New Books in Critical Theory

Brian M. GossView on Amazon[Cross-posted from New Books in Journalism] Brian Michael Goss, professor of communication at St. Louis University in Madrid, has taken one of media's most studied theories and given it facelift. In Rebooting the Herman & Chomsky Propaganda Model in the Twenty-First Century (Peter Lang, 2013), Goss revisits the model created by Edward Herman and Noam Chomsky in their 1988 book, Manufacturing Consent. The filters remain, but Goss pushes the model into the modern context of new media models and expanded global exportation. "Far from condemning journalism," Goss writes, "I hope to see it more closely approximate its mythologies about itself." "Rebooting" is an important work, relevant not just to scholars, but all consumers of media.

Stacy AlaimoView on AmazonIn her book, Bodily Natures: Science, Environment, and the Material Self (Indiana University Press, 2010), Stacy Alaimo approaches the concepts of "science, environment, and self" in an extremely novel and inventive way. The central concept in Alaimo's work is that of "trans-corporeality" which she describes as a way of theorizing the relationship between humanity and the world at large as not being clearly delineated and separate, but as fluid. As this relates specifically to nature and the environment, Alaimo's intention is for the reader to reimagine questions of environmental ethics and environmental practices as not isolated issues but rather deeply personal as the environment and our material selves are bound up with one another in a deeply intimate manner. I found Alaimo's central approach with "trans-corporeality," theorizing the human as being "already in the world," extremely refreshing when compared to the idea of human agency in postmodern studies. In this way, Alaimo provides an alternate framework for conceiving of human agency, and thus an "out" of sorts, a release, from the bounds of postmodernism's isolated and castrated human agent. Alaimo calls this novel direction, "New Materialisms." With this concept, Alaimo offers new insights into feminist thought and theory. Bodily Natures: Science, Environment, and the Material Self is sure to appeal to many students and scholars of literary studies and critical theory.

Michael SerazioView on Amazon[Cross-posted from New Books in Communications] "Power through freedom." Michael Serazio's Your Ad Here: The Cool Sell of Guerrilla Marketing (NYU Press, 2013) traces the mushrooming world of geurilla marketing–defined to include word-of-mouth, viral, and advergaming, along with a host of other, often hidden kinds of persuasion. The book describes the ways that advertisers give up "control" to consumers through "authentic" discovery, dialogue, amateurism, the non-sell sell, and even anti-marketing messages themselves–all of which serve, paradoxically, to reinforce control and commercialism. The consumer subject, writes Serazio drawing on Foucault and Gramsci, is strategically engaged to act without the sense of being acted upon–a kind "corporate ventriloquism." The book includes rich, detailed case studies and interviews with marketers, who recount their "cool sell" campaigns for America's Army, PBR, and Burger King's "Subservient Chicken."

Dominic PettmanView on Amazon[Cross-posted from New Books in Science, Technology and Society] "The humans are dead." Whether or not you recognize the epigram from Flight of the Conchords (and if not, there are worse ways to spend a few minutes than by looking here, and I recommend sticking around for the "binary solo"), Dominic Pettman's Human Error: Species-Being and Media Machines (University of Minnesota Press, 2011) will likely change the way you think about humanity, animals, machines, and the relationships among them. Pettman uses a series of fascinating case studies, from television programs to films to Sufi fables to pop songs, to explore the notion of Agamben's "anthropological machines" and the human being as a "technospecies without qualities" in a modern mediascape that includes Thomas Edison's film Electrocuting an Elephant, Werner Herzog's Grizzly Man, and the interplanetary soundscape created by NASA (among many, many others). We recently gathered over Skype to talk about some of the major thematic and argumentative threads snaking through this book and Pettman's recent exploration of totems in Look at the Bunny: Totem, Taboo, Technology (Zero Books, 2013). Both books take on the varied ways that love, technology, identity (both human and not), and economies have been transformed in a world that includes pacifist Orcs, voices without bodies, ecologies without nature, reptile-doctors, and pixelated lovers. Enjoy! During our conversation, Pettman mentions a film about the zigzag totem that can be found here. Cabinet Magazine, which also comes up in the course of our conversation, can be found here.

Amir EshelView on AmazonIn his very recent work, Futurity: Contemporary Literature and the Quest for the Past (University of Chicago Press, 2013), Amir Eshel presents us with a very interesting examination of what he refers to as "futurity" or literature's ability to provide us with a way to access the past, rethink it, and move forward.  Eshel's work here can best be understood as part of the larger effort in literary studies to move beyond the tired and exceedingly fruitless lens of the hermeneutics of suspicion and the despairing chasm of postmodernity. As foci, Eshel examines postwar German literature and Hebrew literature particularly focused on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Overall, the portion of Futurity that continues to linger with me is Eshel's beautiful ruminations on W.G. Sebald's masterpiece, Austerlitz. Eshel's reflections on Austerlitz encouraged me to pick up that novel once more and for this alone I highly encourage anyone interested in postwar German literature, Hebrew literature, and or the future and meaning of literary studies to give Eshel's work a read.

