<snip>
I guess what I'm always interested in is the way the 'I' is fictionalized
(always, & perhaps already) by the act of writing it in. And split, or
multiplied, too. [Doug B]
<snip>
I don't think the *I* is either true or false. Indeed it seems a bit quaint
(Cf the 'old stable ego' rejected by Lawrence) to think of the verbal arts
as somehow exposing or hiding (as in the Amis thread) the *self* of the
author. Poems, plays, narratives and so forth are all (in different ways)
moments of epoche, for author and reader alike. The text isn't a window onto
or a representation of the self, if only because, reflecting the trouble
Gertrude Stein had with Oakland, there's actually no there there. Rather it
comprises a set of cues towards building a mental space. Along with
indicators of time (including verbal aspect) and position (including
location within the discourse as a process), each speaking *I* helps fix the
deictic centre(s) of the text and stands sovereign at the centre of its own
*here* and *now*. Of course, within what is spoken by each speaking *I* each
(subordinate) *I* may be advanced or postponed in time, it may shift
location and so forth relative to the speaking *I*; but it too stands
sovereign at the centre of its _own_ deictic references, and so on
recursively.
As with *we* and *you*, *I* is referentially stable relative to *he*, *she
and *they*, so that in nested utterances (such as 'What I said was that I'd
already said that I'd...') the assumption is that the referent is the same.
However, in parallel utterances (eg dialogue) or in parataxis the parsing is
more permissive.
So plenty of scope for multiplicity in that respect.
Or so it seems to me.
<snip>
I think the "I" is also implicit in "we." [Candice W]
<snip>
Yes *we* is the inclusive of *I* (not just the plural) and potentially
includes the addressee(s) as well as the speaking *I*.
<snip>
But what's really interesting is the double duty borne by the so-called
"rhetorical you," where the self is being critiqued more impersonally than
the "I" could do [Candice W]
<snip>
*You* is unique among pronouns in having neither case nor a differentiated
plural. What interests me, and this relates to the point you make, is that
the referent of *you* is frequently an indefinite addressee. Or perhaps more
precisely *you* is often the familiar or intimate form for an indefinite
addressee. That's how children seem to use it, sounding oddly sententious as
they talk to themselves. 'You can't win' is about halfway, in terms of
address, between 'I can't...' and 'We can't...' whilst 'You generally say
excuse me when you fart' is probably only addressable by an adult to a
child.
In the case of lyric address, two *you*s appear to be involved. One ratified
participant (the speaker) addresses another using the familiar indefinite,
which may or may not be explicit, creating a bounded rhetorical space which
leaves the reader (the implicit *you* for whom, by definition, the text is
in some sense intended) an _un_ratified participant, standing just outside
the boundary of the discourse, radically excluded, one world extinguished in
the moment of epoche, the other unavailable except through overhearing.
CW
_______________________________________________
'What's the point of having a language that everybody knows?'
(Gypsy inhabitant of Barbaraville)
|