spivak - world systems & the creole

Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak is Avalon Foundation Professor in the Humanities and Director of theCenter for Comparative Literature and Society at Columbia University. Her publications include In OtherWorlds (1987), Outside in the Teaching Machine (1993), Toward a Critique of Postcolonial Reason(1999). Her translations include Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology (1976); and many titles, short andlong, by Mahasweta Devi, from 1981 to 2004. In press with Harvard is Red Thread.

NARRATIVE, Vol. 14, No. 6 (January 2006)Copyright 2006 by The Ohio State University

DIALOGUE

WORLD SYSTEMS & THE CREOLE

GAYATRI CHAKRAVORTY SPIVAK

I am delighted to have been asked to respond to this important and excitingpaper. I want to sketch out the broad points of solidarity between Professor Dimockand myself and then point to some suggestions for the kind of future work that canarise out of so rich an undertaking.

First I would like to express solidarity vis--vis Franco Moretti: I would like,Professor Dimock writes, to caution against what strikes me as [Morettis] over-commitment to general laws, to global postulates operating at some remove from thephenomenal world of particular texts. This resonates with what I wrote in Death ofA Discipline, although I was, admittedly, a little stronger: The worlds systems theo-rists upon whom Moretti relies . . . are . . . useless for literary studythat must de-pend on texture (108).1 Thanks to initiatives such as Professor Dimocks, we canbegin to emphasize the altogether obvious point: in order to do distant reading onemust be an excellent close reader, as both Wai Chee Dimock and Fredric Jamesonmake abundantly clear.

I also find interesting Professor Dimocks idea that the epic is a cross-overphenomenon. I would like to go on record as joining in this, beyond simply notingthe kind of intertextuality where a modern text clearly alludes to an ancient one, en-coding the temporal within the lexical, in Professor Dimocks lovely words. I sug-gested that Maryse Conds slim novel Heremakhonon deploys epic time in the verymanagement of narrative time itself:

Clearly, with the disappearance of robust orality, the epic tendency could notjust shrivel. Rather than call deliberately large-scale narrative undertakingsepic by a species of descriptive metaphor of size and complexitywe couldcall this training of memory by the impersonal heterogeneity of historical times a displacement of epic play. . . . Heremakhonon, with its rich epic dimen-sionloosely named Africa, Islam, decolonization, and the like (unitarynames suppressing the plural epic as monoculture does biodiversity)can thenopen the door closed by Aristotle when he compared the slim tragedy to themassive performative epic.22 It is a large and generic door, closed when history,tied to the self-determination of the individual, began to be written on a gradualincomprehension of the miraculous mnemic scripting of orality. . . . To say thatthe timing of the text is hybrid is to learn to read its epic dimension and witnessthis acknowledgement. (Staging 9192)

Professor Dimock does not suggest, as do I, that in such use of narrative time,literature touches orature; but her argument can clearly take it on board.

For her distant reading, Professor Dimock turns to anthropology as a model. Ido of course most heartily endorse this move. Here I would like to elaborate a littleand again, I feel confident that Professor Dimocks approach can take this on. Ishould mention that I have discussed this part of my response with Professor Ros-alind Morris.

It is not really literary anthropology that Professor Dimock uses as her model.

(My response was composed with reference to an earlier version of ProfessorDimocks essay. The phrase literary anthropology was used in its initial para-graphs: I was in Beijing a few weeks ago, she had then started,

and was struck by a phrase that seemed to come up again and again even in thehandful of articles that I happened to be reading: literary anthropology. Thisis not a phrase we use very much in this country; in fact, with the exception ofWolfgang Iser, I dont recall seeing it anywhere else. I (would?) like to borrowit as a preface to this talkas a summary and apology for the very immodestclaim that I seem to be making: namely, that in order to think about the epic andthe novel in conjunction, we need an analytic frame that has to be measured interms of continents, an analytic frame that reflects, not the life of a single na-tion, and not the life of a single language, but something like the life of thespecies as a whole, in all its environments, all its habitats across the planet.

