Showing posts with label freud. Show all posts
Showing posts with label freud. Show all posts

11 Nov 2023

Fragmented Remarks on Mark Fisher's Ghosts of My Life - Part 1: Lost Futures

Zero Books (second edition, 2022)
 
 
For some reason, the spectral figure of Mark Fisher continues to haunt my imagination [a]
 
And, what's more, his name continues to crop up in conversation. Just the other night, for example, a young woman asked me if I had read his 2014 essay collection Ghosts of My Life and I had to rather shamefully admit I hadn't. 
 
So, at Mariam's insistence that I really should do so - and despite certain reservations [b] - here goes. 
 
But, note at the outset, what follows is not an attempt at a review (still less an overview). 
 
Think of this more as an attempt to occupy the space of thinking that Fisher opens up and to engage with some of the ideas encountered, moving from text-to-text but not stopping where the material is outside my field of knowledge or experience, or simply void of any interest. I won't, for example, be saying much - if anything - about the various genres of dance music, such as Jungle, that seem to so excite Fisher's imagination [c].    
 
Note that all page references to (the second edition) of Fisher's book are given directly in the text.
 
 
I.
 
Many people talk about the cancellation of the future, but I admire Fisher for being the one who (like the Italian Marxist Franco Beradi) emphasises the slowness of this process. 
 
It's something that (gradually but relentlessly) creeps up on us (like old age): one day everything seems fine and there's plenty to look forward to, the next ... Suddenly, all we are left with is the past - or more precisely, our memory of the past and even this dims over time. 
 
Luckily, we have photographs and videos and thanks to YouTube it seems that everything we ever watched or listened to is made available: "In conditions of digital recall, loss is itself lost." [2]
 
 
II.
 
It's clever how Fisher (retrospectively) reads Sapphire & Steel in relation to the work of Harold Pinter and John Le Carré. But I remember how, at the time - the series ran from 1979 to 1982 - my friend and I would often laugh at it's absurdity and pretension. 
 
Now, however, I'd view this pair of interdimensional operatives whose job it is to repair breaks in time so as to ensure temporal continuity with a good deal of philosophical hostility. For what are they if not defenders of the myth of progress (i.e., linear development) and ideals of smoothness, purity, and temporal good order ...?
 
Personally, I quite like anachronisms and chronological inconsistencies. It's not these things which lead to stasis - on the contrary, things which puncture equilibrium also keep things moving. 
 
Without wishing to completely destabilise the Western concept of time, I'm happy to celebrate its periodic disturbance; to allow for a certain chaos (or openness); for untimely events that produce divergent becomings; for lines of flight which produce wild disruptions.
 
I say this as a reader of Deleuze, but also as a reader of Lawrence who writes in Apocalypse: "Our idea of time as a continuity, as an eternal straight line has crippled our consciousness cruelly" [d].
 
Hopefully I've not misunderstood what Fisher is arguing, but I get the impression that, like Sapphire and Steel, he wants to straighten everything out and prevent cultural time folding back on itself, so that we might once again be able to make a clear distinction between past and present (and we'll all know what's what and when and where we are).
 
 
III.
 
Fisher likes to use a term borrowed from his pal Simon Reynolds - dyschronia - to describe the "current crisis of cultural temporality" [14] as he experiences it. 
 
And, to be fair, it's a nice term - one that can be added to all those other dys- terms which people seem to like using today (from dyslexia and dysmorphia to dysphoria and dystopia). I even referred to the concept myself in a recent post on the Beatles [click here].        
 
But I can't quite get as worked up about it as Mr Fisher, who at one point cries out: "Where is the 21st-century equivalent of Kraftwerk?" [9] A passionate cri de coeur no doubt, but one that made me almost spit my tea. For this may be a question concerning the time in which we live, but it's hardly a question for the ages. 
 
Although, having said that, perhaps Fisher has a point when he asserts that the fate that has befallen popular music is "in many ways paradigmatic of the fate of [wider] culture under post-Fordist capitalism" [16].
 
 
IV.

Despite appropriating his term hauntology, Fisher claims to find Derrida a "frustrating thinker" [16] and he makes clear his hostility to deconstruction: 
 
"As soon as it was established in certain areas of the academy, deconstruction, the philosophical project which Derrida founded, installed itself as a pious cult of indeterminacy, which [...] made a lawyerly virtue of avoiding any definitive claim. Deconstruction was a kind of pathology of scepticism, which induced hedging, infirmity of purpose and compulsory doubt in its followers. It elevated particular modes of academic practice - Heidegger's priestly opacity, literary theory's emphasis on the ultimate instability of any interpretation - into quasi-theological imperatives." [16-17]  
 
So what's not to love? 
 
Well, to be fair, I share some of Fisher's frustration when it comes to Derrida and I've never read his work with the same kind of pleasure or excitement as that of his contemporaries, such as Deleuze. 
 
Over the years, however, my appreciation of Derrida and Derridean concepts, such as différance and hauntology, has increased and I think his main point that nothing enjoys a purely positive existence - that presence requires absence; that being rests on non-being - is absolutely crucial. 
 
And I'm pretty certain that Fisher - indebted as he is to Derrida - would be more generous to him were it not for the fact that the latter's not quite lycanthropic enough for those influenced by Nick Land [e]

Anyway, Fisher asks the question that many readers have probably asked themselves: "Is hauntology, then, some attempt to revive the supernatural, or is just a figure of speech?" [18]
 
He answers by saying: 
 
"The way out of this unhelpful opposition is to think of hauntology as the agency of the virtual, with the spectre understood not as anything supernatural, but as that which acts without (physically) existing." [18]
 
That's a nice (easily understood) definition and I agree with Fisher that many of the great thinkers of modernity - not least of all Marx and Freud - "discovered different modes of this spectral causality" [19]
 
As did Nietzsche, of course, when he spoke of posthumous individuals ...
 
The key thing is that we can distinguish in hauntology between the no longer and the not yet:
 
"The first refers to that which is (in actuality) no longer, but which remains effective as a virtuality (the traumatic 'compulsion to repeat', a fatal pattern). The second sense of hauntology refers to that which (in actuality) has not yet happened, but which is already effective in the virtual (an attractor, an anticipation shaping current behaviour)." [19]
 
 
V.
 
