The Flesh Of Words

This new collection of challenging literary studies plays with a foundational definition of Western culture: the word become flesh. But the word become flesh is not, or no longer, a theological already-given. It is a millennial goal or telos toward which each text strives. Both witty and immensely erudite, Jacques Rancière leads the critical reader through a maze of arrivals toward the moment, perhaps always suspended, when the word finds its flesh. That is what he, a valiant and good-humored companion to these texts, goes questing for through seven essays examining a wide variety of familiar and unfamiliar works. A text is always a commencement, the word setting out on its excursions through the implausible vicissitudes of narrative and the bizarre phantasmagorias of imagery, Don Quixote's unsent letter reaching us through generous Balzac, lovely Rimbaud, demonic Althusser. The word is on its way to an incarnation that always lies ahead of the writer and the reader both, in this anguished democracy of language where the word is always taking on its flesh.

The rhetorical trope of irony is well-trod territory, with books and essays devoted to its use by a wide range of medieval and Renaissance writers, from the Beowulf-poet and Chaucer to Boccaccio and Shakespeare; however, the use of sarcasm, the "flesh tearing" form of irony, in the same literature has seldom been studied at length or in depth. Sarcasm is notoriously difficult to pick out in a written text, since it relies so much on tone of voice and context. This is the first book-length study of medieval and Renaissance sarcasm. Its fourteen essays treat instances in a range of genres, both sacred and secular, and of cultures from Anglo-Saxon to Arabic, where the combination of circumstance and word choice makes it absolutely clear that the speaker, whether a character or a narrator, is being sarcastic. Essays address, among other things, the clues writers give that sarcasm is at work, how it conforms to or deviates from contemporary rhetorical theories, what role it plays in building character or theme, and how sarcasm conforms to the Christian milieu of medieval Europe, and beyond to medieval Arabic literature. The collection thus illuminates a half-hidden but surprisingly common early literary technique for modern readers.

Since its coinage in a sixteenth-century translation of Leviticus, the term "scapegoat" has become widely used. A groundbreaking search for the origins of this expression, Flesh Becomes Word traces the scapegoat to its origins in Mesopotamian ritual across centuries of typological interpretation and religious reflection, to its first informal uses in the pornographic and plague literature of the 1600s, and finally into the modern era.

What happens when persons living in the womb are declared to be legal non-persons? What is transgenderism? And why are so many countries changing the meaning of words such as Female, Husband and Mother? The Flesh Made Word makes visible the invisible thread which connects a redefinition of legal marriage to transgenderism to abortion. In doing so it shows that when the physically impossible is made legally possible the effect is that the physically possible is made legally impossible. By examining the relationships between body, mind, language and law, we can come to see that behind the curtain of language our body has been ushered off the legal stage. For legal purposes we no longer have a sex. From here on in we have only a gender.

Working at the local processing plant, Marcos is in the business of slaughtering humans—though no one calls them that anymore. His wife has left him, his father is sinking into dementia, and Marcos tries not to think too hard about how he makes a living. After all, it happened so quickly. First, it was reported that an infectious virus has made all animal meat poisonous to humans. Then governments initiated the “Transition.” Now, eating human meat—“special meat”—is legal. Marcos tries to stick to numbers, consignments, processing. Then one day he’s given a gift: a live specimen of the finest quality. Though he’s aware that any form of personal contact is forbidden on pain of death, little by little he starts to treat her like a human being. And soon, he becomes tortured by what has been lost—and what might still be saved.

In the fourth century a new narrative genre captured the imagination of the faithful--the accounts of the lives of Christian saints. Kleinberg argues that these stories were more than edifying entertainment. By retelling the story of virtue and salvation, by expanding the religious imagination of the West, they were reshaping Christianity itself.