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978 3 642 21994 8 - 5 - Related+to+Doris PDF
978 3 642 21994 8 - 5 - Related+to+Doris PDF
Katarzyna Wie˛ckowska
Abstract The central theme of Doris Lessing’s The golden notebook (1962) is
struggle and the heroine’s attempts to stake out a new territory where she would be
able to re-define herself and gain on a new identity. Similarly, although in a
different manner, this desire to find a space beyond the existing social limits is
repeated in The Cleft (2007) as a dream of an all-female world before the arrival of
sexual difference. Thus repetition can be seen as the regulating principle working
both within the novels and between them, where it takes the form of a certain
mourning, or a process of releasing the desire for a once possessed, but lost unified
self and for an imagined sociality without otherness, a desire underlying also
certain forms of literary and social criticism. In this essay I refer to the work of
Sigmund Freud and Jacques Lacan, and particularly to the psychoanalytic ren-
dering of the concepts of the lost object, the return of the repressed and the woman,
to read The golden notebook and The Cleft as excursions beyond the phallocentric
social and literary orders into a space where the woman might be imagined dif-
ferently than the lacanian ‘‘symptom of man’’.
1 Introduction
When Doris Lessing was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2007, she was
addressed by the committee as ‘‘that epicist of the female experience, who with
scepticism, fire and visionary power has subjected a divided civilization to scru-
tiny’’ (Nobelprize.org). The careful framing of the description of the writer as ‘‘the
K. Wie˛ckowska (&)
Nicolaus Copernicus University, Toruń, Poland
e-mail: klew@umk.pl
1
It is interesting to note that Roland Barthes’ seminal essay was published in 1967 and can
therefore be seen as coming out of the same critical upheavals from which Lessing’s novel
originates.
A Post-Battle Landscape: Doris Lessing’s The Golden Notebook and The Cleft 47
‘‘a way of self-healing’’ (Lessing 1989, p. 8), staged along a number of textual
erasures and absences which hamper the formulation of a finite interpretation. The
erasures are, as I argue, repeated and apparently compensated for in The Cleft
(2007), a novel which can be read as a continuation and complementation of the
thematic concerns and problems of The golden notebook. The key word in ana-
lyzing the novels is repetition, both within and between the books, which is
approached here from the psychoanalytic perspective, thus binding the texts to the
process of mourning after an object which, although lost, continues to be secretly
desired and possessed (Freud 1995a, p. 586). The question of the supposed fem-
inism of Lessing’s work is left open—mostly because, as Ros Coward(1992)
writes, ‘‘it is just not possible to say that women-centred writings have any nec-
essary relationship to feminism’’ (1992, p. 378; my emphasis)—but the reading of
the novels is motivated by a kind of feminist practice which Rosi Braidotti
describes as a ‘‘strategy of working through the historical notion of ‘Woman’’’
which aims at ‘‘unveiling and consuming the different layers of representation of
‘Woman’’’ (1994, p. 168).
2 An Absent Centre
The golden notebook is a novel about Anna Wulf, a writer suffering from a block,
and her friend, Molly Jacobs, an actress, and it documents Anna’s crisis of identity.
Although the crisis spreads over all areas of Anna’s life—her disillusionment with
the Marxist party, her problems with writing the second novel, and the end of her
love affair with Michael, who returns to his wife—its ultimate cause is the fact that
Anna is a woman, or, to be more specific, that she represents a new type of a ‘‘free
woman’’: as Molly states at the beginning of the novel, ‘‘Free. Do you know … I
was thinking about us, and I’ve decided that we’re a completely new type of
women. We must be, surely?’’ (Lessing 1989, p. 26). A single woman with a child,
an artist and a political activist, Anna certainly does not fit any of the models of
womanhood offered by the English society of the 1950s, represented in the novel
as itself a fragmented and divided society in transit. Interestingly, the fragmen-
tation of the society is reflected in its literature, particularly the novel, which, as
Anna writes, ‘‘has become a function of the fragmented society, the fragmented
consciousness. Human beings are so divided, are becoming more and more divi-
ded, and more subdivided in themselves’’; they are beings for whom reading has
become ‘‘a blind grasping out for their own wholeness’’ (Lessing 1989, p. 75). This
binding of the recovery of stable identity to writing and reading is reflected by
Anna’s almost compulsive need to write, to compartmentalize her life into separate
spheres so as to finally discern there a recurring pattern:
I keep four notebooks, a black notebook, which is to do with Anna Wulf the writer; a red
notebook, concerned with politics; a yellow notebook, in which I make stories out of my
experience; and a blue notebook which tries to be a diary (Lessing 1989, p. 418).
48 K. Wie˛ckowska
Anna’s writerly gesture inside the book mirrors the structure of the whole novel
which Lessing describes in the introduction in the following way:
There is a skeleton, or frame, called Free Women, which is a conventional short novel,
about 60,000 words long, and which could stand by itself. But it is divided into five
sections and separated by stages of the four Notebooks, Black, Red, Yellow and Blue. The
Notebooks are kept by Anna Wulf, a central character of Free Women. She keeps four, and
not one because, as she recognizes, she has to separate things off from each other, out of
fear of chaos, of formlessness – of breakdown. Pressures, inner and outer, end the
Notebooks: a heavy black line is drawn across the page of one after another. But now that
they are finished, from their fragments can come something new, The golden notebook
(Lessing 1989, p. 7).