Nodding to both Freud and Derrida, Fisher also provides an excellent definition of (and distinction between) mourning and melancholia:
 
"In Freud's terms, both mourning and melancholia are about loss. But whereas mourning is the slow, painful withdrawl of libido from the lost object, in melancholia, libido remains attached to what has disappeared. For mourning to properly begin, Derrida says in Spectres of Marx, the dead must be conjured away [...]" [22]
 
I think that's true: which is why the dead must bury the dead and the living must live; remembering their loved ones, but also letting them go. The dead can't rest in peace if we won't allow them to do so: and haunting, then, "can be construed as a failed mourning" [22] - a refusal to give up the ghost (and thus the ghost's refusal to be quiet). 
 
For Fisher, what's at stake in 21st-century hauntology is not the loss of a loved one or the disappearance of a particular object, but the vanishing of a certain trajectory that he names popular modernism and which produced such things as public service broadcasting, Penguin paperbacks, and postpunk ... 
 
In a passage that makes clear the aim of his book, Fisher writes:
 
"In popular modernism, the elitist project of modernism was retrospectively vindicated. At the same time, popular culture definitively established that it did not have to be populist. Particular modernist techniques were not only disseminated but collectively reworked and extended, just as the modernist task of producing forms which were adequate to the preset moment was taken up and renewed. Which is to say that [...] the culture which shaped most of my early expectations was essentially popular modernist, and the writing that has been collected in Ghosts of My Life is about coming to terms with the disappearance of the conditions which allowed it to exist." [22-23]  
 
Perhaps, in a sense, that's also one of the aims of Torpedo the Ark. 
 
Ultimately, it comes down to a refusal to give up; "a refusal to adjust to what current conditions call 'reality' - even if the cost of that refusal is that you feel like an outcast in your own time ..." [24]
 
Of course, as Fisher recognises, this raises the question of nostalgia once more: "is hauntology, as many of its critics have maintained, simply a [new] name for nostalgia?" [25]
 
Clearly, Fisher doesn't think so and I agree with him that "comparing the present unfavourably with the past is not automatically nostalgic in any culpable way" [25]. The fact is, the 1970s was a more creative decade - and people were happier - than today; this isn't falsely overestimating (or falsely remembering) the past and readers who weren't alive to experience the '70s will just have to take my word for it [f].  
 
The popular modern culture that was unfolding back then "was by no means a completed project" [26] and it was, admittedly, a time of "casual racism, sexism and homophobia" [26] - not to mention football hooliganism, strikes, blackouts, and flared jeans. But, nevertheless, the decade was, in many respects, "better than neoliberalism wants us to remember it" [25]
 
What is being longed for in Fisher's work (and perhaps also in mine) is not the return to a certain period, but the resumption of an abandoned project (which he calls popular modernism) and the summoning of a lost spirit, although Fisher and I obviously disagree as to the political guise of this spirit - I'm not an acid communist.  

Still, acid communist or not, I can agree with Fisher that the key thing is ultimately about dismantling identities which are for the most part poor fictions: "Culture, and the analysis of culture, is valuable insofar as it allows an escape from ourselves." [28]
 
 
Notes
 
[a] I have written recently about Mark Fisher and his work in several posts on Torpedo the Ark; see here and here, for example. 
 
[b] I am always a little wary of writers like Fisher who, via unrestrained enthusiasm for certain ideas (often brilliantly expressed) attract a cult following amongst readers who, like Fox Mulder, so want to believe in the existence of truth lying out there (beneath the falsifications of capitalist realism).    
 
[c] This isn't to say that Fisher's analysis of, for example, Rufige Kru's Ghosts of My Life EP (1993) isn't excellent, it's just that I know more (and care more) about the actress Goldie Hawn than I do about Goldie the music producer and DJ. 
 
[d] D. H. Lawrence, Apocalypse and the Writings on Revelation, ed. Mara Kalnins, (Cambridge University Press, 1980), p. 97. 
      Lawrence continues: "The pagan conception of time as moving in cycles is much freer, it allows movement upwards and downwards, and allows for a complete change of the state of mind at any moment. One cycle finished, we can drop or rise to another level, and be in a new world at once. But by our time-continuum method, we have to trail wearily on over another ridge."  

[e] I'm referring here to Nick Land's essay 'Spirit and Teeth', in Of Derrida, Heidegger, and Sprit, ed. David Woods, (Northwestern University Press, 1993), pp. 41-55.
     The essay can also be found in Nick Land's Fanged Noumena: Collected Writings 1987-2007, ed. Robin Mackay and Ray Brassier, (Urbanomic, 2011), pp. 175-201.
 
[f] Readers don't have to take my word for how shit things are in the 21st-century in comparison to the 1970s. Consider this statement from Fisher: "It's clear to me now that the period from roughly 2003 to the present will be recognised - not in the far distant future, but very soon - as the worst period for (popular) culture since the 1950s." [Ghosts, 29] 
      Arguably, things have only got worse - much worse - in the ten years since this was written. 
 
 
Part 2 of this post - The Return of the 70s - can be read by clicking here.
 
Part 3 of this post - on hauntology - can be read by clicking here  


29 Oct 2023

My Debt to Jewish-American Humour

Danny Kaye, Jerry Lewis, and Phil Silvers (as Sgt. Bilko)
 
 
I.
 
Humour, said Freud, is a means of obtaining pleasure from life, no matter what
 
In other words, laughter is a way of overcoming suffering as well as an antidote to that all-too-human tendency to take ourselves seriously. 
  
That's why the most profound comedy is often rooted in misery and self-mockery (even self-hatred). And that's why the best humour in the world is Jewish in origin ...
 
 
II.
 
I'm certain that the tradition of humour in Judaism can be traced way back, but I'm a late 20th-century boy and so I'm mostly interested in the humour that developed amongst the Jewish community of the United States and shaped the worlds of film and television in the last seventy years, rather than the subtle theological satire expressed in the Talmud, for example.
 
Antisemitic conspiracy theorists often claim that the Jews are overrepresented in the world of banking and maybe that's true, maybe not [1]. But what cannot be denied is that a disproportionately high percentage of American comedians and comic actors have been Jewish [2].

Of course, Jews have significantly influenced and contributed to the development of the modern world in many fields - art, philosophy, science, politics, business, etc. But I'm particularly grateful for their role within the world of entertainment. 
 
For my childhood was made happier by Danny Kaye, Jerry Lewis, and Phil Silvers as Sgt. Bilko. And today, the comic genius of Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld continues to exert a huge influence over my understanding not only of what constitutes funny, but of how I view the world (ironically and with curbed enthusiasm).
 
