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On the Other Side of the Words: Family Trauma and the Ethics of Life Writing
Author(s) -
LiuDevereux Pauline
Publication year - 2011
Publication title -
literature compass
Language(s) - English
Resource type - Journals
SCImago Journal Rank - 0.158
H-Index - 4
ISSN - 1741-4113
DOI - 10.1111/j.1741-4113.2011.00846.x
Subject(s) - betrayal , closet , miller , memoir , biography , tragedy (event) , wonder , life writing , psychoanalysis , subject (documents) , literature , sociology , psychology , history , art , social psychology , ecology , archaeology , biology , library science , computer science
In ‘The Ethics of Betrayal: Diary of a Memoirist’, Nancy K. Miller claims that, Philippe Lejeune, ‘somewhere made the claim that all theorists of autobiography are closet, or at least crypto‐, autobiographers’ and while not entirely agreeing with him, Miller admits that the more she worked on autobiography as a critic, the more tempted she was to write one (148). The diary begins in July 2002 and by September Miller is pondering on trust and betrayal. On September 16th she declares ‘I cannot name my own betrayal without producing another’ (151). At the IABA conference, Intimate Publics, held at Sussex University in June 2010, I witnessed other difficulties encountered by life writing critics when they quit the closet to become life writers: the puzzling reluctance of families to be ‘exposed’ and the vulnerability of self exposure, of speaking publicly about loved ones. For a life writer expected to provide critical commentary on her own writing, this role reversal seemed a suitable subject for study. How might the shift from theorist to memoirist inform future theory and in turn, enrich memoir? I returned from the conference full of ideas – after all, might not autobiographers also be closet theorists? My project was derailed almost immediately by a family tragedy. Naturally, my response was to write an account of it, titled On the Other Side of the Words , a line taken from a poem by W. S. Graham. But realising the implications of this title, I began, like Miller, to wonder about trust and betrayal and the ethics of autobiographical writing which is so much the biography of another. How could I write about my sister‐in‐law’s suicide? I thought of those who might be hurt by it and recognised my own vulnerability. But I kept on, and some of the questions arising from my writing are answered by Judith Butler in her conclusion to Giving an Account of Oneself : To be undone by another is a primary necessity, an anguish to be sure, but also a chance … to be bound to what is not me, but also to be moved, to be prompted to act, to address myself elsewhere, and so to vacate the self sufficient ‘I’ as a kind of possession. If we speak and try to give an account from this place, we will not be irresponsible, or, if we are, we will surely be forgiven (136).