‘without remainder’. However, what this paper will follow is the circulation of remainders in the Vedic tradition, as analysed by Derrida and Malamoud. In doing so, we can begin to not only translate the notion of Malamoud's ‘cascade de restes’ from one culture, logic, and idiom to another but understand how for Derrida this ritual downpour of remainders not only institutes a hierarchy of remainders but also produces ipseity. (shrink)

Draws connections between the life and writings of philosopher Sarah Kofman.

Written from a student’s perspective, this essay focuses on Pleshette’s engagement with Derrida in The Right to Narcissism: The Case for an Im-possible Self-Love and attests to the manner in which she lived this influence through her teaching and writing.

Through my reading of the section of Pleshette Dearmitt’s book The Right to Narcissism, entitled “Kristeva: the Rebirth of Narcissus,” I illustrate the way in which DeArmitt’s reading of Narcissus is reflected in Julia Kristeva’s conception of genius. DeArmitt describes narcissism as a structure through which subjectivity, language, self-love, and love for the other come about. Narcissism develops through a metaphorical relation of identification with a “loving third” in which the subject-in-formation is transferred to the site (...) of the other, to the place from which he or she is seen and heard through the words of the mother directed at an other. The emerging subject catches the words of others and repeats them. The speech of the other, then, is a model or pattern with which the subject-in-formation identifies repeatedly, and it is through identifying with the third that the forming subject becomes like the other, a speaking subject herself. All love comes from narcissism because it is a repetition of this identification and transference. I connect this account to Kristeva’s Female Genius Trilogy by claiming that these works are love stories since they are based on a repetition of the narcissistic structure on a cultural level in their content and in their form, though for each genius it manifests through a different register. For Hannah Arendt the relation is between the actor and the spectator; for Melanie Klein it is between the analyst and the analysand; and for Colette it is between the writer and the reader. (shrink)

The ordeal of mourning, being so much harder than any thought its experience may deliver, bears out the impression developed in Julia Kristeva’s opening to The Severed Head —that thought is swift. She has recognized as well as anyone the interplay of blindness and insight. Nothing brings all this into starker evidence than the premature death of a loved other, a friend, or a true assistant in life and thought. There is a reminder in this that the new narratives of (...) subjectivity on which Kristeva places a high value, and certainly the long life of meaning in the world, come at the price of the loss and mourning of our loved others. Pleshette DeArmitt’s book, The Right to Narcissism: A Case for an Im-possible Self-Love, has given the condition of narcissism an intricate place in this difficult if promising work. (shrink)

There is a special poignancy to the fact that Pleshette DeArmitt's essay "Sarah Kofman's Art of Affirmation" foregrounds Freud's essay "On Transience," in which he muses on the fact that beauty seems to be inextricably linked to a fleeting existence. As DeArmitt writes, "beauty, even in full flowering, foreshadows its own demise, causing what Freud describes as 'a foretaste of mourning.'" Such a transience, in Freud's mind, increases rather than decreases the worth of all that is beautiful. (...) In her essay, DeArmitt argues that Kofman's 1985 text Mélancolie de l'Art reinscribes Freud's text, but brings it into the present by pointing to contemporary art as the occasion for the opening up of a new space, one capable of "dislocat[ing] the space of representation and meaning" and "invent[ing] a space of indetermination and play.” Through dislocation of a fixed reference or meaning and opening up a place for indeterminacy and play, contemporary art acknowledges and celebrates, rather than regrets, the transience of beauty. (shrink)

During those first few days, those first few weeks, truth be told, still today, something in me has wanted simply to echo the sentiments of others. That’s because I myself didn’t know exactly what to say and, truth be told, I still don’t know today. But it’s also because others, including and especially some of the people here today, beginning with my co-panelists and, perhaps especially, early on, Leigh Johnson, knew at the time just what had to be said and (...) so expressed so well the sentiments that we all—that I at least—just wanted to echo. Just to echo, that’s what I wanted to do, because by echoing the sentiments of others I would be able to protect myself just a bit longer, I thought, though also, I self-justified, by echoing others I would be able to give back in some way to Pleshette herself, who showed us in her work that Echo does not simply repeat but initiates even when it looks or sounds as if she is not, Echo who gives back even when it sounds as if she has nothing to give, Echo who not only has her own Narcissus but her own narcissism—which Pleshette would have been the first to tell us is not only not a bad thing but a necessary one, and perhaps just what is needed for a new thinking of empathy, of mourning, and, perhaps, as I will try to say, of the ephemeral. (shrink)

This essay briefly reviews the significance of Pleshette DeArmitt's book, The Right to Narcissism. The essay, originally presented at the 2015 Kristeva Circle, was part of a panel celebrating the work of Pleshette.

In The Right to Narcissism: A Case for Im-Possible Self-Love, Pleshette DeArmitt opens the space for an alternative to origin story so popular with political philosophers, namely, the social contract, which assumes a rational and self-identical subject. She does this obliquely by deconstructing narcissism as love of the self-same, or, love of what Kristeva might call “the clean and proper self.” Like Echo interrupting Narcissus’s soliloquy of deadly self-absorbed pleasure and his solitary auto-affection upon seeing his own reflection, (...) Pleshette interrupts the seeming proximity of self-same, the closeness of near, and the propinquity of proper by deflecting the image of Narcissus onto the voice of Echo, who comes into her own by repeating his words. How, asks Pleshette, can Echo’s reiteration of the words of another be anything more than mere repetition or reduplication? Echoing Derrida, she answers that it is through a declaration of love. Echo’s repetition of the words of Narcissus take on new meaning, and allow her to express herself, and her love, through the words of the other. After all words are words of the other. Language comes to us from the other. Echo becomes a self, a “little narcissist,” through an address from and to the other, through the appropriation and ex-appropriation of the other’s words. (shrink)

There are two interrelated questions that I would like to explore in the context of Pleshette DeArmitt’s work. The first one pertains to the intellectual stakes in the eloquent style of her writing, its elegance and playfulness, which accompanies the philosophical order of argumentation. And the second one refers to the issue of female friendship. How can one discuss such friendship without resorting to merely biographical, historical, or autobiographical terms? Yet what kind of philosophical theories of female friendship (...) could I possibly refer to? Perhaps to none. DeArmitt, whose life has created so many friendships, did not live long enough to write about friendship, at least not directly. And yet I would like to suggest that her captivating—the adjective that I use here deliberately—book, The Right to Narcissism: A Case for Im-possible Self-Love, leaves us traces of female friendship in her philosophical argument that narcissistic self-love is inseparable from the love of another. (shrink)

This paper celebrates the work of Pleshette DeArmitt. In this essay, I show how Pleshette DeArmitt's book, The Right to Narcissism, is haunted by Freud's essay "On Narcissism.".