 
 
Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David
 
  
 
Notes
 
[1] The idea that Jews are good with (and greedy for) money is one of the oldest antisemitic stereotypes. It's undeniable, however, that Jews are well-represented in finance and business. See the article on Jews and Finance on myjewishlearning.com which nicely puts things into historical and cultural context, explaining why this is so. 
 
[2] In 1978, Time magazine claimed that 80 per cent of professional comedians in America were Jewish, even though Jews only made up 3 per cent of the U.S. population at that time. Click here to read the article 'Behaviour: Analyzing Jewish Comics' (2 Oct 1978).    
 
 

10 Oct 2023

It's Creepy and It's Kooky, Mysterious and Spooky: Mark Fisher's The Weird and the Eerie (Part 1)

Front cover image from Mark Fisher's 
The Weird and the Eerie (Repeater Books, 2016)

 
 
I. 
 
Let me confess from the outset that one of the main problems I have with Mark Fisher's work is that I'm unfamiliar with many of the books, films, and records that he chooses as points of reference, so often feel unable to comment. Thus, I intend sticking here to his more general remarks on the weird and the eerie, about which I feel better able to discuss.
 
According to Mark Fisher, the weird and the eerie are closely related (but distinct) modes of strangeness, each with their own properties. The former draws our attention to that which does not belong and instills a sense of wrongness; the latter troubles the notion of agency (human and non-human) and makes us question existence and non-existence. 
 
Neither terrifies or deeply distresses, so much as make us feel vaguely apprehensive or uneasy.    
 
And neither has much to do with with Freud's concept of the unheimlich and should not be equated to the latter. The attempt to do so, says Fisher, is "symptomatic of a secular retreat from the outside" [a]; i.e., returning to the safety of a long familiar (if hugely influential) idea that ultimately serves to domesticate and contain the outside "in terms of a modernist family drama" [10]
 
 
II.
 
Perhaps not surprisingly, Fisher begins his study of the weird by turning to H. P. Lovecraft - a writer whom Graham Harman predicts will one day displace Hölderlin as the philosopher's favourite [b] and someone who intuitively grasped that nothing is weirder than reality (i.e., the natural-material cosmos).
 
As Fisher rightly says, when you really stop to think about it, a black hole is weirder than a vampire or werewolf. 
 
Lovecraft is the daddy of weird fiction; the man who long before George Michael encouraged characters and readers alike to venture outside - even if doing so "often ends in breakdown and psychosis" [16] for the former and fascination "mixed with a certain trepidation" [17] for the latter.
 
There is nothing surprising or suspensful or even truly terrible in Lovecraft's weird tales. And yet they compel our attention, even as they repel us at the same time with their inhuman quality; i.e., their insistence that "human concerns, perspectives and concepts have only a local reference" [18].    

Fisher is spot-on to insist that Lovecraft is neither a horror writer nor a fantasy author; that his weird realism is something very different from either of these genres and that his tales "depend for their power on the difference between the terrestrial-empirical and the outside" [20][c] and on their sheer originality.
 
 
III.
 
Like Lovecraft, H. G. Wells also understood something of the weird, even if his work is, in many respects, very different from the former's. 
 
One thing both writers shared is a concern with thresholds and the fatal possibility of "contact between incommensurable worlds" [28], an idea best illustrated in an episode of Seinfeld when George's independence (and sanity) are threatened by the transcendental shock of worlds colliding [d] 
 
It's probably always best (if not always possible) to keep worlds apart, although the weird, as a phenomenon, is that which unfolds in the space between them. 
 
 
IV.  
 
Moving on, Fisher introduces a notion of the grotesque, which, like the weird, "evokes something which is out of place" [32] - although unlike the latter it often evokes laughter (the only humour in Lovecraft, says Fisher, is accidental).
 
And the "confluence of the weird and the grotesque is no better exemplified than in the work of the post-punk group The Fall" [33], particularly in the period 1980-82. 

Unfortunately, my knowledge of Mark E. Smith's combo is limited. In fact, I can only name one of their songs; the 1980 single 'How I Wrote Elastic Man' (and that's only because I often heard it on John Peel, not because I went out and bought it). 
 
So I'll just have to take Fisher's word for it when he insists The Fall "are remarkabe for the way in which they draw out a cultural politics of the weird and the grotesque" [33] and produced "what could be called a popular modernist weird [...] with all the difficulties and compulsions of post-punk sound" [33] [e].
 
In the same period Fisher was getting worked up over The Fall, I was listening to Adam and the Ants and Bow Wow Wow and had more interest in post-punk piracy than the weird and grotesque; indeed, I seem to remember finding groups like The Fall too depressing (perhaps even too Northern) for my tastes; even their laughter issues "from a psychotic outside" [35] and that didn't sound very funny to me at the time.           
 
However, if what Fisher says is true, I would probably find The Fall more amusing now (although I suspect I would still find them a band more interesting to read about, than fun to listen to).   
 
 
V.
 
Is there not an intrinsically weird dimension to the time travel story? 

Mark Fisher thinks so:
 
"By its very nature, the time travel story [...] combines entities and objects that do not belong together. Here the threshold between worlds is the apparatus that allows travel between different time periods [...] and the weird effect typically manifests as a sense of achronism." [40]
 
Again, that's one of those true-but-kind-of-obvious statements that Fisher seems to specialise in. Here's another: time-paradoxes also trigger a feeling weirdness. Indeed - who would argue with that?  
 
 
VI.
 
"There is another type of weird effect that is generated by strange loops [...] not just tangles in cause and effect [...] but confusions of ontological level." [45]
 
These confusions particularly play out at the level of simulacra and simulation, putting the nature of being and reality into question - just ask Thomas (Neo) Anderson. Or Baudrillard. Is there anything weirder than living in a world one knows to be a cleverly constructed simulation but which still feels real?      
 
 
VII.
 
If it wasn't in the least surprising that Fisher should open his study of the weird with Lovecraft, it's equally unsurprising that he should close it with the director of Blue Velvet and Twin Peaks, David Lynch.
 
For in many ways Fisher seems weirdly trapped in the 1980s and '90s; a man still gripped by the same philosophical ideas (and postmodern obsessions) that shaped his thinking when writing his Ph.D. on cybernetic fiction-theory [f]. Indeed, Fisher readily admits that his fascination with the weird and eerie goes back as far as he can remember. 
     
Now, whilst some might suggest he move on and find new interests, I rather admire the manner in which he has stayed true to the authors, singers, and filmmakers, he loves best. But David Lynch isn't a particular favourite of mine, I'm afraid; there are certainly films by the other two Davids - Fisher and Cronenberg - I like more than Mulholland Drive (2001), though they're perhaps not as weird in the sense that Fisher uses the term.   
 
