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Dec 05, 2008 18:26


Perhaps one of the most exciting parts of being a literary scholar is discovering new connections between your own experience and your work. Such was the case for me several months ago, when I was deeply immersed in research on psychoanalytic interpretation. I already knew that Freud was Jewish, and I had begun to think about how his life work might have been affected by his religion. For instance, did Freud's patriarchal and authoritative writing ironically presuppose the exile and victimization he faced in the final years of his life? However, upon discovering Lacan's Catholicism, I began to reflect how this might speak to his work. What struck me the most was Marcia Ian's discussion of the Jewish "carnal" and Christian "spiritual" as carrying over into the Freudian "body" and Lacanian "logos." As I reflected on these differences, I began to compare my dual existence in both worlds.

As a child of intermarriage, I have long had an awareness of how Jewish and Christian traditions differ. My father is a Presbyterian minister, as are two of my paternal uncles and several of my cousins. Though my father retired from the Ministry to become a research psychologist, his religious values remain central to his worldview. My maternal relatives, on the other hand, are observant Jews-my “Poppop” was president of his synagogue and my sister, along with several of my cousins, live in Israel. For my parents, as for me, religion was never a source of tension. My father would accompany my mother to synagogue, and he even paid for my half-sister’s (his stepdaughter’s) Bat Mitzvah when her own father refused, afraid that her learning disability would make it impossible for her to read the Torah (which it didn't). My mother, on the other hand, was fascinated in my father's views, and she was always the first to decorate the house for Christmas. (Although, as she now famously admits, she would run to hide the tabletop Christmas tree whenever her mother pulled up the driveway.) My exposure to multiple belief systems has, in turn, instilled in me a certain flexibility of mind that has proved useful for scholarship.

Although I do not usually interpret literature through a "religious" lens, I'm certain that my hybrid perspectives find their way into my interpretations. The subtle and even unconscious differences between Jewish and Christian traditions of scholarship fascinate me-Freud and Lacan, for instance, did not have their religions in mind when they came to develop their distinct theories of psychoanalysis. Religion, though negated in psychoanalysis, is still structurally intrinsic to Freudian and Lacanian discourse. As a participant in dual religions, I am constantly trying to understand or reconcile opposed theories. This carries over into my work, where I have explored seeming contradictions such as the feminist notions of equality and difference. I feel my literary criticism is enriched by integrating both views into my work, by investigating their separate merits and weaknesses and, most importantly, their interdependence: For instance, would feminist notions of difference even have developed if feminist equality hadn't first leveled the playing field? What indebtedness do they have to one another? How do fundamental differences in socio-cultural or psychological positions influence one another, and how is this played out in pieces of literature? Underscoring my writings on identity is my instinct to wed differences, to investigate how the outer topos of a narrative can be subverted to reveal unspoken histories and truths.

Much of my research and writing speaks to my life experiences, resonating metaphorical and psychological tones of consonance, many of which I have yet to discover. My mixed background testifies to an essential reality that I explore: individual identity is myriad, and oftentimes contradictory. Growing up in an environment where diversity was the norm situates my work in a meaningful context that, consequently, compels me to look at narratives from manifold perspectives, to traverse discursive terrains with the objective of connecting rather than separating them. The texts I interpret are, and are not, mine, yet I find in them something both utterly personal and collective. The trajectory of my teaching and work, I hope, will serve as a springboard for others developing and defining their own unique perspectives.

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