To mention what is called the “Silk Routes” today is to evoke more than two thousand years of history on two continents, Europe and Asia. Naturally, over such a long period and such vast territories, hundreds of products were transported, exchanged, stolen, conquered, transferred, in short, from one country to another. For some of these products, the very source of the raw materials and the techniques of production themselves were transferred.Everyone knows that the Chinese invented paper, printing, gunpowder and the (...) compass—great technological advances; as for the last three, their transmission throughout the world goes back only to the Crusades, which is quite recent. Here we are interested in transfers that are less known and more ancient, the most ancient for which precise records exist, starting from the time of the “opening” of the silk routes, which, according to Chinese classical history, was during the second century B.C. We shall stop around the eleventh century A.D., at the time of the Sung dynasty. This period includes the two most interesting epochs, in our opinion, in the history of the exchanges on these routes: the Han dynasty (from 206 B.C. to 220 A.D.) and the Tang dynasty (618-907), epochs whose time frames encompass the Western Roman empire, the Eastern Roman empire, the kou-chau empire, Sassanid Persia, and the first centuries of Islam. (shrink)

À l’occasion de la sortie de son dernier livre, dont la traduction française paraît sous le titre Et ainsi de suite. La régression à l’infini et comment l’interrompre, Paolo Virno revient avec Michel Valensi sur sa trajectoire philosophique issue de la pensée opéraïste des années 1970. Entre poker et geste d’interruption, entre philosophie analytique et théorie politique, l’entretien montre comment une certaine réflexion linguistique peut contribuer à une politique subversive.

The « Editions de l’Éclat » have taken on the challenge of making available online, in full-text, a significant proportion of the books included in their catalogue. If this hasn’t hurt them sofa, it is no doubt because the book as an object still has a strong appeal, in spite of the conveniences of the digital version. At the same time, the Internet opens new possibilities for the circulation of texts, induces new reading practices, and could soon force itself into (...) the lives of all publishers as the only means to ensure their survival. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reading Bataille: The Invention of the FootLucette Finas (bio)Translated by Nelly Furman (bio)§ 1. Certainly, I wrote Le mort before the spring of 1944. This text must have been composed probably in 1943, not before. I do not know where I wrote it, in Normandy (end of 1942), in Paris in December 1942, or during the first three months of 1943; at Vézelay, from March to October 1943? Or (...) in Paris from November ‘43 to the spring of ‘44? Perhaps even at Samois from April to June. Or even perhaps in Paris on Cour de Rohan during the winter of ‘43–‘44. I can no longer remember. I am certain only of having recopied Le mort so as to sell a small number of manuscripts before June 1944 (as I am certain that I wrote this text after the spring of 1942, a time at which I fell ill; and even at the earliest during my stay in Normandy from September to November ‘42).§ 2. In any case, there is the closest relationship between Le mort and the stay in Normandy of the tubercular patient that I was; in Normandy, not far from the village of Tilly (which I name Quilly in Le mort). The inn of Quilly is in fact the inn of Tilly; 1 the woman innkeeper, the one from Tilly. I invented the other details, with the exception of the rain that wouldn’t stop in October or November ‘42. With the exception also of the very dark night when Julie knocked at the door of the inn? I can no longer even remember if I slept in this inn? It seems to me that yes. I believe furthermore that in the room there were two or three farmhands in gummed rubber boots and even a player piano. Whatever it was, it was sinister, and beyond measure. Finally, it is certain that the atmosphere of Tilly’s inn suggested to me the one of the inn of Le mort. I am also almost certain—in the end—that I slept—alone—in this place that terrified me.§ 3. The rest is linked to the frenzied sexual arousal in which I was during November’s extravagance; in my almost total solitude, I lived then not far from Tilly, but we lived apart, a kilometer from one another, a beautiful girl, my mistress, and I; I was ill, in an obscure state of depression, of horror, and of arousal. It is difficult to imagine the mud of the rough small roads where I traveled, without the right footwear, on a bicycle. Then, I ate most of my meals, but alone, with farmers.§ 4. I remember in particular having heard one day a plane whose engine sputtered [avait des ratés]. The noise of the engine was followed by a violent shock. I took my bicycle. I ended up finding the place where this German plane had fallen. It was burning in the middle of an immense orchard (apple trees); several trees were calcinated, and three or four dead, thrown around the plane, were spread out on the grass. At some distance, in the valley of the Seine, an Englishman had probably just shot down this enemy plane that could only crash at some distance. The foot of one of the Germans was bared [dénudé], the sole of the shoe having been torn away. The heads of the dead, it seems to me, were shapeless. The flames must have touched them; this foot alone was intact. It was [End Page 97] the only human thing belonging to a body, and its nakedness, having become earthen, was inhuman: the heat of the blaze had transfigured it; this thing was neither baked nor calcinated: in the upper [l’empeigne] with no sole of the shoe, it was diabolical: but no, it was unreal, stripped naked [dénudée], indecent to the highest degree. I remained motionless for a long time that day, for this naked foot was looking at me.§ 5. [The truth, I believe, has only one face: that of a violent denial. Truth has nothing in common with allegorical figures, with figures of naked women: but... (shrink)

