{"title":"Actual Willful Man: Olson in His Own Words","authors":"J. Bartlett","doi":"10.17077/0743-2747.1006","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.17077/0743-2747.1006","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":205691,"journal":{"name":"Iowa Journal of Literary Studies","volume":"37 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"1900-01-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"121032348","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"Hagar and Ishmael","authors":"A. Hudgins","doi":"10.17077/0743-2747.1079","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.17077/0743-2747.1079","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":205691,"journal":{"name":"Iowa Journal of Literary Studies","volume":"24 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"1900-01-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"114940440","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"A Feminist Vindication of Mary Wollstonecraft","authors":"J. Monroe","doi":"10.17077/0743-2747.1247","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.17077/0743-2747.1247","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":205691,"journal":{"name":"Iowa Journal of Literary Studies","volume":"125 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"1900-01-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"128664954","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
My W IFE’S FRENCH poodle, Fifi, got its little paw stuck in the trigger of my new gun. The first thing I saw when I came back into the living room was the tiny white mutt up on the coffee table, fiercely shaking its foot, the shining blue-black .44 caliber pistol attached and pointing my way. “Holy Jesus!” I said. I hit the deck as the gun went off. There was a wicked splintering of the doorframe just over my head and a yelp as the pooch flew off and landed on the sofa with a dull thud. I started to get up, saying “Easy now, Fifi, take it easy—” but the dog was out of its mind, jerking the gun violently and turning towards me for help. I dove behind the easy chair as two bullets pumped into the tv and it blew up in a shower of glass. Maggie came running into the room and I screamed at her to dive. She did, instinctively, just as two more shots fired: the glass-pedestal lamp exploded with a puff of electricity, and the back of her grandmother’s oak rocker split into pieces. “What the!” shouted Maggie. “Dog’s got a gun!” I shouted back. I took a deep breath and wondered if I could get the drop on Fifi and snatch the gun away from her. Peeking out from behind the chair, I quickly ruled this out. Fifi was manic, flailing herself against the arm of the sofa. I counted back and realized there was only one bullet left. It went off through the arm of the sofa—tufts of stuffing spraying ou t—and angled up into my typewriter on the small desk in the corner. There was a moment of silence, then the pattering of keys on the wooden floor. I stood up slowly, eyes riveted on Fifi. It was a frightening sight. The dog didn’t even look like a dog anymore, she was a whimpering white hairball, shoved back between the cushions of the couch, her leg shattered almost as badly as her mind. Maggie stood up hesitantly, looking around the room with wide eyes. She tried to speak, but her lips puckered soundlessly, like a fish.
{"title":"New Wave Gun","authors":"Dennis Johnson","doi":"10.17077/0743-2747.1234","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.17077/0743-2747.1234","url":null,"abstract":"My W IFE’S FRENCH poodle, Fifi, got its little paw stuck in the trigger of my new gun. The first thing I saw when I came back into the living room was the tiny white mutt up on the coffee table, fiercely shaking its foot, the shining blue-black .44 caliber pistol attached and pointing my way. “Holy Jesus!” I said. I hit the deck as the gun went off. There was a wicked splintering of the doorframe just over my head and a yelp as the pooch flew off and landed on the sofa with a dull thud. I started to get up, saying “Easy now, Fifi, take it easy—” but the dog was out of its mind, jerking the gun violently and turning towards me for help. I dove behind the easy chair as two bullets pumped into the tv and it blew up in a shower of glass. Maggie came running into the room and I screamed at her to dive. She did, instinctively, just as two more shots fired: the glass-pedestal lamp exploded with a puff of electricity, and the back of her grandmother’s oak rocker split into pieces. “What the!” shouted Maggie. “Dog’s got a gun!” I shouted back. I took a deep breath and wondered if I could get the drop on Fifi and snatch the gun away from her. Peeking out from behind the chair, I quickly ruled this out. Fifi was manic, flailing herself against the arm of the sofa. I counted back and realized there was only one bullet left. It went off through the arm of the sofa—tufts of stuffing spraying ou t—and angled up into my typewriter on the small desk in the corner. There was a moment of silence, then the pattering of keys on the wooden floor. I stood up slowly, eyes riveted on Fifi. It was a frightening sight. The dog didn’t even look like a dog anymore, she was