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You need a translator, that's your problem. Your magazines are top-filled with woman-written advice columns, then sprinkled with tell-her-what-she-wants-to-hear suggestions from vague, abstract men.

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posted by TPS @ 11:13 AM 0 comments

The Erotic Triangle

Author: Joshua P. Suchman

Jorge Luis Borges, known best, perhaps, for his surface fascination with labyrinths both literal and theoretical, devoted his writings to the pursuance of desire, and the subjective reality that desire creates. His belief that desire pre-suggests reason, that desire colors and controls all elements of reason—that desire, therefore, is what alienates us from the universe—becomes something of a mirror for Arthur Schopenhauer’s philosophy. Salvation can be found, says Schopenhauer, through the accumulation of philosophical knowledge, the contemplation of works of art, and sympathy for other human beings.

An essential function of Borges’ writing style is to wedge open a dialogue across space and time. In a sense, his goal is to encourage the reader to feel the irony between what can be said, and what is not said. In such a world, the contextual limits of writing are always irrevocably isolated to a single, even immeasurably small moment in time—such that every written sentence makes the previous sentence obsolete. And therefore, the way a reader interprets the temporal differential—or, to restate, the way the reader intuits what would be said if the story had been written now, in the moment of the reading—becomes the point. The reader’s desire to understand is the only way meaning can be created.

One startling feature of Borges’ writing, then, is the glaring omission of “real” women, rounded female characters. If Borges believes that desire is the singular, fundamental gutrock of experience, then why does he refuse to treat the obvious subject within his stories? In many, no women appear at all. In a handful, they are mere apparitions of memory. And on the rare occasion that Borges suggests an active female character—or even a passive, flat female character who plays some significant role in plot development—he makes no attempt to experience some uniquely female perspective.

Let’s consider a story that hints at a possible explanation:

In “The Dead Man,” Benjamín Otálera becomes a victim of a typical theme in the fictions of Borges. The young gaucho seeks to create his own life, to mark the world with his particular brand of valor; meanwhile, the machinations of fate have marked him for death. His ignorance of fate is not his only transgression: his desire to usurp the identity of Azevedo Bandeira stems from the masculine canonical tradition of one man replacing another man he previously worshipped (Collected Fictions). In his critical essay “The Queer Use of Communal Women,” Herbert J. Brant suggests that Otálera’s desire for Bandeira’s woman is a function of the homosocial nature within the homosocial world of all gauchos. In order to usurp Bandeira’s character, Otálera finds desire for Bandeira’s objects.

“Triangular Desire” is a model proposed by René Girard, and Brant uses Sharon Magnarelli’s summary in his essay: “Desire is dependent upon a triangular relationship: the object of desire (O) is desirable to one individual (A) to the extent that it is desired by another (B) . . . . The object of desire (O) is an empty receptacle needing to be filled with what is projected upon it by the subjects of that desire (A and/or B)” (Queer, 4). Brant additionally suggests that the rivalry between Otálera and Bandeira is not a matter of desire for the same object (in this case, the woman), but a transmutation of a desire for each other (4).

So:

On his way to meet Bandeira (B), Otálera (A) finds his way into a knife fight. He is attracted to the violence of the battle rather than any condition of morality, and parries a thrust that would have killed one of the men—the man who later reveals himself to be Bandeira (Collected Fictions, 196-197). After joining the cattle drovers, “only once does [Otálera] see Azevedo Bandeira, but he is always aware of his presence” (197).

At first, Otálera wants the boss to see that he is superior to the lot of drovers. When Otálera is asked to bring food and drink to Bandeira during his illness, he sets his eyes on “quirts and bullwhips, firearms . . .” (O) and then, only through a mirror’s reflection does Otálera note the bare-breasted woman (198).

Now Otálera begins to covet the objects associated with Bandeira, such as the sorrel and its bridle, and the “woman with resplendent hair” (O), (199). Bandeira is known as “accomplished in the art of progressive humiliation” (199) and Otálera determines to use this method (O) to usurp Bandeira’s position.

Borges permits Otálera to usurp the coveted persona, but only to the extent that the gaucho’s fate permits. Thus, in an “effeminate, wheedling voice,” (200) Bandeira calls down Otálera’s fate—a fate that had only temporarily been postponed. Now Otálera realizes he was allowed to be Bandeira, only because “so far as Bandeira was concerned, [Otálera] was already a dead man” (200).

Throughout the fictions of Borges, characters are constantly attempting to usurp the place of their masters. The sorcerer in “Circular Ruins” usurps the role of the Divine; in “The Maker” Borges usurps Homer; and in “Borges and I,” of course, Borges usurps Borges. These enactors of this desirous coupling are always cases of one male supplanting another male. The socially acceptable party line labels this machismo, and associates machismo with vigilant heterosexuality. With regard to Borges, however—as is the case in “The Dead Man”—the reader senses that the masculinity of the gauchos is simply the socially acceptable way of veiling what is in reality a homosocial tendency.