As for Inland Empire (2006), not only have I not seen it, I've not even heard of it - how weird is that?
 
 
Notes
 
[a] Mark Fisher, The Weird and the Eerie, (Repeater Books, 2016), p. 10. Future page references to this work will be given directly in the main text. 
 
[b] See Graham Harman, Weird Realism: Lovecraft and Philosophy (Zero Books, 2012).
 
[c] Just to be clear: "The outside is not 'empirically' exterior; it is transcendentally exterior; i.e. it is not just a matter of something being distant in space and time, but of something which is beyond our ordinary experience and conception of space and time itself." - Mark Fisher, The Weird and the Eerie, p. 22. 
 
[d] Seinfeld, 'The Pool Guy' [S7/E8], dir. Andy Ackerman, written by David Mandel (1995). Click here to observe the devastating effect it has upon George's mental health when he experiences the colliding of worlds: George is getting upset! Nevertheless, it's interesting to note that this tale unfolds within a weirdly comic universe, rather than a weirdly tragic or melancholic one.
 
[e] Perhaps the only author who writes with such intense conviction about the pop music they love is poet and playwright Síomón Solomon; see his 2020 text Hölderlin's Poltergeists in which he celebrates that other critically-acclaimed post-punk band from Manchester, Joy Division.     
 
[f] Fisher's Ph.D. thesis was entitled: Flatline constructs: Gothic materialism and cybernetic theory-fiction. It was completed in the Philosophy Dept. at the University of Warwick and submitted in July 1999. A PDF of this work is available via the University of Warwick publications service website: click here. The first line opens with the words "Isn't it strange [...]". 
      Fisher was a founding member of the interdisciplinary collective inspired by the work of Nick Land and Sadie Plant known as the Cybernetic Culture Research Unit. Although I was also in the Philosophy Dept. at Warwick at this time and initially had Land as my Graduate Progress Committee member overseeing my own doctoral research project, I never crossed paths with Fisher, which, looking back, I now rather regret.  
 
 
Part two of this post - on the eerie - can be read by clicking here
 
 

25 Sept 2023

A Brief Note on the Queer Gothic, etc.

Margarita Dadykina: Cathy's Ghost (2019) 
Sculpted figure (58 x 20 cm)


I. 
 
Sometimes, a literary genre and a theoretical framework can become so inextricably entwined that it is difficult to discuss the one without reference to the other. Thus it is, for example, that next month sees the publication of a new collection of essays exploring the gothic from a queer perspective [1].   
 
This notion of the queer gothic was one that I dipped in-and-out of over ten years ago, producing three papers presented at Treadwell's Bookshop; the first on Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891); the second on Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter (1850); and the third on Emily Brontë's Wuthering Heights (1847) [2]
 
Anyway, in anticipation of the Edinburgh Companion, here are some remarks I made back in 2014 in an attempt to (loosely) define what I understood by gothic queerness (as well as related terms, including the uncanny and the perverse) ... 

 
II. 
 
My concern with the gothic relates to a form of fiction that emerges during the late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries. I'm not concerned with Germanic tribes migrating about early Europe causing trouble for the Romans, or spiky-forms of medieval architecture (even if the ruins of the latter often provide a setting for many a gothic tale). 
 
Primarily, then, it's to a bizarre, yet, in some ways, rather conventional literary genre I refer when I use the term gothic, whilst happily acknowledging that elements of this have infected many other cultural forms and fields of inquiry, including queer studies. Indeed, such is the level of intimacy between queer studies and gothic studies that many scholars promiscuously drift back and forth from discussing the politics of desire, gender and sexual nonconformity to issues within hauntology and demonology
 
Obviously, this is facilitated by the fact that not only do gothic fictions and queer theories have common obsessions, but they often rely on a shared language of transgression to explore ideas. It has even been suggested that the gothic imaginatively enables queer and provides an important historical model of queer politics and thinking [3].
 
We can certainly never overestimate the role that gothic fiction played in the unfolding history of sexuality. For not only does it anticipate the later codification and deployment of sexualities, but it also participates in what Foucault terms the perverse implantation of these new forms of subjectivity [4]
 
If it is generally accepted that Horace Walpole's Castle of Ortanto is the first gothic novel - published in 1764 - it is also usually agreed that by the publication of Charles Maturin's Melmoth the Wanderer in 1820, the popular craze for gothic fiction had already peaked. 
 
Nevertheless, the genre continued to flourish and mutate at the margins of more respectable literature in the decades that followed. Indeed, many of the works now most commonly associated with it were written in the late-Victorian period: this includes Robert Louis Stevenson's The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1886), Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891), and Bram Stoker's Dracula (1897). 
 
However, whilst slowly changing in form, content, and setting over the years, many things remained the same within the gothic text to the point of cliché; not least of all the continued narrative fascination for perverse sexual practices and abnormal individuals. In this, it is similar to pornography. Both types of writing share a compulsive and "seemingly inexhaustible ability to return again and again to common tropes and similar situations" [5]
 
Indeed, some critics argue that, like pornography, gothic fiction might ultimately serve a conservative function in that it perpetuates stereotypes and thus ultimately re-inscribes the status quo. And it's true that gothic tales often conclude with the moral order restored and reason triumphant (though rarely with a happy ending). However, at the same time, gothic horror seems to possess an uncanny ability to pass "beyond the limits of its own structural 'meaning'" and in this manner transform "the structure of meaning itself" [6]
 
And so, whilst gothic literature might often be predictable, it's never boring. It constantly opens up new worlds of knowledge and provides an opportunity to explore the pleasures of socio-erotic transgression; incest, rape, and same-sex desire are all familiar themes within the genre, not to mention paedophilia, necrophilia, and spectrophilia. 
 
Arguably, Sade takes things furthest in his One Hundred and Twenty Days of Sodom (written in 1785, but not published until 1904), his masterpiece of torture-porn often described as a gothic novel, even though the Divine Marquis himself rejected the term on the grounds that there was nothing supernatural about the horror and sexual violence in his books [7]
 
So, to conclude this briefest of brief introductions to the gothic, let me make clear that what excites about the genre is not that it simply causes gender trouble or allows for things to go bump in the night. More than this, it challenges (and in some cases overturns) many of our ideas about what it is to be human - and, indeed, of how to be human. This gives it broader philosophical importance than those who sneer at ghosts and ghouls might appreciate. 
 