SET AND SUBSET

Anthropology is probably the right word for this kind of undertaking. Ofcourse, as we know, the discipline has its own internal problems, not least of allbeing its long history of entanglement with colonialism and indeed racism of

World Systems and the Creole 103

various sorts. But, as a discipline adjacent to and yet not reducible to literaryhistory, it does serve as an interesting heuristic partner. One of the most impor-tant differences, it seems to me, is that anthropology is, by and large, an empir-ical discipline, and brings with it a self-consciousness about what we might callthe conditions of its empiricism: the size of the sampling population, the scopeof the claim that flows from it, and the extent to which it can be said to consti-tute a unit of analysis. It is this self-consciousness that allows anthropology tooperate on two alternating and complementary registers, bouncing one offagainst the other: one macro and the other micro, one, much larger than thescale of literary history, and the other, much smaller. The smaller scale is obvi-ous enough: anthropology is a study of local knowledge, it is dedicated to aself-contained population, a subset of human beings. But this subset matters, Ithink it is fair to say, because it is a subset, because there is a larger set to whichit belongs. This larger setanswering to the name of the humanis the im-plicit but also indispensable ground of anthropology. It becomes a discipline atall because this larger set is a meaningful set, a meaningful unit of analysis. Andthe database that goes with it is coextensive with the life of the species as awhole; it extends to every part of the planet where human beings happen to be.It is this relation between set and subsetand the coextension of the formerwith the bounds of the humanthat Id like to map onto our own discipline.There is no reason why literary history should not be construed as being paral-lel to anthropology in this particular sense: committed both to a local popula-tion and to an unlocal idea of species membership. There is no reason, in fact,why it should not work as a switch mechanism between these two, between asubset of human expression, and a species-wide definition of the set. The termthat Id like to propose for this switch mechanism is the term genre.

I have kept my earlier comments because, although Professor Dimock has now jetti-soned literary anthropology and taken on fractal geometry to explicate Lvi-Strausson kinship, her presuppositions about the relationship of literature to culture remainunchanged.)

Literary anthropology is the genre of anthropology that deploys autobiogra-phy powerfullyLvi-Strauss on the Nambikwara, Mick Taussig in his various writ-ings, James Clifford, Kiran Narayan.33 They are rather far from claiming the speciesas set. That gesture would belong more to what is today called physical anthropol-ogy, whose borders mingle with genetics. This too is not Dimocks terrain. It seemsto us that Professor Dimock is using masterfully what Kant, in the opening of his An-thropology from A Pragmatic View, calls fiction as expression of the cultural imagi-nation (6). Here, too, I declare alliance. When I began my postcolonial journey withThree Womens Texts and A Critique of Imperialism, written in the early eighties,I struck out for literature as cultural self-representation (243 and passim).

Professor Dimocks insistence on close reading is faithful to Kant. In an appen-dix to The Critique of Pure Reason on the regulative use of the ideas of pure reason,Kant speaks of the making sense-perceptible of three basic ideas of conceptualizinglogic. When doing so, Kant says, the investigating subject, the philosopher, takes the

104 Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak

concept as a perspective, as on a hill, and sees a horizon, as a circle. The subject con-tinues to develop the concept and finds more and more circles appear, newer hori-zons. When the case wont fit a circle, the seeker pushes the figure until it becomesan ellipse; and a parabola, and perhaps all the figures of geometry as a circle bent outof shape (Kant doesnt list them), until he (always a he in Kant, of course) comesupon the asymptote, two parallel lines running side by side, meeting only at infinity.You never get to empirical particularity when you are making logic palpable, saysKant, for the entire exercise is still only analogical (60001).

A merely reasonable system, such as the kind of analogical classification envis-aged by distant reading, in other words, will not yield the singular.

Yet another point of entry for me is Virgil in the novels of J. M. Coetzee. In-deed, Virgil is in Disgrace as well, along with King Lear and Kafkas The Trial.4

I will now make a tiny suggestion that will, at first, seem contrary to Dimocksconclusions. But in fact, it will lead to further work that can only secure her generalargument, her claims to the world.

I would suggest that Latin is not a foreign language to Dante. When Dantewrote De vulgari eloquentia in Latin,45 he referred to it as the language with a gram-mar. All the various speeches that together make up Italian, are simply vulgarspeechLatin Creole, as it weremutatis mutandis in the spirit of Prousts Marcel:

those French words which we are so proud of pronouncing accurately are them-selves only howlers made by Gaulish lips which mispronounced Latin orSaxon . . . . The corrupt pronunciation whereby our ancestors made Latin andSaxon words undergo lasting mutilations which in due course became the au-gust law-givers of our grammar books . . . (Sodom 184, Budding 44849).

