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The Way of the Chameleon in Iser, Beckett, and Yeats: Figuring Death and the Imaginary in"The Fictive and the Imaginary" Author(s): John Paul Riquelme Source: New Literary History, Vol. 31, No. 1, On the Writings of Wolfgang Iser (Winter, 2000),
pp. 57-71Published by: The Johns Hopkins University PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20057587Accessed: 14-03-2015 07:16 UTC
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The Way of the Chameleon in
Iser, Beckett, and Yeats:
Figuring Death and the Imaginary in The Fictive and the Imaginary
John Paul Riquelme
When I try to put it all into a phrase, I say, Man
can embody truth but he cannot know it. I must
embody it in the completion of my life. The
abstract is not life and everywhere draws out its
contradictions. You can refute Hegel but not. . .
the Song of Sixpence. W. B. Yeats, Letter of 4 January 19391
Chameleon in spite of himself, there you have
Molloy, viewed from a certain angle. Samuel Beckett, Molloy2
I. Hodos Chameleontis: Plenitude and Death
In their quite different texts and styles, Samuel Beckett and
Wolfgang Iser follow what Yeats in his autobiography, alluding to
alchemical traditions, calls hodos chameleontis, the way of the chame
leon. Iser takes Beckett up into his own travelling of this path most
obviously when he writes about Beckett's work. The merging of their
paths is particularly arresting in the discussion of Beckett that Iser inserts at a crucial moment in The Fictive and the Imaginary: Charting
Literary Anthropology, which is a work of theoretical speculation, not
literary interpretation. His remarks on Beckett there are a part of his
theoretical discourse rather than a digression from it.
The dual standing of Beckett's works in Iser's writings, as texts for
interpretation and as, in effect, a component in the theorizing, invites
looking through both ends of the telescope: at Beckett through Iser and at Iser through Beckett. Doing so necessarily raises the -issue of the fit between theory and interpretive method, an issue that Iser has been concerned with frequently, most explicitly in his essay "Key Concepts in Current Literary Theory and the Imaginary."3 One hermeneutical fit between theory and literature can come into being when the reader or
New Literary History, 2000, 31: 57-71
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58 NEW LITERARY HISTORY
the writer of a theoretical text brings to the text attitudes generated by
literary works that have themselves contributed to producing the
theoretical text. That fit is possible again when we turn eventually from a theory to the interpretation of literary texts that have contributed to
the theoretical formulations. A dynamic crossover between literary text
and theoretical discourse is likely to be a matter of rhetorical figures and
their implications, not primarily a matter of logical argumentation, whether speculative or interpretative. Looking through both ends of the
telescope can become a kind of binocular vision of a sort that is
potentially self-testing, self-adjusting, and self-correcting. The testing,
adjusting, and correcting are neither a technical matter nor an abstract
one.
The path of the chameleon discernible in both Iser and Beckett is, as
in Heraclitus's fragment about the hodos that is both catahodos and
anahodos, a way up that is also a way down, a way forward that is a way
back, and a response to living, even the end or goal of living, that is also
a response to dying, another kind of end to and of living. Traversing the
path enables looking in two directions. Yeats concludes the section
called Hodos Chameleontis in his autobiographical writings by introducing his theory of masks.4 He takes Oscar Wilde's ideas about masks and
elaborates them into the notion that self and anti-self in the artist are
linked. Wilde expressed the double, antithetical vision that Yeats took
over in his essay "The Truth of Masks," from Intentions, when he says in
the closing
sentences that "A truth in art is that whose contradictory is
also true."5 It is this kind of insight about the simultaneous coexistence
of opposites, with its challenge to Aristotelian logic, that links Beckett
and Iser in ways that make Wilde and Yeats also relevant. Although I do
not pursue such a description here, a coherent sketch of modernism
from Wilde to Beckett could be elaborated from the connections among these writers. Any persuasive description of modernism would have to
take such connections centrally into account.
In The Fictive and the Imaginary, Iser scrutinizes various thinkers'
descriptions of imagination. He does so as part of an attempt to clarify the central role in culture of literary play. His attempt provides access to
the path of the chameleon, as does Yeats's statement about embodying truth but not knowing it and about refuting philosophical arguments
but not poetry. The unsayable, ungraspable character of truth for Yeats,
his reference to death in the ambiguous phrase "completion of my life," the recognition that abstract language is not adequate to express life's
truths, and the suggestion that art can realize those truths more fully than philosophical discourse are all pertinent to reading Iser's work and
Beckett's.