And if, at times, gothic fiction fails as art due to its overreliance on sensational and supernatural elements, it nevertheless more often than not succeeds as a form of resistance to conventional thinking and the heteronormative status quo. And it is this, as indicated, which qualifies it as queer [8]
 
And what do I mean by queer?  
 
Well, let me stress that I'm certainly not using the term queer or the concept of queerness as synonymous with either homosexuality or gayness [9]. Indeed, I vigorously object to those who conflate ideas in this manner and use queer as an overarching and unifying label for what are distinct forms of practice, behaviour and identity (often with nothing queer about them). 
 
For me, the appeal of queerness is twofold: 
 
Firstly, it is not a positivity or subject position. It's a transpositional negativity - i.e., a mobile and ambiguous concept that resists any fixed categorical definition and remains permanently at odds with all forms of legitimacy and identity. Queer, ultimately, doesn't refer to anyone or anything; it's a form of non-being "utterly inimical to [...] authentic existence, ontological or natural" [10]
 
Secondly, it subsumes and dissolves all forms of dualism; not only sexual and gender oppositions, but also that model of thinking which would keep life and death as absolutely distinct and separate categories. Ultimately, it's this thanatological project that I most wish to further, even if that involves unfolding it within a spooky sexual context. This project, which is both morbid and material, picks up on Nietzsche's contention that life isn't categorically different from or opposed to death; that being alive is, in fact, simply a rare and unusually complex way of being dead [11].
 
Death, we might say, is the material kingdom of the actual and vital signs, although real, are but an epiphenomenal effect of matter. Or, to put it another way, life is a momentary stabilization of solar energy that upon death is released from its molar entrapment back into unformed chaos and an infinite process of molecular disintegration [12]. This becomes important when arguing that there can't really be any serious philosophical objections to romancing corpses or getting it on with ghosts - even whilst there may well be legitimate moral, social, and cultural reservations. 
 
Moving on, we must of course mention the perverse ... 
 
The perverse might be thought of as a more aggressive and transgressive form of queerness; one that takes us to the very heart of a game involving desire, deviation, and damnation. Historically, perversion is tied to political insurrection and involves straying or being diverted from a path, destiny, or objective which is understood as natural or right. To those who live their whole lives on the straight and narrow it is obviously an abhorrent concept. But, personally, I think it’s a good thing to stray off the path; just as it's preferable to fall into sin, rather than fall into line [13]
 
Figures like Heathcliff or Dorian Gray are irresistibly drawn towards the perverse. Which is to say they are intellectually predisposed towards evil and that which is unnatural or anti-natural. The former, for example, knowingly engages in practices such as necrophilia and spectrophilia. And there's the rub; Heathcliff is fully aware of what he's doing and what he wants to do. It's the perversion of free will that leads to transgression, says Augustine. And it is transgression that brings death into the world. 
 
But it is also that which brings understanding and gives pleasure and we should never forget or underestimate the pleasure of perversion. As Freud was led to conclude, it's the perversions alone that ultimately make happy [14].
 
Finally, there's one more term which we simply must mention; one made famous by Freud in his 1919 essay Das Unheimliche ...
 
The uncanny is, arguably, also a form of queerness. But in designating the sinister, gruesome, and lugubrious it moves beyond sexual strangeness and gender troubling. The uncanny is more likely to give us the creeps than excite our desire. Wuthering Heights is, for me at least, the greatest of all uncanny novels; familiar, yet alien, seductive, yet repulsive; a book in which even the mortal status of the lovers is never fixed.  
 
 
Notes
 
[1] Queer Gothic: An Edinburgh Companion, ed. Ardel Haefele-Thomas, (Edinburgh University Press, 2023). 
      There seems to be some interesting material in this 368 page book divided into three main sections - Queer Times, Queer Monsters, and Queer Forms - although, having said that, it does seem slightly old hat (though maybe I'm just miffed that I wasn't invited to contribute to the book). 
 
[2] 'Elements of Gothic Queerness in The Picture of Dorian Gray' was presented at Treadwell's on 18 May, 2011. This was followed by 'The Scarlet Letter: An Earthly Story with a Hellish Meaning' on 4 July, 2013 (advertised as 'A Slice of American Gothic for American Independence Day'). 
      As for the paper entitled 'Spectrophilia and Other Queer Goings On in the Tale of Wuthering Heights', this was due to be presented at Treadwell's on 7 October, 2014, but unfortunately had to be cancelled due to unforeseen (and unrecalled) circumstances. 
      Together, these essays formed part of a wider project to do with perverse materialism.
 
[3] See George E. Haggerty, Queer Gothic, (University of Illinois Press, 2006).
 
[4] See Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality: 1: The Will to Knowledge, trans. Robert Hurley, (Penguin Books, 1998). 
 
[5] George E. Haggerty, Queer Gothic, p. 9. 
 
[6] Ibid., p. 10. 
 
[7] Sade did admire at least one gothic novel, namely Matthew Gregory’s The Monk: A Romance (1796), a work in which every attempt was made to outrage readers in as many explicit, violent, and perverse ways as possible. 
 
[8] I don't want to overstate the case or make too wide a claim here. Haggerty is right to carefully resist the temptation to uncritically celebrate the gothic and its literary-cultural significance. As he points out, the genre was always somewhat marginal and semi-legitimate and never succeeded in challenging the dominant mainstream fiction of the age, which remained rigidly straight and heteronormative. 
      Also, if it provided alternative (queerer) ways to think through the politics of desire, it was ultimately powerless to prevent the "imposition of sexological thinking at the end of the nineteenth century". At best, the gothic continued to cast a shadow across the bright new world of scientia sexualis. See Queer Gothic, p. 19. 
 
[9] Elisa Glick is a Marxist critic guilty of this; see p. 11 of her book Materializing Queer Desire (SUNY Press, 2009), where she rather weakly explains her reasons for wanting to employ (and I would say misuse) the term queer synonymously with gay, lesbian, and homosexual. 
 
[10] Jonathan Dollimore, Sexual Dissidence, (Oxford University Press, 1991), p. 140. 
      I’m tempted, in fact, to drop the term queer altogether here and use instead a notion of the uncanny, which is closely related but without the sexual overtones. 
 
[11] See Nietzsche, The Gay Science, trans. Walter Kaufmann, (Vintage Books, 1974), III. 109, p. 168. 
 
[12] Those who attended Treadwell's regularly in 2006 will perhaps remember my six week course on thanatology in which these ideas were discussed in detail and at length. The work can be found in The Treadwell’s Papers, Vol. II, (Blind Cupid Press, 2010). 
 
