Acts of Literature

by Jacques Derrida, Derek Attridge (Editor)

Jacques Derrida is one of the most influential figures in literary theory in the English-speaking world, yet much of his writing on literary texts and on the question of literature is not easily available in translation. Acts of Literature brings together for the first time a number of these works—on French, German, and English literary texts and figures—including Rousseau, Mallarme, Joyce, Shakespeare, and Kafka. Also included is a substantial new interview with Derrida on questions of literature, deconstruction, politics, feminism, and history. For those unfamiliar with Derrida's writing, editor Derek Attridge provides an introductory essay on deconstruction and the question of literature, as well as suggestions for further reading.

Acts of Literature will serve as an excellent introduction to Derrida's remarkable contribution to literary studies, and will help refocus attention on the importance of literature, an on such topics as singularity, responsibility, and affirmation, in his work as a philosopher and critic of institutions.

Genres: Philosophy, Literary Criticism, Theory, Nonfiction, Criticism, Modern, Literature

456 pages, Paperback

First published November 20, 1991

About the author

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.

Reviews

[Burak · Rating 2 out of 5]

Art arda gelen mükemmel önsözlerin ardından baştaki röportaj kısmıyla iyi bir giriş yapan ve iyice spesifikleşip bağlamdan da büyük ölçüde koptuğu sonraki kısımlarda yer yer eziyet halini alan bir kitap. İsmine aldanıp kapsayıcı bir edebiyat teorisi eseri okuyucağına ya da edebiyatın genel soru ve sorunlarına eğilip onlarda derinleşen bir metin göreceğini sananlar hiç yaklaşmasın derim.

[Marc · Rating 3 out of 5]

Favorite Chapters:
- "Ulysses Gramophone" (the affirmation as a meaningless gesture without discourse/exchange)
- "From Psyche" (what it means to "invent")

Two points of main significance to this collection:
1) Most of these were talks that were turned into essays or just transcribed and, as such, I think it's probably important to take the title to heart--they are indeed a type of performance inspired by literature and about literature; and,
2) Much of what Derrida explores seems to deal with the limits and/or grey areas of language--that which falls in-between the binary thought process... maybe the under-heralded big screen philosopher Admiral Ackbar summed it up best when he said, "It's a trap!"

I've owned this book for close to 20 years without having read it. I was holding off until I had read all or most of the literature/writers it covers (Rousseau, Mallarmé, Blanchot, Joyce, Kafka, Ponge, Celan, Shakespeare). I had read Joyce, Kafka, and Shakespeare prior to owning this book. Two decades later, I haven't read any of those other authors. Turns out, didn't really seem to add or detract from my experience of this book. So, back to the first two points--I can't for the life of me imagine sitting through these talks as I could barely stand reading all the way through some of them. I like how much enjoyment and spontaneity Derrida seems to derive from his readings and talks, but they are hard as hell to decipher when rereading passages multiple times, never mind trying to take this in as a passive listener with only one option at a pass. Case in point, parse this:

I wished to reach the point of a certain exteriority in relations to the totality of the age of logocentrism. Starting from this point of exteriority, a certain deconstruction of that totality which is also a traced path, of that orb (orbit) which is also orbitary (orbita), might be broached.

Which basically brings us to point number 2, where we see in this example of how Derrida enjoys how much language opens up, sort of continually unfolding into meaning, allusions, references... all of which require a kind of performance between text and reader. Counter-signings, de- and re-marcations. Erasures... He lost with me with the hymen references, but then my reading/understanding of Freud is cursory at best. I do however understand the concept of spicing up academia with some female genitalia references to stand in for the notion of a barrier and something to be breached but once... I mean, really, if we can't borrow women's body parts to hyper-analyze literature, what can we do with them?!! To be fair, he throws in a few narrative circumscisions, as well.