"Completion of my life" in Yeats's statement "I must embody it [truth]
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THE WAY OF THE CHAMELEON 59
in the completion of my life" suggests that life as something partial can
be made complete, presumably by aesthetic means. The artist is capable of bringing life to a state of completion. But "completion of my life" also
suggests my death, which Yeats was contemplating, as a primary way in
which humankind embodies a truth that it can neither know nor
control. Imaginative activity and death bring life to apparently antitheti
cal completions that are, in fact, linked. They are connected because art
responds to and even arises from our shared human experience of
limits, with death as the ultimate form of unavoidable limitation that we
all face.
Iser draws on Beckett to articulate a related view in language quite different from Yeats's ambiguous statement about completion, but he
does so, nevertheless, in a way that invites extension and interpretation
concerning human limits and potentials. In an essay first published in
English over twenty years ago, "The Pattern of Negativity in Beckett's
Prose," Iser comments on the way that Beckett's work reveals "the nature
of man's inescapable limitations" (P51), which involve the retaining of
something within an "insurmountable finiteness" that is the opposite of the finite. He goes on to say: "Herein lies the true significance of
Beckett's negativity, for finiteness means being without alternatives, and
this intolerable condition explodes into an endless productivity" (P51). Iser concludes the essay by asserting that we recognize through Beckett's
achievement that "explanations are not
possible?the most we can do is
experience the unknowable." Iser begins the same commentary by
quoting Sartre's statement that "'concrete negativity
. . . retains for itself
that which it rejects, and is completely colored by it.'" In my Yeatsian
reading of Iser's reading of Beckett, the concrete negativity of Beckett's art involves a
recognition of mortality in a mortal no that permeates his
art's proliferating response to finitude. That response cannot explain
the truth of finitude's unbounded plenitude, but it can evoke and even
embody it. A related evocation and embodiment of finitude's abun dance in The Fictive and the Imaginary emerges in a dense pattern of
figurative language as part of an
apparently abstract discourse.
II. Iser's Figures: Chameleon and Holophrase
In The Fictive and the Imaginary, the phrase "the chameleon of
cognition" occurs prominently as the rubric for the concluding section of the third of six chapters.6 With regard to the book's chapter arrangement, this section is located exactly in the middle. In the third
chapter Iser surveys and comments on ways in which fiction has been thematized in philosophical discourse. He uses the word "protean" in
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60 NEW LITERARY HISTORY
this section, but the chameleon calls attention to itself more emphati
cally because it is mentioned both in the section title, "The Chameleon
of Cognition: Some Conclusions about Fiction," and in the discussion.
The chameleon then apparently vanishes, but in my reading it only
changes color, recurring later in a variety of hues (as the protean,
kaleidoscopes, shifts, transpositions, self-transposings, boundary cross
ings, dual counterings, contraflows) and in numerous oppositional
pairings (decomposition and composition, nullification and enabling, free and instrumental play, and the like). The book's character changes with the introduction of the chameleon, which is an early note of an
eventual crescendo. The change involves Iser's use of the
phrase "the
chameleon of cognition" as a figure for fiction that differs from the
thematizing of fiction in philosophical discourse. Iser's writing has the
appearance of an abstract, cognitive discourse that forms part of a
tradition of philosophical speculation about creativity and culture.
Because many of his terms contribute to a sequence of mutually
illuminating, reciprocally defining figures, they suggest that The Fictive
and the Imaginary is, in fact, not discursive at crucial points. This
nondiscursive quality is one of the truths that the chameleon embodies.
At each of the book's nondiscursive moments, the conceptual implica
tions of the language tend to be emphatically nontotalizing and self
transforming. A particularly clear example
of this tendency occurs at
another important point in the sequence of the book's argument, in the
final pages of the last section, "Staging as Anthropological Category." In
these concluding pages, Iser introduces a curious compound term,
"fractured 'holophrase'" (?T302). The unusual term holophrasedenotes a
single word that stands for a complex of ideas. The term appears three
times in the final two pages, first simply as "'holophrase'" (cited from the
work of Sir Richard Paget), then as "fractured 'holophrase,'" and finally,
in the antepenultimate sentence as "ever-fractured 'holophrase.'"
The
increasingly emphatic repetition marks the maximum moment of the
book's rhetorical and conceptual crescendo.
