Journal articles on the topic 'Jacques Leber'

Jacques Galinier responde a la imagen de un antropólogo con fundada inquietud en los procesos disciplinares entre antropología y psicoanálisis. Ha trabajado desde la década de los sesenta con otomíes en diversas misiones etnológicas y arqueológicas, temática sobre la cual ha escrito varios libros y artículos. Es miembro del consejo editorial de varias revistas de antropología, entre las que destacan L'Homme (Paris) o Journal of the Southwest (Universidad de Arizona). Galinier es una persona trato agradable, que alterna su trabajo como director de Investigaciones en el Centro Nacional de Investigaciones Científicas de Francia (CNRS) con la docencia en diversas instituciones tales como Paris X, la Universidad Autónoma de México o la Universidad Complutense de Madrid. Fue precisamente en un curso de verano de esta institución donde tuvimos la oportunidad de entrevistarle.

ZusammenfassungWährend der Französischen Revolution mussten neue, „republikanische“ Lehrmaterialien erstellt werden, um die pädagogischen Ziele einer staatlichen, laizistischen und naturgemäßen Erziehung zu erreichen. Dazu wurde 1794 ein öffentlicher Wettbewerb ausgeschrieben. Eines der hierzu eingereichten, anonym gebliebenen Werke diente als Vorlage für einen Erziehungsratgeber, der von Hahnemann als „Handbuch für Mütter“ für den deutschen Leser ergänzt und erheblich erweitert wurde. Die im Text nicht erkenntlichen Zusätze Hahnemanns werden anhand der Originalquellen verglichen.

This catalogue essay is based on a series of interviews conducted by the authors with international scholars who were asked to reflect on Guattari's scattered comments concerning animism. Interviewees are: Eduardo Viveiros de Castro (anthropologist, Museu Nacional, Rio de Janeiro), Eric Alliez (philosopher, Paris), Jean Claude Polack (psychoanalyst, Paris), Barbara Glowczewski (anthropologist, Paris), Peter Pál Pelbart (philosopher, São Paolo) Janja Rosangela Araujo (master of Capoeira Angola, and professor, Salvador de Bahia) and Jean Jacques Lebel (artist, Paris). Animism was thought by Guattari in relation to a number of themes and places in excess of religion and ritual but in the context of the shattering of capitalism.

Se propone aquí leer la deconstrucción de la soberanía en el seminario de Jacques Derrida, La bestia y el soberano, a la luz del pensamiento amazónico, el cual sugiere que lo que vincula a la soberanía con la animalidad no es necesariamente una común exterioridad con respecto a la ley, sino capacidades compartidas por humanos y no-humanos que no son exteriores ni al lenguaje ni a la política. En los textos chamánicos suramericanos emerge la relación isonómica entre el jaguar y el chamán como expresión de una cosmopolítica en la cual se implican y se contienen mutuamente la soberanía y la libertad, lo humano y lo no-humano, la vida y la no-vida, la ley y su exterioridad.

On June 6, 1963, after living in Paris for several months, Argentine artist Marta Minujín performed her first happening, The Destruction, at the Impasse Ronsin, the now legendary abode of many modern and neo-avant-garde artists. This article examines how The Destruction responded to the mediatization of Nouveau Réalisme's performances, especially Niki de Saint Phalle's Tirs, by entering a Duchampian discourse through its destabilization of authorship, originality, and authenticity—concepts central to Modernism and the anchoring of art's market value. In addition, The Destruction used Brechtian strategies and routinized actions to undercut the ritualism, immediacy, and collaboration fundamental to the emancipatory promise of both French and US happenings as developed by Jean-Jacques Lebel and Allan Kaprow, respectively. In its self-conscious consideration of the intertwinement between performative art forms and spectacle culture, Minujín's first happening thus opened a path of inquiry that later Argentine avant-garde artists of the sixties would continue to explore.

El presente texto se configura a partir de la transcripción de clases teóricas dictadas en el marco del programa anual de la cátedra “Psicología Clínica II A” de la Facultad de Psicología de la UNR, correspondientes al año lectivo 2013. En el mismo se desarrollan problemáticas introducidas por Jacques Lacan al estudio de las estructuras freudianas de las psicosis, tomando como referencia el marco de su Seminario dictado en los años 1955-56. Se recorren los argumentos y los problemas que surgen del intento de aislar un mecanismo diferencial entre neurosis y psicosis: la problemática Bejahung - Austossung - Verwerfung. Esto se desarrolla desde una particular posición de lectura adoptada por Lacan: posición que se caracteriza por leer el texto –tanto el texto freudiano como la enunciación psicótica– como una lengua extranjera. Por último, se presentan y explicitan los fundamentos teóricos de la estructura del programa de la materia antes mencionada

Este artículo argumenta que la reciente investigación bíblica interesada en la escatología, en particular en la escatología del libro de Lucas, forma parte y refuerza el ambiente cultural del capitalismo tardío. En lugar de quedar subsumido en la distinción binaria entre inminencia y esperanza futura, el artículo realiza una relectura del así llamado “cumplimiento lucano” desde la perspectiva del libro Espectros de Marx de Jacques Derrida. A partir del enfoque en el parentesco de Jesús, se argumenta que, a pesar de ciertas proclamas escatológicas, Jesús nunca fue rey de ningún pueblo o lugar. Por lo tanto, al leer desde un contexto en el que las esperanzadoras narrativas mesiánicas han sido subsumidas por la narrativa capitalista es conveniente considerar, como lo ha hecho de manera introductoria Kotrosits, que el libro de Lucas es una narrativa cubierta de pesimismo empático. Palabras clave: Lucas, escatología, Derrida, capitalismo, pesimismo.

Die Polis ist tot, es lebe die kreative Stadt! Während die Stadt, zumindest in Teilen des städtischen Raums, blüht und gedeiht, scheint die Polis im idealisierten griechischen Sinn dem Untergang geweiht; in diesem Verständnis ist sie der Ort der öffentlichen politischen Auseinandersetzung und demokratischen Unterhandlung und somit eine Stätte (oft radikaler) Abweichung und Unstimmigkeit, an der die politische Subjektivierung buchstäblich ihren Platz hat. Diese Figur einer entpolitisierten (oder postpolitischen und postdemokratischen) Stadt im Spätkapitalismus bildet das Leitmotiv des vorliegenden Beitrags. Ich lehne mich dabei an Jacques Rancière, Slavoj Žižek, Chantal Mouffe, Mustafa Dikeç, Alain Badiou und andere Kritiker jenes zynischen Radikalismus an, der dafür gesorgt hat, dass eine kritische Theorie und eine radikale politische Praxis ohnmächtig und unfruchtbar vor jenen entpolitisierenden Gesten stehen, die in der polizeilichen Ordnung des zeitgenössischen neoliberalen Spätkapitalismus als Stadtentwicklungspolitik [urban policy] und städtische Politik [urban politics] gelten. Ziel meiner Intervention ist es, das Politische wieder in den Mittelpunkt der zeitgenössischen Debatten über das Urbane zu stellen. [...]

A través de la lectura de ciertos gestos críticos de Josefina Ludmer, Reinaldo Laddaga y Florencia Garramuño, se intenta mostrar cómo en algunas intervenciones actuales sobre el fin de la institución literaria (tal como la identificaban los principios del régimen estético de las artes o los del paradigma de la modernidad), se podrían leer los síntomas desplazados de una resistencia teórica a la afirmación romántica de la literatura como proceso incesante de interrogación y cuestionamiento de sí misma. La resistencia a lo que este proceso pone en juego se efectuaría indirectamente en las especulaciones que pretenden llevarlo más allá de sí mismo, y en verdad lo debilitan, cuando parece que lo prolongan en el sentido de su superación. La hipótesis que se busca sostener es que habría una frivolidad denegada en los gestos que sancionan el fin de la literatura, porque esos gestos promueven un relajamiento crítico respecto de las tensiones entre búsqueda y reproducción que habitan la clausura estructural de lo literario. Un efecto de ese relajamiento sería el regreso a criterios de valoración clásicos, un vuelco de lo artístico a lo ético, en los términos de Jacques Rancière.

Vi lever i dag i, hvad den slovenske filosof Slavoj Žižek har diagnosticeret som et nydelsessamfund. Vi stræber efter at være lykkelige, glade og succesfulde, men uanset hvor hårdt vi anstrenger os, er det, som om vi altid kan nyde lidt mere og lidt bedre. Et af de domæner, hvor denne diagnose viser sig tydeligt, er i kærlighedens. Temaet for artiklen er den nydelse, som kan opstå, når kærlighed og seksualitet fører mennesker sammen, men også især hvilke nye udfordringer vi står overfor i dag, når vi deltager i jagten på netop denne nydelse. Mødet ansigt til ansigt med en anden person i en date kan for eksempel være forbundet med stor ængstelighed og frygt for at gøre eller sige noget forkert. Vi er i dag som aldrig før frie til at nyde og realisere vores seksualitet på et utal af måder. Men sammen med denne frihed ser vi i dag også fremkomsten af nye patologiske former for selvregulering. Med hjælp fra fransk filosofi (Alain Badiou) og fransk psykoanalyse (Jacques Lacan) bidrager artiklen med en teoretisk diskussion af moderne kærlighed. Artiklen tager afsæt i en kritisk diskussion af Anthony Giddens’ begreb om »det rene forhold« og bevæger sig derfra over i en samtidsdiagnostisk analyse af den måde, hvorpå datingapplikationer og -bureauer bruges i dag.

La resistencia a la teoría es el nombre que el crítico belga Paul de Man diera a comienzos de los ochenta a una muy localizada disfunción intelectual, una dolencia que, de manera genérica, ahora cabe describir retrospectivamente como la mezcla de resentimiento y desprecio que un sector creciente del mundo académico sentía hacia el horizonte de alta teoría definido por la obra critico-filosófica de pensadores franceses más o menos post estructuralistas como Louis Althusser, Jacques Derrida, Michel Foucault y Giles Deleuze. Dicha disfunción no es exclusiva de docentes y críticos académicos. Existen numerosos escritores que han contribuido por razones diversas aunque relacionadas a mantener viva dicha resistencia. Uno de estos escritores es el gran novelista peruano Mario Vargas Llosa, cuyo reciente libro de ensayos titulado La civilización del espectáculo sorprende por la virulencia con la que se ensaña, de manera tan gratuita como desinformada, con el legado de pensamiento teórico-crítico de autores como Derrida o Foucault. Cabe leer este ataque intempestivo como la sobrerreacción diferida de un resentimiento continuado hacia las fuentes culturales (Nietzsche, Marx) del post-estructuralismo, interpretado erróneamente por Vargas Llosa como la cuna de los males morales y culturales del presente. El humanismo liberal de Vargas Llosa, cómplice de extrañas transcendencias, ignora el valor real de sus presuntos enemigos.

Various forms of academic elitism exclude "professional" education, including medicine, engineering, and law, from the academic curriculum on grounds of the intrinsic, i.e., non-instrumental value of university education and scholarship.In this paper, I shall explore arguments from J.S. Mill, Cardinal John Newman, and I. Kant to this effect, attempting to clarify what non-instrumental value they find in university education and scholarship, and why it should serve to exclude the professional, and sometimes the scientific and the technological. [1] In Kant’s case, I shall point out more integrative options implicit in his approach. I shall than look at some contemporary resolutions of these issues, namely, the relation of knowledge and university education to economic usefulness, on the one hand, and to a free and democratic society, on the other, in the writings of Philip Kitcher (2011), Jacques Derrida (1983) and Jürgen Habermas (1992).[1] An earlier version of this paper was presented at a conference entitled: "curricula and Humanistic Scholarship: Between Tacit Knowledge and Public Discourse," sponsored by The Van Leer Jerusalem Institute, The Sidney M. Edelstein Center at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, The Cohn Institute for the History and Philosophy of Science and Ideas and The Minerva Humanities Center at Tel-Aviv University, and the Volkswagen Stiftung. The author wishes to thank the organizers of the conference, and particularly Prof. Rivka Feldhai and Prof. Gabi Motzkin.

Die Lecture-Performance „Unzeitgemäße Betrachtung. Nietzsche et cetera“ wurde bei dem Forschungsfestival Philosophy On Stage#4 am Tanzquartier Wien uraufgeführt, das sich zum Ziel gesetzt hatte, neue Allianzen zwischen Philosophie und den Künsten zu erproben.In dem folgenden Script zur Performance wird die Philosophie als ein Modus des In-der-Zeit-seins verstanden, in der sich Unzeitgemäßes zeigt, indem eine Revolte der Zeit gegen die Zeit zu Gunsten einer kommenden Zeit in Gang gebracht wird. Die Zeitlichkeit des Unzeitgemäßen, die das philosophierende Denken begrifflich freisetzen kann, gehört weder dem Regime der Vergangenheit, noch dem der Ewigkeit an, sie ruft vielmehr Zukunft hervor.Da die Philosophie diese Fähigkeit mit den Künsten teilt, wird kunstbasiertes Philosophieren in der Lecture-Performance als ein Feld gedacht, das Unzeitgemäßes erscheinen lässt. Wobei unter kunstbasiertem Philosophieren jene Allianz der Künste mit der Philosophie verstanden wird, in der die Philosophie künstlerische Forschungspraktiken in die Praktiken des Philosophierens mit einbezieht.In seiner Schrift Politik der Freundschaft hat Jacques Derrida aufgezeigt, dass der Satz „Ach! Wenn ihr wüsstet, wie es bald, so bald schon – anders kommt! …“ das aporetische Prinzip einer Demokratie der Zukunft zur Sprache bringt, in der die Zeitlichkeit des Unzeitgemäßen in Gang gebracht wird. Dabei verweist der Genitiv in der Formulierung Demokratie der Zukunft auf eine Form von Demokratie hin, die nur solange existiert, solange sie sich für ihre eigene Veränderlichkeit und Ereignishaftigkeit offen hält. Eine solche Form von Demokratie wird stets das Vorspiel einer Zukunft gewesen sein, die man vorab mit ganzem Herzen bejahen muss, um ihr Kommen zu ermöglichen; wieder und wieder.Ein Modus der Bejahung des Werdens, der eng mit Nietzsches abgründigstem Gedanken in Verbindung steht – dem Gedanken der ewigen Wiederkehr des Gleichen, in dem die Zeit ihr Werden ewig wieder-holt, um sich als Leben einer immanenten, nicht enden wollenden Bewegung der Unendlichkeit in sich selbst unaufhörlich zu vollziehen.

