Figures of vengeful female ghosts are commonly visualized in Asian horror cinema as an allegorical response to patriarchal injustice. Banjong Pisanthanakun and Parkpoom Wongpoom’s Shutter (2004) utilizes this trope by highlighting the psychological subjectivity of the central protagonist Tun as he deals with the loss of a love-object while sustaining a desire to bolster his egocentricity. By utilizing psychoanalytic knowledge informed by Freudian concepts of melancholia and narcissism, this essay will examine how the character’s psychological burden emerges as a complex allegory that reflects on culturally specific gender ideology. Framed against the larger metanarrative of gender inequality that underscores contemporary Thailand’s social landscape, Tun’s relationship with his love-object is representative of the way in which men continue to oppress, (ab)use and construct women for their own desires and ends. The manifestation of male psychological damage further underlines the unjust gender ideology that remains entrenched in the patriarchal-inflected Thai-Buddhist belief system.
My essay examines shame and its relation to combat trauma in two memoirs by Iraq War veterans: John Crawford’s The Last True Story I’ll Ever Tell (2005) and Brian Turner’s My Life as a Foreign Country (2014). I analyze the nature of shame in these texts, that is, what it entails psychologically. The work of Jonathan Shay and Dave Grossman, among others, forms the framework for my thinking about the psychology of combat trauma and shame. I argue that, in these memoirs, shame constitutes not merely emotional suffering but the undoing of the self, the negation of these veterans’ narratives of masculine self-identification. Crawford and Turner seek healing in narrative: autobiographical storytelling mimics counseling insofar as it acts as a mechanism for sharing their pain and rehabilitating their wounded selves. Lastly, I reflect on the link between the affective and ethical properties of war literature.
Most psychological approaches interpret Shakespeare’s Hamlet within a Lacanian/Oedipal revenge narrative. This paper, however, explores Shakespeare’s Hamlet through theories of Julia Kristeva, who develops a term called ‘the imaginary father,’ which she revisions from Freud’s ‘father of individual prehistory.’ The notion of an archaic/imaginary father as a hybrid locus (a mother-father amalgam) within the semiotic domain not only introduces new perspectives to consider the role of fatherhood but also the affective (and material) nature of transference/countertransference in Shakespeare’s plays. The dramatization of Hamlet’s “inner mystery” as opposed to his outer “show” has not been explored as an intrapsychic activity regarding an archaic father of imaginary ambivalence. Despite the scene’s brevity (5.1), considering Yorick as Hamlet’s father of individual prehistory reconfigures symbolic mastery to explore the unfolding development of Shakespearean character as a metaphorical process, a presymbolic activity rather than fixed representation, dramatizing the corporeal struggle for psychic and creative space.
This paper explores existential themes as presented in the 2014 film The Amazing Spider-Man 2. An initial argument is presented in support of the claim that contemporary audiences are drawn towards superheroes for the same reasons people have historically been compelled by traditional religious beliefs – a desire to transcend death. By presenting visual confirmation that the laws of the natural world (particularly gravity) can be exceeded, the superhero film in general and the Spider-Man character specifically offers hope that the most frightening of these laws (death) can also be overcome. However, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 also offers a warning about the potential dangers of denying mortality. The film illustrates tensions between the needs for comforting narratives about unwavering cosmic heroism and challenging narratives about the quest for purpose in a turbulent and ephemeral world.
Early in this essay I unearth a similarity between Norman N. Holland’s reader-response theory and responses to literature by the English essayist William Hazlitt, and I briefly trace some similarities and differences between Holland’s approach and that of David Bleich and Stanley Fish. Drawing attention to a shift in Holland’s work from concern with how we read literature toward questioning why we read literature, I point out that this helps to explain why Holland turned to neuroscience. Referring in particular to more recent essays and to his magnum opus Literature and the Brain I argue that Holland’s major insights into the question of why we read literature are to be found in what he says about the interplay between the brain’s right and left hemispheres. I conclude, however, that such insights also problematize the emphasis on feeling-dominated response that has been a feature of Holland’s work since the beginning.
My essay concerns the literary and visual expression of the archetype dual descent in North American children’s remakes of the Brothers Grimms’ tale, Iron Hans. The remakes were published within a fourteen-year span following Robert Bly’s bestseller, Iron John: A Book About Men (1990). Bly’s study of the Grimms’ wild man material examines the importance of the character’s function as a superhuman second father to the prince, who thus becomes of dual descent. My intent in writing this article is to examine the contemporary expression of Jung’s archetypes dual descent and the wild man. Relatedly, I demonstrate Bly’s contribution is valued alongside the Grimms’ tale within the contemporary children’s literary scene. The children’s authors I examine do not give any indication Bly’s interpretation is contradictory to the Grimms’ tales, as alleged in fairy tale scholarship. All four prominently reference the Brothers Grimm on the cover or within the inside jacket.