This is the point in the book's final paragraph at which Iser asserts
that, because "cognitive discourse cannot capture the duality" of staging, "we have literature" (7<7303). If we accept Oscar Wilde's claim that truth
in art involves a doubling,
Iser's statement resembles Yeats's stance in his
letter concerning the difference between philosophy and verse. Iser's
assertion about cognitive discourse is a conclusion that emerges from
the argument that he has pursued for more than three hundred pages. At the same time, in so far as the argument has relied on cognitive discourse, it is an act of stepping back from that argument. The difficulty that Iser faces and acknowledges is one that Beckett notes in the fifty
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THE WAY OF THE CHAMELEON 61
fifth section of /// Seen III Said, where he writes: "How explain it? And
without going so far how say it?"7
Many of the terms in Iser's book, including key phrases such as
"fractured 'holophrase,'" are not
quite at home in
cognitive discourse.
As a consequence, they invite and enable us to recognize something that
the argument cannot itself articulate precisely. The discussion contains
its own figurative supplement that turns out to be a primary way to evoke
the character of the study's subject. The figures "say it," but they do not
"explain it." Any attempt to describe the book's methods and proce dures that does not attend to this supplement is incomplete, since the
supplement is not a distraction or digression from the study but rather an integral part of it. The book's lengthy penultimate paragraph, for
example, is marked by a rhetoric of plasticity and openness that
prepares us for the final statement of the closing paragraph. It includes
unfolding (twice), opening up (twice), exhibition, changing patterns, the mirror of possibilities, luring into shape the fleetingness of the
possible, shifting, transposition, and self-transposing.
"Fractured 'holophrase'" is an important example
not only because of
its placement but because as a trope it pulls
us simultaneously
in two
directions. Iser ascribes related dualities of effect to staging but claims
that cognitive discourse cannot capture them. The term is a compound, antithetical figure. Holophrase is a synecdoche, for it means that one
thing stands for a complex whole, even for a network that we
might
ordinarily understand metonymically as the conjoining of many parts. The adjective fractured, however, qualifies
or even removes the whole
ness. The figure, then, resembles a golden bowl that has been cracked, or Humpty Dumpty, whose fragments are permanently sundered. The
synecdoche (holophrase) that stands for a metonymy (the complex of
ideas) is transformed by "fractured" into an irony (something that is not
identical with itself), or into another metonymy (the fractured parts). No matter whether we understand "fractured" as
creating an
irony or a
metonymy, the synecdoche of holophrase has been countered. In the
compound trope, figures with contrary implications have been con
joined in a way that poses difficulties for cognitive discourse. In this case, it pushes the discourse in directions that it otherwise could not go.
Having climbed as far as possible up the rhetorical and conceptual ladder of cognitive discourse, Iser here kicks off from the top rung.
Iser's chameleon is as puzzling and revealing a figure in its context as "fractured 'holophrase.'" The English word chameleon and its German
cognate come to us through Latin from a Greek root, khamai, which means "on the ground." The Indo-European root dhghem- that stands behind the Greek root gives us various words, all of which refer to the
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62 NEW LITERARY HISTORY
earth, including chthonic (having to do with gods and spirits of the
underworld), autochthon and autochthonic (referring to something sprung from the land itself, something aboriginal or indigenous), humus (a word that evokes decomposition and decay but also renewal and
enabling), inhume and exhume (having to do with burial and its oppo
site), transhumance (the seasonal transfer of livestock from one locale to
another), and finally the word human. These words can help bring Iser's
wide-ranging book into a general focus and throw some light on the
chameleon's status in his discourse and on the chameleonic character of
that discourse.
The large issues in Iser's book are obviously anthropological ones;
they pertain to the question of what it means to be human. He looks into
something that he argues is autochthonous, or indigenous, or aborigi nal, or innate about the human. That intrinsic aspect of the human is for
Iser chameleonic. Transhumance and related matters are elements
sometimes mentioned in pastoral or bucolic literature, which Iser
discusses at length in his writings, including in chapter 2 of The Fictive
and the Imaginary. We can think of the shifting of positions that is
transhumance as a boundary crossing (from one locale to another, one
season to another, one stage of development to another). A boundary
crossing, as Iser uses that term, is the activity of a chameleonic creature.
Inhume and exhume may remind us of the excursus at the end of
chapter 4, which together with the immediately preceding section,
"Interplay between the Fictive and the Imaginary," occupies a place
parallel to the section at the end of chapter 3 involving the chameleon.
