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"A disturbingly large amount of theory seems explicitly to undertake the proliferation of only one affect, or maybe two, of whatever kind-- whether ecstasy, sublimity, self-shattering, jouissance, suspicion, abjection, knowingness, horror, grim satisfaction, or righteous indignation. It's like the old joke: "Comes the revolution, Comrade, everyone gets to eat roast beef every day." "But Comrade, I don't like roast beef." "Comes the revolution, Comrade, you'll like roast beef." Comes the revolution, Comrade, you'll be tickled pink by those deconstructive jokes; you'll faint from ennui every minute you're not smashing the state apparatus; you'll definitely want hot sex twenty to thirty times a day. You'll be mournful and militant. You'll never want to tell Deleuze and Guattari, 'Not tonight, dears, I have a headache.'"
(eve sedgwick, touching feeling)

Date: 2008-11-16 07:01 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] agoraphiliac.livejournal.com
I'm reading this book right now; I read it a few years ago, but it means something more to me these days. (ok also I have to read it, for a class.) This is actually the point at which Sedgwick most convinced me--not the revolution joke, which still stings me a bit, but just before that: the one positive affect. It got to me because I recognize it so well, and because I've so enjoyed imitating those theories myself, writing things that end in jouissance or sublimity or joy or whatever (including "whatever" itself, in Agamben).

I also like those parts of the essay where she allows as how strong theories are so broad they can shelter numerous writerly pleasures and numerous "weak theories"--somethimes she seems to mean it, sometimes not.

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