[13] Even such a trite and common expression as the straight and narrow - thought of as the one true path into the future - reveals something crucial about Western metaphysical thinking; note the linkage of truth with linearity and teleology. People think they are strolling along this path naturally or by choice, but in fact they march along it by arrangement and coercion. 
 
[14] Freud made the attainment of (non-functional, non-reproductive) pleasure central to his theory of perversion and stressed that it is the perversions that make happy; their repression which causes suffering and neuroses. Freud also understands that this is why many normal individuals strongly dislike queers who dare to manifest and flaunt their perversity; not only do they find them monstrous and threatening, but also seductive and this places them in the uncomfortable position of having to overcome a secret envy of those who enjoy illicit pleasures. 
      Note too how Freud compares the perversions to the grotesque demons used to illustrate the temptation of the saints. This is precisely how such images and descriptions continue to function within gothic literature; i.e. as uncanny manifestations and queer embodiments of the perverse; a threatening excess of difference and deformity. See his Three Essays on the Theory of Human Sexuality, (1905). 
 

11 Sept 2023

On the Manufacture of Good Little Boys (The D. H. Lawrence Birthday Post 2023)

Arthur Fleck as played by Joaquin Phoenix in Joker (2019) 
Click here for the relevant scene on YouTube.
 

In one of his late articles, D. H. Lawrence - who was born on this day in 1885 - complained of the manner in which modern men - himself included - have been enslaved by civilisation to the detriment of their own instinctive feelings and individuality:
 
"Little boys are trundled off to school at the age of five, and immediately the game begins, the game of enslaving the small chap." [a]
 
Mostly, Lawrence blames this on women; mothers and schoolma'ams and old maids, who know nothing about manhood and suspect that the latter is something "uncalled-for and unpleasant" [156]
 
On the very first day in class, young Johnny is told he must sit still "'like all the other good little boys'" [157], even though this is the last thing on earth that he wants to do: "At the bottom of his heart, he doesn't in the least want to be a good little boy ..." [157].       
 
The entire education system, says Lawrence is established to manufacture obedient little boys:
 
"School is a very elaborate railway-system where good little boys are taught to run upon good lines till they are shunted off into life, at the age of fourteen, sixteen or whatever it is. And by that age the running-on-lines habit is absolutely fixed. [...] And it is so easy, running on rails, he never realises that he is a slave to the rails he runs on. Good boy!" [157]  
 
"But to be a good little boy like all the other good little boys is to be at last a slave, or at least an automaton, running on wheels. It means that dear little Johnny is going to have all his own individual manhood nipped out of him, carefully plucked out, every time it shows a little peep." [157]
 
Some describe this as the civilising of the wild young boy. But Lawrence insists it's a "subtle, loving form of mutilation" [157] and bullying. And goodness ultimately just means conforming to a universal morality and being like everybody else without any feelings or ideas to call your own.
 
So what, then, is Lawrence suggesting here? 
 
He says that "nobody wants Johnny to be a bad little boy" [158]. But, having said that, I can't help suspecting that he would sympathise with someone like Arthur Fleck [b] who, after years and years, of being expected to sit and take endless bullshit from the po-faced finger-wagging moralists who have control over his life, finally snaps and starts to werewolf and go wild ... 
 
    
Notes

[a] D. H. Lawrence, 'Enslaved by Civilisation', in Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton, (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 156. Future page references to this work will be given directly in the text.
      What is remarkable about this short text is that it anticipates Freud's famous work of 1930 - Das Unbehagen in der Kultur - translated into English as Civilization and Its Discontents. 
      In this pessimistic work, Freud theorised the fundamental tension between civilisation and the individual; the latter desiring instinctive freedom, whilst the former requires conformity to the law and the repression of natural (often violent) instincts. 
      Unlike Lawrence, Freud thinks the non-satisfaction of man's most powerful instincts is not only necessary, but positively a good thing; that man is much better off tamed in the name of Love than allowed to give free expression to those primitive feelings and dangerous passions derived from and representative of the (so-called) death drive. The suffering and distress caused by this loss of instinctive freedom is ultimately a price worth paying as it secures the advance of civilisation. 
 
[b] Arthur Fleck is the aspiring stand-up comic and professional clown protagonist played by Joaquin Phoenix in the 2019 film Joker (dir. Todd Phillips). Fleck’s tale demonstrates what happens when negative thoughts and feelings are not tolerated. The individual, denied the opportunity to express suffering in a legitimate form, either self-harms or goes on a killing spree. In other words, psychic disturbances and psychotic behaviour can often be traced back to an excess of positivity.  
 

26 Mar 2023

In Memory of Sarah Bernhardt (1844 - 1923)

Sarah Bernhardt (aged 21) 
Photo by Félix Nadar (1865)
 
"Mon vrai pays est le plein air et ma vocation est l'art sans contraintes."
 
 
I. 
 
It's strange, but there are some figures who, in theory, should hold a special interest to me, but about whom I know embarrassingly very little. And the French actress Sarah Bernhardt, who died on this day 100 years ago, is one such figure ...

Famously described by Oscar Wilde as divine, a 63-year-old Bernhardt even managed to capture the heart of a young D. H. Lawrence in 1908, when appearing on the English stage as part of a twenty day, sixteen city tour of Great Britain and Ireland:
 
"Sarah Bernhardt was wonderful and terrible. [...] Oh, to see her, and to hear her, a wild creature, a gazelle with a beautiful panther's fascination and fury, laughing in musical French, screaming with true panther cry, sobbing and sighing like a deer sobs, wounded to death, and all the time with the sheen of silk, the glitter of diamonds, the moving of men's handsomely groomed figures about her! She is not pretty - her voice is not sweet - but there she is, the incarnation of wild emotion which we share with all live things, but which is gathered in us in all complexity and inscrutable fury. She represents the primeval passions of woman, and she is fascinating to an extraordinary degree. I could love such a woman myself, love her to madness; all for the pure, wild passion of it." [1]
 
 
II. 
 
Clearly, then, Bernhardt - the illegitimate daughter of a Jewish courtesan who had numerous lovers amongst the wealthy Parisian elite - was one of those wonder-women who seem to seduce, bewitch, or scandalise everyone they encounter. 
 
And, the more I read about her - or the more I look at beautiful old photos of Miss Bernhardt, particularly those taken when she was still very young and with a mass of curly black hair  - the more I start to understand and appreciate why that would be. 
 