These structurally parallel, related closing sections of chapters 3 and 4
concerning the fictive, the imaginary, and Beckett work in tandem in the
crucial late middle of the book's argument. The excursus deals with
Beckett's "Imagination Dead Imagine," which has to do with the
simultaneous inhuming and exhuming of imagination. Beckett's title
captures this double movement if we read it in the way that Iser does as
the imagining of the imagination as dead. The issue of death, called up
explicitly by the title of Beckett's work, in relation to the fictive and the
imaginary is important at various points in Iser's book, including in the
closing of the section immediately preceding the one on interplay. Death
is the chameleon's other, both its opposite and its mutually defining
counterpart. In death we cross a boundary that cannot be recrossed; the
ground claims us. There is no humus in Iser's commentary, but there is
decomposition, and that too brings us back to ground and to mortality.
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THE WAY OF THE CHAMELEON 63
III. Capturing Beckett and Other Imaginary Creatures
Beckett's "Imagination Dead Imagine" holds a surprising place in The
Fictive and the Imaginary. We can understand that place by drawing an
analogy between Iser's work and Lewis Carroll's The Hunting of the Snark.
The analogy has to do with contradictory tendencies and implications within Iser's writings and Beckett's. Iser provides us with a thorough
typology of concepts of the imagination, in effect a periodic table of the
imagination, as it has been conceived in intellectual history; he provides an equally thorough typology of play. The typological tendency is also
evident frequently elsewhere in his writings. In the essay "Representa tion: A Performative Act," for instance, he sketchs the variety of forms
that representation, understood as a process of bridging, can take. His
attempt to map imagination and related aspects of aesthetic experience in the process of "charting" literary anthropology bears comparison to
the chart that the Captain uses in Carroll's poem. In the words of the
crew, that map is "A perfect and absolute blank," as is apparent in the
Ocean chart illustrated in Carroll's text.8
The quality within humanity that Iser attempts to elucidate always eludes capture, except to the extent that, through
a reaching that
exceeds our grasp, we conceive of it and express its character as
inherently double and antithetical. Dual in character, imagination, a
strange compound like Carroll's snark (snake/shark), avoids capture by our usual conventions for mapping positions. Carroll's illustration
presents the snark's location as a fluid one in an ocean that cannot be
adequately framed because there are no landmarks. Its fluidity is countered by its opposite, a frame based on assumptions about
determinacy and positive knowledge that helps make fluidity recogniz able for what it is through a conjunction that in turn allows for
recognition of the frame's dimensions by comparison with all that the frame is not. Like cognitive discourse, the frame, which sets limits, has its limitations. The blank space that represents the ocean in Carroll's text,
like the various blanks, gaps, and other indeterminate openings that Iser identifies in his writings about aesthetic response, stimulates our imagi
native activity and resists easy explanation. It is rendered in the poem's language by details that present the conflation of opposites. The
Captain, for
example, instructs the helmsman to "Steer to starboard, but
keep her head larboard." In the hunting process, the vessel is "snarked" when "the bowsprit got mixed with the rudder sometimes." The way forward has become the way back. To be "snarked" can be both to be
misled by the attempt to follow the snark's path and to participate in its character.
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64
NORTH
NEW LITERARY HISTORY
EQUATOR
Scale of Milts.
From The Hunting of the Snark, "Fit the Second.'
Ocean chart
The literal blank in Carroll's poem, one of the few in the history of literature accompanied by an illustration, finds its counterpart and
opposite in the black page of Laurence Sterne's Tristram Shandy, a text about which Iser has written extensively.9 The emptiness of that page is of another kind, though it resists explanation as persistently as the unchartable ocean.
This other unusual instance of a literal textual blank does not
represent the fluidity and life of an imaginary creature who cannot be
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THE WAY OF THE CHAMELEON 65
From Tristram Shandy, Ch. 12.
captured and whose location cannot be mapped. It represents instead a
heart of darkness that remains perpetually to be mapped by those who
attempt to explore its precincts. This literal emptiness and silence
respond to the death of Yorick, a double for Tristram, who narrates his own story in a vain but determined attempt to capture the shape, direction, and meaning of his own life. Taken together these illustra tions provide a conjunction like that of the yin and the yang. The limitless plasticity of imagination that comes into focus as a kind of blank and duality when we attempt to frame it is matched and reversed by the
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66 NEW LITERARY HISTORY
fact of death as both an unalterable limit in human experience and a
motive for the workings of imagination. Iser allows various islands to float into the cognitive grids by which he
maps the imagination. Central among these is "Imagination Dead
Imagine." But the result of his doing so resembles Robert Graves's
poem, "Warning to Children," in which the opening of a box on an
island reveals a simulacrum of the scene in which the original box was
placed. Because of the nature of play, the box has to be opened, in spite of the warning that accompanies it. A related, potentially endless,
nesting and repetition of elements occurs in Jan Potocki's film, The
Sarragosso Manuscript, which Tzvetan Todorov discusses in The Fantastic.
