Hallucinating Foucault by Patricia Duncker
Ecco Press: 1996
First Edition
175 pages
This short but fascinating novel offers a provocative interweaving of several themes, of which three of the most important are love, madness, and writing. It tells the story of a young graduate student writing a thesis on the fictional French gay novelist Paul Michel. The student learns that Paul Michel has been diagnosed as schizophrenic and confined to an asylum. Encouraged by his girlfriend (the nameless and enigmatic "Germanist") he sets off for France to find Paul Michel and if possible arrange his release. "Foucault" in the title refers to the French philosopher Michel Foucault, a real person, who died in 1984, 9 years before the events described in the novel.
Love refers at times to a relationship between two people, and it takes some surprising turns (a man who considers himself straight is seduced by and falls passionately in love with a gay man) but mostly it refers to a relationship between writer and reader. For whom do we write? For ourselves? for "the public?" for a "target audience?" for our colleagues? Or is the best and most serious writing for one particular person? And what connects the writer to that reader? Is it, or can it be, a kind of love? Paul Michel supposes (hallucinates?) a love between himself and Foucault, although the two are not supposed to have known one another except through their writing. In one of the letters he wrote (but never sent) to Foucault, Paul Michel addresses him as "my Muse," and my "beloved reader," saying "You are the reader for whom I write" and "I have always loved you."
Madness enters the book, obviously, because Paul Michel is supposed to have gone mad. But after we meet him in the asylum partway through the novel, that description seems less and less applicable. He does react violently and aggressively at times, and he has been known to do appalling things, but it may be that the outburst that led to his diagnosis and commitment was really an uncontrolled reaction to the death of his "lover" Foucault, not the result of a chronic mental illness. Throughout the last section of the book, titled "The Midi," he exhibits a touching sensitivity and gentleness.
There is much more in this book, including some things that are puzzling. One of those is the role of the Germanist--toward the end she seems almost a kind of Svengali figure, knowing all and directing others. But that can't be the whole story. The episode of the child on the beach that opens the novel, then is mentioned in one of Paul Michel's letters to Foucault, and explained more fully at the end, makes clear that there was a love between her and Paul Michel, both the love of writer and reader, and (a Platonic) love between two people. There is also the mysterious owl, the immediate cause of the fatal accident at the end. Owls are supposed to be wise, and perhaps the idea here is that there are some questions (in this case "I wonder whether she remembers me") that are best left unanswered. Too much knowledge--represented by the owl--can kill as well as enlighten. But that can't be the whole story. The owl also appears in one of Paul Michel's letters to Foucault, and I'm not sure what it is doing there.
Pointing out puzzling elements is not the same as objecting or criticizing. I liked this book. I would definitely recommend it, particularly to anyone interested in writing and the relationship of authors and audience.
First Edition
175 pages
This short but fascinating novel offers a provocative interweaving of several themes, of which three of the most important are love, madness, and writing. It tells the story of a young graduate student writing a thesis on the fictional French gay novelist Paul Michel. The student learns that Paul Michel has been diagnosed as schizophrenic and confined to an asylum. Encouraged by his girlfriend (the nameless and enigmatic "Germanist") he sets off for France to find Paul Michel and if possible arrange his release. "Foucault" in the title refers to the French philosopher Michel Foucault, a real person, who died in 1984, 9 years before the events described in the novel.
Love refers at times to a relationship between two people, and it takes some surprising turns (a man who considers himself straight is seduced by and falls passionately in love with a gay man) but mostly it refers to a relationship between writer and reader. For whom do we write? For ourselves? for "the public?" for a "target audience?" for our colleagues? Or is the best and most serious writing for one particular person? And what connects the writer to that reader? Is it, or can it be, a kind of love? Paul Michel supposes (hallucinates?) a love between himself and Foucault, although the two are not supposed to have known one another except through their writing. In one of the letters he wrote (but never sent) to Foucault, Paul Michel addresses him as "my Muse," and my "beloved reader," saying "You are the reader for whom I write" and "I have always loved you."
Madness enters the book, obviously, because Paul Michel is supposed to have gone mad. But after we meet him in the asylum partway through the novel, that description seems less and less applicable. He does react violently and aggressively at times, and he has been known to do appalling things, but it may be that the outburst that led to his diagnosis and commitment was really an uncontrolled reaction to the death of his "lover" Foucault, not the result of a chronic mental illness. Throughout the last section of the book, titled "The Midi," he exhibits a touching sensitivity and gentleness.
There is much more in this book, including some things that are puzzling. One of those is the role of the Germanist--toward the end she seems almost a kind of Svengali figure, knowing all and directing others. But that can't be the whole story. The episode of the child on the beach that opens the novel, then is mentioned in one of Paul Michel's letters to Foucault, and explained more fully at the end, makes clear that there was a love between her and Paul Michel, both the love of writer and reader, and (a Platonic) love between two people. There is also the mysterious owl, the immediate cause of the fatal accident at the end. Owls are supposed to be wise, and perhaps the idea here is that there are some questions (in this case "I wonder whether she remembers me") that are best left unanswered. Too much knowledge--represented by the owl--can kill as well as enlighten. But that can't be the whole story. The owl also appears in one of Paul Michel's letters to Foucault, and I'm not sure what it is doing there.
Pointing out puzzling elements is not the same as objecting or criticizing. I liked this book. I would definitely recommend it, particularly to anyone interested in writing and the relationship of authors and audience.