Examining the Jewish-American novel written in the postwar era, the present paper attempts to understand the relationship between the writers’ recurrent use of the theme of the double and the psychological problematics to which the protagonists are always prone. It contextualizes the over-repeated tension between primary ego and alter ego within the postwar anxiety of Jews trying to prefigure the possibilities of history on the one hand, and to construct identity in the midst of lurking anti-Semitic perils on the other. For the Jewish-American novelist’s part, representing such a psychological aspect of the Jewish dilemma can never be read out of his/her hyphenated standpoint and, thus, strategies of survival where delusions of persecution keep the identity’s guard on by projecting the protagonist’s fears in the form of a doppelganger.
Literary critic Frederick Crews is self-deceived in asserting that psychoanalysis is a pseudoscience; philosopher of science Adolf Grünbaum is self-deceived in arguing that it is a failed natural science. Because both have made a category mistake, because, as Jürgen Habermas and Paul Ricoeur contend, psychoanalysis is in essence a hermeneutic practice, the arguments of Crews and Grünbaum can have no legitimate impact on the practice of literary criticism. Once these arguments have been successfully demolished, no literary scholar need exhibit any trepidation whatever in using psychoanalysis as a framework for criticism.
Whimsical, anthropomorphic taxidermy of the Victorian era has been dismissed as marginal novelty. Yet why do we feel it also to be, in some undefined way, emblematic of Victorian visual culture? Anthropomorphic works—such as studious rabbits intent at their desks in a rural village schoolroom, athletic toads playing a frenetic game of stick-and-hoop, or elegantly attired kittens attending a wedding—represent a conflation of human and animal, of death and life, which simultaneously evokes fascination and repulsion. A closer look compels questions about the internal processes driving its creators and attracting its audience: why did such grotesque anthropomorphic expression flourish at this precise point in history? Its encoded meanings reveal, on scrutiny, rich strata of information about the meaning of anthropomorphism within the Victorian psyche, suggestive of wider anxieties surrounding the tension between theology and traditional cosmological perspectives, and the shifting association between humans and animals in Victorian England.
In her seminal work “Modern Fiction” (1925) Virginia Woolf asserts that the most interesting and fruitful way for the modernist novelist to proceed is to appropriate what she calls “the dark places of psychology” into literary writing. The image of “dark places”, especially when put into the context of the psychology of the 1920’s, almost immediately conjures up a Freudian perspective. However, as this paper argues, in addition to the Freudian overtones there is more to a full appreciation of Woolf’s psychology-related assertions in “Modern Fiction.” Taken in conjunction with her previous text, “Character in Fiction”(1924), it seems possible to read Woolf’s manifestos through the lens of the empiricist psychology of William James. Primarily relying on rhetorical analysis of Woolf’s vocabulary, this paper aims to disentangle the dynamic relationship between the distinct Jamesian and Freudian psychological schools influencing Woolf’s programmatic writings.
Freud likened Lady Macbeth and Rebecca West to patients destroyed by success due to guilt. In my paper, I show that these masculine women feel overwhelming guilt for the deaths of their respective fathers, and commit suicide in order to expiate this guilt. Lady Macbeth feels as if, by instigating the murder of the King, she had murdered her father, and Rebecca West finds out that the invalid she had cared for, and whose death she had caused, was her father. This trajectory bears resemblance to that of Oedipus, who felt no compunction for having killed Laius as long as he regarded him as a stranger, but was overwhelmed with guilt when he realized that Laius was his biological father. Macbeth and Rosmersholm constitute artful presentations of the masculine woman’s oedipal complex, and the structural parallels between the two plays strongly suggest that Macbeth served as a template for Rosmersholm.
This paper explores the strikingly similar use of psychoanalytic imagery in the films Psycho and The Lady in the Van. The paper argues that the latter film is a deconstruction of the former’s political aims. Where Psycho uses psychoanalytic imagery to warn of the danger that strong female autonomy poses to normal psychic development, The Lady in the Van uses the same tropes to expose the mendaciousness of such thinking. The paper concludes by demonstrating how Psycho represents a counter challenge to the political pretensions of The Lady in the Van. Bennett’s film is on the face of it a critique of middle class attitudes to homelessness. However, this paper demonstrates that by offering a psychological explanation for Miss Shepherd’s alterity, The Lady in the Van mimics the psychiatrists detailed diagnosis of Norman Bates’s perversion at the end of Psycho. This is argued to be problematic because the repeated explanation of the alterity of the strong voice of the mother reduces the uniqueness of the character to a symptom rather than an expression of autonomy. Ultimately the paper makes a case for the cultural significance of these films for exploring the political use of psychoanalysis to promote different social ends.