In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Literature Against Philosophy, Plato to Derrida: A Defense of PoetryPaul M. HedeenLiterature Against Philosophy, Plato to Derrida: A Defense of Poetry, by Mark Edmundson; 239 pp. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995, $59.95 cloth, $17.95 paper.In this age of suspicion, it is refreshing to meet a believer like Mark Edmundson, someone merging “versions of freedom and fate” (p. 235). To many, such an accommodation is automatically suspect; to (...) many, a voice as sweet and civil as his is enough to make the molars ache. Not that Edmundson always makes believing look easy, but he dances rather gracefully with the “descendental” (p. 236) as he sings a late-millennial tribute to “the poems we love” (p. 237). His analysis of sophisticated doubters is impressive for its respectful tone. Edmundson models how a traditional literary intellectual uses, rather than bests, not only what important philosophers promise, but also what literature delivers.Edmundson’s discussion begins with Plato’s dismissal of literature as “a harmful diversion” (p. 7). This establishes the classical sources of philosophy’s antipathy to literature’s “pleasure and vitality” (p. 237) and sets the tone for an analysis of “descendentalism,” the various modern and postmodern searches for “ultimate truths” in “the bedrock” of experience (p. 22).To Edmundson’s mind, Freud’s general hypothesis that there are analyzable forces in the unconscious legitimizes various contemporary attempts to subordinate literature to philosophy. For example, de Man’s metaphor of blindness and insight follows Freud as “a figure for [the] dramatic irony... that arises when speakers say more than they know, and... where the surplus of meaning is taken in by some third party” (p. 42).Power issues are in the foreground as the critic becomes an analyst/interpreter of meanings that would otherwise be latent or repressed (p. 43). As Edmundson shows, de Man can transform symbol and allegory into instances of repression, tropes “that record... how they will be misunderstood...” (p. 49). Such pre-Derridean insights still allow de Man to offer an approximate defense of highly allegorical texts that “proffer images for their own correct deconstruction” (p. 49). Only these, finally, are “worthy of being called literature” (p. 49).In short, “de Man succeeded in transferring the Freudian model of repression from the sphere of analytic therapy to that of rhetorical analysis” (p. 53) thus initiating “a self-perpetuating order” (p. 55). Does Edmundson decry such orders? Generally, yes, but gently. One of the strengths of this book is Edmundson’s desire not to compete with his subjects; predominantly, he avoids for himself the authoritarian positions he suspects, choosing instead to stir up the “trouble between poets and philosophers... that keeps them in productive dialogue and competition” (p. 63).Derrida’s chief role in this competition, his polemic against presence, and “his proffered alternative” (p. 79), différance, remind Edmundson of de Man’s [End Page 538] analysis of repression. “Derrida seems to think,” Edmundson writes, that “the texts of Western metaphysics surrender their secret holdings when one simply listens...” (p. 80). Like Freud and de Man, then, Derrida is out to unlock what is repressed: “we might think of différance as... a name for those powers that Derrida’s deconstruction strives to release” (p. 81).For Edmundson, however, Derrida’s chief insight—that “philosophy is a tissue of words, manifold [not unified] in their associations”—contradicts philosophy’s self-described superiority to and dominance over literature (p. 84). For if both literature and philosophy are merely made of words, “how,” Edmundson asks, “can philosophy conceivably function as a stable template to discipline and delimit literary range, to disenfranchise poetry” (p. 84)? Walking this tightrope, Derrida dramatizes “the struggle between poetry and philosophy... [on] a level of extraordinary and unprecedented refinement” (p. 84). Edmundson’s purpose—as it was with de Man—is not to debunk Derrida, but to redescribe him: no longer metaphysics’ “fearsome terminator,” he is a philosopher “within” this tradition (p. 96). Because Derrida continues Freud’s idea of authority, his analyses are “disturbingly mistake-proof,” risking little themselves but asking of literature great sacrifices of “vital force” (p. 112).Edmundson then takes on historicism. After a... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Institution of TheoryPaul M. HedeenThe Institution of Theory, by Murray Krieger; xi & 103 pp. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1994, $35.00 cloth, $12.95 paper.Murray Krieger is an insider who promoted literary theory as an “instrument” (p. 80) and watched it go on to become an “institution” (p. 80). In this volume he recounts its rise, assesses it, and suggests its revision.For Krieger, theory is a continuation (...) of traditional institutional battles. The debate between the old historical scholarship and the new criticism, which he describes in his first chapter, parallels the current debate between new historicism and deconstruction (p. 25). But Krieger shows that there is a much older parallel in the debate between the Tories with their myth of the Golden Age and the Whigs with their myth of progress (p. 27). American criticism divides itself between formalists who emulate “the great literatures of the West” (p. 35) and historicists who value literature “shaped by and... reflect[ing] American experience” (p. 35). For Krieger, the ancient quarrel between formalism and historicism is the real context for this century’s debate between new criticism and the older and newer historicisms (p. 38–40).The first of his four chapters describes the old historicism’s resistance to theory, especially its resistance to the formal principles of the new criticism, the preinstitutionalized theory of the 1950s. The new criticism could be defended as being “for the text” (p. 8), but the theories that came after it—structuralism, poststructuralism, and their “interdisciplinary mixtures” (p. 10)—established successive hybrids built upon “the domain of contingency” (p. 12). Krieger argues that this process, coupled with the rise of human sciences and the demystification of literary values, has resulted in a full-scale assault upon institutions, advancing the “anti-institutional institution” (p. 19) of theory and replacing discipline-based “academic structures” (p. 19).Thankfully, Krieger mitigates these relatively crude oppositions by discussing how poststructuralism has energized the intramural debates within the theoretical camps. In the end he finds the current opposition between deconstruction (with its embrace of textuality) and new historicism (its embrace of contingencies) to be an either/or fallacy. The “poem... helps create history,” he asserts, “even as... history had to help create the poem” (p. 45).In his third chapter, Krieger relies upon this “middling” insight to describe [End Page 403] the fight between those who see literary works as tools of ideology and those who regard them as resistant to ideology (p. 48). The tradition of resistance may support “a given ideological structure,” but at the same time it believes that literature is a “structure of complexities that eludes any attempt to make [it] into an ideology’s servant” (p. 55). And so Krieger escapes from “unified meaning” (p. 64), an escape he traces through a history of literary thought that culminates in Paul de Man.Krieger is now ready for some classifying of his own: the new historicism in one category, grouped with the ideological (closed, totalizing, and controlling traditions); deconstruction in a separate category, grouped with the counterideological (open and liberating traditions). He does not reject ideological theories out of hand; he proposes “a balancing act [of letting] loose the counterideological potential of” certain texts “while resisting the universalizing thematic consequences” of this very process (p. 76).Having traced the institutionalization of theory, having contextualized and thus legitimized the many sides of contemporary theory’s debates, Krieger concludes by uttering an enlightened “plea for theory to reengage the lingering promise of the aesthetic [and] to allow a chance for the extraordinary particular, which is not already contained within a ruling universal” (pp. 90, 91). If this were possible—and he has shown it to be both historically and theoretically defensible—then one should also acknowledge “the authority of human consciousness” (p. 91), for it alone is receptive to that “extraordinary particular.”More than the usual powder for theory’s morning-after headache, Krieger’s volume is a compelling argument for theory to acknowledge the very traditions it has sought to discredit and exclude.Paul M. HedeenWartburg CollegeCopyright © 1995 The Johns Hopkins University Press... (shrink)