Wie Jacques Derrida u. a. in Die Einsprachigkeit des Anderen oder Die ursprüngliche Prothese zeigt, ist jeder Mensch immer schon mehrsprachig. Wenn wir diesen Zustand der Nicht-Einsprachigkeit als ein allgemein-menschliches Phänomen begreifen, und dazu eignet sich die sogenannte exophone Literatur besonders, dann hilft uns das zu verstehen, dass das Fremd-Sein eines/einer Fremden zu befragen immer zugleich bedeutet, auch unser eigenes Fremd-Sein zu befragen, dann wird die Frage nach dem Fremden zur Frage der eigenen Identität. Um dies zu zeigen, lese ich Hamid Sadrs Gesprächszettel an Dora (1994) parallel zu und mit Derridas Konzept von Ein- und Mehrsprachigkeit. In dem ‚Roman‘ erfindet der Erzähler entlang von Egodokumenten seine Wahrheit über Franz Kafkas Sterben und widerspricht damit vielen Wissenschaftler- und Biograph_innen, die den Tod Kafkas als Konsequenz seines Dichterseins, seiner Zerrissenheit etc. interpretiert haben. Was uns die Dichterfigur entfremdet, ist dabei die Sprache selbst und zwar gerade die anscheinend authentischen Berichte, die, in Kombination mit den unzuverlässigen Erzählerstimmen die Konstruktion der Figur Kafka offenlegen. Der Kafka des Textes – der als K., als Kafka, als kavka auftritt, der im Erzählen als Kafka gesetzt, erschrieben wird, und zwar in jenen Worten, die die seinen sind, die ihm also vermeintlich vorangehen und doch, zugleich, folgen, sich (auch) als Nach-Schreiben entpuppen – wird wieder aufgelöst, wird fremd. Die Verwirrung der Grenzen von Ursache und Wirkung, Vorher und Nachher, Realität und Fiktion, das Sein zwischen Leben und Tod lässt die Kafka/K.-Figur zum Wanderer, zur Figur des Sowohl-alsauch werden. Das Fremd-Sein Kafkas, die Exilsituation in der Abgeschiedenheit des Sanatoriums sind dabei nicht allein Parabeln auf die Situation exiliert Lebender, wie Sadrs persönliche Lebenssituation nahelegte, sie sind darüber hinaus eine Metapher für menschliche Identitätsfindung generell.

C'est avec plaisir que nous avons récemment relu les "Tribunes Libres" de Ghislain de MARSILY (1994) et Jacques GANOULIS (1996), plus particulièrement leur discussion relative à une nouvelle typologie des modèles hydrologiques ainsi que leurs réflexions concernant l'analyse des incertitudes. Il nous apparaît toutefois, à la lecture de ces deux articles, qu'il subsiste encore quelques confusions ou interprétations alternatives concernant la modélisation hydrologique. Il est donc important et ceci malgré le fait que nous adhérons à beaucoup de points examinés par ces deux auteurs, de discuter encore quelques éléments de la modélisation hydrologique afin de lever certaines ambiguïtés. La distinction effectuée par de MARSILY entre les modèles conditionnés par les phénomènes observables et les modèles à base physique utilisés lorsque aucun phénomène n'a été constaté, invite à la critique eu égard aux pratiques réalisées. Par ailleurs, l'argument de GANOULIS affirmant que les modèles à base physique peuvent fournir une description valable des processus si l'on utilise des coefficients empiriques à différentes échelles spatiales et temporelles, ne résiste pas non plus à une analyse détaillée des effets d'échelle. En d'autres termes, la question soulevée par ces auteurs réside dans l'impossibilité d'utiliser une modélisation à base purement physique pour des applications pratiques, en raison de la difficulté de prendre en compte et de transcrire les caractéristiques et le comportement unique de chaque unité du paysage ou chaque sous-bassin versant. Face à cette attitude, nous pouvons affirmer aujourd'hui qu'il existe d'autres voies de réflexion en ce qui concerne l'usage de modèles dits à base physique. Affirmer que tous les lieux concernés par une modélisation distribuée ont des caractéristiques uniques est une évidence géographique. Il n'en reste pas moins que les limitations de la modélisation, exprimées par de MARSILY (1994) dans le contexte des trois principes d'unité de lieu, d'action et de temps, peuvent être mieux définies en procédant à une analyse plus fine dans le contexte de l'unicité. Les unicités expliquent en partie le développement très répandu de la modélisation par rapport à la théorie et des outils propres à des applications particulières. Force est de constater que les attentes face aux prévisions quantitatives en hydrologie ont augmenté parallèlement à l'évolution de la disponibilité et la puissance des ordinateurs. Cette évolution est toutefois due essentiellement aux avancées technologiques plutôt qu'à de réels progrès scientifiques. Pourquoi? En raison principalement des caractéristiques uniques des bassins versants. Celles-ci transcendent, à notre point de vue, toutes les théories disponibles en matière de modélisation hydrologique. De surcroît, cet aspect ne change pas si on émet de meilleures hypothèses physiques ou si on réalise des prévisions pour les variables ou "phénomènes non-observables" discutés par de MARSILY. Dans cette communication, nous tenterons une évaluation de ces questions et nous suggérerons une approche pertinente de la modélisation hydrologique pour prendre en compte le caractère unique des bassins versants.

With the aim of understanding the insertion of higher education into a new context of organization of society and State, which is managed according to the New Public Management, this work presents a comparative historical study of the organization of French and Brazilian higher education. It is concluded that the French adherence to the New Public Management is based on the knowledge economy, while the Brazilian one is based on State size reduction along the lines of the Washington Consensus; in addition, higher education institutions in both countries are organized to participate in competitions: in France, the international competition promoted by rankings, and in Brazil, the market competition.ResumoCom o objetivo de compreender a inserção do ensino superior dentro de um novo contexto de organização da sociedade e do Estado, gerido pela Nova Gestão Pública, o trabalho apresenta um estudo histórico comparativo da organização do ensino superior brasileiro e o francês. Conclui-se que a adesão francesa à Nova Gestão Pública tem como norte a economia do conhecimento, e a brasileira, a redução do Estado nos moldes do Consenso de Washington; e que as instituições de ensino superior nos dois países são organizadas para participarem de concorrências: na França, a internacional promovida pelos ranqueamentos, no Brasil, a mercantil.Palavras-chave: Ensino superior brasileiro, Ensino superior francês, Nova gestão pública, Universidade.Keywords: Brazilian higher education, French higher education, New public management, University.ReferencesAEBISCHER, S. Réinventer l'école, réinventer l'administration. Une loi pédagogique et managériale au prisme de ses producteurs. Politix, n. 98, n.2 p. 57-83 2012/2.AERES. Repères historiques. Agence d’évaluation de la recherche et de l’enseignement supérieur. Disponível em: <www.aeres-evaluation.fr/Agence/Presentation/Reperes-historiques>. Acesso em: 17 nov. 2016.AMARAL, N. C. 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Artikkelen tar for seg seks tekster av den norske forfatteren Per Sivle (1857–1904) og leser disse somrefleksjoner over barns verdi. Tekstene blir omtalt som dyrebiografier og spørsmålet om barns verdidrøftes i lys av forholdet mellom dyr-barn-menneske. Artikkelen er teoretisk og filosofisk motivert avGiorgio Agambens biopolitiske tenkning og Jean-Jacques Rousseaus argument for barns egenart.

Dieser Beitrag diskutiert die Politische Philosophie Jacques Rancières im Hinblick auf deren ›ästhetische‹ Grundlage, die sie in einer Theorie der »Teilung des Sinn- lichen« (partagedu sensible) hat. Es wird die Frage aufgeworfen, inwieweit die Vorstellung, die sich Rancière von dieser Teilung macht, über traditionelle Theorien der Perspektivität und politischer Pluralität hinausgeht. Im Zentrum der Evaluation dieses Ansatzes Politischer Theorie steht dabei die Frage nach kritischen Potenzialen einer politischen Sensibilisierung dafür, dass (und wie) wir in einer doppelsinnig »geteilten« politischen Welt leben. <br><br>This essay discusses Jacques Rancière’s political philosophy with respect to its ‘aesthetic’ basis that rests on a theory of the division of the sensible (partage du sensible). The author raises the question whether Rancières conception of this partage goes beyond traditional theories of perspectivity and political plurality. The evaluation of this approach of Rancière’s political theory focuses on critical potentials of a political sensitisation for the fact that (and how) we live in a shared and at the same time divided political world.

ResumenEste articulo trata sobre la imposibilidad de escribir artículos. Sobre la ruina y laceniza como condición de posibilidad del por-venir. Sobre Nietzsche y su nombrecomo objeto de disputa. Sobre los nombres únicos y los nombres propios y loque quieren decir los nombres y lo que los nombres desnombran. Sobre si el sentido se recoge o se disemina. Y sobre todo, sobre como no se pueden hacer resúmenes que presuponen no solo que hay un autor que posee el sentido del texto, sino que puede decirlo en cien palabras. Si fuera así ¿para que leer lo que sigue?

Sommaire Les jugements sont déclaratoires de droit. Le différend soumis à un Conseil d'arbitrage demeure ce qu'il était à l'origine. C'est donc le litige originairement soumis qui est décidé par la sentence arbitrale, ce qui implique rétroactivité. Il répugne à l'idée de justice que des employés soient privés des avantages qui leur sont postérieurement reconnus tout simplement parce que toutes les procédures de l'arbitrage n'ont pu être accomplies simultanément le même jour. L'Hôpital St-Ambroise de Loretteville et l'Association des employés de l'Hôpital de St-Ambroise de Loretteville; Hon. Paul Lesage, J.C.S., président; Marcel Bélanger, ca., arbitre patronal; Jacques Archambault, arbitre syndical; Ministère du Travail, Province de Québec, Bulletin No 1614, le 10 août 1961. Me Paul Lebel, c.r., procureur de la partie patronale, Me Magella Lemay, procureur de la partie syndicale.

Un tribunal d'arbitrage décide (l'arbitre syndical étant dissident) que les employés du secteur public ne doivent pas être traités différemment de ceux des autres secteurs, et qu'en conséquence il doit tenir compte des disparités économiques d'une région à l'autre quand il décide des échelles de salaires. Il n'est pas de la compétence d'un tribunal d'arbitrage d'opter pour l'application de la théorie de la parité des salaires dans les services publics, à l'échelle de la province, dans le but exclusif d'atteindre à la correction des infériorités économiques au niveau des régions. C'est plutôt là la fonction des partenaires sociaux et du législateur.1 (1) Hôpital Ste-Anne-des-Monts et le Syndicat national des employés de l'Hôpital Ste-Anne-des-Monts; Ministère du Travail, Bulletin d'information No 1842-1964, 18 juillet 1964; Me Jean Bérubé, c.r., président; M. André Moisan, arbitre patronal; Me Magella Lemay, arbitre syndical (dissident); pour la partie patronale: Me Paul Lebel, c.r.; pour la partie syndicale: M. Jacques Archambault, M.R.I.

En las últimas décadas, el campo de la estética y de los estudios sobre el arte participaron de una serie de transformaciones y movimientos que hicieron converger dos problemáticas: los anuncios sobre el fin del arte (y de modo aún más amplio, el fin de sentido, de la historia, de la literatura) y los debates sobre la postautonomía del arte. A partir de los aportes críticos y teóricos de Nelly Richard, Jacques Rancière, Giorgio Agamben, entre otros, este artículo explora la emergencia de la noción de imagen en el escenario contemporáneo para despuntar los sentidos que abogan por la caducidad del arte o, su contracara, por un impulso de innovación de las formas. Ante la apertura de la relación entre arte y literatura, tiene lugar un desplazamiento que es posible leer en el modo en que la crítica argentina contemporánea compone una constelación de sentidos entre imagen, escritura y presente.

<p>Este ensayo toma dos obras –<em> Fundido a blanco</em>, de Oscar Muñoz y <em>La experiencia dramática,</em> de Sergio Chejfec­– como un laboratorio para reflexionar sobre las transformaciones que sufre la categoría de ficción en el arte y la literatura contemporáneos. Basándome en ciertas formulaciones teóricas de Joan Fontcuberta, Jacques Rancière, Georges Didi-Huberman y del propio Sergio Chejfec sobre la relación entre la ficción y el documento, sugiero que en las obras de Muñoz y de Chejfec se despliega un modo singular de construcción ficcional subjetiva diferente al de la ficción clásica –basada en una lógica representativa– que puede ser entendido como simulación o como síntoma, y que se vincula con una lógica propia de lo digital. Si bien en estas obras se reflexiona sobre el ejercicio autobiográfico, en ellas se propone que la imagen y la palabra se despeguen de una temporalidad biográfica y cronológica para dar lugar a un recuerdo que sobrevive como un resto material, sensorial y afectivo. De este modo, se cancela la posibilidad de leer o mirar las obras en sus aspectos puramente testimoniales; o más bien se devela la trampa ficcional que allí se esconde. La urdimbre de la ficción, entonces, ya no se basa en una verosimilitud sino en la invención de un indicio o en la simulación de un documento.</p><p> </p>

Die Lecture-Performance „Unzeitgemäße Betrachtung. Nietzsche et cetera“ wurde bei dem Forschungsfestival Philosophy On Stage#4 am Tanzquartier Wien uraufgeführt, das sich zum Ziel gesetzt hatte, neue Allianzen zwischen Philosophie und den Künsten zu erproben.In dem folgenden Script zur Performance wird die Philosophie als ein Modus des In-der-Zeit-seins verstanden, in der sich Unzeitgemäßes zeigt, indem eine Revolte der Zeit gegen die Zeit zu Gunsten einer kommenden Zeit in Gang gebracht wird. Die Zeitlichkeit des Unzeitgemäßen, die das philosophierende Denken begrifflich freisetzen kann, gehört weder dem Regime der Vergangenheit, noch dem der Ewigkeit an, sie ruft vielmehr Zukunft hervor.Da die Philosophie diese Fähigkeit mit den Künsten teilt, wird kunstbasiertes Philosophieren in der Lecture-Performance als ein Feld gedacht, das Unzeitgemäßes erscheinen lässt. Wobei unter kunstbasiertem Philosophieren jene Allianz der Künste mit der Philosophie verstanden wird, in der die Philosophie künstlerische Forschungspraktiken in die Praktiken des Philosophierens mit einbezieht.In seiner Schrift Politik der Freundschaft hat Jacques Derrida aufgezeigt, dass der Satz „Ach! Wenn ihr wüsstet, wie es bald, so bald schon – anders kommt! …“ das aporetische Prinzip einer Demokratie der Zukunft zur Sprache bringt, in der die Zeitlichkeit des Unzeitgemäßen in Gang gebracht wird. Dabei verweist der Genitiv in der Formulierung Demokratie der Zukunft auf eine Form von Demokratie hin, die nur solange existiert, solange sie sich für ihre eigene Veränderlichkeit und Ereignishaftigkeit offen hält. Eine solche Form von Demokratie wird stets das Vorspiel einer Zukunft gewesen sein, die man vorab mit ganzem Herzen bejahen muss, um ihr Kommen zu ermöglichen; wieder und wieder.Ein Modus der Bejahung des Werdens, der eng mit Nietzsches abgründigstem Gedanken in Verbindung steht – dem Gedanken der ewigen Wiederkehr des Gleichen, in dem die Zeit ihr Werden ewig wieder-holt, um sich als Leben einer immanenten, nicht enden wollenden Bewegung der Unendlichkeit in sich selbst unaufhörlich zu vollziehen.