Most of these start out strong and carry interesting ramifications, but for me personally, they stretched on too long and too far, to the point where I was completely lost or just no longer cared. Which is a little odd because I can be inordinately delighted by overly analytical discussions, long-winded thought experiments, etc. It probably comes down to Derrida's writing style, which seems oblique, at best, as if his genius consisted entirely of finding the most indirect and complicated way of saying the simplest things. Maybe this has to do with the French language itself--I can't say (my 3 years of high school French in public American high school netted me little more than numbers, rudimentary pronunciation, and a few basic questions).

I got so frustrated with the end of "Before the Law", I immediately "penned" a snide snippet in semi-Derridean style (see below). I am either a glutton for punishment in returning to Derrida or he inspires enough thoughts of my own that I'm willing to suffer greatly for it. Honestly, what I think it boils down to is that the fracturing of language and its functioning fascinates me. But what I should really read, is probably more texts on structuralism and or explorations of non-duality. In my opinion, his general discussions of language and literature vastly outstrip his deeper, performative explorations of specific texts of passages both in terms of value and sheer entertainment.
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CLIFFNOTES VERSION OF THIS TEXT

"No internal criterion can guarantee the essential "literariness" of a text. There is no assured essence or existence of literature. If you proceed to analyze all the elements of a literary work, you will never come across literature itself, only some traits which it shares or borrows, which you can find elsewhere too, in other texts, be it a matter of the language, the meanings or the referents ("subjective" or "objective").

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(Snide snippet written immediately after being annoyed with the "Before the Law" chapter)
Although a little less than 200 pages remain to be read in this volume, it would seem almost negligent of me were I not to pause and share with you a supposition of sorts. While reading the "Law of Genre" chapter, I had a vision the likes of which only a Derrida could inspire. Picture an upright Derrida. Allow the previous sentence to inscribe his outline, but not of the specific he so much as the notion of this great figure. Got it? And at the top of this form which our words together have now drawn boundaries around there is an orifice larger than the others, similar to what one might find on most hominids. Might we agree that out of this orifice emanates both air and sound? Now keep this vision in mind, turn yourself around 180 degrees, grab your ankles as your legs are slightly apart so that your head can look back upon this vision. A simple inversion has taken place. Same figure, different perspective, no? Now, at the top of this re-envisioned Derridean figure there should also be one orifice larger than the other. And what doth emanate from this? Exactly, also, air and sound (among other more tangible and pungent throwaways).
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(Thought also inspired by the "Above the Law" section)
Does it seem weird to anyone else that we largely live in societies governed by the rule of law and yet we are never really taught the law? Maybe you learn some driving laws if you get a license or you learn minor laws as you break them, or your parents tell you it's against the law to do x or y, but it's a piecemeal process. Sure, you understand the larger no-no's like no killing, no stealing, etc. But do you know the age of consent in your state? And if you didn't, where would you go to find it out. Where does this law reside? Sure, you can look it up online, but where is the official record? A nearly invisible text provides a structure to all that is socially allowed (or prohibited)...

I'd apologize for this digression, but I'm not sure anyone will make it this far.
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Zen Kōan by Jacques Derrida:
"What must be translated of that which is translatable can only be the untranslatable."
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When text leads to a visual:
"If all language is about language, then the paradigmatic linguistic model is that of an entity that confronts itself."
=
OUROBOROS

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WORDS I FEEL I SHOULD ONE DAY LOOK UP
anamnesis | zōgraphia | syllepsis | anoretic | dehiscent

[Jens Gärtner · Rating 5 out of 5]

Such a wonderful reading, probably the most charismatic and entertaining of Derrida i've ever had (most likely because of the format). This really deepens one's perspective upon language, literature and translation.

Ulysses Gramophone was simply genius. As a native Spanish speaker, I think the translation-within-translation-and-so-on game really empowers Derrida's ideas; i.e.: mentally translating to Spanish a text translated to English (that's translated from a speech-to-text translation) about the impossibility (yet the only possibility) of translating, all supported on the implications of a French translation of Joyce's Ulysses. Added that this speech was given to a presumably mainly German-speaking public.