In the Latin Middle Ages, even Provenal is not a foreign language, but anotherLatin Creole. Out of all the Italian Creoles, Dante chooses curial Florentine, themost elegant version of his beloved Tuscan, as the one most worthy. It is not too far-fetched to say that, for Dante, Latin is sanskrt (refined)and vulgar speechallthose Italiansis prakrt (natural). If we look at playwrights such as Bhasa (fl. 3rd

century A.D.) or Kalidasa (fl. 5th century A.D.), we find them using Sanskrt and atleast three Prakrts (the vulgar eloquence out of which the languages of North Indiaconsolidated themselves, my mother tongue Bengali in the late eleventh century). Iwould therefore like to place this within a more general phenomenon of creolityrather than take Aristotles casual mention of foreign words as my model. (Indeed,the passage on the capacity of the epic to extend its own bulk has nothing to do withforeign words and large kinship structures at all.) Aristotle was not keen on the epic,as the close of the Poetics will show. And in translations other than Elses, in theLoeb bilingual edition, for example, is translated rare words, rather thanforeign (9495, 8485). My own inclination would be to follow the wordy au-thorized by the Greek-English Lexicon. The Poetics are as much a creative writinglesson as it is literary theory. Aristotle is cautioning future writers of tragedy againstponderous language.5 The epic can get away with heavy language. It is a narrative


form. Be sure not to use such stuff in tragedy, drama with a socially therapeutic mis-sion. I think it is not a good idea to draw a foreign language rule for works that areepic in a sense rather far from Aristotles day. On the other hand, creolity, as I havesketched it above, is about the delexicalization of the foreign. (To lexicalize is to sep-arate a linguistic item from its appropriate grammatical system into the conventionsof another grammar.) It will yield us a history and a world.

(Professor Dimock was conscientious enough to look up two specialist bookson Dante, Latin, and Italian, in response to my gentle nudge. I am grateful to her forthis. My point, however, was not to check up on scholarship, especially from the latefifties, when some of the allocthonic metropolitan concepts I carry around had notyet reared their teratological heads. The point is to imagine a time when the nameItalian is shakyto imagine a different mindsetdare I say episteme? I cite mypostscript and remind the reader that, in my initial response, this is why I had quotedProust, to be helped along in the task of imagining. I quote myself quoting Rilke, ina piece where I wrote of the Indic episteme (structure of feeling?) that gives us avatar, as not grasped by experts.6

It is within this general uneven unanticipatable possibility of avatarana or de-scentthis cathexis by the ulterior, as it were, that the lesser god or goddess,when fixed in devotion, is as great as the greatest: ein jeder Engel ist schreck-lich. How did Rilke know? Perhaps culture is semi-permeable by the imagi-nation?

Am I not cynical enough about Comparative Literature? Mea maximaculpa. I still go by Shelleys warning, always apposite: We want the creativefaculty to imagine that which we know [29].)

Dimocks work invites us to look beyond Latin into the word genre. TheIndo-European cognates in Sanskrt yield us both gnosis and genesis, jnana, jati andjnati, nation and kin. All these words are related to the word for knee, janu, genoux,use of gender (another genre word) as rape, kneeing into forcible entry, to engender.This is what makes me a bit leery of the model of family: father, mother, competitivepatricidal brothers, sisters emerging as support. No kinship system, alas, is com-posed only of cousins, as Dimock would have it. Yesterday I listened to my dear oldfriend Lord William Wallace of Saltire deliver to us his response to the questionposed by the Catholic Conference of Bishops and the Archbishops Conference ofthe Church of England: is there a European war? What we heard was a model oftrusteeship, of protecting non-European peoples as they make the transition intomodernity, not the white mans burden, Wallace insisted. This fraternocracy takes uson to the family tree, which Nietzsche and Foucault had revised. I feel such a strongbond with Professor Dimocks work that I would ask her to rethink family as creolity.

(Professor Dimock has loosened the concept of family a good deal in the sec-ond version. I am grateful for this, but I would ask her to give it up altogether. Rhi-zome is a good choice and, to see how one can leave family behind via therhizomes dismantling of the root, I invoke creolity again. There is a short checklistin my postscript. The French postcolonials mentioned there go a long way with therhizome, away from the family of man.77


In order to get away from the family romance, Professor Dimock goes to fractalgeometry. I am as suspicious of humanists metaphorizing the latest developments inscience through their pseudo-popularizing descriptions as I am of nonspecialists of-fering Mesopotamia as evidence. It leads to pretentiousness in our students. Do wereally need fractal geometry to tell us that the loss of detail is almost always unwar-ranted? I keep insisting on learning languages, the old access to literary detail,rather than analogizing from descriptions of fractal geometry or chaos theory. Whatwarms the cockles of my oldfashioned heart is that Professor Dimock will not giveup close reading, however far she fetches to justify it within the current rage for fil-ing systems.)