Nicholas de VilliersView on AmazonIn his book, Opacity and the Closet: Queer Tactics in Foucault, Barthes, and Warhol (University of Minnesota Press, 2012), Nicholas de Villiers takes up an examination of the work of the three titular authors as a way of understanding their queerness and more specifically, how each man subverted the "in-and-out of the closet" paradigm.  De Villiers devotes ample time to each man, however I found his thoughts on Foucault and Barthes of particular importance as both have come to be so deeply associated with postmodernism, poststructuralism, and queer theory. It is safe to say that Foucault is in large part responsible for the theoretical and philosophical foundations of what we know of today as queer theory and queer studies. This fact makes Foucault's own relationship with his "out" sexuality all the more fascinating and de Villiers does a great service to Foucault, showing that Foucault himself subverted the "in-and-out of the closet" paradigm and society's need to ferret out and make known our sexualities. While many scholars, academics, and cultural critics have criticized Foucault for his "silence," de Villiers's work suggests that Foucault's life was a practice in complicating and disrupting the immense societal desire to see homosexuality expressed in one sanctioned way. De Villiers work here is deep, insightful, and refreshing in its attempt to offer an alternative to "suspicious reading." I do hope you enjoy our conversation. Photo Credit: Lauren M. Jones

Avner BazView on AmazonIn When Words Are Called For: A Defense of Ordinary Language Philosophy (Harvard University Press, 2012), Avner Baz sets out to make a case for the reconsideration of Ordinary Language Philosophy, or OLP, in mainstream academic philosophy.   I personally found Baz's work in it interesting due to the fact that my familiarity with OLP comes solely from a literary perspective and both Baz, as a trained philosopher, and his argumentation present an interesting glimpse into the deep resistance towards OLP that can be found in mainstream philosophy. In fact, after reading When Words Are Called For, and even more so, after speaking with Dr. Baz, it became apparent just how differently philosophers and literary academics view, value, and understand OLP and what it has to offer the critics and the curious. For those readers who have either a deep affinity for OLP or who come at it from a literary, non-analytical philosophical perspective much of When Words Are Called For will seem spot on but ultimately unnecessary in the best sense of that word in that Baz spends a great deal of his time making a case for the legitimacy of a philosophical perspective that many who are familiar with it from a literary perspective will simply find a given.  This is truly the result of a difference in disciplinary perspective more than anything else.  Where When Words Are Called For does shine is in the epilogue, "Ordinary Language Philosophy, Kant, and the Roots of Antinomial Thinking," where Baz offers some fascinating insights into the connections between Kant and OLP. Admittedly, When Words Are Called For is best for the skeptical philosopher, but it also serves a great purpose in illustrating the extreme differences in how two humanist disciplines can approach and come to understand a way of thinking about the world and conceptualizing the language that unites it.

In Language and History in Theodor W. Adorno's Notes to Literature (Routledge, 2007), Ulrich Plass makes the case for the importance and relevance of Adorno’s often forgotten and derided attempts at literary criticism.  Plass specifically draws our attention to five subjects, Eichendorff, Rudolf Borchardt, Stefan George, Heinrich Heine, and Goethe, and Adorno’s response to their work as a way to make sense of the purpose, motivation, and significance of Adorno’s oeuvre.  As Plass reminds us, and indeed shows us again and again, Adorno’s literary criticism can be quirky and enigmatic and yet strikingly  impenetrable at its best, and utterly baffling and unreadable at its most trying. For Plass however, the determination and rigor required to make sense of Adorno’s literary criticism is worth the reward as he ultimately concludes that its true value lies not solely in its role as such, but rather as a companion and a primer of sorts to his larger philosophical work. The central focus of Language and History is not Adorno’s response to or criticism of any one writer or piece in particular though, rather it is the essay itself.  The essay here more specifically represents what Plass comes to suggest is the medium by which Adorno is able to “act out” his understanding of language and aesthetics rather than ever being able to fully and cohesively conceptualize it in any one phrase or essay of literary criticism-to "say it".  In this sense what Plass leaves us with most is an invaluable tool with which to approach a unified understanding of Adorno in which his literary criticism and philosophy are not isolated singularities but rather complementary  works.