I love the fact, for example, that as a child being educated at a convent, she outraged the nuns by performing a Christian burial, with full procession and ceremony, for her pet lizard. And I love the fact also that a century before the world had ever heard of Toyah Willcox, Miss Bernhardt chose to sometimes sleep in a satin-lined coffin.   
 
Arguably, Bernhardt even has something free spirited about her that Nietzsche (who was born in the same month and year) would admire, as this quotation demonstrates:
 
'I passionately love this life of adventures. I detest knowing in advance what they are going to serve at dinner, and I detest a hundred thousand times more knowing what will happen to me, for better or worse. I adore the unexpected.' [2]
 
That's pretty much the philosophy of amor fati and living dangerously in a nutshell, is it not? 
 
She also had that most Nietzschean of virtues: endurance ... For here was an actress who didn't just break a leg, she actually lost a leg due to gangrene in 1915 (when aged 70), but still returned to the stage at the first opportunity and performed for French soldiers fighting on the Western Front.
 
Right until the very end, she also continued to entertain guests at home, - including Colette, who described being served coffee by a living legend:
 
"'The delicate and withered hand offering the brimming cup, the flowery azure of the eyes, so young still in their network of fine lines, the questioning and mocking coquetry of the tilted head, and that indescribable desire to charm, to charm still, to charm right up to the gates of death itself.'" [3]
 
 
Notes
 
[1] D. H. Lawrence, letter to Blanche Jennings (25 June 1908), in The Letters of D. H. Lawrence, Vol. I, ed. James T. Boulton, (Cambridge University Press, 1979), p. 59. 
      It is interesting to note that Lawrence was forty-years younger than Sarah Bernhardt when he wrote this letter. Later, he issues a warning to his new friend Miss Jennings: 
      "Take care about going to see Bernhardt. Unless you are very sound, do not go. When I think of her now I can still feel the weight hanging in my chest as it hung there for days after I saw her. Her winsome, sweet, playful ways; her sad, plaintive little murmurs; her terrible panther cries; and then the awful, inarticulate sounds, the little sobs that fairly sear one, and the despair of death; it is too much in one evening." 
      It is also interesting to note that a 28-year-old Sigmund Freud was also smitten by Sarah. After seeing her perform the title role in Victorien Sardou's melodrama Théodora (1884), he sent his long-suffering fiancée, Martha Bernays, a scene-by-scene account of Bernhardt's performance, concluding that she was a remarkable creature: "Her caressing and pleading, the postures she assumes, the way she wraps herself around a man, the way she acts with every limb, every joint - it's incredible!" 
      See the Letters of Sigmund Freud 1873-1939, ed. Ernst L. Freud, trans. Tania and James Stern, (Hogarth Press, 1961), pp. 178-82.  
      But of course, Bernhardt also had her critics, including Shaw, Turgenev, and Chekov - but I'm writing here to praise Sarah, not to bury her. 

[2] Quoted in Hélène Tierchant, Sarah Bernhardt: Madame 'quand même', (Éditions Télémaque, 2009), pp. 210-211. Unknown translator.
 
[3] Quoted by Cornelia Otis Skinner in Madame Sarah, (Houghton, 1967), p. 330. 
 
 
Special (from beyond the grave) bonus - Sarah Bernhardt reciting a poem by Victor Hugo (Paris, 1903): click here
 
For a follow up post to this one on the art and necessity of coffin sleeping, click here.
 
Merci à Sophie pour la suggestion de cet article.


17 Mar 2022

I Still Dream of Orgonon: Notes on the Strange Life and Times of Wilhelm Reich (Part 2: The American Years)

Wilhelm Reich (1890-1957)
 
Folge der Stimme deines Herzens, auch wenn 
sie dich vom Pfad schüchterner Seelen abführt [1]
 
 
III. The American Years 
 
Reich arrived in New York in September 1939, having accepted a position as Assistant Professor at the New School of Social Research, teaching a course on the 'Biological Aspects of Character Formation'. Despite certain misgivings, which he expressed in his diary, one likes to think Reich secretly had high hopes for his new life in the New World; for, as the song says, life can be bright in America ... [2] 

Alone in a strange country and without much else to do in the evenings, Reich began experimenting on mice (as you do); injecting them with bions. Soon afterwards, however, he met the woman who was to become his second wife (and lab assistant) Ilse Ollendorff, so presumably had something else to occupy him at night. 

It was shortly after he arrived in the US that Reich announced his discovery of a bio-cosmic force that he called orgone energy (or, sometimes, orgone radiation). This, arguably, is the thing most people remember him for today (if they remember him at all). Reich claimed to have observed it emanating from the mice after injecting them, as well as in the night sky through a special telescope he called an organoscope.   

Indeed, according to Reich, orgone energy was present everywhere and in everything; from the blue of the sky to the blue of sexually excited frogs; from red blood cells to the chlorophyll of plants. In 1940, he began to construct orgone accumulators; a modified Faraday cage made of wood and lined with stone wool and sheet iron. 
 
Initially they were designed for lab animals, but he soon knocked up some human-sized sex boxes, as they became known, and volunteers from amongst his patients were encouraged to sit inside - naked, of course. Soon, he was claiming that his orgone accumulators could not only treat schizophrenia, but cure cancer and that he was on the verge of producing a unified theory of physical and mental health. 
 
Hoping to have his ideas scientifically endorsed, Reich contacted and met with Albert Einstein in January 1941. Although initially encouraged by their discussion - and the fact that the latter agreed to home-test a small orgone accumulator - Reich was ultimately disappointed when Einstein wrote to him to say thanks, but no thanks. 
 
And despite Reich pestering the physicist with lengthy letters reporting his latest experimental results, Einstein refused to reconsider the matter and eventually wrote asking that his name not be used in connection with the accumulator. Reich suspected this was all part of the same conspiracy which had cost him his position at the New School in May 1941 and seen him evicted from his apartment after neighbours complained about his strange experiments.    
  
Now things quickly went from bad to worse: after the German declaration of war in December 1941, Reich was arrested by the FBI and taken to Ellis Island, where he was held for three weeks on suspicion of being an enemy alien. Even after his release, he was placed under surveillance (admittedly, this was unfair since Reich was both Jewish and an ardent anti-fascist, forced to flee his homeland because of the Nazis). 
 