I mentioned Kafka and Shakespeare, not just Virgil, in Coetzee. If we take cre-olity and intertextuality (rather than kinship connections and genre) as models thatcoexist with Dimocks major rethinking of the epic and the novel, we can welcomeUlysses and Finnegans Wake into the enclosure. In Ethics and Politics in Tagore andCoetzee, and Certain Scenes of Teaching (see note 3), I have suggested that you caneven welcome Rabindranath Tagore.

Perhaps this expansion of Dimocks point of view, as expressed by me, alreadyhappens in her forthcoming book. I look forward to its appearance. For now, I willsay that The Law of Genre, the Derrida text from which Professor Dimock quotes,will allow this. The figure that Derrida offers, over against the border policing that heand Dimock repudiate, is invagination, where a part insistently becomes biggerthan the whole. In creolity one can find a persistent invagination that will make roomfor our alliance.

In conclusion, I offer a bit of an abject postscript for my word planet. I madeJonathan Arac change his over-enthusiastic blurb for me as the proponent of plane-tary comparative literature to a description of me as trying to be a planetaryreader. Here I give my reasons.

I spoke of planetarity in an address to a Swiss organizationStiftung-Dialogikin 1997.88 They had been formed to give shelter to refugees from theThird Reich. In the mid-nineties they were changing to accommodate refugees fromvarious countries of Asia and Africa, torn asunder by violence and poverty. To markthis change, they asked me to offer a keynote. I was asking them to change theirmindset, not just their policy. And I recommended planetarity because planet-thought opens up to embrace an inexhaustible taxonomy of such names includingbut not identical with animism as well as the spectral white mythology of post-ratio-nal science. By planet-thought I meant a mind-set that thought that we lived on,specifically, a planet. I continue to think that to be human is to be intended towardexteriority. And, if we can get to planet-feeling, the outside or other is indefinite.Therefore I wrote:

If we imagine ourselves as planetary subjects rather than global agents, plane-tary creatures rather than global entities, alterity remains underived from us, itis not our dialectical negation, it contains us as much as it flings us awayandthus to think of it is already to transgress, for, in spite of our forays into what wemetaphorize, differently, as outer and inner space, what is above and beyond


our own reach is not continuous with us as it is not, indeed, specifically discon-tinuous. My efforts for the last decade tell me that, if we ask the kinds of ques-tions you are asking, seriously, we must persistently educate ourselves into thispeculiar mindset. (Imperatives 46)

To explain: If we planet-think, planet-feel, our othereverything in the un-bounded universecannot be the self-consolidating other, an other that is a neat andcommensurate opposite of the self. I emphasize education in the passage above,and I mean specifically training the imagination. Gifted folks with well-developedimaginations can get to it on their own. The experimental musician Lorie Anderson,when asked why she chose to be artist-in-residence at the National Aeronautics andSpace Administration, put it this way recently: I like the scale of space. I like think-ing about human beings and what worms we are. We are really worms and specks. Ifind a certain comfort in that.

She has put it rather aggressively. That is not my intellectual style, but my pointis close to hers. You see how very different it is from a sense of being the custodiansof our very own planet, for god or for nature, although I have no objection to such asense of accountability, where our own home is our other, as in self and world. Butthat is not the planetarity I was talking about.

Planetarity, then, is not quite a dimension, because it cannot authorize itselfover against a self-consolidating other. In that mind-set, there is no choosing be-tween cultures. It is the place of unaccomodated man, to use Shakespeares words,a poor, bare forked animal.99

If I seem hesitant about claiming the planet, I also have a cautionary word aboutharnessing Mesopotamia. I insist that I share these precautions with Professor Di-mock because I feel a strong alliance with her. As a modernist, I too feel the need toapproach the medieval and ancient world. If I remind ourselves that a string quartetand a spider must not be conceptually related because they both have eight legs, it isbecause I too have indulged in making preposterous connections. As I have tried topoint out in the cases of Aristotle and the epic, and Dante and Latin, people in differ-ent historical periods think differently, they inhabit different epistemes. We cannottake the English word foreign as a felicitous synonym for the word spoken by Aristotle to his students and use it to construct a world-system. (There isevidence that Aristotle thought he was himself a stranger because he was from Stagira, whereas Plato was a citizen of Athens. How does foreign figure here?) Wecannot read if we do not make a serious linguistic effort to enter the epistemic struc-tures presupposed by a text. Aristotle and Dante are far enough from us, butMesopotamia is quite another story. The responsibility of the comparativist entails agreater familiarity with the language(s) and patterns of thought of that remote the-ater, than our elation at finding foreign elements everywherethat allows us to re-peat what may be a bit of a literary-critical clichthe epic as world-system.

