Jacques Derrida was a French philosopher best known for developing deconstruction, a method of critical analysis that questioned the stability of meaning in language, texts, and Western metaphysical thought. Born in Algeria, he studied at the École Normale Supérieure in Paris, where he was influenced by philosophers such as Heidegger, Husserl, and Levinas. His groundbreaking works, including Of Grammatology (1967), Writing and Difference (1967), and Speech and Phenomena (1967), positioned him at the center of intellectual debates on language, meaning, and interpretation. Derrida argued that Western philosophy was structured around binary oppositions—such as speech over writing, presence over absence, or reason over emotion—that falsely privileged one term over the other. He introduced the concept of différance, which suggests that meaning is constantly deferred and never fully present, destabilizing the idea of fixed truth. His work engaged with a wide range of disciplines, including literature, psychoanalysis, political theory, and law, challenging conventional ways of thinking and interpretation. Throughout his career, Derrida continued to explore ethical and political questions, particularly in works such as Specters of Marx (1993) and The Politics of Friendship (1994), which addressed democracy, justice, and responsibility. He held academic positions at institutions such as the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales and the University of California, Irvine, and remained an influential figure in both European and American intellectual circles. Despite criticism for his complex writing style and abstract concepts, Derrida’s ideas have left a lasting impact on contemporary philosophy, literary theory, and cultural criticism, reshaping the way meaning and language are understood in the modern world.
The reader is bound to history, but not the exclusive history of the time of reading. Slipping perspectives can result in backshading, a coloring of a text by subsequent developments. Paul de Man wrote some pieces during WWII, taken together they appear to contradict one another. Some of the pieces are morally horrific but not exclusively such by what he knew at that time. They are grossly horrific by what the reader knows now, after the fact. Derrida wrote about his friend almost 40 years ago just after de Man's death. Derrida is now dead. There are factions which continue to debate the legacy of both men. The suggestion of that may foster a smile. Yet what if questions of collaboration across Europe were soon debated, considered an opinion? Would we still be smiling?
There is a plea at the core of these pieces. I found the plea sincere.
Overall very helpful, though the de Man war essay imo is weak. I find it singularly unconvincing -- he really was trying to protect his friend -- whether he admits it or not
I'm still trying to work out an understanding about what Paul de Man's death did/didn't do to deconstruction. From this book, it seemed as if it took death, posthumous scandal, and mourning to highlight the capacity for a human expression of deconstructive criticism. I'm looking forward to reading Barbara Johnson's "The Wake of Deconstruction" as it seems like a logical companion to Derrida's "Memoires."
As for this text itself, I feel distant enough from it now to be reluctant to say much that is definitive. But I remember clearly being deeply moved by Derrida's interpretations of mourning and the ways that we use language to assimilate and mourn the Other, even while still living. I also remember being shaken by what appeared like implications that our grief ties itself inextricably to a mourning for our selves, and our own eventual deaths. But this is a bad summary. Read it yourself.
I genuinely love this book. Derrida displays a level of grief and humanity one wouldn't normally expect from him. The final essay, "Like the Sound of the Sea Deep Within a Shell" nearly brought me to tears as Derrida steps up to defend his right to grieve and forgive his dead friend. It is touching, but also academically powerful work on death and memory.
Lulls you in with some charming patter, then drops inscrutability on you. Really a pretty moving portrait of a friendship - with some profound reflections on death and names and how we show up to each other in there too.
This book, when i originally read it, almost caused me to have a nervous breakdown - it fundamentally changed not only the way i think of paul de man, but the way i look at everything from literature to language itself, to memoire and all the problems it poses.