When Iser turns to "Imagination Dead Imagination" in his "Excursus" on Beckett and "Fantasy Literature," he engages a literary text that
conjoins opposites in chiastic patterns of oscillation and recursion. The
linking of imagination and death in Beckett's work involves a spiraling process in which the imagination is invited to imagine itself as dead; in
effect, to imagine death. The details of the text frequently take the form
of chiasmus, a rhetorical structure marked by repetition and reversal.
Chiasmus occurs as a rhetorical figure and structurally in the work, for
example, in the movement of "resuming, or
reversing," and in "the rise
now fall, the fall rise" of light and heat, as both recede and return "till
the initial level is reached whence the fall began."11 Two
figures, a man and a woman, are described in a structure
presented geometrically that resembles the form of the yin and the yang. This human yin and yang consists of "partners" both lying "On their
right sides" "back to back head to arse" (184) .The narrator describes
them as if inscribed in a circle that is intelligible as part of a mathemati
cal "proof." Each is "inscribed" in a "semicircle" defined by identifiable
points, ACB and ADB. The description recalls the positions of Leopold and Molly Bloom, with Leopold's head at the foot of the bed, at the end
of the "Ithaca" episode and in the "Penelope" episode of Ulysses. The
geometrical figure also recalls Joyce's geometrical construction in the
"Schoolroom" episode of Finnegans Wake, a construction that alludes to
Yeats's presentation of the gyres graphically in A Vision as a way to
understand the deaths and births of civilizations. But Beckett's structure
is also Heraclitus's stream, since within it we experience "never twice the
same storm." A related experience of difference and doubling is made
possible by Beckett's language. The diagram, as in Joyce's schoolroom
and Yeats's prophetic writings, is part of a "proof," but more precisely it
is "world still proof against enduring tumult." It is stillness set against tumult, that is, in antagonistic relation to tumult and physically set
against a background that can be called tumult. But the proof is "still," both continuing and dead. This world as proof provides an argument
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THE WAY OF THE CHAMELEON 67
against the "enduring" character of tumult. "Enduring," however, can be
a present participai
rather than an adjective.
As a consequence, the
proof's validity has to be judged against the fact that we continue
"enduring tumult." On the one hand, we have a "world" that is still, but
it is also whirled still in a tumult that is rendered as a situation with limits
but whose oscillations are aleatory and unpredictable in character. Like
a M?bius strip or the surface of a sphere, the text's space and the
character of the experience evoked in it are finite but unbounded. As
Iser says in his essay on Beckett's negativity, we are faced with an
apparent lack of alternatives but also with the possibility of "endless
productivity." The yin and the yang and its avatars have a place in Iser's writings
from his early publications in English to the much later The Fictive and
the Imaginary with its double, antithetical formulations and figures. The
yin and the yang are implicit as early as Iser's influential 1971 essay
"Indeterminacy and the Reader's Response in Prose Fiction" in his
reference to the work of Rudolf Arnheim (.P36). The essay by Arnheim
that Iser cites there concerns the perceptual analysis of the tai chi tuan, or yin and yang, as a symbol for interaction.12 In his later writings about
creativity, like Beckett in "Imagination Dead Imagine," Iser turns to
structures of interaction presented as doublings and oppositions in
order to map the way new things come into being in human experience. Beckett himself reflects on how writing comes into being in various
works in ways that provide a counterpart and perhaps
even an inspira
tion for some of Iser's insights and discursive strategies. "Company," for
example, can be understood as a text about "devising
it all for company"
(NO 33), producing works for an audience, who are invited as company, and for performers,
who are a company of actors, but also to keep the
writer company in an act of doubling involving resemblance and
reversal. Beckett's representations of the creative act lend themselves at
times to being understood and inscribed as a version of the yin and the
yang. This is so in "Company" when the narrator presents his character
"feeling the need for company again" and telling "himself to call the
hearer M at least": "Himself some other character. W." (NO SI). Rather
than psychological presences, these characters are characters of the
alphabet. In "Company," Beckett could have presented M and W, like
the figures in "Imagination Dead Imagine," as man and woman, but male
pronouns are applied
to both. "W" could be writer, whose creature "M,"
perhaps W's me, is his double, though orthographically inverted in a
curious mirroring. The orthographical inversion but identical shapes of
M and W as they are presented in this context encourages their
representation as a version of the tai chi tuan:
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68 NEW LITERARY HISTORY
"Devising it all himself included for company," the character W speaks of his devised character M as if it were himself: "He says further to