Die Behandlung von psychotisch Erkrankten ist für die Psychoanalyse eine besondere Herausforderung, da das entgrenzte Gegenüber immer wieder in Wahnvorstellungen versinkt, die gemeinhin als unteilbar gelten. Sprach- und Wortzerfall, Ich-Fragmentierung, Dissoziation, emotionale Starrheit, Halluzinationen und stumme Selbstversunkenheit sind nur einige der Symptome, denen sich Psychiater und Psychotherapeuten gleichermassen stellen müssen. Wie ist es möglich, unter diesen Umständen einen emotionalen und einen verbalen Zugang zu erlangen? Wie ist das Innenleben dieser Menschen zu verstehen? Wie kann der Wahn im psychoanalytischen Setting angegangen, bearbeitet und persönlich integriert werden? Welche Rolle, wenn überhaupt, können Deutungen in einem solchen Prozess spielen? Und wie kann man/frau sich auf das oftmals intervenierende Umfeld einstellen und solche Patienten angemessen tragen? Solche und ähnliche Fragen diskutieren die praxiserfahrenen Autoren und Autorinnen dieser Ausgabe.Unmittelbarer Anlass für dieses Heft ist Josi Roms Engagement für die psychoanalytische Psychotherapie mit psychotischen Menschen. Während neunzehn Jahren, von 1991–2010 führte er am Psychoanalytischen Seminar Zürich sein weitherum geschätztes Psychoseseminar durch, das von vielen angehenden und praktisch tätigen PsychoanalytikerInnen regelmässig besucht wurde. Auch bei der letztjährigen Gründung des «Dachverbandes Deutschsprachiger PsychosenPsychotherapie» (DDPP) in Berlin (6. Mai 2011) half Josi Rom tatkräftig mit. So entstand die Idee, ein Journal mit dem Themenschwerpunkt «Psychosen» herauszugeben, das sich auf die Tätigkeit Josi Roms bezieht, seine Arbeit würdigt und mitunter die Spuren nachzeichnet, die von seinen Psychose-Seminaren in die klinische Praxis geführt haben. Mehrheitlich kommen hier darum Autoren zu Wort, die seine Kurse besucht haben und heute auch psychotische Menschen psychoanalytisch betreuen.Die Beiträge zu diesem Schwerpunkt können in drei Gruppen unterteilt werden, nämlich erstens in Beiträge, die den möglichen theoretischen Rahmen für ein verbessertes Verständnis der Psychoseproblematik abstecken; zweitens in Beiträge, die einer kasuistischen Argumentationslinie folgen und der interessierten Leserschaft Einblick in teils langjährige, anspruchsvolle und emotional äusserst fordernde psychoanalytische Therapien gewähren; sowie drittens in Beiträge, die sich mit Josi Roms Arbeit und dessen Wirkung im Besonderen auseinandersetzen. Teilweise überschneiden sich die Argumentationslinien auch. Besonders freutuns, mit Prof. Dr. em. Christian Scharfetter und Prof. Dr. Stijn Vanheule auch zwei namhafte Wissenschaftler für einen Beitrag zu diesem Heft gewonnen zu haben, die sich aus ganz unterschiedlichen Perspektiven dem anstehenden Fragenkomplex stellen.Eröffnet wird das Leitthema mit einem offenen Brief, den Josi Rom mit dem vielsagenden Titel «Verrückt» an uns RedaktorInnen richtete, als er von unserem Unterfangen erfuhr. Darin legt er seinen Werdegang in der Auseinandersetzung mit dem Thema Psychose dar, diskutiert die Entwicklung seiner am Psychoanalytischen Seminar Zürich durchgeführten Kurse, würdigt die Rolle seiner Supervisoren und spekuliert über die Grundlagen, die zur scheinbar klaren Trennung in psychotische Wahnvorstellungen und Alltagsrealität geführt haben. Die eine Welt, so schreibt er, sei psychotisch diagnostiziert, die andere psychotisch legitimiert. Christian Scharfetter führt sodann mit klaren und klärenden Worten durch die teils verwirrende Begriffslandschaft und skizziert die Eckpfeiler der wohlwollenden und flexiblen psychoanalytischen Haltung, welche erfolgreiche therapeutische Prozesse ermöglichen kann. Explizit betont er, dass es keine therapeutische Anweisung, keine Strategie oder gar ein (normatives) Verfahren im Umgang mit solchen Menschen geben kann. Vielmehr sieht er den Therapeuten als Begleiter, Anreger, Unterstützer und Helfer, der sich in eine möglichst alltagsbezogene, lebensnahe und liebevolle Beziehung mit seinen Patienten einlässt. Sowohl Julia Brauns Beitrag zum psychoanalytischen «Verstehen» im Fall einer schizophrenen Patientin als auch Maribel Fischers Artikel über eine langjährige, hochfrequente psychoanalytische Psychotherapie greifen die einführenden Gedanken auf und weben sie in ihre kasuistischen Fallberichte ein. Julia Brauns Anliegen ist es zu zeigen, wie hilfreich Josi Roms Ansatz für die Entwicklung eines psychodynamischen Verständnisses schizophrener Menschen in der therapeutischen Arbeit ist. Sie berichtet über ihre mehrjährigen Erfahrungen als Psychotherapeutin in einer psychiatrischen Klinik und bezieht sich dabei exemplarisch auf ausgewählte Sequenzen des Therapieverlaufs einer jungen, schizophrenen Frau. Maribel Fischer arbeitet als selbständige Psychoanalytikerin und Psychotherapeutin und zeigt, wie sie im Verlaufe des psychoanalytischen Prozesses in immer neue Rollen und Funktionen verwickelt wurde – von der Leidensbegleiterin über die Unterstützerin und Helferin bis zur Dolmetscherin von idiosynkratischen Wahnvorstellungen in externen Institutionen –, welche Settingmodifikationen sich dabei aufdrängten und wie sich die teils heftige Übertragungsdynamik gestaltete. Trotz all dieser Unwägbarkeiten ist es ihr Anliegen zu zeigen, dass psychoanalytische Psychotherapien gerade bei Menschen mit Psychosen sinnvoll sind. Gemeinsam mit Nicole Burgermeister, Colette Guillaumier und Elisabeth Haemmerli stellt Julia Braun eine Sammlung von Eindrücken und Erinnerungen vor, die Josi Roms Psychoseseminar bei dessen TeilnehmerInnen hinterliess. Mitunter wird dem Leser auch eine lebendige Innenansicht in die Kultur dieser Kurse vermittelt, welche ihre Bedeutung für die TeilnehmerInnen erahnen lässt. Mit den Beiträgen von Dagmar Ambass und Stijn Vanheule – sie schliessen das Schwerpunktthema ab – kommt es zu einer Verschiebung des Fokus. Dagmar Ambass stellt die Frage der gesellschaftlichen Bezüge in den Mittelpunkt – eine Frage, die besonders für Personen mit Migrationshintergrund virulent ist. Sie erzählt die Geschichte einer Afrikanerin, die nach ihrer Heirat mit einem Schweizer den kulturellen Kontext ihrer afrikanischen Bauerngesellschaft mit ihren vielfältigen symbolischen Bezügen verlässt, um ihr Glück in einer hochindustrialisierten Leistungsgesellschaft wie der Schweiz zu finden, hier aber leider psychotisch wird. Dagmar Ambass interessiert sich für die Frage, inwieweit das in afrikanischen Gesellschaften typische gegenseitige Geben und Nehmen die innere psychische Stabilisierung von Personen ermöglicht, die in unseren gesellschaftlichen Kontexten dekompensieren und warum. Sie untersucht die Bedeutung des Herausfallens aus den stabilisierenden gesellschaftlichen Bezügen, die zum Ausbruch der Psychose geführt haben könnten und sucht Erklärungen in einer originellen Verknüpfung von Lacans Konzept des Sinthom mit ethnopsychoanalytischen Ansätzen. Stijn Vanheule schliesslich stellt noch einmal die Frage des Verstehens von psychotischen Erscheinungen, diesmal aus theoretischer Sicht. In seinem von Patricia Kunstenaar aus dem Englischen übersetzten Artikel fragt er nach dem Wesen der psychotischen Halluzinationen und präsentiert eine Lacansche Sichtweise. Der Beitrag liefert eine Übersicht über die von Jacques Lacan in den 1950er-Jahren entwickelte Theorie der Halluzinationen. Vanheule folgt Lacan und begreift die Psychose als Unfähigkeit, die eigene Existenz als Subjekt in Beziehung zum Andern zu signifizieren. Sein Beitrag ist verständlich und flüssig geschrieben und er vermag darum auch Leser, die mit der Lacanschen Terminologie nicht oder nur wenig vertraut sind, zum Denken anzuregen. Weitere, ergänzende und lesenswerte Beiträge im Forumsteil runden dieses Heft ab.Julia Braun Claudio Raveane Markus Weilenmann

