Joyce and Lacan: Reading, Writing, and Psychoanalysis by Daniel Bristow

Abstract

Reviewed by: Joyce and Lacan: Reading, Writing, and Psychoanalysis by Daniel Bristow Luke Thurston (bio) JOYCE AND LACAN: READING, WRITING, AND PSYCHOANALYSIS, by Daniel Bristow. New York: Routledge Publishers, 2017. x + 190 pp. $135.20 cloth; $126.82 paper. This book begins, rather surprisingly in my view, by laying its Lacanian cards quite openly on the table: it is simply unabashed about the and which supposedly links the two famous names on its cover. It has no time, in other words, for all those critical and philosophical quibbles about the legitimacy of moving imperiously between the clinical and the cultural, and simply takes that legitimacy for granted. Once that initial step has been made, we are immediately plunged into the "case" of Joyce, a case to be explored psychoanalytically, like Sigmund Freud's "Rat Man" (with the obvious difference that the latter actually underwent psychoanalysis).1 Thus the question "Was Joyce mad?" (used as a chapter title) can be asked in all seriousness, as if it counted as a genuine inquiry, though I, for one, would not know how to start making it actually mean anything. Reading this book therefore requires a huge suspension of disbelief: if one can set aside the nagging sense of the speculative absurdity of the whole Lacanian appropriation of Joyce, an appropriation endorsed and indeed developed by Bristow, then there may be reasons to carry on reading, and even things of interest to Joyceans. It is a lively and playful engagement with Lacan's late work and the often obscure contexts of that work, and Bristow garners an impressive body of literary and philosophical sources, often hazarding unexpected connections. It is written with a breathless energy, a free-wheeling syntax that conveys a sense of almost evangelical excitement. An opening chapter sets out the often-told tale of Joyce's combination of interest in and hostility to psychoanalysis, noting the interactions with Carl Jung around the diagnosis of Joyce's daughter Lucia, the author's surreptitious redeployment of psychoanalytic texts in his writing, and then Lacan's notion of the sinthome, supposedly produced as a kind of solution to the enigmas of Joyce.2 Subsequent [End Page 231] chapters repeatedly return to that key notion, situating it with a range of striking diagrams within the overall field of Lacanian ideas. The book thus has much to say about the final period of Lacan's work, though the question of how relevant that work is to understanding Joyce remains uncertain. Bristow cheerfully ropes into his Lacanian knot some thinkers one feels might have been somewhat disconcerted to find themselves there, notably Jacques Derrida, who, in chapter 2, comes across as, in essence, a fairly Lacanian kind of chap. It is in one sense quite refreshing to find a writer who simply does not hesitate to make such extraordinary moves, though for anyone conversant with Derrida's work, with all its meticulous concern for the politics and ethics of the signature, again it is hard to suppress an anxious chuckle. The book is permeated with references to the latest work of Lacanians, above all of Slavoj Žižek: his colossal influence is evident on every page, from the wacky references (St. Augustine, Lord Byron, Hunter S Thompson, Red Dwarf …) to the often Yoda-like phrasing. The spirit of Žižek helps give the book its playful tone, though Bristow also pays close attention to the way the Slovenian panjandrum has chosen over the years to deploy and reinterpret the Lacanian sinthome. This is a timely reminder, in the end, of how open and "unfinished" this final phase of Lacan's work still remains and of the lack of overall consensus among psychoanalysts as to its value. Lacan's seminars in 1975-1976 were a mixture of abstruse technical reflections, addressed to practicing analysts, and creative, "wild" speculations about Joyce's "case," about his relationship with his father, about his daughter's illness, and so on. Bristow's book makes a laudable effort to sort out what may still be worth reinterpreting and developing from all this. But I think the end result of that effort, while stimulating and intriguing, is made less clear than it might be...