himself referring to himself, When last he referred to himself it was to
say he was in the same dark as his creature" (NO 31). Being in the dark
in this text is both a literal situation and the position of not knowing where or who we are. Out of that position, there emerges the recogni
tion that there is "no improvement" (NO 33) likely but that there are
questions to be asked and statements to be added. The questions give rise not to answers of a determinate sort but to ambiguities, indetermi
nacies, and openness. One of these questions involves the possibility of
choosing: "Could he now if he chose move out of the dark he chose
when last heard of and away from his creature into another?" (NO 31
32). Whether this is the narrator's report of the characters thoughts or
a question the narrator raises about W, it is not clear if the language concerns
moving into another "creature" or into another "dark." In
effect, it leaves us in the dark. Because M is characterized by
"unnamability" and the fact that "M must go," "W reminds himself of his
creature" (NO 33). The ambiguous language suggests that W remembers
his creature, whose qualities he has temporarily forgotten and must
remind himself of, and that he resembles M, who reminds him of
himself. Finally, in this process of the "Devised deviser devising it all for
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THE WAY OF THE CHAMELEON 69
company," W is "In the same figment dark as his figments" and "for good not yet devised" (NO 33). His permanent state is to be "for good," or
always, in an unfinished condition, and that situation, which involves
being in the dark, is beneficial, or "for good," as a condition of perpetual
potential.
Play's doubled, self-differentiating, self-transforming character, as
literature realizes it, is its chameleonic quality. Chameleons change color under certain circumstances, including
to protect themselves from
enemies, to attract mates, or to threaten rivals, but probably not as a
matter of play or performance in the way that we would predicate play or performance of humans. Human play includes the alliterative play with language by children. At age nine my son Victor told me about "the
chameleon's curious color-changing capabilities." The echoic language of writers (devised deviser devising) is also a matter of play, as is the use
of chameleons, or ground lions, to describe fiction's relation to
cogni
tion, a relation that includes echo-like doublings. Fiction is the chame
leon of cognition. It refuses to maintain a singular shape
to accommo
date abstract attempts to define it by cognitive discourse, which threatens
it. Iser's discourse, which is not narrowly cognitive, changes its rhetorical
colors so that this unnamable creature will not disappear entirely from
view.
IV. The Chameleon as Translation
Iser's discourse is a matter of translation, as is Beckett's writing. The
writing process for both involves translation. As with Beckett's works, Iser's exist in two versions, neither of which takes precedence
over the
other. Each text has a double with which it is not identical, though the
doubles are counterparts, like W and M. The Fictive and the Imaginary is a
work of theory, but it is also a form of practice in various ways, including the practice of translation. It is constituted by translation in a transitive
way through the act that turned a German text into an English one. And
it includes various kinds of intransitive translations, or crossings-over.
One of the boundary crossings, death, puts an end to those preceding it,
against whose enduring tumult we understand it imperfectly. It is the last
translation in the sense of final and not just previous. The word chameleon is itself a translation of two Assyrian words, nes
qaqqari, that mean ground lion; that is, the figure in the middle of Iser's
translated book is already the result of a boundary crossing, for it rests
on an attempt to render literally into Greek a phrase from Assyrian that
was already complexly figurative, simultaneously metonymical (next to
the earth) and metaphorical (like a lion). I would speculate that the
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70 NEW LITERARY HISTORY
word is a kind of diminutive that combines terror and play, tragedy and
comedy, which for Wilde constitute together the truth of masks and of art. As with a child's stuffed animal, the chameleon looks fierce, like a
lion, but its threats and its potential are of a different order. This fused and already translated figure typifies Iser's book, literally a work in
translation whose language is dual in its fusion of cognitive discourse with complex figurations. The book's chameleonic character linguisti
cally and rhetorically embodies but does not explain its subject. Beckett once said of Finnegans Wake that it was not "about something" but was
instead "that something itself." Iser's book may be as close an enactment
of its subject as anyone is likely to achieve by means of language that is
ostensibly discursive. The study's own processes and terms become a
staging of its subject. At the end of the section that deals with
"Imagination Dead Imagine," Iser remarks that "only language that consumes itself can give articulation to the imaginary" (FI246). He has Beckett in mind, but in another mode The Fictive and the Imaginary is itself an
example of that self-consuming articulation.