Copyright ©2005, ©2006 Joshua P. Suchman. All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2004, ©2005, ©2006 The Phallic Suggestion. All rights reserved.

-—Printed in accordance with one-time, exclusive permission granted by Joshua P. Suchman specifically for display at The Phallic Suggestion. This article is intended for private use only. This article may not be quoted, copied, printed, or published in-part or in-full without the express written consent of Joshua P. Suchman. All The Phallic Suggestion Terms of Service apply. The Phallic Connection grants webmasters and readers the limited right to link to this article by way of a site link, and/or article title; reference to author is required. No other right to material is granted without express written consent.

--To request the written consent of the author, you may contact The Phallic Suggestion.

Works Cited

Borges, Jorge L. Collected Fictions. Trans. Andrew Hurley. New York:
        Penguin, 1998

Brant, Herbert J. “The Queer Use of Women in Borges’ ‘El Muerto’
        and ‘La Intrusa’.” (from: UTexas-Brant Project)Indiana
        University-Purdue University, Indianapolis.

The Longest Engagement

TPS:

My boyfriend just started his second semester in a PhD program at Yale. We’ve been engaged for the last three years and living in Santa Fe. When he moved for school I decided to stay back because I finally established my own massage therapy business here. I have plenty of clients and am making pretty good money.

I visited him three times during the fall and he came back for Christmas for two weeks. Everything was great (better than usual, actually) and he’s never cheated on me, never done anything to make me think he would cheat, but I'm completely jealous of everything he does anyway. He’s a hard worker and most of what he tells me has to do with learning old English, but even that makes me jealous.

So I got mad at him when he came for Christmas, even though he didn’t do anything, he just wanted to hang out with friends (my friends, too). I told him I was sorry and things were okay, but I wanted to set a date for the wedding. When we first got engaged we set a date but we kept postponing and recently he said he just needed to concentrate on his school applications. But now I feel like we’re never getting married, and I’ll be here for five years until he finishes his program.

I told him I would move to Connecticut next fall if we got married this summer, and he said that he’d love it if I moved, but he didn’t think he could concentrate on getting married right now. Between studying and teaching undergrads, he says he’s got no time. I know marriage is important to him and he really wants to do it right, but I don’t know if I can wait. I feel like a selfish bitch but I can’t help it.

What should I do?

–Desert Bitch

DB,

Here’s the good news: you’re not selfish.

A couple might postpone a wedding for valid reasons, I’m sure—maybe postpone a wedding for three years, I suppose—but I can’t think of one offhand. Immigration laws, perhaps?

You want to get married, and it sounds like you’ve been pushing for the wedding throughout the conspicuous duration of your engagement, and your turtleneck-wearing Ivy Leaguer keeps giving you the straight-arm. Well, DB, that doesn’t sound like too sweet a deal for you.

That’s the bad news. For the sake of conversation, I can imagine a distant wedding taking place with Dr. Beowulf, but the wedding ain't gonna happen before he explores all his options and checks out the angles.

Here are the only two reasons why a guy will put off a wedding:

1. He might be the starchy sort of bloke who needs to know he can financially support you. However, the ratio between guys-who-need-to-support and guys-who-claim-they-need-to-support yields a very slim dividend. I won’t tell you that your man isn’t this rare breed of chivalrous knight, but I expect you ought to read some Chaucer before you accept this conclusion.

2. Most likely, though, he just wants to make sure there isn’t anyone with a nicer smile out there, somewhere, anywhere at all, than you have. I’m sure your smile is plenty nice, but that’s how it goes with guys. Not all guys, true–but usually with guys who put off weddings for three years. If he really loved you (and knew it) he would worry that you might forget the right-sexiness of a small-dicked book nerd. He would have married you before moving, and chained you down properly like all card-carrying medieval gentlemen.

Break it off, and reclaim a smidgeon of self-respect, Desert Bitch. Perhaps he’ll come begging—at the very least, you’ll probably be able to milk him for a couple of those pathetic, 7th grade love letters he still gives you to explain why he can’t get it up.


Copyright ©2004, ©2005, ©2006. The Phallic Suggestion. All rights reserved.

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posted by TPS @ 12:15 PM 0 comments

The Erotic Triangle

Author: Joshua P. Suchman

Jorge Luis Borges, known best, perhaps, for his surface fascination with labyrinths both literal and theoretical, devoted his writings to the pursuance of desire, and the subjective reality that desire creates. His belief that desire pre-suggests reason, that desire colors and controls all elements of reason—that desire, therefore, is what alienates us from the universe—becomes something of a mirror for Arthur Schopenhauer’s philosophy. Salvation can be found, says Schopenhauer, through the accumulation of philosophical knowledge, the contemplation of works of art, and sympathy for other human beings.

