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Foucault's Bad Angels of History

Foucault's Bad Angels of History Foucault’s Bad Angels of History Lynne Huffer Do not believe everything I say. . . . Look for multiple, resistant, rhizomatic readings. This is not the text I intended to produce, and it is not the same as the text you are reading. Read the white spaces, hear the silences, peer into the shadows, look beyond the margins. Reach for “[t]hat voice at the edge of things.” I am there as well. —Juana María Rodríguez What I put into words is no longer my possession. —Susan Howe In Mad for Foucault, I make much of the Foucauldian image of book-as- firecracker, bomb, or little explosion, something that lights up for a moment and then disappears into the series of events to which it belongs. If we take this seriously, it amounts to saying, as Rodríguez implies: there are multiple books here, or multiple bits of book, swirling through the ether like meteors. But if we think we might still find the “I” who wrote it, even “at the edge of things”—“I am there as well,” Rodríguez says, in the spaces, the silences, and the shadows of the book—that “I” is fractured and dispossessed: “What I put into words is http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png philoSOPHIA State University of New York Press

Foucault's Bad Angels of History

philoSOPHIA , Volume 1 (2) – Jun 5, 2012

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Publisher
State University of New York Press
ISSN
2155-0905

Abstract

Foucault’s Bad Angels of History Lynne Huffer Do not believe everything I say. . . . Look for multiple, resistant, rhizomatic readings. This is not the text I intended to produce, and it is not the same as the text you are reading. Read the white spaces, hear the silences, peer into the shadows, look beyond the margins. Reach for “[t]hat voice at the edge of things.” I am there as well. —Juana María Rodríguez What I put into words is no longer my possession. —Susan Howe In Mad for Foucault, I make much of the Foucauldian image of book-as- firecracker, bomb, or little explosion, something that lights up for a moment and then disappears into the series of events to which it belongs. If we take this seriously, it amounts to saying, as Rodríguez implies: there are multiple books here, or multiple bits of book, swirling through the ether like meteors. But if we think we might still find the “I” who wrote it, even “at the edge of things”—“I am there as well,” Rodríguez says, in the spaces, the silences, and the shadows of the book—that “I” is fractured and dispossessed: “What I put into words is

Journal

philoSOPHIAState University of New York Press

Published: Jun 5, 2012

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