ma Moralia: Reflections from Damaged Life evokes the task of thought in a
way that brings together possible goals o f literature and o f theory, though
they seek these goals without appealing to the messianic perspective that
Adorno adduces here:
Perspectives must be fashioned that displace and estrange the world, reveal it to
be, with its rifts and crevices, as indigent and distorted as it will appear one day
in the messianic light. To gain such perspectives without velleity or violence, en
tirely from felt contact with its objects— this alone is the task of thought. It is the
simplest of all things, because the situation calls imperatively for such knowledge,
indeed because consummate negativity, once squarely faced, delineates the mir-
ror-image of its opposite. But it is also the utterly impossible thing, because it pre
supposes a standpoint removed, even though by a hair’s breadth, from the scope
of existence, whereas we well know that any possible knowledge must not only be
first wrested from what is, if it shall hold good, but is also marked, for this very
reason, by the same distortion and indigence which it seeks to escape. The more
passionately thought denies its conditionalitj? for the sake of the unconditional,
the more unconsciously, and so calamitously, it is delivered up to the world. Even
its own impossibility it must at last comprehend for the sake of the possible. But
beside the demand thus placed on thought, the question o f the reality or unreality
of redemption itself hardly matters.^”
The literary nature o f this project emerges in that difficult conclud
ing sentence: beside the demand thus placed on thought, the question o f
the reality or unreality o f redemption itself hardly matters. Redemption,
19. See my discussion o f Stanley Cavell in Chapter 9 below.
20. Theodor Adorno, Minima Moralia: Reflections from Damaged Life,
trans. E. F. N. Jephcott (London: Verso, 1974), 247.
40
T H E O R Y
like the messianic, can be thought o f as a figure that enables such dis
course. But, as in literature— this is Adornos point— it is the demand o f
otherness placed on thought that counts.
Let me conclude by addressing another form o f the pervasiveness o f
the literary. In the course o f his discussion o f literary interest Steve Knapp
remarks that the New Historicism involves the transfer o f literary inter
est from the literary work itself to the literary work grasped in a historical
context: as a result, the new construct that is the object o f literary inter
est is in fact the complex interrelations between text and context (context,
which is o f course more text). Literary interest comes no longer from the
complex relations between form and meaning or between what the work
says and what it does but, for instance, from the dialectic o f subversion and
containment that it provokes and in which it participates. The explanatory
vagueness o f much New Historicism comes from the fact that the goal is
not to decide whether, say, “the theater in a particular era is an effect or a
cause o f a certain monarchical ideology” but to illuminate a complex in
terdependent structure, like that o f a literary work. “The point,” Knapp
writes, “is to see how the theater, as it exists in its hard-to-define relation
to the state becomes (to someone who notices the right affinities) the the
ater as suggesting, and suggested by, the state” {LI, 104). The object o f lit
erary interest— approached as a complex literary structure— is the work
in a posited context. The historical investigations o f the New Historicism
take as their object not historical explanation but elucidation as a histori
cal object that displays the structures o f literary interest.
A similar point is taken further in David Simpsons The Academic
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