[Lovro Herbai · Rating 3 out of 5]

Poststructuralism and postmodernism in literature is mostly gibberish. Perhaps if I understood it more, I'd like it more, but this feels, more often than not, like the ramblings of a madman pulling loopy sentences out of his mind like a magician pulls rabbits out of his hat - only I can take the time and understand the magician's trick, but no matter how many texts I read from Derrida and the likes, I will never understand what these people are talking about, but it has its moments of fun, nevertheless.

[Mark · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interview with Derrida
I prefer to read Derrida’s interviews rather than his essays (or even his speeches), because in interviews he doesn’t have the luxury to over-complicate as badly. Not only do things end up more comprehensible, but more of his personality comes out. For example, the first question the interviewer asks begins with a quote from Derrida saying his “most constant interest” is literature; the actual question the interviewer asked, however, used the phrase “primary interest,” at which Derrida balks, saying they aren’t the same thing. Sometimes such balking feels like lawyerly splitting of hairs, but it points out two important things about Derrida. First off, he takes very seriously correct quotation, not a lax paraphrasing of others ideas, but a (sometimes hyper-) literal quotation of precisely what was written or spoken. Secondly, he takes language very seriously, emphasizing the shades of meaning that different words bring, along with their etymologies, derivatives, etc. He is almost obsessive about the possible (mis)interpretations of any given word, and he’s especially protective of his own language. This shows up time and again in Limited Inc, which largely focuses on direct quotations from Austin.

Once Derrida moves past the wording, he discusses his own definition of literature, specifically that it acts as a paradoxical sort of “institution,” one that has simultaneously conservative and revolutionary possibilities, and which allows one to quite literally say anything. This, especially the ability to leave behind marks on a paper which others can read, has always baffled Derrida, but that bafflement has led him to ask questions no one else would have even thought of asking. In the process, he differentiates “literature” from “writing,” stating that literature is a modern invention. By this, he means literature in a narrower sense, an institution specifically tied to writing but not inclusive of all writing. He further defined modernist literature as being self-critical of literature, a “turning back on the literary institution” (41). Thus, it seems that literature is in some ways a self-contained modern experiment, one which started with the modern printing press and toleration, and which ended by eating its own tail in modernism (and postmodernism [and post-postmodernism]).

I do think that Derrida sets up a false dichotomy between questions and answers, whereby if you’re not “asking questions” (critical), you’re conservative and complacent. Derrida did seem to be onto something when he called James Joyce conservative, as I noted in my more recent Ulysses review, namely that in order to understand and enjoy Joyce, the canon must be mastered. Likewise, Derrida claims that there’s no essential nature to literature, but rather literature is a “relation,” a context, a conversation. I wouldn’t necessarily dispute this, as the canon, whether you like it or not, necessarily informs what is considered literature (or art or music, etc.). Both difference and similarity are required, a certain range of difference that differentiates yet remains legible.

In this introductory interview, Derrida mentions for the first time the “gap” that I latched onto in “Before the Law.” He claims that no text “successfully” resists “transcendental” readings, meaning, or referentiality; there is always some relation, some slippage, some gap between the word and the intended meaning. However, this is not a problem, it’s what makes literature so interesting. “Literature perhaps stands on the edge of everything, almost beyond everything, including itself. It’s the most interesting thing in the world, maybe more interesting than the world” (47). In a twist of fate, the thing we invented to write down stories (the same stories which we invented perhaps to keep ourselves from going insane) has become more interesting than the life we live. Fiction is more interesting than reality, in other words.

Derrida elaborates on the gap (elsewhere called “play” or “give,” pp. 66-7), stating “There is no literature without a suspended relation to meaning and reference. Suspended means suspense, but also dependence” (48). As he elaborates in “Before the Law” literature is dependent upon but also kept apart from meaning and reference. There can’t be a 1:1 relationship, but despite this (and perhaps even because of this), a generative relation persists. The same seems to be true of human relationships. No person can ever fully “get” someone else, but that doesn’t preclude intimacy. In fact, the slippage and misunderstandings are precisely what inspire us to strive to communicate more clearly. If not for an awareness of these mismatches, we wouldn’t realize the need to care for language, and thus engage with Derrida's close readings.