Liebe Leserin, lieber Leser,Das PSZ kann auf eine beständige Lehrtradition zur psychoanalytischen Arbeit mit Kindern und Jugendlichen zurückblicken, die bis in die Siebzigerjahre zurückreicht. Zwar führte die Kinderanlayse zur Gründungszeit des Seminars noch eine eher randständige Existenz und wurde lediglich von einigen wenigen, wie Jacques Berna oder Pedro Grosz, vertreten. Berna sollte später nach Hamburg auswandern und dort den holländischen Kinder- und Jugendpsychiater Sjef Teuns kennenlernen. Um diesen und Bianca Gordon, einer Londoner Kinderanalytikerin, die ihrerseits auf Veranlassung von Sjef Teuns nach Zürich eingeladen worden war, entwickelte sich im Laufe der Jahre eine stetig wachsende Gruppe von AnalytikerInnen, welche die psychoanalytische Kinder- und Jugendlichenpsychotherapie kontinuierlich förderten und lehrten. Heute ist die aus diesen Entwicklungen hervorgegangene «Ressortgruppe Kinder- und Jugendlichenpsychotherapie am PSZ» in der Lage, eine schweizweit einzigartige Weiterbildung in dieser Arbeit anzubieten (siehe: www.psychoanalyse-zuerich.ch). Drei der fünf Autoren sind aktuell Mitglieder der Ressortgruppe: Daniel Bischof, Egon Garstick und Jürgen Grieser. Sie gestalten daher das Kursangebot der laufenden Weiterbildung wesentlich mit. Im vorliegenden Heft ergreifen sie die Gelegenheit, die gegenwärtige Arbeit von Psychoanalytikerinnen und Psychoanalytikern des PSZ mit Kindern und Jugendlichen im Praxisalltag vorzustellen sowie einen Einblick in deren theoretische Reflexion zu vermitteln. Es ist der Autoren Ziel darlegen zu können, wie unter verschiedenen theoretischen Aspekten, die alle dem psychoanalytischen Verständnis zuzuordnen sind, in der Praxis gearbeitet wird. Dabei liegt ihnen daran zu verdeutlichen, dass die Umsetzung des analytischen Denkens in der Arbeit mit Kindern und Jugendlichen in äußerst vielfältiger Form stattfindet und den für KinderanalytikerInnen so vertrauten Gedanken zu veranschaulichen, dass Psychoanalyse im Kern als Entwicklungsprozess zu verstehen ist. Anhand kleinerer oder ausführlicherer Auszüge aus Behandlungsverläufen reflektieren ihre Abhandlungen psychoanalytische Arbeit mit Kindern und Jugendlichen und veranschaulichen ein mögliches theoretisches Verstehen davon.Alle Texte reflektieren Besonderheiten der kinderanalytischen Arbeit: Kinder suchen nie auf eigenen Wunsch eine Behandlung auf. Sie werden gebracht von Eltern oder anderen Dritten, die aus eigener Motivation, Not oder unter Druck (von Schulen oder Behörden) handeln. Vereinfachend lässt sich formulieren: die analytische Arbeit mit Kindern geht nur so weit, wie Eltern dies zulassen können. Kinderanalyse und Psychotherapie mit Kindern und Jugendlichen ist also immer eine Arbeit in einem hoch komplexen Umfeld mit einer besonderen Dynamik zwischen innerer und äußerer Welt.Jürgen Grieser bietet uns in seinem Artikel «Angehörige und andere Dritte in der Psychotherapie» eine metapsychologische Reflexion dessen, was der Einbezug von Eltern oder eben auch anderer Dritter in die Behandlung bedeutet. Ausgangspunkt seiner Überlegungen ist die Tatsache, dass Kinderanalyse immer die Arbeit in einem hochkomplexen Setting bedeutet, in welchem von Beginn an die Frage, wie mit dem Dritten umgegangen werden soll, gestellt werden muss. Der damit eingeleitete Prozess der Triangulierung im therapeutischen Raum gewinnt symbolischen Charakter und vorbildhafte Funktion für den Patienten und seine Entwicklung. Dieser Prozess verlangt vom Analytiker eine hohe triadische Kompetenz. Ausgehend von der Tatsache, dass in jeder Behandlung, auch in derjenigen von Erwachsenen der oder das Dritte in Erscheinung treten und somit zwangsläufig früher oder später Einfluss auf den Verlauf einer Behandlung nehmen wird, entwickelt der Autor den Gedanken, die Familie als inneres Referenzsystem des Therapeuten zu sehen. Verschiedene Implikationen dieser Sichtweise werden im Text diskutiert.In der Elternschaftstherapie hat die Arbeit mit den Eltern das größte Gewicht und steht im Zentrum der therapeutischen Überlegungen. Elternschaftstherapie impliziert die grosse Abhängigkeit des Säuglings bzw. des Kleinkindes vom Familiensystem und fokussiert sich auf die Behandlung der Familienentwicklung. Egon Garstick führt uns in seinem Text, anhand zweier Beispiele, mitten in diese psychoanalytische Arbeit, die stark vom Gedanken der Prävention geprägt ist. Zentrales Paradigma ist dabei die psychoanalytische Entwicklungstheorie. Gesellschaftliches und kulturpolitisches Engagement des Autors führten zu einem intensiven Interesse an den frühen Prozessen in jungen Familien und zu einer erhöhten Sensibilisierung für die zahlreichen Störungen, denen diese Familien in der zeitgenössichen Gesellschaft ausgesetzt sind. Was wir in diesem Text anhand der mitreißenden Falldarstellungen an konkretem therapeutischem Handeln erfahren, wird auch im Text von Jürgen Grieser theoretisch reflektiert.Der Artikel von Anita Garstick-Straumann «Schwierige Übergänge. Peter und Nicole, zwei Fallbeispiele» versetzt uns ins Zentrum des therapeutischen Geschehens in den Behandlungen eines Latenzkindes und eines Kindergartenkindes. Dabei treten die Besonderheiten des analytischen Arbeitens mit Kindern, die Haltung der Therapeutin dem Kind gegenüber und ihre Einstellung zum Geschehen deutlich hervor. In diesem Text sehen wir eindrücklich, dass die psychoanalytische Arbeit mit Kindern nicht einfach Übertragung der psychoanalytischen Arbeit mit Erwachsenen auf Kinder ist, sondern vielmehr eine besondere, der Erwachsenenanalyse gleichrangige, Anwendung der Psychoanalyse darstellt, die zwar auf dieselben Methoden zur Erkenntnisgewinnung setzt, sich aber im Hinblick auf das konkrete Setting, den Behandlungsraum, die Aktivität des Therapeuten, der Therapeutin deutlich unterscheidet. Die Darstellung der Behandlungsverläufe «Peter, der ängstliche Pilot» und «Nicole» verdeutlichen den spezifischen Umgang mit dem Spiel, dem zentralen Medium der Kinderanalyse, bei dem die Grundprinzipien der psychoanalytischen Technik, freie Assoziation des Patienten, Gleichschwebende Aufmerksamkeit der Analytikerin und Abstinenz, genauso verfolgt werden wie in der Erwachsenenanalyse.Daniel Bischof stellt in seinem Artikel «Über integrative Prozesse in der Psychoanalyse von Kindern und Jugendlichen» die technische Grundfrage nach der Möglichkeit therapeutischen Arbeitens mit Kindern und Jugendlichen ganz grundsätzlich: «Seit den Anfängen wurde speziell hinsichtlich der Kinder- und Jugendlichenpsychoanalyse die Frage gestellt, ob es überhaupt moralisch vertretbar und pädagogisch richtig sei, das Kind oder den Jugendlichen mit seiner inneren Welt zu konfrontieren». Anhand einer anschaulich bebilderten Darstellung eines Therapieabschnittes aus der Behandlung eines 12-jährigen «Schlangenbeschwörers» führt uns Daniel Bischof in minutiösen gedanklichen Schritten zur Hypothese, wonach der Kern psychoanalytischer Arbeit mit Kindern über den Prozess der Deutung hinaus reichen muss und es auch darum geht, dem Patienten durch den analytischen Dialog zu helfen, bedrohliche Selbstanteile in seine Persönlichkeit zu integrieren. Dabei wird das analytische Setting als Ressource verstanden, die es dem Analytiker erlaubt, auch in schwierigen Situationen seinen Denkraum zu erhalten oder wieder zu erlangen und damit die haltende Funktion (containing) dem Patienten gegenüber beibehalten zu können und dadurch Integrationsprozesse zu ermöglichen.Maria Teresa Diez Grieser schliesslich, präsentiert uns eine Synthese aus ihrer langjährigen klinischen Erfahrung in eigener psychoanalytischer Praxis und der Auseinandersetzung mit den zahlreichen Untersuchungen und Publikationen zu adoleszenten Entwicklungsthemen. Sie formuliert ihre eigene Theorie, die besagt, dass bulimische Symptome bei adoleszenten Jugendlichen vorübergehend kreative Strategien zur Stabilisierung des Selbstbildes der eigenen krisengeschüttelten adoleszenten Entwicklung darstellen können. In bedachten Schritten legt sie dar, welche Funktionen die bulimische Symptomatik in der Adoleszenz übernehmen kann, um die Affektregulierung zu erleichtern. Die Fallvignetten illustrieren zum einen die Besonderheiten der analytischen Arbeit mit Adoleszenten überhaupt und zum anderen die Implikationen der erarbeiteten theoretischen Überlegungen in der konkreten therapeutischen Situation.Ergänzt werden die Beiträge der Ressortgruppe durch einen Artikel von Thomas von Salis zu Sjef Teuns und dessen für das PSZ so bedeutenden Einsatz sowie einem Interview von Emilio Modena mit Pedro Grosz, Ruedi Zollinger und Edi Ruggle, drei namhaften psychoanalytischen Kinder- und Jugendtherapeuten, welche die diesbezüglichen Entwicklungen in der deutschsprachigen Schweiz über die letzten vier Jahrzehnte hin miterlebt, mitgestaltet und mitgeprägt haben.Im Forum informiert uns Fernanda Pedrina sachkundig über die spannenden und wissenswerten Entwicklungen im Bereich des psychotherapeutischen Arbeitens mit Säuglingen und Kleinkindern. Elisabeth von Salis orientiert uns über die Geschichte und die gegenwärtigen Tätigkeiten der psychoanalytisch orientierten sozialpädagogischen «Beratungsstelle Pinocchio», bevor uns Mary Spreng mit einer anschaulichen Fallgeschichte, Einblick in ihre von Sjef Teuns supervidierte Arbeit mit einem körperlich behinderten Kind nehmen lässt. Zwei Präsentationen – die eine von Roland Müller zur Weiterbildung in psychoanalytisch-systemischer Psychotherapie für Kinder, Jugendliche und Familien am Institut KJF in Luzern, die andere des «Forums junge Psychoanalyse» zu den Aktivitäten des Nachwuchses am PSZ – runden nebst vier Buchrezensionen zu den aktuellen Publikationen unserer Seminarmitglieder dieses lesenswerte Heft ab.Erst nach Redaktionsschluss erreichte uns die schmerzliche Nachricht über das Ableben zweier langjähriger Teilnehmer des PSZ. Es sind dies Hans Hehlen, dessen Berthold Rothschild in einem Nachruf gedenkt und der weit über Zürich hinaus bekannt gewordene Träger des Sigmund-Freud-Preises der Stadt Wien, Ehrendoktor der Universität Klagenfurt, Mitbegründer des PSZ und der Ethnopsychoanalyse, Paul Parin. Roland Kaufhold würdigt das facettenreiche Leben und Wirken dieser zentralen Identifikationsfigur, die Paul Parin für mehrere Generationen von PsychoanalytikerInnen am PSZ und darüber hinaus gewesen ist, in einem ebensolchen Nachruf, den er uns verdankenswerter Weise sehr kurzfristig zur Verfügung stellen konnte.