One point that Iser makes repeatedly is that the fictive is groundless, that it has no substratum and is not a substratum. He says that in the
section that refers to the chameleon, and he makes the claim emphati
cally for the fictive, for the imaginary, and for play in the last two sections
of chapter 5. His subject is a groundless chameleon, a lion of the ground that has no
ground, that subsists on a kind of air, as chameleons
traditionally were thought to do. Rather than a debilitating contradic
tion, we have here a duality that marks the need for staging and defies
cognitive unraveling. Like "Imagination Dead Imagine," the groundless chameleon is a truth in art, in this case a truth of and about anthropo
logical tendencies.
Humankind is a groundless
creature that finds itself on the ground, in
the midst of multiple translations that have a singular end. It embodies
truth but does not know it as it changes forms through performance,
including the performance of translation and other echoic, boundary
crossing processes. The interplay of fictive and imaginary that produces
proliferating possibilities is living, but its apparently endlessly changing character is no more knowable or namable than a creature of the
ground who has no ground. Endless change in this context responds to
and vivifies a life that changes because it is mortal, the human always on
its way to becoming humus. Is the chameleon a figure of living or of
dying? The answer is surely yes. Is it possible to "refute" Iser, as Yeats says we can "refute Hegel," on abstract grounds? Section 33 of "111 Seen 111
Said" provides an answer: "Was it ever over and done with
questions? . . .
Over and done with answering. With not being able. With not being able
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THE WAY OF THE CHAMELEON 71
not to want to know. With not being able. No. Never. A dream. Question answered" (NO 70).
Boston University
NOTES
Renderings of the navigational chart, the black page, and the yin and yang were produced
by Marie-Anne Verougstraete, whose work I acknowledge with gratitude. 1 W. B. Yeats, The Letters ofW. B. Yeats, ed. Allan Wade (New York, 1955), p. 922.
2 Samuel Beckett, Molloy, in Three Novels (1959; New York, 1965), p. 30.
3 Wolfgang Iser, Prospecting: From Reader Response to Literary Anthropology (Baltimore,
1989), pp. 215-35; hereafter cited in text as P.
4 W. B. Yeats, The Autobiography of William Butler Yeats (New York, 1965), pp. 183-84.
5 Oscar Wilde, The Artist as Critic: Critical Writings of Oscar Wilde, ed. Richard Ellmann
(1969; Chicago, 1982), p. 432.
6 Wolfgang Iser, The Fictive and the Imaginary: Charting Literary Anthropology (Baltimore,
1993), p. 164; hereafter cited in text as FI.
7 Samuel Beckett, Nohow On: Company, III Seen III Said, Worstward Ho (New York, 1996), p.
83; hereafter cited in text as NO.
8 All citations from Carroll's poem are from "Fit the Second, The Bellman's Speech," The Annotated Snark: The Full Text of Lewis Carroll's Great Nonsense Epic The Hunting of the
Snark and the Original Illustrations by Henry Holiday, ed. Martin Gardner (New York, 1962),
pp. 47-52.
9 Laurence Sterne, The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy (New York, 1967).
10 Tzvetan Todorov, The Fantastic: A Structural Approach to a Literary Genre, tr. Richard
Howard (Ithaca, N.Y., 1975), pp. 27-31.
11 Samuel Beckett, "Imagination Dead Imagine," in The Complete Short Prose, 1929-1989,
ed. S. E. Gontarski (New York, 1995), p. 183; hereafter cited in text.
12 Rudolf Arnheim, "Perceptual Analysis of a Symbol of Interaction," in Toward a
Psychology of Art (Berkeley, 1966), pp. 222-44.
13 Samuel Beckett, "Dante . . . Bruno. Vico . . .Joyce," in Our Exagmination Round His
Factification for Incamination of Work in Progress (London, 1936), p. 14.
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