Vivian Liska

Any exploration of the relationship between literature and resistance is situated in the all-pervasive—and by now dated—debates between littérature engagée and littérature autonome. Over the past hundred years, the place of Franz Kafka in these debates has been discussed in controversial ways by some of the most important philosophers in a variety of contexts. In her chapter, Vivian Liska experiments with several possible readings of Kafka’s short narrative “Up in the Gallery.” Each one of them lends a different meaning, function, and effect to the hypothetical interruption invoked in Kafka’s story. Starting from diverse meanings of the German word “Halt,” each one of these interpretations takes a different approach to the narrative’s antithetical appearance and reflects on Kafka’s attempt to escape, in and through his literary writing, what he describes as the trap of thinking in dichotomous oppositions. The text aims at serving as a touchstone for a reflection on the potential of literature to intervene in the world and exert resistance in the face of injustice.

When the French philosopher Sarah Kofman committed suicide in 1994 she left behind an impressive oeuvre in which both the autobiographical genre and the treatment of women play a central role. Her theoretical re ections on both topics situate themselves in the interstices between psychoanalysis, feminism and deconstruction and share a common concern: the respect of alterity in all its guises. Kofman's resistance to the authoritative claim of the retrospective closure underlying traditional autobiographies is closely related to her celebration of an e ®criture parricide, a mode of writing which undoes the repression of multiplicity and otherness. Shortly before her death Kofman published an autobiographical account of her own childhood years after the deportation and death of her father in a concentration camp. This article addresses the striking discrepancies between the theoretical positions Kofman defends throughout her philosophical writings and the autobiographical turn of her own last words.

Ein Vergleich zwischen zwei prominenten Deutungen der Begegnung von Odysseus mit den Sirenen in Homers Odyssee, dem erstem Exkurs in der Dialektik der Aufklärung und dem einleitenden Kapitel von Maurice Blanchots Livre à venir – einer offensichtlich mit Adornos Deutung korrespondierenden Lektüre der Sirenenepisode – ermöglicht einen Einblick in das Verhältnis zwischen der Hauptfigur der Kritischen Theorie und einem der wichtigsten Vorläufer der Dekonstruktion. Diese beiden idiosynkratischen Lesarten von Homers kanonischer Szene erfassen nicht nur den Kern von Adornos und Blanchots Zugang zu Literatur und Kunst sondern offenbaren in verdichteter Form die Unterschiede, aber auch die Verwandtschaft von zwei der einflussreichsten Denkformen des zwanzigsten Jahrhunderts am Schnittpunkt zwischen Philosophie und Literatur.

Drawing on Jewish dimensions in the works of Franz Kafka, Walter Benjamin, Gershom Scholem, Hannah Arendt, and Paul Celan, Vivian Liska reflects on the dialogues between these contemporaries and traces the changing role that Jewish tradition has played in the development of modern thought. She notes how these intellectuals and philosophers transmitted their particular visions of modernity but also viewed them in the light of the Jewish tradition’s legacies and challenges. Liska argues that these visions derive from a paradoxical dynamic, namely that the attempt to break with convention also calls for using deep-seated figures of thought.

In “Ars Nova,” a short essay written in 1963, Blanchot defends the “new music” of Arnold Schönberg and his school against its critics and hails it as an exemplary contestation of culture conceived as an attempt to conceal the groundlessness of human existence. The fragmentary and dissonant nature of the “new music” has the power to unmask culture’s pretence of order, meaning and harmony. It embodies the potential of modernist art to unsettle all established conventions standing in the way of an authentic, radical interrogation. Blanchot develops his argument by way of a discussion of Adorno’s theory of modernist music. The affinities and divergences revealed in Blanchot’s reading of Adorno’s work shed light on their respective understanding of the disruption enacted by the “new music.” A close analysis of Blanchot’s essay discloses the role of this confrontation with Adorno’s dialectical theory and points to the political and poetic ramifications of a complex and hitherto largely neglected category in Blanchot’s thinking about art: the diabolical.