IntroductionThis article explores the work of lists in mediating the materiality and complexity of everyday life. In contemporary cultural contexts the endless proliferation of listing forms and practices takes on a “self-reflexivity” that signals their functional and productive role in negotiating the everyday. Grocery lists, to do lists, and other fragmentary notes work as personal tools for ordering and managing daily needs and activities. But what do these fragments tell us about the work of lists? Do they “merely” describe or provide analytical insight into the everyday? To address these questions we explore the issues and anxieties raised by everyday consumption drawing on theories of everyday life. These concerns, which are examined in detail in the second part of the paper, lie at the heart of French writer Georges Perec’s interest in the “infra-ordinary”—that which resides within the everyday. In the parts of his writing that he designated in retrospect as “sociological,” Perec takes the form and function of lists as a starting point for a range of literary experiments that work as tools of discovery and invention capable in their seeming banality of both mapping and disrupting everyday life. Les Choses (Things) and Je Me Souviens (I Remember), for example, take the form of endless and repetitious lists of things, places, people, and memories, collections of fragments that aim to achieve a new kind of sociology of everyday life. While this project may be contentious in terms of its “representativeness,” as a discursive method or mode of ethnographic practice (Becker) it points to the generative power of lists as both of the everyday and as an analytical tool of discovery for understanding the everyday. Perec’s sociology of the everyday is not, we argue, articulated as a form of a cohesive or generalizable characterisation of social institutions, but rather emerges as an “invent-ory” of the rich texture and disjunctures that populated his everyday spaces, personal encounters, and memories. Lists and the EverydayTo see lists as tools of common use, to paraphrase Spufford (2), is to place the list squarely within the realm of the everyday. A particular feature of the everyday—its “special quality,” as Highmore puts it—is that it is characterised by “the unnoticed, the inconspicuous, the unobtrusive” (Highmore 1). The everyday is enigmatic, elusive, difficult to grasp, and important because of this. In Maurice Blanchot’s famous formulation, “whatever its other aspects, the everyday has this essential trait: it allows no hold. It escapes” (14). Its pervasiveness renders it as platitude, but, as Blanchot adds, “this banality is also what is most important, if it brings us back to existence in its very spontaneity and as it is lived” (13). This tension poses special challenges for critics of the everyday who must register it as a part of, as inhering in, “manifold lived experience” without it “dissolving” into “statistics, properties, data” when it is “made the object of study” (Sheringham 360). In short, as Fran Martin (2) points out, “even though it surrounds us completely and takes up the vast majority of our time, the everyday is extremely difficult to pin down.” It is a predicament that is made all the more difficult in light of the complicated entanglement of the everyday and consumer capitalism (Jagose; Lury; Schor and Holt). This close relationship between consumer objects—things—and everyday life (along with other historical factors), has profoundly shifted critical understanding of the processes of subject formation and identity performance. One influential formulation of these transformations, associated most strongly with the work of Giddens and Beck, is captured in the notion of “reflexive modernity.” This refers to the understanding that, increasingly, at a broader societal level, “the very idea of controllability, certainty or security” is being challenged (Beck, World Risk Society 2)—developments that impact directly on how self-identity is formed (Giddens), reformed and performed (Hall). Faced with such upheavals, it is suggested that the individual increasingly “must produce, stage and cobble together their biographies themselves” (Beck, “Reinvention” 13), they must self-reflexively “invent” themselves. As Slater puts it, individuals, by force of circumstance, are required to “choose, construct, interpret, negotiate, display who they are to be seen as” (84) using a wide array of resources, both material and symbolic. Consumerism, it is widely argued, proffers its goods as solutions to these problems of identity (Slater 85). For instance, Adam Arvidsson notes how goods are used in the construction of “social relations, shared emotions, personal identity or forms of community” (18). This is particularly the case in relation to lifestyle consumption, which for Chaney (11) functions as a response to the loss of meaning in modern life following the sorts of larger societal upheavals described by Giddens and Beck and others. The general implication of lifestyle consumption across its various forms is that “‘every choice’ […] all acts of purchase or consumption, […] ‘are decisions not only about how to act but who to be’” (Warde in Slater 85). It is here that we can place the contemporary work of lists and the proliferation of list forms and practices. Lists figure in vital ways within this context of consumer-based everyday life. At a general level, lists assist us in making sense of the activities, objects, and experiences that feed and constitute daily life. In this sense, the list is a crucial mediating device, a means of organising things and bringing the mundanities and the exigencies of the everyday under control:The list categorises the ongoing chores of everyday life: organising and managing shopping, work, laundry, meetings, parking fines, and body management. (Crewe 33)In relation to lifestyle consumption, lists and inventories constitute one key way in which “we attempt to organise and order consumption” (Crewe 29). In this sense, lists are, for Louise Crewe, important “scripting devices that help us to manage the mundanity and weighty materiality of consumption” (Crewe 29). The use of the phrase “scripting device” is important here insofar as it suggests a double-movement in which lists simultaneously serve as “devices for regulating and disciplining the consuming body” (that is, lists as “prompts” that encourage us to follow the “script” of consumer culture) and work productively to “narrate practice and desire” (part of the “scripting” of self-identity and performance) (Crewe 30).In developing and illustrating these ideas, Crewe draws on Bill Keaggy’s found shopping lists project. Originally a blog, and subsequently a book entitled Milk Eggs Vodka, Keaggy gathers (and offers humorous commentary on) a wide array of discarded shopping lists that range from the mundane, to the bizarre, to the profound, each, in their own way, surprisingly rich and revealing of the scribes who penned them. Individually, the lists relay, through object names, places, actions, and prompts, the mundane landscape of everyday consumption. For example: Zip lockIceBeerFruit (Keaggy 42) SunglassesShoesBeer$Food (Keaggy 205)Keaggy’s collection comes to life, however, through his own careful organisation of these personal fragments into meaningful categories delineated by various playful and humorous characteristics. This listing of lists performs a certain transformation that works only in accumulation, in the book’s organisation, and through Keaggy’s humorous annotations. That is, Keaggy’s deliberate organisation of the lists into categories that highlight certain features over others, and his own annotations, introduces an element of invention and play, and delivers up many unexpected insights into their anonymous compilers’ lives. This dual process of utilising the list form as a creative and a critical tool for understanding the everyday also lies at the heart of Georges Perec’s literary and sociological project. Georges Perec: Towards an Invent-ory of Everyday LifeThe work of the French experimental writer Georges Perec is particularly instructive in understanding the generative potential of the act of listing. Perec was especially attuned to the effectiveness and significance of lists in revealing what is important in the mundane and quotidian—what he calls the “infra-ordinary” or “endotic” (as opposed to the “extraordinary” and “exotic”). As shall be detailed below, Perec’s creative recuperation of the list form as a textual device and critical tool leads us to a fuller appreciation of how, in Crewe’s words, “the most mundane, ordinary, invisible, and seemingly uninteresting things can be as significant and revealing as the most dramatic” (44).Across Perec’s diverse literary output, lists figure repeatedly in ways that speak directly to their ability to shed light on the inner workings of the everyday—their ability to make the familiar strange (Highmore 12)—and to reveal the entangled interactions between everyday consumption and personal identity. It is in this second sense that lists operate in his novel Things: A Story of the Sixties (Les Choses, 1965), a book that the French philosopher Alain Badiou (20, note 1) describes as a “rigorous literary version of the Marxist theme of alienation—especially the prevalence of things over existence.” Things tells of the endeavours of Sylvie and Jérôme, a young Parisian couple who, in Bourdieu’s terms, attempt to improve their social position in part through the cultural capital resources they see as invested in consumer objects, in the “things” that they acquire and desire. Perec’s telling of this narrative is heavily populated with lists of these semiotically loaded objects of consumer desire, taste, and distinction. The book opens, for example, with a descriptive listing of the kinds of decorative elements that visitors would encounter in the entrance hall of an idealised, imagined Paris apartment the couple longed for:Your eye, first of all, would glide over the grey fitted carpet in the narrow, long and high-ceilinged corridor. Its walls would be cupboards, in light-coloured wood, with fittings of gleaming brass. Three prints, depicting, respectively, the Derby winner Thunderbird, a paddle-steamer named Ville-de-Montereau, and a Stephenson locomotive, would lead to a leather curtain hanging on thick, black, grainy wooden rings which would slide back at the merest touch. (Perec, Things 21) This (and other detailed) listing of idealised objects—which, as the book progresses, are set in stark opposition to their present lived reality—tells the reader a great deal about the two protagonists’ wants and desires (“they both possessed, alas, but a single passion, the passion for a higher standard of living, and it exhausted them”—Perec, Things 35), and wider collective identification with these desires. Indeed, such identifications clearly had wide social resonance in France (and elsewhere) with Things collecting the Prix Renaudot. The ability of lists to speak to collective social (not just individual) experience was also explored by Perec in Je me souviens (1978), a book modelled on a project by Joe Brainard and which comprised a series of personal recollections of largely unremarkable events, which, nevertheless, at the time, had gained some form of purchase within the collective psyche of the French people—in Perec’s words, a random list of “little fragments of the everyday, things which, in such and such a year, everyone more or less the same age has seen, or lived, or share, and which have subsequently disappeared or been forgotten” (cited in Adair 178). For example:(item 57) I remember that Christian Jacque divorced Renée Faure in order to marry Martine Carol.(item 247) I remember that De Gaulle had a brother named Paul who was director of the Foire de Paris. (cited in Adair 179)Both these texts are component parts in a larger project of Perec’s to develop “an anthropology of everyday life” (Perec, “Notes” 142 note §). Howard Becker has offered a challenging, though also somewhat ambivalent, critique of Perec’s “sociological” method in these and other texts, contrasting Perec’s descriptive ethnography with the work that social scientists do. Becker takes aim at the way Perec’s detailed listing of objects, people, events, and memories eschews narrative and sociological design, referring to Perec’s method as “proto-ethnography,” or “detailed ‘raw description’” (73). Yet Becker is also drawn in by the end products of that method: “As you read Perec’s descriptions, you increasingly succumb to the feeling (at least I do, and I think others do as well) that this is important, though you can’t say how” (71). Ultimately, his criticism decries Perec’s failure to impose an explicit order on his lists and fragments, perhaps missing the significance of the way they are always bounded and underpinned by a conceptual principle: “It does not seem to have the kind of cohesion, at least not obviously, that social scientists like to ascribe to a culture, a similarity or interlocking or affinity of the parts to one another…” (74). That is, Perec’s lists stand as fragments, but fragments that do add up to something, as Becker admits: “The whole is more than the parts” (69). This ambivalence points to the analytical potential Perec found within those fragments, the “raw description,” that can only be understood through the end product. It could be argued that his lists defy the very possibility of presenting the everyday as a cohesive whole, and promote instead the everyday in its rich texture, as repetition and disjuncture. This project presents itself, in short, as a sociology of the everyday, whilst subverting the functionalist traditions of sociological observation and classification (Boyne). As Perec asks of the habitual, “How are we to speak of [...] ‘common things,’ how to track them down rather, flush them out, wrest them from the dross in which they remain mired, how to give them a meaning, a tongue [...]?” (Perec, “Approaches” 210). Lists (alongside other forms of description) play a vital role in this project and provide a partial answer to the above questions, and this is why Perec’s lists actively seek out the banal or quotidian. In addition to the examples cited above, fascination with enumeration of this kind is most strikingly realised in his essay, “Attempt at an Inventory of the Liquid and Solid Foodstuffs Ingurgitated by Me in the Course of the Year Nineteen Hundred and Seventy-Four” (Реrес, “Attempt” 244-249), and his later radio broadcast, “An Attempt at а Description of Things Seen at Mabillon Junction on 19 Мау 1978” (Bellos 640). At very least, Perec’s experiments serve as testimony to his ability to transform the trivial into the poetic—list-making as “invent-ory”. Importantly, however, Perec makes the shift from the inventory as a pragmatic listing form, “presenting a simple series of units,” “collected by a conceptual principle” (Belknap 2, 3), to a more transformative or analytical discursive practice. In all the above cases, Perec’s “accumulation is used in conjunction with other forms, devices, and intentions” (Bellos 670), such as, for instance, in the deployment of the list (the “invent-ory”) as an effective lever with which to pry open for inspection the seemingly inscrutable inner workings of everyday spaces, things, memories, in order that they might “speak of what is [and] of what we are” (Perec, “Approaches” 210).In this way, Perec’s use of lists (and various forms of categorisation) can be understood as a critique of the very possibility of stable method applied to classificatory ordering systems. In its place he promotes a set of practices that are oriented towards, and appropriate to, investigations of the everyday, rather than establishing scientific universals. At points in his work Perec expresses discomfort or even anxiety in taking the act of classification as a “method.” He begins his essay “Think/Classify,” for instance, by lamenting the “discursive deficiency” of his own use of classification in grasping the everyday, which at the same time calls “the thinkable and the classifiable into question” (189). And, yet, the act of listing, situated as it is for Perec firmly within the material contexts of particular activities and spaces, ultimately offers a productive means by which to understand, and negotiate, the everyday.ConclusionIn this paper we have examined the everyday work of lists and the functions that they serve in mediating the materiality and complexity of everyday life. In the first section of the paper, following Crewe, we explored the dual function of lists as scripting devices in simultaneously “disciplining” us as consumers as well and as a means of controlling the everyday in ways that also feed our sense of self-identity. In this sense lists are complex devices. Perec was especially attuned to the layers of complexity that attend our engagement with lists. In particular, as we explored in the second part of the paper, Perec saw lists as a critical and productive tool (an invent-ory) and used them to scrutinise common things in the hope that they might “speak of what is [and] of what we are” (Perec, “Approaches” 210). Lists remain, in this sense, an accessible discursive technology often surprising for their subtle revelations about the everyday even while they maintain adherence to an inherently recognisable form.In setting out the importance of his own “project,” and the need to question the habitual, Perec provides a set of instructions (his “pedagogic strategy”—Adair 177), presented as an approach (if not a method), and which signals his desire to critique the traditions of social science as a method of material and social ordering and analysis. Perec’s appropriation of this approach, this discursive technology, also works as a provocation, as a “project” that others might adopt. He prompts his readers to “make an inventory of your pockets, your bag. Ask yourself about the provenance, the use, what will become of each of the objects you take out” (Perec, “Approaches” 210). This is a challenge that was built upon in different ways by a number of writers inspired by the esprit of Perec’s approach to the everyday, associated also with “a wider cultural shift from systems and structures to practices and performances” (Sherringham 292). Sherringham, for instance, traces the “redirection of ethnographic scrutiny from the far to the near” in the work of Augé, Ernaux, Maspero and Réda amongst others (292-359). Perec’s lists thus serve as a series of provocations which still hold critical purchase, and the full implications of which are still to be realised.ReferencesAdair, Gilbert. “The Eleventh Day: Perec and the Infra-ordinary.” The Review of Contemporary Fiction XXIX.1 (2009): 176-88.Arvidsson, Adam. Brands: Meaning and Value in Media Culture. London: Routledge, 2006.Badiou, Alain. The Rebirth of History: Times of Riots and Uprisings. Trans. Gregory Elliott. London: Verso, 2012.Beck, Ulrich. “The Reinvention of Politics: Towards a Theory of Reflexive Modernization.” Reflexive Modernization: Politics, Tradition and Aesthetics in the Modern Social Order. Eds. Ulrich Beck, Anthony Giddens and Scott Lash. Cambridge: Polity, 1994. 1-55.---. World Risk Society. Malden, MA: Polity, 1999.Becker, Howard. “Georges Perec’s Experiments in Social Description.” Ethnography 2.1 (2001): 63-76.Bellos, David. Georges Perec: A Life in Words. London: Harvill, 1999.Blanchot, Maurice. “Everyday Speech.” Trans. Susan Hanson. Yale French Studies 73 (1987): 12-20.Boyne, Roy. “Classification.” Theory, Culture and Society 23.2-3 (2006): 21-30.Chaney, David. Lifestyles. London: Routledge, 1996.Crewe, Louise. “Life Itemised: Lists, Loss, Unexpected Significance, and the Enduring Geographies of Discard.” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space 29 (2011): 27-46. Hall, Stuart. “The Question of Cultural Identity.” Modernity and Its Futures. Ed. Stuart Hall and Tony McGrew. Cambridge: Polity, 1992. 274-316.Highmore, Ben. Everyday Life and Cultural Theory: An Introduction. London: Routledge, 2002.Jagose, Annamarie. “The Invention of Lifestyle.” Interpreting Everyday Culture. Ed. Fran Martin. London: Hodder Arnold, 2003. 109-23.Keaggy, Bill. Milk Eggs Vodka: Grocery Lists Lost and Found. Cincinnati: How Books, 2007. Lury, Celia. Consumer Culture. Oxford: Polity Press, 1996. Martin, Fran. “Introduction.” Interpreting Everyday Culture. Ed. Fran Martin. London: Hodder Arnold, 2003. 1-10.Perec, Georges. “Approaches to What?” Species of Spaces. 209-11.---. “Attempt at an Inventory of the Liquid and Solid Foodstuffs Ingurgitated by Me in the Course of the Year Nineteen Hundred and Seventy-Four.” Species of Spaces. 244-49.---. “Notes on What I’m Looking For.” Species of Spaces. 141-43.---. Species of Spaces and Other Pieces. Ed. and trans. John Sturrock. Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin, 1997.---. Things: A Story of the Sixties. Trans. David Bellos. London: Harvill, 1990.---. “Think/Classify.” Species of Spaces. 188-205.Schor, Juliet and Holt, Douglas B., eds. The Consumer Society Reader. New York: The New Press, 2011.Slater, Don. Consumer Culture and Modernity. Cambridge: Polity, 1997.