The First Session
On page 48, Derrida continues by stating that "we still have trouble defining the question of literature, dissociating it from the question of truth, from the essence of language, from essence itself." Literature “is the place or experience of this 'trouble' we also have with the essence of language, with truth and with essence.” He elaborates on this tension in “The First Session,” an essay which remained on the edge of my comprehension, but I believe it went something like this: similarly to the “institution of literature,” “truth,” especially in a Platonic sense (of ideals and mimetic derivatives) runs into some strange paradoxes. In a parallel with Adorno’s chapter on Enigmaticalness (also used in my oral exam), Derrida opens by pointing out that “the philosophical question ‘What is . . . ?’, the question of truth and essence, is one that literature resists” (127). There is a tantalizing “play between literature and truth” (129) where what is told is not necessarily a lie, but a third option, a fiction, something that contains both beauty and goodness (two correlatives with truth).

Derrida moves from here to complicate the ideal of mimesis, arguing that it fails by Plato’s own standards: even good mimesis is still only a copy, and thus not worth as much as the original; because it is a likeness and not a real thing in itself, it can only really be a negation (134). Furthermore, “either it hinders the unveiling of the thing itself by substituting a copy or double for what is; or else it works in the service of truth through the double’s resemblance. Logos, which is itself imitated by writing, only has value as truth” (135). This feels somewhere in the region of my anxiety when I completed “Signature Event Context” (the first part of Limited Inc), namely that we cannot escape several layers of derivativeness. This seems true, whether we're talking about writing being derivative of spoken language, or language being derivative of urges or thoughts (or thoughts being derivative of language, once language is acquired!). Derrida claims that “Discernability…is what…constitutes order…Never have the absolute distinguishability between imitated and imitator, and the anteriority of the first over the second, been displaced by any metaphysical system…but all these derivative oppositions send us back to the same root” (140-1). Essentially, have yet to escape from the modality of imitated/imitator, original/derivative, that Plato instituted. As such, for us “Truth has always meant two different things… [1] the unveiling of what lies concealed in oblivion… [2] agreement…a relation of resemblance or equality” (141). Truth, despite the necessity of it being an absolute relation (to be true) cannot ever reach that 1:1 relation, and thus can never be true.

I’m not sure I buy that, and I’m also not sure that I am accurately conveying what Derrida wrote. This is my impression, one which will likely change if/when I revisit this book. For now, let’s let it be.

Before the Law
This was by far my favorite chapter of the book. In it, Derrida used Kafka’s short story “Before the Law” to make some interesting points about literature per se. In the story, a countryman walks up to a gate and asks the gatekeeper entry. The gatekeeper verbally warns him not to enter, but never makes a physical movement to prevent him from entering. At one point early on, the countryman bends over to peek through the gate, but he doesn’t dare enter. Essentially, Derrida argues that this is how literature (and thus also language, and perhaps even the Jewish God) operates: a proscription with no enforcement but the force of its utterance (magnified by the authority of the speaker). There is nothing stopping the man from entering, nothing but the fear induced by warnings that even scarier gatekeepers reside within, ones which the first gatekeeper cannot bear to look at.

I remember my ego inflating as I read this chapter, because I was able to predict with some accuracy where Derrida was going next, namely that he would apply this also to religion; he did so, pointing out the “Holy of Holies” in the temple being a place where you cannot enter, because if you do, you’ll see that it’s empty, that the Mercy Seat of God is vacant, that God might actually just be a negation, a fiction propped up by language (208). More than just language, it’s language spoken with authority which perpetuates these fictions (like language), useful fictions whose baselessness doesn’t immediately destroy them. In the margins, I noted that language in the Judeo-Christian context emanates from God, and thus this linkage of fictions proves more correlative than I’d like to admit.