Undeterred, Reich purchased an old farm in Maine, in November 1942, and slowly built this up as his home and research centre, calling it Orgonon. In 1950, accompanied by his wife and two children, as well as several colleagues and an artist friend, he moved there on a full-time basis. [3]
 
Up until this time, Reich's activities had attracted little interest from the American press and the coverage he did receive was largely uncritical, if bemused. But suddenly his reputation came under attack and his work was branded pseudo-scientific nonsense which made many false or misleading claims. The Food and Drug Administration (FDA) investigated and concluded that Reich was, indeed, a fraud of the first magnitude [4].
 
And he didn't help matters when, in 1950, he established the Orgonomic Infant Research Centre (OIRC): it's one thing asking adults to strip off and sit in a box, but to involve naked young children in your reserach is never a good idea; several who were treated by OIRC therapists later claimed they had been physically and sexually abused - although not by Reich - and he agreed to close the Centre in 1952 in order to avoid a court case involving one of his team.         
 
By this date, Reich had also divorced his wife on the suspicion that she'd had an affair; what was good for the gander wasn't so good for the goose, it seems. Ilse nevertheless continued working alongside him for another three years, but only after signing confessions about her infidelity and secret feelings of fear and hatred for him.
 
When not denouncing his ex-wife, Reich was telling everyone he knew about his latest discovery - deadly orgone radiation, which, he said, caused desertification; a problem that, conveniently, could be solved with his new cloudbusting technology (basically a number of 15-foot metal pipes mounted on a mobile platform and connected to cables that were inserted into water). 
 
Reich insisted that his cloudbuster could unblock orgone energy in the atmosphere and cause rain. He described his new research as cosmic orgone engineering. Unusually, this did not seem to require that anyone remove their clothes or agree to a massage.  
 
Meanwhile, the FDA were continuing their investigations and in the spring of 1954 obtained an injunction against the interstate shipment of orgone accumulators and promotional literature for said devices. Reich refused to appear in court, arguing that no judge was in a position to evaluate his work on primordial, pre-atomic cosmic orgone energy - which is true, but then, who is?          
 
Perhaps annoyed by Reich's non-appearance and insulted by his attitude (as expressed in a letter), the judge not only granted the injunction, but instructed that accumulators, parts and instructions be destroyed, and that several of Reich's books that mentioned orgone be withdrawn from circulation. 
 
Of course, Reich being Reich, he thought this further evidence of the conspiracy against him; a conspiracy he now believed had extraterrestrial origins. And so he started chasing UFOs (or energy alphas) which he saw zipping across the skies over Orgonon, leaving black streams of deadly orgone radiation in their wake. When he thought one was in range, Reich would fire a cloudbuster at it, in the hope that this would drain away the negative energy (and thus save planet Earth) [5]
 
And Reich being Reich, he of course violated the injunction against him and so was charged with contempt of court in 1956. Initially refusing to attend court to fight the charge, Reich eventually decided to defend himself, pleading not guilty, whilst at the same time admitting that one of his associates had sent an accumulator part through the post. 
 
The jury were not sympathetic to his tale of an alien controlled conspiracy and the judge discreetly suggested to Ilse Ollendorff that she might consider finding psychiatric help for her ex-husband. Thus, Reich was found guilty and sentenced to two years in jail. The Wilhelm Reich Foundation was also fined $10,000 (equivalent to around $104,000 today) and any remaining orgone accumulators had to be destroyed by court order; which they were, along with over six tonnes of Reich's books, journals and papers.       
 
Reich appealed the decision, but lost. He also wrote to J. Edgar Hoover, director of the FBI, but to no avail. And so, on March 12, 1957, Reich entered Danbury Federal Prison (Connecticut), where he was examined by a psychiatrist who recorded paranoia, manifested by delusions of grandiosity and persecution. A week later, Reich was transferred to the Lewisburg Federal Penitentiary and examined again. This time it was decided that whilst he was mentally competent, he could become psychotic if unduly stressed.
 
Fellow inmates referred to Reich as either the flying saucer nut, or the sex box guy. He told his son that he passed the time studying mathematics and crying. When, having served one-third of his sentence, he became eligible for parole, Reich expressed his hopes for the future and looked forward to regaining his liberty. Unfortunately, he died of heart failure, aged sixty, just days before his parole hearing and likely release.
 
 
IV. Closing Remarks
 
Reich was buried in a vault at Orgonon, without ceremony. No academic journals saw fit to publish obituaries. Former friends within the psychoanalytic community who had at one time thought him brilliant, also stayed schtum, perhaps not wanting to speak ill of the dead (their general view being that he had become an embarrassment to himself and the profession).  
 
Nevertheless, in the years since his death - and for all his crackpottery - his work has significantly shaped developments within psychotherapy and influenced a number of intellectuals and artists, including William Burroughs, Jack Kerouac, Norman Mailer, and - as mentioned in part one of this post - Deleuze and Guattari. 
 
To tell the truth, I'm amazed that anyone bothers to take his work seriously today - but then some people also continue to read Jung! Perhaps, being a tad more generous, we might paraphrase something that Camille Paglia once said of Freud: Critics always miss the point because they think he produced pseudoscience, when in fact he created great art. [6]  
 
And besides, even false facts and fake discoveries can have real effects ...
 

Notes
 
[1] In English, this reads: 'Always follow your heart, even if it leads you from the path of timid souls.' It is just the kind of clichéd romantic nonsense that I would have thought profound when young, but which now makes me roll my eyes.     

[2] I'm quoting from 'America', a song written by Stephen Sondheim and Leonard Bernstein for the musical West Side Story (1957). 

[3] Readers might be interested to know it is now the Wilhelm Reich Museum and holiday cottages are available to rent, including the cabin Reich himself lived in. 

[4] In return, Reich labelled the FDA hoodlums and fascists. Believing himself to have the support of President Eisenhower, he was as uncooperative with invesitgators from the FDA as he could be, though they continued to go about their work, interviewing his colleagues, students, and patients. Apparently, one university professor who had bought an orgone accumulator, told them that he knew the device was useless, but it secured him domestic tranquility as his wife was happy to quietly sit in it for several hours each day.  
 
[5] Reich even rented a house in Arizona in order to stage a full-scale battle with the aliens and thought there was a very remote possibility that his own father had, in fact, been from outer space. In a sense, Reich by this stage of his life and career has more in common with David Icke than he does with Freud.   
 
[6] See Camille Paglia, Sexual Personae: Art and Decadence from Nefertiti to Emily Dickinson, (Yale University Press, 1990), p. 228. Paglia's actual line reads: "Freud has no rivals among his successors because they think he wrote science, when in fact he wrote art." 
 
 
To read part one of this post - on the European years - click here.