A political minimalism? That would obviously go against the grain of our current political ideology → in fact, we are in an era of political maximalisation (Roland Barthes 200, arrow in original).Barthes’ comment is found in the ‘Annex’ to his 1978 lecture course The Neutral. Despite the three decade difference I don’t things have changed that much, certainly not insofar as academic debate about the cultural and social is concerned. At conferences I regularly hear the demand that the speaker or speakers account for the ‘political intent’, ‘worth’ or ‘utility’ of their work, or observe how speakers attempt to pre-empt and disarm such calls through judicious phrasing and citing. Following his diagnosis Barthes (201-206) proceeds to write under the title ‘To Give Leave’. Here he notes the incessant demand placed upon us, as citizens, as consumers, as representative cultural subjects and as biopolitical entities and, in this context, as academics to have and to communicate our allegiances, views and opinions. Echoing the acts, (or rather the ‘non-acts’), of Melville’s Bartleby, Barthes describes the scandalous nature of suspending the obligation of holding views; the apparent immorality of suspending the obligation of being interested, engaged, opinionated, committed – even if one only ever suspends provisionally, momentarily even. For the length of a five thousand word essay perhaps. In this short, unfortunately telegraphic and quite speculative essay I want pause to consider a few gestures or figures of ‘suspension’, ‘decline’ and ‘remaining aside’. What follows is in three parts. First a comment on the nature of the ‘demand to communicate’ identified by Barthes and its links to longer running moral and practical imperatives within Western understandings of the subject, the social and the political. Second, the most substantial section but still an all too brief account of the apparent ‘passivity’ of the narrator of Imre Kertész’s novel Fatelessness and the ways in which the novel may be read as a reflection on the nature of agency and determination. Third, a very brief conclusion, the question directly; what politics or what apprehension of politics, could a reflection on stillness and its ‘political minimalism’ offer? 1.For Barthes, (in 1978), one of the factors defining the contemporary intellectual scene was the way in which “politics invades all phenomena, economic, cultural, ethical” coupled with the “radicalization” of “political behaviors” (200), perhaps most notably in the arrogance of political discourse as it assumes the place of a master discourse. Writing in 1991 Bill Readings identified a similar phenomenon. For Readings the category of the political and politically inspired critique were operating by encircling their objects within a presupposed “universal language of political significance into which one might translate everything according to its effectivity”, an approach which has the effect of always making “the political […] the bottom line, the last instance where meaning can be definitively asserted” (quoted in Clark 3) or, we may add, realized. There is, of course, much that could be said here, not least concerning the significant differences in context, (between, for example, the various forms of revolutionary Marxism, Communism and Maoism which seem to preoccupy Barthes and the emancipatory identity and cultural politics which swept through literature departments in the US and beyond in the last two decades of the twentieth century). However it is also possible to suggest that a general grammar and, moreover, a general acceptance of a telos of the political persists.Barthes' (204-206) account of ‘political maximalisation’ is accompanied by a diagnosis of its productivist virility, (be it, in 1978, on the part of the increasingly reduced revolutionary left or the burgeoning neo-liberal right). The antithesis, or, rather, the outside of such an arrangement or frame would not be another political program but rather a certain stammering, a lassitude or dilatoriness. A flaccidness even; “a devirilized image” wherein from the point of view of the (political) actor or critic, “you are demoted to the contemptible mass of the undecided of those who don’t know who to vote for: old, lost ladies whom they brutalize: vote however you want, but vote” (Barthes 204). Hence Barthes is not suggesting a counter-move, a radical refusal, a ‘No’ shouted back to the information saturated market society. What is truly scandalous he suggests, is not opposition or refusal but the ‘non-reply’. What is truly scandalous, roughish even, is the decline or deferral and so the provisional suspension of the choice (and the blackmail) of the ‘yes’ or ‘no’, the ‘this’ or the ‘that’, the ‘with us’ or ‘against us’.In Literature and Evil Georges Bataille concludes his essay on Kafka with a comment on such a decline. According to Bataille, the reason why Kafka remains an ambivalent writer for critics, (and especially for those who would seek to enrol his work to political ends), lays precisely in his constant withdrawal; “There was nothing he [Kafka] could have asserted, or in the name of which he could have spoken. What he was, which was nothing, only existed to the extent in which effective activity condemned him” (167). ‘Effective activity’ refers, contextually, to a certain form of Communism but more broadly to the rationalization or systematization intrinsic to any political program, political programs (or ideologies) as such, be they communist, liberal or libertarian. At least insofar as, as implied above, the political is taken to coincide with a certain metaphysics and morality of action and the consequent linking of freedom to work, (a factor common to communist, fascist and liberal political programs), and so to the labour of the progressive self-realization and achievement of the self, the autos or ipse (see Derrida 6-18). Be it via, for example, Marx’s account of human’s intrinsic ‘capacity for work’ (Arbeitskraft), Heidegger’s account of necessary existential (and ultimately communal) struggle (Kampf), or Weber’s diagnoses of the (Protestant/bourgeois) liberal project to realize human potentiality (see also Agamben Man without Content; François 1-64). Hence what is ‘evil’ in Kafka is not any particular deed but the deferral of deeds; his ambivalence or immorality in the eyes of certain critics being due to the question his writing poses to “the ultimate authority of action” (Bataille 153) and so to the space beyond action onto which it opens. What could this space of ‘worklessness’ or ‘unwork’ look like? This non-virile, anti-heroic space? This would not be a space of ‘inaction’, (a term still too dependent, albeit negatively, on action), but of ‘non-action’; of ‘non-productive’ or non-disclosive action. That is to say, and as a first attempt at definition, ‘action’ or ‘praxis’, if we can still call it that, which does not generate or bring to light any specific positive content. As a way to highlight the difficulties and pitfalls, (at least with certain traditions), which stand in the way of thinking such a space, we may highlight Giorgio Agamben’s comments on the widespread coincidence of a metaphysics of action with the determination of both the subject, its teleology and its orientation in the world:According to current opinion, all of man’s [sic] doing – that of the artist and the craftsman as well as that of the workman and the politician – is praxis – manifestation of a will that produces a concrete effect. When we say that man has a productive status on earth, we mean, that the status of his dwelling on the earth is a practical one […] This productive doing now everywhere determines the status of man on earth – man understood as the living being (animal) that works (laborans), and, in work, produces himself (Man without Content 68; 70-71 original emphasis).Beyond or before practical being then, that is to say before and beyond the determination of the subject as essentially or intrinsically active and engaged, another space, another dwelling. Maybe nocturnal, certainly one with a different light to that of the day; one not gathered in and by the telos of the ipse or the turning of the autos, an interruption of labour, an unravelling. Remaining still, unravelling together (see Harrison In the absence).2.Kertész’s novel Sorstalanság was first published in his native Hungary in 1975. It has been translated into English twice, in 1992 as Fateless and in 2004 as Fatelessness. Fatelessness opens in Budapest on the day before György Köves’ – the novel’s fourteen year old narrator – father has to report for ‘labour service’. It goes on to recount Köves’ own detention and deportation and the year spent in the camps of Auschwitz-Birkenau, Buchenwald and Zeitz. During this period Köves’ health declines, gradually at first and then rapidly to a moment of near death. He survives and the novel closes with his return to his home town. Köves is, as Kertész has put it in various interviews and as is made clear in the novel, a ‘non-Jewish Jew’; a non-practicing and non-believing Hungarian Jew from a largely assimilated family who neither reads nor speaks Hebrew or Yiddish. While Kertész has insisted that the novel is precisely that, a novel, a work of literature and not an autobiography, we should note that Kertész was himself imprisoned in Buchenwald and Zeitz when fourteen.Not without reservations but for the sake of brevity I shall focus on only one theme in the novel; determination and agency, or what Kertész calls ‘determinacy’. Writing in his journal Galley Boat-Log (Gályanapló) in May 1965 Kertész suggests ‘Novel of Fatelessness’ as a possible title for his work and then reflects on what he means by ‘fate’, the entry is worth quoting at length.The external determinacy, the stigma which constrains our life in a situation, an absurdity, in the given totalitarianism, thwarts us; thus, when we live out the determinacy which is doled out to us as a reality, instead of the necessity which stems from our own (relative) freedom – that is what I call fatelessness.What is essential is that our determinacy should always be in conflict with our natural views and inclinations; that is how fatelessness manifests itself in a chemically pure state. The two possible modes of protection: we transform into our determinacy (Kafka’s centipede), voluntarily so to say, and I that way attempt to assimilate our determinacy to our fate; or else we rebel against it, and so fall victim to our determinacy. Neither of these is a true solution, for in both cases we are obliged to perceive our determinacy […] as reality, whilst the determining force, that absurd power, in a way triumphs over us: it gives us a name and turns us into an object, even though we were born for other things.The dilemma of my ‘Muslim’ [Köves]: How can he construct a fate out of his own determinacy? (Galley Boat-Log 98 original emphasis).The dilemma of determinacy then; how can Köves, who is both determined by and superfluous to the Nazi regime, to wider Hungarian society, to his neighbours and to his family, gain some kind of control over his existence? Throughout Fatelessness people prove repeatedly unable to control their destinies, be it Köves himself, his father, his stepmother, his uncles, his friends from the oil refinery, or even Bandi Citrom, Köves’ mentor in the camps. The case of the ‘Expert’ provides a telescoped example. First appearing when Köves and his friends are arrested the ‘Expert’ is an imposing figure, well dressed, fluent in German and the director of a factory involved in the war effort (Fatelessness 50). Later at the brickworks, where the Jews who have been rounded up are being held prior to deportation, he appears more dishevelled and slightly less confident. Still, he takes the ‘audacious’ step of addressing a German officer directly (and receives some placatory ‘advice’ as his reward) (68-69). By the time the group arrives at the camp Köves has difficulty recognising him and without a word of protest, the ‘Expert’ does not pass the initial selection (88).Köves displays no such initiative with regard to his situation. He is reactive or passive, never active. For Köves events unfold as a series of situations and circumstances which are, he tells himself, essentially reasonable and to which he has to adapt and conform so that he may get on. Nothing more than “given situations with the new givens inherent in them” (259), as he explains near the end of the novel. As Köves' identity papers testify, his life and its continuation are the effect of arbitrary sets of circumstances which he is compelled to live through; “I am not alive on my own account but benefiting the war effort in the manufacturing industry” (29). In his Nobel lecture Kertész described Köves' situation:the hero of my novel does not live his own time in the concentration camps, for neither his time nor his language, not even his own person, is really his. He doesn’t remember; he exists. So he has to languish, poor boy, in the dreary trap of linearity, and cannot shake off the painful details. Instead of a spectacular series of great and tragic moments, he has to live through everything, which is oppressive and offers little variety, like life itself (Heureka! no pagination).Without any wilful or effective action on the part of the narrator and with only ‘the dreary trap of linearity’ where one would expect drama, plot, rationalization or stylization, Fatelessness can read as an arbitrarily punctuated series of waitings. Köves waiting for his father to leave, waiting in the customs shed, waiting at the brick works, waiting in train carriages, waiting on the ramp, waiting at roll call, waiting in the infirmary. Here is the first period of waiting described in the book, it is the day before his father’s departure and he is waiting for his father and stepmother as they go through the accounts at the family shop:I tried to be patient for a bit. Striving to think of Father, and more specifically the fact that he would be going tomorrow and, quite probably, I would not see him for a long time after that; but after a while I grew weary with that notion and then seeing as there was nothing else I could do for my father, I began to be bored. Even having to sit around became a drag, so simply for the sake of a change I stood up to take a drink of water from the tap. They said nothing. Later on, I also made my way to the back, between the planks, in order to pee. On returning I washed my hands at the rusty, tiled sink, then unpacked my morning snack from my school satchel, ate that, and finally took another drink from the tap. They still said nothing. I sat back in my place. After that, I got terribly bored for another absolute age (Fatelessness 9). It is interesting to consider exactly how this passage presages those that will come. Certainly this scene is an effect of the political context, his father and stepmother have to go through the books because of the summons to labour service and because of the racial laws on who may own and profit from a business. However, the specifically familial setting should not be overlooked, particularly when read alongside Kertész’s other novels where, as