Paris is firing all its ammunition into the August night. Against a vast backdrop of water and stone, on both sides of a river awash with history, freedom's barricades are once again being erected. Once again justice must be redeemed with men's blood.Albert Camus wrote these words in August 1944, as Paris was being liberated from German occupation. Although best known for his novels including The Stranger and The Plague, it was his vivid descriptions of the horrors of the occupation (...) and his passionate defense of freedom that in fact launched his public fame. Now, for the first time in English, Camus at 'Combat' presents all of Camus' World War II resistance and early postwar writings published in Combat, the resistance newspaper where he served as editor-in-chief and editorial writer between 1944 and 1947. These 165 articles and editorials show how Camus' thinking evolved from support of a revolutionary transformation of postwar society to a wariness of the radical left alongside his longstanding strident opposition to the reactionary right. These are poignant depictions of issues ranging from the liberation, deportation, justice for collaborators, the return of POWs, and food and housing shortages, to the postwar role of international institutions, colonial injustices, and the situation of a free press in democracies. The ideas that shaped the vision of this Nobel-prize winning novelist and essayist are on abundant display. More than fifty years after the publication of these writings, they have lost none of their force. They still speak to us about freedom, justice, truth, and democracy. (shrink)

La 4e de couv. indique : "La destinée d'Éliane Amado Lévy-Valensi est unique. Cette philosophe, psychanalyste et intellectuelle juive a longtemps fait figure d'héroïne occultée d'une époque qu'elle a pourtant marquée de ses batailles avec ténacité, générosité et constance. Le cours de sa vie et ses engagements audacieux ont conditionné son œuvre et accompagné les soubresauts d'un XXe siècle fécond entre désespoir et espérances. Née en Provence au lendemain du Premier Conflit mondial dans une famille de Juifs séfarades assimilés, (...) elle subit la Shoah de plein fouet avant de céder au chant des sirènes du jeune Israël. Cet essai rend justice à la mémoire d'une femme libre et engagée, philosophe et psychanalyste, dont l'œuvre pluridisciplinaire mérite admiration et reconnaissance.". (shrink)

Lucette's suicide left me indifferent. This time I knew it was coming, but years ago, when I first read Ada, or Ardor, I also felt relatively indifferent (apart from the element of surprise) to learn about her sudden death. I was aware of my indifference at the time and was surprised at my (non)reaction. It surprised me yet again in my recent rereading of the novel. Manipulating and withholding the reader's engagement with the text and empathy toward a character (...) may have been part of the author's intention, of course. But for me, this lack of emotional engagement with Lucette's fate is emblematic of what I find problematic in Nabokov's admittedly brilliant novel: though intellectually challenging and aesthetically pleasing, Ada (unlike Lolita, for example) is not emotionally engaging. Of course, not all readers find such engagement an important feature of the reading experience, but I do. For this reader, its absence makes Ada (both with and without the italics) a gorgeous but empty shell.Ada's reader, activated by an urge to dig out buried clues, finds that deciphering a clue—aside from the joy to which it may give rise—contributes little to the characters’ reality, to the breadth and depth of their fictional humanity. Instead, Van and Ada remain, throughout the novel, more superhuman than human, endowed with almost supernatural excellences and perfections (their intellect, their looks, their way of life, their unique capacities and skills). Nabokov's heroes indeed bring to mind Nietzsche's Übermensch and the philosopher's critique of traditional ethics. It seems to me that his view of what constitutes human greatness is echoed in the charismatic figures of Van and Ada, whose outlook—an outlook privileging virtues such as aestheticism, intelligence, individuality, and human “greatness”—appears to embody a Nietzschean revaluation of values, privileging an aesthetic outlook on morality. As an amateur of Nabokov, therefore, I was surprised to see that very little has been written about this Nietzschean presence in Ada. An aesthetic revaluation of values is, however, what Ada delivers. As Michael Wood observes, “Nabokov would have hated the association [of his own name with Nietzsche's], but... the connection is not arbitrary.”While this association—whether it was intentional or not—surely contributes to the novel's intellectual breadth and complexity, it adds nothing to the psychology of its main characters. Instead, Van and Ada's übermenschliche qualities—their human “greatness”—seem to be inborn, part of their aristocratic nature, rather than acquired through transformative struggle. I suspect that it is this lack of transformation in the characters that undermines the reader's engagement with their fate. This lack makes Nabokov's family chronicle much less memorable than Tolstoy's.In the first sentence of Ada (“All happy families are more or less dissimilar; all unhappy ones are more or less alike”), Nabokov parodies by reversing the famous first sentence of Anna Karenina and thereby, as Robert Alter argues, reverses “the major thematic movement of the novel as a genre”: whereas Tolstoy's novel concerns lost illusions, Ada “is an attempt to return to paradise.” Nabokov's swing away from Tolstoy is startling and impressive but fails to convince me that the paradise inhabited by the happy Veens is superior to the lost illusions of the Karenins. Even in death, Anna is more alive than Ada. (shrink)