Some years ago, the Metropolitan Museum in New York had an extraordinaryexhibition on the Art of the First Cities. The exquisite objects gave us a glimpse ofa comparativism before the letter, a world system before our world. I remember


reading of an extraordinary linguistic phenomenon in that distant world: [At theOld Babylonian Schools] the students were not simply learning the technique of cal-ligraphy but were also studying Sumerian, a language that had long ceased to be spo-ken and that bore no resemblance to the Akkadian they spoke at home. . . . Thelanguage was long dead and was a typical nonmother tongue, taught by old men toyoung boys who would hardly ever get to use it outside the school environment(Aruz 455).

How would a simple idea of foreign be negotiated in this space?

POSTSCRIPT

When I proposed creolity rather than kinship as a model for comparativist prac-tice to Professor Dimock, I was thinking of Dante and Latin. It was clear to me that,for a very long time, the idea of one normative language and many natural oneswas a much more powerful idea than the accident of there being many languages.When the Arab translator translated Aristotle, he was not translating from a foreignlanguage because, to earn the right to translate was for him to make the language ofthe original his own. Marx was catching the tail end of this idea in his injunction abouthow to learn a foreign language in The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte(147). I felt that it would be good if we thought of the great order of the literary as akind of virtual and inaccessible normativity, and of our own methodological attemptsas varieties of creole, testifying to their practical usefulness. Revising, I consultedthe basic texts of the contemporary debate on creolity.10 The entire debate is worthcontemplating. Here I will content myself with citing douard Glissant, the initiatorof the movement. Glissants word for what I am seeking to describe is relation. Togeneralize this notion he writes, among a thousand provocative things, for example:

let us try to recapitulate the things we dont yet know, the things we have nocurrent means of knowing, concerning all the singularities, all the trajectories,all the histories, all the denaturations, and all the syntheses that are at work orthat have resulted from our confluences. How have culturesChinese orBasque, Indian or Inuit, Polynesian or Alpinemade their way to us, and howhave we reached them . . . . No matter how many studies and references we ac-cumulate (though it is our profession to carry out such things properly), we willnever reach the end of such a volume; knowing this in advance makes it possi-ble for us to dwell there. Not knowing this totality does not constitute a weak-ness. . . . Relation is open totality; totality would be relation at rest. Totality isvirtual. (153, 154, 171)

My affinity with Glissants thinking should be immediately clear. Glissants work isparticularly useful as an antidote to the understandable but unfortunate compara-tivism that wants to begin with the fact that literatures the whole world over wereformed on the national model created and promoted by Germany at the end of the18th century (Casanova 78). Here too I concur with douard Glissants wisdom,


warning non-Europeans from joining in this contrived collectivity: if one is in toomuch of a hurry to join the concert, there is a risk of mistaking as autonomous par-ticipation something that is only some disguised leftover of old alienations; he givesan astute account of the kind of comparativism the enthusiasts of world literaturewould require: in order to comprehend and thus to accept you, I have to bring yoursolidity to the ideal scale which provides me with themes for comparisons and, per-haps, judgments. I have to reduce (120, 190). An unintended consequence of worksuch as Professor Dimocks can be to give support to such interaction, out of whichghouls of totalitarian thinking might suddenly reemerge (131). I hasten to add that Ihave a great deal of sympathy with Professor Casanova, from whom I cited thatsymptomatic sentiment about the originality of the German eighteenth century. Icaution her simply because I have learned the hard way how dangerous it is to con-fuse the limits of ones knowledge with the limits of what can be known.

We cannot not want to tie up all the loose threads in any world. Yet today morethan ever that desire must be curbed, for everything seems possible in the UnitedStates now. If we want to preserve the dignity of that strange adjective comparativein comparative literature, we will embrace creolity. Creolity assumes imperfection,even as it assures the survival of a rough future. In the creolization of the worlds pastDimock and Spivak can hang out together. Join us.