Madeleine Gustafsson writes, Communist dictatorship is “portrayed almost as an uninterrupted continuation of life in the camp – which in turn [...] is depicted as a continuation of the patriarchal dictatorship of a joyless childhood” (no pagination, see, for example, Kertész Kaddish). Time to turn back to our question; does Fatelessness provide an answer to the ‘dilemma of determinacy’? We should think carefully before answering. As Julia Karolle suggests, the composition of the novel and our search for a logic within itreveal the abuses that reason must endure in order to create any story or history about the Holocaust […]. Ultimately Kertész challenges the reader not to make up for the lack of logic in Fatelessness, but rather to consider the nature of its absence (92 original emphasis).Still, with this point in mind, (and despite what has been said above), the novel does contain a scene in which Köves appears to affirm his existence.In many respects the scene is the culmination of the novel. The camps have been liberated and Köves has returned to Budapest. Finding his father and step-mother’s apartment occupied by strangers he calls on his Aunt and Uncle Fleischmann and Uncle Steiner. The discussion which follows would repay a slower reading, however again for the sake of brevity I shall focus on only a few short excerpts. Köves suggests that everyone took their ‘steps’ towards the events which have unfolded and that prediction and retrospection are false perspectives which give the illusion of order and inevitability whereas, in reality, “everything becomes clear only gradually, sequentially over time, step-by-step” (Fatelessness 249): “They [his Uncles] too had taken their own steps. They too […] had said farewell to my father as if we had already buried him, and even later has squabbled about whether I should take the train or the suburban bus to Auschwitz” (260). Fleischmann and Steiner react angrily, claiming that such an understanding makes the ‘victims’ the ‘guilty ones’. Köves responds by saying that they do not understand him and asks they see that:It was impossible, they must try to understand, impossible to take everything away from me, impossible for me to be neither winner nor loser, for me not to be right and not to be mistaken that I was neither the cause nor effect of anything; they should try to see, I almost pleaded, that I could not swallow that idiotic bitterness, that I should merely be innocent (260-261).Karolle (93-94) suggests that Köves' discussion with his uncles marks the moment where he accepts and affirms his existence and, from this point on begins to take control of and responsibility. Hence for Karolle the end of the novel depicts an ‘authentic’ moment of self-affirmation as Köves steps forward and refuses to participate in “the factual historical narrative of Auschwitz, to forget what he knows, and to be unequivocally categorized as a victim of history” (95). In distinction to Karolle, Adrienne Kertzer argues that Köves' moment of self-affirmation is, in fact, one of self-deception. Rather than acknowledging that it was “inexplicable luck” and a “series of random acts” (Kertzer 122) which saved his life or that his near death was due to an accident of birth, Köves asserts his personal freedom. Hence – and following István Deák – Kertzer suggests that we should read Fatelessness as a satire, ‘a modern Candide’. A satire on the hope of finding meaning, be it personal or metaphysical, in such experiences and events, the closing scenes of the novel being an ironic reflection on the “desperate desire to see […] life as meaningful” (Kertzer 122). So, while Köves convinces himself of his logic his uncles say to each other “‘Leave him be! Can’t you see he only wants to talk? Let him talk! Leave him be!’ And talk I did, albeit possibly to no avail and even a little incoherently” (Fatelessness 259). Which are we to choose then? The affirmation of agency (with Karolle) or the diagnosis of determination (with Kertzer)? Karolle and Kertzer give insightful analyses, (and ones which are certainly not limited to the passages quoted above), however it seems to me that they move too quickly to resolve the ‘dilemma’ presented by Köves, if not of Fatelessness as a whole. Still, we have a little time before having to name and decide Köves’ fate. Kertész’s use of the word ‘hero’ to describe Köves above – ‘the hero of my novel…’ – is, perhaps, more than a little ironic. As Kertész asks (in 1966), how can there be a hero, how can one be heroic, when one is one’s ‘determinacies’? What sense does it make to speak of heroic actions if “man [sic] is no more than his situation”? (Galley Boat-Log 99). Köves’ time, his language, his identity, none are his. There is no place, no hidden reservoir of freedom, from which way he set in motion any efficacious action. All resources have already been corrupted. From Kertész’s journal (in 1975): “The masters of thought and ideologies have ruined my thought processes” (Galley Boat-Log 104). As Lawrence Langer has argued, the grammar of heroics, along with the linked terms ‘virtue’, ‘dignity’, ‘resistance’ ‘survival’ and ‘liberation’, (and the wider narrative and moral economies which these terms indicate and activate), do not survive the events being described. Here the ‘dilemma of determinacy’ becomes the dilemma of how to think and value the human outside or after such a grammar. How to think and value the human beyond a grammar of action and so beyond, as Lars Iyer puts it, “the equation of work and freedom that characterizes the great discourses of political modernity” (155). If this is possible. If such a grammar and equation isn’t too all pervasive, if something of the human still remains outside their economy. It may well be that our ability to read Fatelessness depends in large part on what we are prepared to forsake (see Langar 195). How to think the subject and a politics in contretemps, beyond or after the choice between determination or autonomy, passive or active, inaction or action, immoral or virtuous – if only for a moment? Kertész wonders, (in 1966), ”perhaps there is something to be savaged all the same, a tiny foolishness, something ultimately comic and frail that may be a sign of the will to live and still awakens sympathy” (Galley Boat-Log 99). Something, perhaps, which remains to be salvaged from the grammar of humanism, something that would not be reducible to context, to ‘determinacies’, and that, at the same time, does not add up to a (resurrected) agent. ‘A tiny foolishness, something ultimately comic and frail’. The press release announcing that Kertész had been awarded the Nobel prize for literature states that “For Kertész the spiritual dimension of man lies in his inability to adapt to life” (The Swedish Academy no pagination). Despite the difficulties presented by the somewhat over-determined term ‘spiritual’, this line strikes me as remarkably perspicuous. Like Melville’s Bartleby and Bataille’s Kafka before him, Kertész’s Köves’ existence, insofar as he exists, is made up by his non-action. That is to say, his existence is defined not by his actions or his inaction, (both of which are purely reactive and functional), but rather by his irreducibility to either. As commentators and critics have remarked, (and as the quotes given from the text above hopefully illustrate), Köves has an oddly formal and neutral ‘voice’. Köves’ blank, frequently equivocal tone may be read as a sign of his immaturity, his lack of understanding and his naivety. However I would suggest that before such factors, what characterizes Köves’ mode of address is its reticence to assert or disclose. Köves speaks, he speaks endlessly, but he says nothing or almost nothing - ‘to no avail and even a little incoherently’. Hence where Karolle seeks to recover an ‘intoned self-consciousness’ and Kertzer the repressed determining context, we may find Köves' address. Where Karolle’s and Kertzer’s approaches seek in some way to repair Köves words, to supplement them with either an agency to-come or an awareness of a context and, in doing so, pull his words fully into the light, Köves, it seems to me, remains elusive. His existence, insofar as we may speak of it, lies in his ‘inability to adapt to life’. His reserves are not composed of hidden or recoverable sources of agency but in his equivocality, in the way he takes leave of and remains aside from the very terms of the dilemma. It is as if with no resources of his own, he has an echo existence. As if still remaining itself where a tiny foolishness, something ultimately comic and frail.3.Is this it? Is this what we are to be left with in a ‘political minimalism’? It would seem more resignation or failure, turning away or quietism, the conceit of a beautiful soul, than any type of recognisable politics. On one level this is correct, however any such suspension or withdrawal, this moment of stillness where we are, is only ever a moment. However it is a moment which indicates a certain irreducibility and as such is, I believe, of great significance. Great significance, (or better ‘signifyingness’), even though – and precisely because – it is in itself without value. Being outside efficacy, labour or production, being outside economisation as such, it resides only in its inability to be integrated. What purpose does it serve? None. Or, perhaps, none other than demonstrating the irreducibility of a life, of a singular existence, to any discourse, narrative, identity or ideology, insofar as such structures, in their attempt to comprehend (or apprehend) the existent and put it to use always and violently fall short. As Theodor Adorno wrote;It is this passing-on and being unable to linger, this tacit assent to the primacy of the general over the particular, which constitutes not only the deception of idealism in hypostasizing concepts, but also its inhumanity, that has no sooner grasped the particular than it reduces it to a thought-station, and finally comes all too quickly to terms with suffering and death (74 emphasis added).This moment of stillness then, of declining and remaining aside, represents, for me, the anarchical and all but silent condition of possibility for all political strategy as such (see Harrison, Corporeal Remains). A condition of possibility which all political strategy carries within itself, more or less well, more or less consciously, as a memory of the finite and corporeal nature of existence. A memory which may always and eventually come to protest against the strategy itself. Strategy itself as strategy; as command, as a calculated and calculating order. And so, and we should be clear about this, such a remaining still is a demonstration.A demonstration not unlike, for example, that of the general anonymous population in José Saramago’s remarkable novel Seeing, who ‘act’ more forcefully through non-action than any through any ends-directed action. A demonstration of the kind which Agamben writes about after those in Tiananmen Square in 1989:The novelty of the coming politics is that it will no longer be the struggle for control of the state, but a struggle between the State and the non-State (humanity) […] [who] cannot form a societas because they do not poses any identity to vindicate or bond of belonging for which to seek recognition (Coming Community 85-67; original emphasis).A demonstration like that which sounds through Köves when his health fails in the camps and he finds himself being wheeled on a handcart taken for dead;a snatch of speech that I was barely able to make out came to my attention, and in that hoarse whispering I recognized even less readily the voice that has once – I could not help recollecting – been so strident: ‘I p … pro … test,’ it muttered” (Fatelessness 187 ellipses in original).The inmate pushing the cart stops and pulls him up by the shoulders, asking with astonishment “Was? Du willst noch leben? [What? You still want to live?] […] and right then I found it odd, since it could not have been warranted and, on the whole, was fairly irrational (187).AcknowledgmentsMy sincere thanks to the editors of this special issue, David Bissell and Gillian Fuller, for their interest, encouragement and patience. Thanks also to Sadie, especially for her comments on the final section. ReferencesAdorno, Theodor. Minima Moralia: Reflections on a Damaged Life. London: Verso, 1974.Agamben, Giorgio. The Coming Community. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1990.———. The Man without Content. Stanford: Stanford U P, 1999.Barthes, Roland. The Neutral. New York: Columbia U P, 2005.Bataille, Georges. Literature and Evil. London: Marion Boyars, 1985.Clarke, Timothy. The Poetics of Singularity: The Counter-Culturalist Turn in Heidegger, Derrida, Blanchot and the Late Gadamer. Edinburgh: Edinburgh U P, 2005.Deák, István. "Stranger in Hell." New York Review of Books 23 Sep. 2003: 65-68.Derrida, Jacques. Rogues. Two Essays on Reason. Stanford: Stanford U P, 2005.François, Anne-Lise. Open Secrets. The Literature of Uncounted Experience. Stanford: Stanford U P, 2008.Gustafsson, Madeleine. 2003 “Imre Kertész: A Medium for the Spirit of Auschwitz.” 6 Mar. 2009 ‹http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/articles/gustafsson/index.html›.Harrison, Paul. “Corporeal Remains: Vulnerability, Proximity, and Living On after the End of the World.” Environment and Planning A 40 (2008): 423-445.———.“In the Absence of Practice.” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space forthcoming.Heidegger, Martin. Introduction to Metaphysics. London: Yale U P, 2000.Iyer, Lars. Blanchot’s Communism: Art, Philosophy and the Political. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004.Karolle, Julia. “Imre Kertész Fatelessness as Historical Fiction.” Imre Kertész and Holocaust Literature. Ed Louise O. Vasvári and Steven Tötösy de Zepetnek. West Lafayette: Purdue U P, 2005. 89-96.Kertész, Imre. 2002 “Heureka!” Nobel lecture. 6 Mar. 2009 ‹http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/2002/kertesz-lecture-e.html›.———. Fatelessness. London: Vintage, 2004.———. Kaddish for an Unborn Child. London: Vintage International, 2004.———.“Galley Boat-Log (Gályanapló): Excerpts.” Imre Kertész and Holocaust Literature. Ed Louise O. Vasvári and Steven Tötösy de Zepetnek. West Lafayette: Purdue University Press, 2005. 97-110.Kertzer, Adrienne. “Reading Imre Kertesz in English.” Imre Kertész and Holocaust Literature. Ed Louise O. Vasvári, and Steven Tötösy de Zepetnek. West Lafayette: Purdue U P, 2005. 111-124.Langer, Lawrence. Holocaust Testimonies: The Ruins of Memory. London: Yale U P, 1991.Melville, Herman. Bartleby the Scrivener: A Story of Wall Street. New Jersey: Melville House, 2004.Marx, Karl. Capital Volume 1. London: Penguin Books, 1976.Readings, Bill. “The Deconstruction of Politics.” In Deconstruction: A Reader. Ed Martin McQuillan. Edinburgh: Edinburgh U P, 2000. 388-396.Saramago, José. Seeing. London: Vintage, 2007. The Swedish Academy. "The Nobel Prize in Literature 2002: Imre Kertész." 2002. 6 Mar. 2009 ‹http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/2002/press.html›.Weber, Max. The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism. London: Routledge, 1992.

