Abstract

Literature is open to psychoanalysis as is any other form of expression—this much is obvious. Less so is the relevancy of analysis to the specificity of literary texts, to what differentiates them from other linguistic utterances; in short, the literariness of literature.The analyst cannot avoid this problem of focus. If he did, he would treat verbal art as a document for purposes other than an understanding of its defining difference. He would simply be seeking one more set of clues to the workings of the human mind, as the sociologist or historian exploits literature to explore periods or societies through their reflection in its mirror.The only approach to the proper focus must be consistent both with the analyst’s method and with the natural reader’s practice. The analyst requires free association on the part of the analysand, and he matches this free flow of information with an attention equally open to all that is said. It is only after a passive stage of “evenly-hovering attention,” or, as the French nicely call it, écoute flottante, that he seizes upon clues to build a model of interpretation. These clues are revealed to him by anomalies such as parapraxes and repetitions or deviant representations, as well as formal coincidences between what he hears and the corpus of observations on linguistic behavior accumulated since Freud. The reader, on the other hand, is faced with a text that is strongly organized, overdetermined by aesthetic, generic, and teleological constraints, and in which whatever survives of free association is marshaled toward certain effects. The reader himself is far from passive, since he starts reacting to the text as soon as his own way of thinking, and of conceiving representation, is either confirmed or challenged. The text tends therefore not to be interpreted for what it is, but for what is selected from it by the reader’s individual reactions. A segmentation of the text into units of significance thus occurs, and it is the task of the critic to verify the validity of this process. In pursuing this goal he must restrict himself to a segmentation that can be proven as being dictated by textual features rather than by the reader’s idiosyncrasies, by those elements the perceptions of which does not depend on the latter and that resist erasure when they are in conflict with such individual quirks. The analyst’s advantage in identifying such features is that he is trained to recognize the above-mentioned anomalies and to explain them by repression and displacement, that is, by the traces left in the surface of the text by the conflict between its descriptive and narrative structures and the lexicon and grammar that we call the unconscious. Michael Riffaterre, University Professor at Columbia University and a senior fellow of the School of Criticism and Theory, is the editor of Romantic Review. His previous contributions to Critical Inquiry are “Syllepsis” and “Intertextual Representation: On Mimesis as Interpretive Discourse”