Pawing through the documentaries at Pleasant St. Video tonight, I was -- appropriately enough -- pleasantly surprised to find a doc about Jacques Derrida (the "Mick Jagger of Cultural Philosophy" according to Wesley Morris of the Boston Globe). I was happy to find this, not because I have any particular fondness for the philosopher as one might think, but because I have a particular dislike of him. It's not even that I dislike his ideas, though. It's because I don't really know what his ideas are. It's a problem I have with his writing style -- maybe its him, maybe its his translator (the equally impenetrable Gayatri Spivak), or maybe its just the nature of philosophy, but his writing is like a huge, concrete monolith covered in hieroglyphics: it seems to be a pretty darn important thing, but I can't figure out how to get inside of it or what its saying. I hoped that in movie-form, his thoughts might be a little more accessible.
I was right, for the most part. Whenever he spoke, it felt like being in a favorite class, or reading a good poem. It takes a little bit of work -- as all worthwhile things do -- but every so often you get floored with an "a-ha" moment and you're left thinking about things a little bit differently than you did before. However, the narrator reciting excerpts from his text was a little harder to follow and mostly left me confused, reminding me that there's often a fairly large gap between the way people express ideas verbally and in written form.
I often feel like the opposite of Derrida in this regard. While I think that I express myself pretty well in writing (or at least I hope I do), I often stumble over words and ideas when in conversation with someone, or when speaking in class. I feel like I have same effect on others when I speak as Derrida has on me when he writes. Things are never made as clear as they could be, and others are left feeling like they're deciphering hieroglyphics. Maybe I'm projecting my own insecurities on others, but I'm pretty sure I'm at least half-right.
I feel like this ties in with something Derrida said about storytelling. He said he refuses to tell stories because he's never satisfied with them. What comes out, he confesses, is never as good of a story as he wants it to be. Additionally, stories are never complete. In the process of constructing a narrative, you're forced to leave things out (whether by choice or by faulty memory) and weave incomplete facts and anecdotes together into something coherent. All stories are therefore subjective, autobiographical fictions that nonetheless attempt to accurately represent reality as something objective and stable -- something in which Derrida apparently refuses to participate.
This all brings up several issues for me, all of which remain unresolved at this point. First, even if storytelling is incomplete and arguably deceptive, is it fair to give up on it as he has? Isn't storytelling part of what makes us human? Is it really possible to live our lives free of narrative, or is it enough to just recognize its faults and limitations and work with it anyway? How can we ever hope to communicate effectively with other without it?
Second, why is it that some people are better storytellers than others, or better in certain situations than others? Often I feel like the choice Derrida makes to "give up" on storytelling I do involuntarily in certain contexts. I don't think I have any objection to storytelling as long as its done critically, but -- at least when speaking -- I have trouble weaving together facts and anecdotes into something clear and coherent. While its certainly not without struggle, I find it easier to do so when writing. Why is that?
In any case, I'm not going to attempt to stabilize reality but constructing an autobiography about why I am the way I am, or even try to turn this blog into a story by wrapping it up with a neat, satisfying conclusion. I'll leave things open, as Derrida likes to do, and just think on it. Also, I'll end with a lighter note, since I think philosophy makes people take themselves too seriously sometimes.
2 comments:
King Postman would have so much to say as a response to this.
Here are my thoughts:
Film is one of the most powerful, or at least holds the most potential to be, medium of communication. The combination of moving and still images, sound, and voice can yield a greater understanding than either alone (though there are exceptions...great photography for example or an awesome podcast).
Communication itself is a bizarre thing. Remember that Socrates refused to write anything because he feared that people would lose their memory and that reading gave people false knowledge. Today though there seems to be a premium on spoken communication over written communication. Speaking means instant gratification. Having something to say NOW and being able to say it with some clarity (even if without any logic or sense) is of the highest import. But I hear Postman in my head telling me not to raise my hand so fast! I hear Henry Perkinson telling me that error provides possibilities that flawlessness does not. That humans are imperfect and we should embrace our infallibility and others and use it to help us learn more and to be more critical thinkers.
I think you too should embrace your bumbling and get whatever you need to say out there anyway. It's a shame if you keep silent given that you are such a thinker (this blog is a testament).
As for storytelling, read Dan Pink. And practice. And analyze the stories you hear that you like or don't like. The ones that help you feel like you have a better understanding of a person or a place or an event that happened. Just like many other things, storytelling is a skill. And, I'd argue, an important one.
Derrida may have given up but, well, he's fallible, just like the rest of us.
I'm in the same boat you are--can't verbally express myself nearly as well as when I sit down to write something.
Maybe it's because that when I try to talk to someone in live conversation, I shift into some kind of habitual "communication mode"--which for me is usually a gathering of focus and concentration so I can express my thoughts upon the page or screen I'm writing upon.
But doing so entails a removal from "live reality"--so there I am, stuck in my head with concepts to express, which is EXACTLY WHERE I SHOULDN'T BE if I'm trying to hold down a live conversation with someone; I should be present, in a listening mode, and letting responses naturally flow out of me.
Does that make any sense, or am I worse at written communication than I think? :)
Post a Comment