IntroductionIn the contemporary West, experiences of time are shaped by—and inextricably linked to—the nature of media production and consumption. In Derrida and Steigler’s estimation, teletechnologies bring time “into play” and thus produce time as an “artifact”, that is, a knowable product (3). How and why time becomes “artifactually” produced, according to these thinkers, is a result of the various properties of media production; media ensure that “gestures” (which can be understood here as the cultural moments marked as significant in some way, especially public ones) are registered. Being so, time is constrained, “formatted, initialised” by the matrix of the media system (3). Subsequently, because the media apparatus undergirds the Western imaginary, so too, the media apparatus undergirds the Western concept of time. We can say, in the radically changing global mediascape then, digital culture performs and generates ontological shifts that rewrite the relationship between media, time, and experience. This point lends itself to the significance of the role of both new media platforms and new media texts in reconfiguring understandings between past, present, and future timescapes.There are various ways in which new media texts and platforms work upon experiences of time. In the following, I will focus on just one of these ways: narrativity. By examining a ‘new media’ text, I elucidate how new media narratives imagine timescapes that are constructed through metaphors of ‘confetti’ or ‘snow’, as opposed to more traditional lineal metaphors like ‘rivers’ or ‘streams’ (see Augustine Sedgewick’s “Against Flows” for more critical thinking on the relationship between history, narrative, and the ‘flows’ metaphor). I focus on the revisioning of narrative structure in the Netflix series The Haunting of Hill House (2018) from its original form in the 1959 novel by Shirley Jackson. The narrative revisioning from the novel to the televisual both demonstrates and manifests emergent conceptualisations of time through the creative play of temporal multi-flows, which are contemporaneous yet fragmented.The first consideration is the shift in textual format. However, the translocation of the narrative from a novel to a televisual text is important, but not the focus here. Added to this, I deliberately move toward a “general narrative analysis” (Cobley 28), which has the advantage of focusing onmechanisms which may be integral to linguistically or visually-based genres without becoming embroiled in parochial questions to do with the ‘effectiveness’ of given modes, or the relative ‘value’ of different genres. This also allows narrative analysis to track the development of a specified process as well as its embodiment in a range of generic and technological forms. (Cobley 28)It should be also be noted from the outset that I am not suggesting that fragmented narrative constructions and representations were never imagined or explored prior to this new media age. Quite the contrary if we think of Modernist writers such as Virginia Woolf (Lodwick; Haggland). Rather, it is to claim that this abstraction is emerging in the mainstream entertainment media in greater contest with the dominant and more historically entrenched version of ‘time as a construct’ that is characterised through Realist narratology as linear and flowing only one way. As I will explore below, the reasons for this are largely related to shifts in everyday media consumption brought about by digital culture. There are two reasons why I specifically utilise Netflix’s series The Haunting of Hill House as a fulcrum from which to lever arguments about new media and the contemporary experience of time. First, as a web series, it embodies some of the pertinent conventions of the digital media landscape, both diegetically and also through practices of production and consumption by way of new time-shifting paradigms (see Leaver). I focus on the former in this article, but the latter is fruitful ground for critical consideration. For example, Netflix itself, as a platform, has somewhat destabilised normative temporal routines, such as in the case of ‘binge-watching’ where audiences ‘lose’ time similarly to gamblers in the casino space. Second, the fact that there are two iterations of the same story—one a novel and one a televisual text—provide us with a comparative benchmark from which to make further assertions about the changing nature of media and time from the mid-century to a post-millennium digital mediascape. Though it should be noted, my discussion will focus on the nature and quality of the contemporary framework, and I use the 1959 novel as a frame of reference only rather than examining its rich tapestry in its own right (for critique on the novel itself, see Wilson; see Roberts).Media and the Production of Time-SenseThere is a remarkable canon of literature detailing the relationship between media and the production of time, which can help us place this discussion in a theoretical framework. I am limited by space, but I will engage with some of the most pertinent material to set out a conceptual map. Markedly, from here, I refer to the Western experience of time as a “time-sense” following E.P. Thompson’s work (80). Following Thompson’s language, I use the term “time-sense” to refer to “our inward notation of time”, characterised by the rhythms of our “technological conditioning” systems, whether those be the forces of labour, media, or otherwise (80). Through the textual analysis of Hill House to follow, I will offer ways in which the technological conditioning of the new media system both constructs and shapes time-sense in terms related to a constellation of moments, or, to use a metaphor from the Netflix series itself, like “confetti” or “snow” (“Silence Lay Steadily”).However, in discussing the production of time-sense through new media mechanisms, note that time-sense is not an abstraction but is still linked to our understandings of the literal nature of time-space. For example, Alvin Toffler explains that, in its most simple construction, “Time can be conceived as the intervals during which events occur” (21). However, we must be reminded that events must first occur within the paradigm of experience. That is to say that matters of ‘duration’ cannot be unhinged from the experiential or phenomenological accounts of those durations, or in Toffler’s words, in an echo of Thompson, “Man’s [sic] perception of time is closely linked with his internal rhythms” (71). In the 1970s, Toffler commented upon the radical expansion of global systems of communications that produces the “twin forces of acceleration and transience”, which “alter the texture of existence, hammering our lives and psyches into new and unfamiliar shapes” (18). This simultaneous ‘speeding up’ (which he calls acceleration) and sense of ‘skipping’ (which he calls transience) manifest in a range of modern experiences which disrupt temporal contingencies. Nearly two decades after Toffler, David Harvey commented upon the Postmodern’s “total acceptance of ephemerality, fragmentation, discontinuity, and the chaotic” (44). Only a decade ago, Terry Smith emphasised that time-sense had become even more characterised by the “insistent presentness of multiple, often incompatible temporalities” (196). Netflix had not even launched in Australia and New Zealand until 2015, as well as a host of other time-shifting media technologies which have emerged in the past five years. As a result, it behooves us to revaluate time-sense with this emergent field of production.That being said, entertainment media have always impressed itself upon our understanding of temporal flows. Since the dawn of cinema in the late 19th century, entertainment media have been pivotal in constructing, manifesting, and illustrating time-sense. This has largely (but not exclusively) been in relation to the changing nature of narratology and the ways that narrative produces a sense of temporality. Helen Powell points out that the very earliest cinema, such as the Lumière Brothers’ short films screened in Paris, did not embed narrative, rather, “the Lumières’ actualities captured life as it happened with all its contingencies” (2). It is really only with the emergence of classical mainstream Hollywood that narrative became central, and with it new representations of “temporal flow” (2). Powell tells us that “the classical Hollywood narrative embodies a specific representation of temporal flow, rational and linear in its construction” reflecting “the standardised view of time introduced by the onset of industrialisation” (Powell 2). Of course, as media production and trends change, so does narrative structure. By the late 20th century, new approaches to narrative structure manifest in tropes such as ‘the puzzle film,’ as an example, which “play with audiences” expectations of conventional roles and storytelling through the use of the unreliable narrator and the fracturing of linearity. In doing so, they open up wider questions of belief, truth and reliability” (Powell 4). Puzzle films which might be familiar to the reader are Memento (2001) and Run Lola Run (1999), each playing with the relationship between time and memory, and thus experiences of contemporaneity. The issue of narrative in the construction of temporal flow is therefore critically linked to the ways that mediatic production of narrative, in various ways, reorganises time-sense more broadly. To examine this more closely, I now turn to Netflix’s The Haunting of Hill House.Narratology and Temporal FlowNetflix’s revision of The Haunting of Hill House reveals critical insights into the ways in which media manifest the nature and quality of time-sense. Of course, the main difference between the 1959 novel and the Netflix web series is the change of the textual format from a print text to a televisual text distributed on an Internet streaming platform. This change performs what Marie-Laure Ryan calls “transfictionality across media” (385). There are several models through which transfictionality might occur and thus transmogrify textual and narratival parametres of a text. In the case of The Haunting of Hill House, the Netflix series follows the “displacement” model, which means it “constructs essentially different versions of the protoworld, redesigning its structure and reinventing its story” (Doležel 206). For example, in the 2018 television remake, the protoworld from the original novel retains integrity in that it conveys the story of a group of people who are brought to a mansion called Hill House. In both versions of the protoworld, the discombobulating effects of the mansion work upon the group dynamics until a final break down reveals the supernatural nature of the house. However, in ‘displacing’ the original narrative for adaptation to the web series, the nature of the group is radically reshaped (from a research contingent to a nuclear family unit) and the events follow radically different temporal contingencies.More specifically, the original 1959 novel utilises third-person limited narration and follows a conventional linear temporal flow through which events occur in chronological order. This style of storytelling is often thought about in metaphorical terms by way of ‘rivers’ or ‘streams,’ that is, flowing one-way and never repeating the same configuration (very much unlike the televisual text, in which some scenes are repeated to punctuate various time-streams). Sean Cubitt has examined the relationship between this conventional narrative structure and time sensibility, stating thatthe chronological narrative proposes to us a protagonist who always occupies a perpetual present … as a point moving along a line whose dimensions have however already been mapped: the protagonist of the chronological narrative is caught in a story whose beginning and end have already been determined, and which therefore constructs story time as the unfolding of destiny rather than the passage from past certainty into an uncertain future. (4)I would map Cubitt’s characterisation onto the original Hill House novel as representative of a mid-century textual artifact. Although Modernist literature (by way of Joyce, Woolf, Eliot, and so forth) certainly ‘played’ with non-linear or multi-linear narrative structures, in relation to time-sense, Christina Chau reminds us that Modernity, as a general mood, was very much still caught up in the idea that “time that moves in a linear fashion with the future moving through the present and into the past” (26). Additionally, even though flashbacks are utilised in the original novel, they are revealed using the narrative convention of ‘memories’ through the inner dialogue of the central character, thus still occurring in the ‘present’ of the novel’s timescape and still in keeping with a ‘one-way’ trajectory. Most importantly, the original novel follows what I will call one ‘time-stream’, in that events unfold, and are conveyed through, one temporal flow.In the Netflix series, there are obvious (and even cardinal) changes which reorganise the entire cast of characters as well as the narrative structure. In fact, the very process of returning to the original novel in order to produce a televisual remake says something about the nature of time-sense in itself, which is further sophisticated by the recognition of Netflix as a ‘streaming service’. That is, Netflix encapsulates this notion of ‘rivers-on-demand’ which overlap with each other in the context of the contemporaneous and persistent ‘now’ of digital culture. Marie-Laure Ryan suggests that “the proliferation of rewrites … is easily explained by the sense of pastness that pervades Postmodern culture and by the fixation of contemporary thought with the textual nature of reality” (386). While the Netflix series remains loyal to the mood and basic premise (i.e., that there is a haunted house in which characters endure strange happenings and enter into psycho-drama), the series instead uses fractured narrative convention through which three time-streams are simultaneously at work (although one time-stream is embedded in another and therefore its significance is ‘hidden’ to the viewer until the final episode), which we will examine now.The Time-Streams of Hill HouseIn the Netflix series, the central time-stream is, at first, ostensibly located in the characters’ ‘present’. I will call this time-stream A. (As a note to the reader here, there are spoilers for those who have not watched the Netflix series.) The viewer assumes they are, from the very first scene, following the ‘present’ time-stream in which the characters are adults. This is the time-stream in which the series opens, however, only for the first minute of viewing. After around one minute of viewing time, we already enter into a second time-stream. Even though both the original novel and the TV series begin with the same dialogue, the original novel continues to follow one time-stream, while the TV series begins to play with contemporaneous action by manifesting a second time-stream (following a series of events from the characters past) running in parallel action to the first time-stream. This narrative revisioning resonates with Toffler’s estimation of shifting nature of time-sense in the later twentieth century, in which he cites thatindeed, not only do contemporary events radiate instantaneously—now we can be said to be feeling the impact of all past events in a new way. For the past is doubling back on us. We are caught in what might be called a ‘time skip’. (16)In its ‘displacement’ model, the Hill House televisual remake points to this ongoing fascination with, and re-actualisation of, the exaggerated temporal discrepancies in the experience of contemporary everyday life. The Netflix Hill House series constructs a dimensional timescape in which the timeline ‘skips’ back and forth (not only for the viewer but also the characters), and certain spaces (such as the Red Room) are only permeable to some characters at certain times.If we think about Toffler’s words here—a doubling back, or, a time-skip—we might be pulled toward ever more recent incarnations of this effect. In Helen Powell’s investigation of the relationship between narrative and time-sense, she insists that “new media’s temporalities offer up the potential to challenge the chronological mode of temporal experience” (152). Sean Cubitt proposes that with the intensification of new media “we enter a certain, as yet inchoate, mode of time. For all the boasts of instantaneity, our actual relations with one another are mediated and as such subject to delays: slow downloads, periodic crashes, cache clearances and software uploads” (10). Resultingly, we have myriad temporal contingencies running at any one time—some slow, frustrating, mundane, in ‘real-time’ and others rapid to the point of instantaneous, or even able to pull the past into the present (through the endless trove of archived media on the web) and again into other mediatic dimensions such as virtual reality. To wit, Powell writes that “narrative, in mirroring these new temporal relations must embody fragmentation, discontinuity and incomplete resolution” (153). Fragmentation, discontinuity, and incompleteness are appropriate ways to think through the Hill House’s narrative revision and the ways in which it manifests some of these time-sensibilities.The notion of a ‘time-skip’ is an appropriate way to describe the transitions between the three temporal flows occurring simultaneously in the Hill House televisual remake. Before being comfortably seated in any one time-stream, the viewer is translocated into a second time-stream that runs parallel to it (almost suggesting a kind of parallel dimension). So, we begin with the characters as adults and then almost immediately, we are also watching them as children with the rapid emergence of this second time-stream. This ‘second time-stream’ conveys the events of ‘the past’ in which the central characters are children, so I will call this time-stream B. While time-stream B conveys the scenes in which the characters are children, the scenes are not necessarily in chronological order.The third time-stream is the spectral-stream, or time-stream C. However, the viewer is not fully aware that there is a totally separate time stream at play (the audience is made to think that this time-stream is the product of mere ghost-sightings). This is until the final episode, which completes the narrative ‘puzzle’. That is, the third time-stream conveys the events which are occurring simultaneously in both of the two other time-streams. In a sense, time-stream C, the spectral stream, is used to collapse the ontological boundaries of the former two time-streams. Throughout the early episodes, this time-stream C weaves in and out of time-streams A and B, like an intrusive time-stream (intruding upon the two others until it manifests on its own in the final episode). Time-stream C is used to create a 'puzzle' for the viewer in that the viewer does not fully understand its total significance until the puzzle is completed in the final episode. This convention, too, says something about the nature of time-sense as it shifts and mutates with mediatic production. This echoes back to Powell’s discussion of the ‘puzzle’ trend, which, as I note earlier, plays with “audiences’ expectations of conventional roles and storytelling through the use of the unreliable narrator and the fracturing of linearity” which serves to “open up wider questions of belief, truth and reliability” (4). Similarly, the skipping between three time-streams to build the Hill House puzzle manifests the ever-complicating relationships of time-management experiences in everyday life, in which pasts, presents, and futures impinge upon one another and interfere with each other.Critically, in terms of plot, time-stream B (in which the characters are little children) opens with the character Nell as a small child of 5 or 6 years of age. She appears to have woken up from a nightmare about The Bent Neck Lady. This vision traumatises Nell, and she is duly comforted in this scene by the characters of the eldest son and the father. This provides crucial exposition for the viewer: We are told that these ‘visitations’ from The Bent Neck Lady are a recurring trauma for the child-Nell character. It is important to note that, while these scenes may be mistaken for simple memory flashbacks, it becomes clearer throughout the series that this time-stream is not tied to any one character’s memory but is a separate storyline, though critical to the functioning of the other two. Moreover, the Bent Neck Lady recurs as both (apparent) nightmares and waking visions throughout the course of Nell’s life. It is in Episode Five that we realise why.The reason why The Bent Neck Lady always appears to Nell is that she is Nell. We learn this at the end of Episode Five when the storyline finally conveys how Nell dies in the House, which is by hanging from a noose tied to the mezzanine in the Hill House foyer. As Nell drops from the mezzanine attached to this noose, her neck snaps—she is The Bent Neck Lady. However, Nell does not just drop to the end of the noose. She continues to drop five more times back into the other two time streams. Each time Nell drops, she drops into a different moment in time (and each time the neck snapping is emphasised). The first drop she appears to herself in a basement. The second drop she appears to herself on the road outside the car while she is with her brother. The third is during (what we have been told) is a kind of sleep paralysis. The fourth and fifth drops she appears to herself as the small child on two separate occasions—both of which we witness with her in the first episode. So not only is Nell journeying through time, the audience is too. The viewer follows Nell’s journey through her ‘time-skip’. The result of the staggered but now conjoined time-streams is that we come to realise that Nell is, in fact, haunting herself—and the audience now understands they have followed this throughout not as a ghost-sighting but as a ‘future’ time-stream impinging on another.In the final episode of season one, the siblings are confronted by Ghost-Nell in the Red Room. This is important because it is in this Red Room through which all time-streams coalesce. The Red Room exists dimensionally, cutting across disparate spaces and times—it is the spatial representation of the spectral time-stream C. It is in this final episode, and in this spectral dimension, that all the three time-streams collapse upon each other and complete the narrative ‘puzzle’ for the viewer. The temporal flow of the spectral dimension, time-stream C, interrupts and interferes with the temporal flow of the former two—for both the characters in the text and viewing audience.The collapse of time-streams is produced through a strategic dialogic structure. When Ghost-Nell appears to the siblings in the Red Room, her first line of dialogue is a non-sequitur. Luke emerges from his near-death experience and points to Nell, to which Nell replies: “I feel a little clearer just now. We have. All of us have” ("Silence Lay Steadily"). Nell’s dialogue continues but, eventually, she returns to the same statement, almost like she is running through a cyclic piece of text. She states again, “We have. All of us have.” However, this time around, the phrase is pre-punctuated by Shirley’s claim that she feels as though she had been in the Red Room before. Nell’s dialogue and the dialogue of the other characters suddenly align in synchronicity. The audience now understands that Nell’s very first statement, “We have. All of us have” is actually a response to the statement that Shirley had not yet made. This narrative convention emphasises the ‘confetti-like’ nature of the construction of time here. Confetti is, after all, sheets of paper that have been cut into pieces, thrown into the air, and then fallen out of place. Similarly, the narrative makes sense as a whole but feels cut into pieces and realigned, if only momentarily. When Nell then loops back through the same dialogue, it finally appears in synch and thus makes sense. This signifies that the time-streams are now merged.The Ghost of Nell has travelled through (and in and out of) each separate time-stream. As a result, Ghost-Nell understands the nature of the Red Room—it manifests a slippage of timespace that each of the siblings had entered during their stay at the Hill House mansion. It is with this realisation that Ghost-Nell explains:Everything’s been out of order. Time, I mean. I thought for so long that time was like a line, that ... our moments were laid out like dominoes, and that they ... fell, one into another and on it went, just days tipping, one into the next, into the next, in a long line between the beginning ... and the end.But I was wrong. It’s not like that at all. Our moments fall around us like rain. Or... snow. Or confetti. (“Silence Lay Steadily”)This brings me to the titular concern: The emerging abstraction of time as a mode of layering and fracturing, a mode performed through this analogy of ‘confetti’ or ‘snow’. The Netflix Hill House revision rearranges time constructs so that any one moment of time may be accessed, much like scrolling back and forth (and in and out) of social media feeds, Internet forums, virtual reality programs and so forth. Each moment, like a flake of ‘snow’ or ‘confetti’ litters the timespace matrix, making an infinite tapestry that exists dimensionally. In the Hill House narrative, all moments exist simultaneously and accessing each moment at any point in the time-stream is merely a process of perception.ConclusionNetflix is optimised as a ‘streaming platform’ which has all but ushered in the era of ‘time-shifting’ predicated on geospatial politics (see Leaver). The current media landscape offers instantaneity, contemporaneity, as well as, arbitrary boundedness on the basis of geopolitics, which Tama Leaver refers to as the “tyranny of digital distance”. Therefore, it is fitting that Netflix’s revision of the Hill House narrative is preoccupied with time as well as spectrality. Above, I have explored just some of the ways that the televisual remake plays with notions of time through a diegetic analysis.However, we should take note that even in its production and consumption, this series, to quote Graham Meikle and Sherman Young, is embedded within “the current phase of television [that] suggests contested continuities” (67). Powell problematises the time-sense of this media apparatus further by reminding us that “there are three layers of temporality contained within any film image: the time of registration (production); the time of narration (storytelling); and the time of its consumption (viewing)” (3-4). Each of these aspects produces what Althusser and Balibar have called a “peculiar time”, that is, “different levels of the whole as developing ‘in the same historical time’ … relatively autonomous and hence relatively independent, even in its dependence, of the ‘times’ of the other levels” (99). When we think of the layers upon layers of different time ‘signatures’ which converge in Hill House as a textual artifact—in its production, consumption, distribution, and diegesis—the nature of contemporary time reveals itself as complex but also fleeting—hard to hold onto—much like snow or confetti.ReferencesAlthusser, Louis, and Étienne Balibar. Reading Capital. London: NLB, 1970.Cobley, Paul. Narrative. Hoboken: Taylor and Francis, 2013.Cubitt, S. “Spreadsheets, Sitemaps and Search Engines.” New Screen Media: Cinema/Art/Narrative. Eds. Martin Rieser and Andrea Zapp. London: BFI, 2002. 3-13.Derrida, Jacques, and Bernard Stiegler. Echographies of Television: Filmed Interviews. 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