An essential function of Borges’ writing style is to wedge open a dialogue across space and time. In a sense, his goal is to encourage the reader to feel the irony between what can be said, and what is not said. In such a world, the contextual limits of writing are always irrevocably isolated to a single, even immeasurably small moment in time—such that every written sentence makes the previous sentence obsolete. And therefore, the way a reader interprets the temporal differential—or, to restate, the way the reader intuits what would be said if the story had been written now, in the moment of the reading—becomes the point. The reader’s desire to understand is the only way meaning can be created.

One startling feature of Borges’ writing, then, is the glaring omission of “real” women, rounded female characters. If Borges believes that desire is the singular, fundamental gutrock of experience, then why does he refuse to treat the obvious subject within his stories? In many, no women appear at all. In a handful, they are mere apparitions of memory. And on the rare occasion that Borges suggests an active female character—or even a passive, flat female character who plays some significant role in plot development—he makes no attempt to experience some uniquely female perspective.

Let’s consider a story that hints at a possible explanation:

In “The Dead Man,” Benjamín Otálera becomes a victim of a typical theme in the fictions of Borges. The young gaucho seeks to create his own life, to mark the world with his particular brand of valor; meanwhile, the machinations of fate have marked him for death. His ignorance of fate is not his only transgression: his desire to usurp the identity of Azevedo Bandeira stems from the masculine canonical tradition of one man replacing another man he previously worshipped (Collected Fictions). In his critical essay “The Queer Use of Communal Women,” Herbert J. Brant suggests that Otálera’s desire for Bandeira’s woman is a function of the homosocial nature within the homosocial world of all gauchos. In order to usurp Bandeira’s character, Otálera finds desire for Bandeira’s objects.

“Triangular Desire” is a model proposed by René Girard, and Brant uses Sharon Magnarelli’s summary in his essay: “Desire is dependent upon a triangular relationship: the object of desire (O) is desirable to one individual (A) to the extent that it is desired by another (B) . . . . The object of desire (O) is an empty receptacle needing to be filled with what is projected upon it by the subjects of that desire (A and/or B)” (Queer, 4). Brant additionally suggests that the rivalry between Otálera and Bandeira is not a matter of desire for the same object (in this case, the woman), but a transmutation of a desire for each other (4).

So:

On his way to meet Bandeira (B), Otálera (A) finds his way into a knife fight. He is attracted to the violence of the battle rather than any condition of morality, and parries a thrust that would have killed one of the men—the man who later reveals himself to be Bandeira (Collected Fictions, 196-197). After joining the cattle drovers, “only once does [Otálera] see Azevedo Bandeira, but he is always aware of his presence” (197).

At first, Otálera wants the boss to see that he is superior to the lot of drovers. When Otálera is asked to bring food and drink to Bandeira during his illness, he sets his eyes on “quirts and bullwhips, firearms . . .” (O) and then, only through a mirror’s reflection does Otálera note the bare-breasted woman (198).

Now Otálera begins to covet the objects associated with Bandeira, such as the sorrel and its bridle, and the “woman with resplendent hair” (O), (199). Bandeira is known as “accomplished in the art of progressive humiliation” (199) and Otálera determines to use this method (O) to usurp Bandeira’s position.

Borges permits Otálera to usurp the coveted persona, but only to the extent that the gaucho’s fate permits. Thus, in an “effeminate, wheedling voice,” (200) Bandeira calls down Otálera’s fate—a fate that had only temporarily been postponed. Now Otálera realizes he was allowed to be Bandeira, only because “so far as Bandeira was concerned, [Otálera] was already a dead man” (200).

Throughout the fictions of Borges, characters are constantly attempting to usurp the place of their masters. The sorcerer in “Circular Ruins” usurps the role of the Divine; in “The Maker” Borges usurps Homer; and in “Borges and I,” of course, Borges usurps Borges. These enactors of this desirous coupling are always cases of one male supplanting another male. The socially acceptable party line labels this machismo, and associates machismo with vigilant heterosexuality. With regard to Borges, however—as is the case in “The Dead Man”—the reader senses that the masculinity of the gauchos is simply the socially acceptable way of veiling what is in reality a homosocial tendency.

Copyright ©2005, ©2006 Joshua P. Suchman. All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2004, ©2005, ©2006 The Phallic Suggestion. All rights reserved.

-—Printed in accordance with one-time, exclusive permission granted by Joshua P. Suchman specifically for display at The Phallic Suggestion. This article is intended for private use only. This article may not be quoted, copied, printed, or published in-part or in-full without the express written consent of Joshua P. Suchman. All The Phallic Suggestion Terms of Service apply. The Phallic Connection grants webmasters and readers the limited right to link to this article by way of a site link, and/or article title; reference to author is required. No other right to material is granted without express written consent.

--To request the written consent of the author, you may contact The Phallic Suggestion.

Works Cited

Borges, Jorge L. Collected Fictions. Trans. Andrew Hurley. New York:
        Penguin, 1998

Brant, Herbert J. “The Queer Use of Women in Borges’ ‘El Muerto’
        and ‘La Intrusa’.” (from: UTexas-Brant Project)Indiana
        University-Purdue University, Indianapolis.