In his recent book, The Conflagration of Community: Fiction Before and After Auschwitz (University of Chicago Press, 2011) , J. Hillis Miller sets outs to address Theodor Adorno’s famous proclamation that to write poetry after Auschwitz is impossible and barbaric.  One should make clear from the outset that Miller’s central project in this regard is not to make some grand claim about the value or worth of literature in the face of dehumanization and atrocity.  The value of literature for him and for us is a given.  There is nothing to argue. Rather, Miller is most concerned with addressing the question of whether or not literature can truly bear witness to the Shoah. While this question has indeed been a central concern of literary scholars, philosophers, and artists since Celan and Adorno, Miller’s method of approaching this topic by way of the theoretical concept of “community,” and more specifically, “literary communities,” is rather intriguing. Here, Miller invokes the work of Derrida and Jean-Luc Nancy in particular. As a way of illustrating his theoretical claims, Miller looks extensively at Kafka’s The Castle (Das Schloß), The Man Who Disappeared (Der Verschollene), and The Trial (Der Proceß). In fact, Miller spends almost two-thirds of The Conflagration of Community examining these and several other Kafka works in order to reveal the extent to which literature can “imagine” the bureaucracies and social infrastructures of the Shoah.  Miller’s love and deep admiration for Kafka shines through here and he does an amazing job of penetrating Kafka’s writing and making sense of it in light of his theoretical perspective. Beside the work of Kafka, Miller also looks extensively at novels that explicitly invoke the Shoah.  Keneally’s Schindler’s List, McEwan’s Black Dogs, Spiegelman’s Maus, and Kertész’s Fatlessness make this list and Miller does each justice, though he ultimately concludes that Kertész’s Fatlessness is uniquely written and structured to best bear witness. In addition to the central issue of literature and the Shoah, there also exist several parallel concerns throughout The Conflagration of Community.  Among these are American slavery and the serious injustices and human rights violations committed during the Bush administration. In a refreshing way, Miller’s work in The Conflagration of Community ends up being about much more than the Shoah and in successfully completing the Benjaminian constellation he tells us is his intention to construct in the preface, Miller creates something that is both profound and that persists beyond the page.

As the last of what Wendy Steiner refers to as “a loose trilogy” with her earlier works, The Scandal of Pleasure (1995) and Venus in Exile (2001), The Real Real Thing: The Model in the Mirror of Art (University of Chicago, 2010) sets out to establish the centrality of “the model” in art to our understanding of subjectivity and freedom and the ethical imperative that she suggests lies within it. For Steiner, “the model,” historically conceptualized and understood as female and objectified as such, assumes the level of ontological importance and acts as a symbolic structure that not only lays bare the hierarchies and mechanics of power, but possess the unique ability to reimagine and “introduce new hierarchies into the world” (20). “The model” along with politics and power in Steiner’s estimation are closely linked and in fact bound together.  The intriguing and theoretical tension between the seeming contradiction that what on the level of the symbol can be read as object can also be accessed in order to influence the real is one that is thrilling to see the author trace and work out.  To this point specifically, Steiner does an incredible job.  Her theoretical argument invokes the work of Kant, Roman Jakobson, Jacques Lacan, and Judith Butler to varying degrees. Neatly divided into three parts, The Real Real Thing moves from a theoretical exploration of “the model” to several fascinating studies of artists and art works that have employed the model as Steiner envisions it.  Her analyses of the work of Columbian artist Oscar Muñoz and Argentine artist Nicolás Guagnini are particularly fascinating and a discussion of both is featured in my interview with Dr. Steiner. Bringing “the model” from the realm of the theoretical to that of the real, Steiner closes the book by returning to her notion of the ethical imperative inherent to it. She makes a strong and impassioned case for modern art and what she sees as its “democratic” and “progressive” nature in its ability to not just call attention to itself as art, as an end in itself, but to invite the spectator into a symbiotic union that creates.  It is within this union that traditionally rigid aesthetic notions of beauty and perfection can be overridden and redefined anew. I thoroughly enjoyed reading The Real Real Thing: The Model in the Mirror of Art and I encourage anyone interested in aesthetics, the future of art, and the future of the arts especially to read this book.

[Cross-posted from New Books in History] I have a friend who, as a young child, happened to meet Herbert Marcuse, by that time a rock-star intellectual and darling of the American student movement. Upon seeing the man, he exclaimed "Marcuse! Marcuse! You have such a beautiful head!" I don't know how beautiful Herbert Marcuse's head was, but I do know a lot of other interesting things about him and his Frankfurt School buddies now that I've read Thomas Wheatland's wonderful The Frankfurt School in Exile (University of Minnesota Press, 2009). The story Tom tells casts the Frankfurt School in a new (and more correct) light. For one thing, Horkheimer, Adorno, and the rest really were hard-core empirical social scientists in the beginning, not "Critical Theorists" as we understand the term. They counted, measured, conducted surveys and did everything a positivist sociologist or economist would do. But, of course, that was not how they became idols of the New Left and the founders of "Critical Theory." (Now that I think about it, almost no one ever achieves fame by doing empirical social science. See "Malcolm Gladwell" for more.) No, they–or rather Fromm, Marcuse and Habermas–got famous by telling young Americans that they were "repressed," "alienated," and "downtrodden" at exactly the moment they wanted to hear it, that is, the 1960s. You see, the "old" Marxism was dead; this was the "new and improved" version. In other words, they were in the right Critical-Theoretical place and at the right Critical-Theoretical time. And, as Tom points out, they were bewildered and even a bit disturbed by their fame. Despite what my friend said, Marcuse did not get a big head. Rather the opposite. He, much to his credit, told the students he didn't want to be their guru, that he didn't believe in gurus. But they didn't care–they made him one anyway. Students love gurus. I loved Tom Wheatland's book, and I encourage you to read it.