However, the Incarnation, the advent of God’s earthly presence explodes the Jewish distance of God (and the further distance rendered by Islam). In Christianity, a radical “tearing of the veil” occurs; no longer is God held at a distance like “the Law” in the story; instead, God becomes something immediate, something no longer deferred, someone always with us, someone we intimately relate to, eating his flesh and drinking his blood, partaking in him. As Athanasius wrote, “God became man so that man might become God.” Rather than a Mormon sense of this, Athanasius meant that it is through the revelation of the incarnation that any understanding of the Old Testament can come to light. Thus, the more than one partakes of Christ (by emulating him, by consuming him, etc.), the closer to God one is, the less divided from the divine. No more is the infinite/indefinite deferral/difference in place; Christ’s advent has forever bridged the gap for us, done what was once thought impossible.

The Law of Genre
Essentially, this chapter is a less-convincing repetition of Limited Inc, and I was not impressed. It took the worst argumentation about categories therein and remixed it to the tune of “genres” (which is just another word for “categories”).

The worst part of this essay was how wide-open Derrida left himself for a dramatic reversal of his project. On pp. 224-5, he mentions that “As soon as genre announces itself, one must not cross a line of demarcation, one must not risk impurity, anomaly, or monstrosity;” in decrying all of the above as oppressive (given that he admits elsewhere that his philosophy exists downstream of his political assumptions), he admits that he, in a sense, “hates” purity, normalcy, and beauty; this is precisely the reactionary response that I’ve seen some make, but he leaves himself wide open to it, almost invites it in, because he lays bare his own thought process on those two pages.

Of course, categories necessarily require norms, and without norms and regulations they cease being categories. But sure, you do your thang Derrida, keep ignoring reality and giving a bad name to leftism!

Ulysses Gramophone
The word “yes” shows up more in the French translation of James Joyce’s Ulysses than in the English one. If Joyce approved of the translation, why is there such a discrepancy?

That’s my impression of this chapter. It reflected on misunderstandings and unintended differences, but I found it to be more bloat than anything. Bleh.

[Susan · Rating 4 out of 5]

I should have read this a long time ago. Great, but he obfuscates. I doubt I'm the first person to observe this.

[Hippejulia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Forever grateful for Derek Attridge for explaining what the hell is happening in Derrida's essays.
Skip 'Mallarme', must reads 'The Dangerous Supplement' and the first and second séance.

[Alfredo Suárez Palacios · Rating 4 out of 5]

Derrida es un tipo muy peculiar, siempre certero, pero da a veces una serie de vueltas estilistícas que no me temrinan de enganchar siempre. De todas formas no puedo negar el enrome impacto que ha producido su forma de pensar en mi vida, "Before the Law" es una pieza indispensable para pensar en la literatura contemporánea, su lectura del cuento de Kafka es increíble. Leugo el análisis del último "Yes" en Joyce es una pieza interesantísima sobre el Ulises, y el capítulo suelto de 'De la gramatología' es increíble porque sienta las bases para entender la concepción que tiene Derrida sobre el texto y la ficción y permite aplicar ese análisis en textos subsiguientes. En general creo que el libro es un manual muy útil para entrar en la visión de Derrida de la literatura y viene bastante guay editado.

[RC · Rating 4 out of 5]

A somewhat uneven collection. In trying to stay on the subject of literature, the editor picks some essays that aren’t Derrida’s strongest. I might be in the minority, but I found “Ulysses Gramophone” almost willfully self-indulgent: the kind of stuff that turns me off of Derrida—even though I always eventually come back. Attridge’s introductions to the essays often are much clearer and more direct than the essays themselves, which is good but unsurprising.

[Becca · Rating 4 out of 5]

It was my introduction to Derrida, and I think it's an accessible entree to the astonishing renaissance that was continental post-structuralism.

[Burcu Kılık]

Merhabalar ne yazik ki bu kitabın cevirisi iyi değil yeniden bir gözden geçirilmesi gerektiğini düşünüyorum.

[Gloria · Rating 2 out of 5]

just a lot of confusing snippets...

[Highlyeccentric · Rating 2 out of 5]

Did not understand most of what I read.