a whimpering white hairball, shoved back between the cushions of the couch, her leg shattered almost as badly as her mind. Maggie stood up hesitantly, looking around the room with wide eyes. She tried to speak, but her lips puckered soundlessly, like a fish.","PeriodicalId":205691,"journal":{"name":"Iowa Journal of Literary Studies","volume":"46 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"1900-01-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"123811997","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Depression (in all its forms, from neurotic depression to melancholia) is as mysterious as it is widespread and everyday. Why do depressives continually intoxicate themselves with bottomless, incommunicable sorrow? Physicians assure us that depression is primarily a physiolog ical disorder. Psychoanalysis finds the sources of depression tucked away in the niches of our memories, conscious and unconscious. In a curiously nonpolemical argument which looks to medicine as well as psychoanalysis for answers and refuses to see these two discourses as exclusive and diametrically opposed, Kristeva elaborates in Black Sun a theory of depression which builds upon and departs from the insights of Freud. Although she recommends the use of chemical anti-depressants to a point at which psychotherapeutic work becomes possible, Kristeva sees depression not as an illness to be corrected with drugs, but as a discourse to be listened to and analyzed. This perspective on depression is, of course, Freudian. The psycho analytic theory of Freud and Melanie Klein concludes that depression conceals a hatred toward a lost love object, usually the mother of infancy. Through the mechanism of identification, the depressive’s aggression is directed away from the object and inward on the self, resulting in self-hatred and cannibalistic fantasies of a cut up but regained lost object. The treatment of depression, according to Freud, requires a bringing to consciousness that the devalorization of oneself is actually an unconscious hatred of the other. With this recognition there must also be a naming of the sexual desire which underpins that hatred. Freudian psychoanalysis is central to Black Sun. Nevertheless, Kristeva’s work moves her beyond this initial psychoanalytic under standing of depression as the concealed hatred of a lost love object.
{"title":"Black Sun: Depression and Melancholia by Julia Kristeva","authors":"G. Eiselein","doi":"10.17077/0743-2747.1371","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.17077/0743-2747.1371","url":null,"abstract":"Depression (in all its forms, from neurotic depression to melancholia) is as mysterious as it is widespread and everyday. Why do depressives continually intoxicate themselves with bottomless, incommunicable sorrow? Physicians assure us that depression is primarily a physiolog ical disorder. Psychoanalysis finds the sources of depression tucked away in the niches of our memories, conscious and unconscious. In a curiously nonpolemical argument which looks to medicine as well as psychoanalysis for answers and refuses to see these two discourses as exclusive and diametrically opposed, Kristeva elaborates in Black Sun a theory of depression which builds upon and departs from the insights of Freud. Although she recommends the use of chemical anti-depressants to a point at which psychotherapeutic work becomes possible, Kristeva sees depression not as an illness to be corrected with drugs, but as a discourse to be listened to and analyzed. This perspective on depression is, of course, Freudian. The psycho analytic theory of Freud and Melanie Klein concludes that depression conceals a hatred toward a lost love object, usually the mother of infancy. Through the mechanism of identification, the depressive’s aggression is directed away from the object and inward on the self, resulting in self-hatred and cannibalistic fantasies of a cut up but regained lost object. The treatment of depression, according to Freud, requires a bringing to consciousness that the devalorization of oneself is actually an unconscious hatred of the other. With this recognition there must also be a naming of the sexual desire which underpins that hatred. Freudian psychoanalysis is central to Black Sun. Nevertheless, Kristeva’s work moves her beyond this initial psychoanalytic under standing of depression as the concealed hatred of a lost love object.","PeriodicalId":205691,"journal":{"name":"Iowa Journal of Literary Studies","volume":"21 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"1900-01-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"123521907","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"Looking into the Sun","authors":"L. Bienen","doi":"10.17077/0743-2747.1342","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.17077/0743-2747.1342","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":205691,"journal":{"name":"Iowa Journal of Literary Studies","volume":"24 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"1900-01-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"121292994","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
京公网安备 11010802042870号
京ICP备2023020795号-1
扫码关注我们
求助内容：
应助结果提醒方式：