ENDNOTES

1. See Aristotle, Poetics, 115117.

2. For most of these writers, a look at their general bibliography will suffice. For a discussion of the trav-elogue element in Lvi-Strausss treatment of the Nambikwara, see Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatol-ogy, translated by Spivak, 107140.

3. For a discussion of intertextuality in Disgrace, see Spivak, Ethics and Politics in Tagore, Coetzee,and Certain Scenes of Teaching.

4. De vulgari eloquentia is the title of an important essay by Dante Alighieri, written in Latin and ini-tially meant to consist in four books, but aborted after the second. It was probably written in the yearsthat preceded Dantes exile, between 1303 and 1305 (Wikipedia).

5. Among the constraints on plot that Aristotle lists are the following. Note that they are all phrasednegatively i.e., as constraints. . . . All of these constraints are rooted in the fact that intersentence co-herence in Indo-European languages is achieved primarily by tense (A. L. Becker, Beyond Transla-tion: Essays Toward A Modern Philology, 3233; first emphasis mine). Here is an anthropologistwho has spent his intellectual life upon the relationship between languages. Worth listening to as wecomparativists move out on to what is, for us, and wrongly, uncharted seas.

6. And indeed, to be fair to the experts, they take the mindset for granted. When Pulgram (one of Profes-sor Dimocks sources), writes: [Dantes] prescription for the creation of a volgare illustre (so calledof course not in the sense of vulgar but only in opposition to learned Latin) . . . runs counter to whatone would consider the normal formation of a literary standard language (Pulgram 55), he is com-menting on Dantes poetics of creolity, although he would be scandalized to be told so, which wentcounter to scientific linguistics. When he writes of a new written language in Italy [around A.D.800], which one can no longer call Latin, but at best Neo-Latin, or Italian (411), or says that the stiffwritten Italian of the early nineteenth century was another Classical Latin (64), he is using that epis-temic presupposition without theorizing it. What is over against the mother tongue is not a foreign


language but a learned language. As for Cecil Grayson, Professor Dimocks other source, his work onLeon Battista Alberti (14041472), conveys his sense of the culture/nature/culture relationship, as historically conceived, between Latin, Italian, and Italian.

7. The Family of Man (MoMA Exh. #569, January 24May 8, 1955) was composed of 503 pho-tographs grouped thematically around subjects pertinent to all cultures, such as love, children, anddeath. . . . The photographs included in the exhibition focused on the commonalities that bind peopleand cultures around the world and the exhibition served as an expression of humanism in the decadefollowing World War II (www.MoMA.org). The professed aim of the exhibition was to mark es-sential oneness of mankind throughout the world. During the time it was open, The Family of Manbecame the most popular exhibition in the history of photography (www.learningcurve.gov.uk). Wecannot go back to that cold war planetarity!

8. See Imperatives to Re-Imagine the Planet/Imperative zur Neuerfindung des Planeten, 46.

9. The description of planetarity is quoted from Spivak, Why Planet?: Intellectual Autobiography, de-livered at the Gramsci Institute.

10. Jean Bernab et al, loge de la crolit,; Maryse Cond and Madeleine Cottenet-Hage, eds. Penser lacrolit; douard Glissant, Caribbean Discourse: Selected Essays; Glissant, Poetics of Relation. I amgrateful to Brent Hayes Edward for his help.

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Becker, A. L. Beyond Translation: Essays Toward A Modern Philology. Ann Arbor : University of Michi-gan Press, 1995.

Casanova, Pascale. Literature As a World. New Left Review 31 (Jan-Feb 2005): 7190.

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Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty. Death of A Discipline. New York: Columbia Univ. Press, 2003.

. Ethics and Politics in Tagore, Coetzee, and Certain Scenes of Teaching. Diacritics 32.34 (Dec2004): 1731.

. Moving Devi. Cultural Critique 47 (Winter 2001): 120163.

.The Staging of Time in Heremakhonon. Cultural Studies 17.i (Jan 2003): 8597.

. Three Womens Texts and A Critique of Imperialism. Critical Inquiry 12.1 (Autumn 1985):243261.

. Why Planet?: Intellectual Autobiography Delivered at the Gramsci Institute (Trieste, Italy),Feb 18, 2005.

Wikipedia. De vulgari eloquentia. [Available Online]. Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia. [Cited July2005]. Available from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/De_vulgari_eloquentia.


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