Anna the writer, like Lessing the novelist,2 are thus engaged in recording,
documenting, repeating in order to restore the dissolving identity and to reach the
lost and absent centre, to encounter what Jacques Lacan calls the Real (Grosz
1995, p. 34).
As Gayle Greene notices, The golden notebook is marked by repetition: the
same characters appear under different names in the various notebooks, the same
situations are re-staged in different contexts, the reactions of male characters
within the novel are repeated by the male critics of Lessing’s book (Greene 1991,
p. 114). The ultimate repetition is the very act of writing, with the notebooks,
initially imagined as a writing cure, turning into a frightening and poisonous
testimony to one’s disappearance:
It occurs to me that what is happening is a breakdown of me, Anna, and this is how I am
becoming aware of it. For words are form, and if I am at a pitch where shape, form,
expression are nothing, then I am nothing, for it has become clear to me, reading the
notebooks, that I remain Anna because of a certain kind of intelligence. This intelligence
is dissolving and I am very frightened (Lessing 1989, p. 419).
2
It is indeed hard not to draw analogies between Doris Lessing and Anna Wulf: they are both
writers who have successfully published their first books, they are both members of the
Communist Party and they are both ‘‘free women’’.
A Post-Battle Landscape: Doris Lessing’s The Golden Notebook and The Cleft 49
with. In Molly’s absence, Anna takes over her role and becomes not only the
man’s support, but also the object of his sexual desire. That this is a disturbing
change which, in fact, damages the balance between the women is visible in this
scene in the way their conversation circles around the event, in the various detours
they take to talk about Richard through references to his wife and their marital
problems without addressing the role he plays in the relationship between Molly
and Anna. The strategy of dismissing Richard’s presence mirrors the representa-
tion of men in general in the novel in which failed encounters with men play so
important a role that the text can be described as having men at its hidden centre:
they are the common secret, the regulating principle that nobody speaks about.
It is therefore the man (and men in general) who disturbs the women’s rela-
tionship, who becomes Anna’s guilty secret and the seemingly absent centre of
their relation. If we see the man as occupying the central position in the triangle,
then Anna’s comment, dropped just before she makes her confession about
Richard to Molly, gains new significance: when Anna states with anger that,
although they call themselves free women, ‘‘[t]hey still define us in terms of
relationships with men, even the best of them’’ (Lessing 1989, p. 26), she passes a
judgment on the structure of society as a whole and recognizes the impossibility of
escaping the social reality of sexual difference. A free woman is, therefore, an
ironic label and a state impossible to achieve in a society where identity is
intersubjectively constituted and where, as psychoanalysis would have it, it is the
encounter with the (historically contingent) hierarchy of sexual difference that
enables the entry into the social space.
It is not accidental then that Anna resorts to men as the way out of emotional
and psychic collapse; towards the end of the novel, Anna ‘‘decided the remedy for
her condition was a man. She prescribed this for herself like a medicine’’ (Lessing
1989, p. 562). In a text dramatically documenting the lack of place for women in
social, political and critical life, the medical choice of a man, though it may seem
surprising, is also, I think, the only choice possible: the man is both dangerous and
necessary, at one and the same time a poison and a cure whose presence, although
unmasking the constructed nature of the socio-sexual hierarchy, reinforces its
validity. The encounter with Milt that takes place just before the novel’s closure
marks Anna’s return to normal life—which begins with her daughter’s return from
the cinema and with the prospects of Molly’s future marriage. But Anna’s coming
out of the crisis is also her agreeing to the existing divisions of genders based on
the woman’s submission to the role of the one who supports the system, serving for
the men as the other who guarantees social cohesion. As Lacan emphatically
claims, ‘‘[a] woman is a symptom’’ of man (1985, p. 168); she is ‘‘the place where
[male] lack is projected and through which it is simultaneously disavowed’’ (Rose
1985, p. 48); without her acquiescence to play her role in the social fiction, that
‘‘fiction’’ would collapse. The plea uttered by Milt, an impotent and therefore
powerless and emasculated American, discloses the protagonists’ awareness of the
social mechanism and the necessity for women to continue its game:
50 K. Wie˛ckowska
You’ve got to take us on, you’ve got to, don’t you know that? Don’t you see it’s all much
worse for us than it is for you? I know you are bitter for yourselves and you’re right, but if
you can’t take us on now, and see us through it… […] You’re tougher, you’re kinder,
you’re in a position to take it (Lessing 1989, p. 574).
That Anna agrees to ‘‘take him on’’, to comfort him by reflecting him back to
himself as complete, testifies to her readiness to join the social masquerade and to
perform the supportive role the society ascribes to women in the process of social
identification.
In The golden notebook psychoanalysis is presented not as a possibility of
escaping the social fiction of gender, but as a chance of having it explained and
thus making it easier to accept, although not to fight. An explanation of why Anna
continues to attend the ineffective sessions with her Jungian psychoanalyst, whom
she ironically and tellingly calls ‘‘Mother Sugar’’, can be found in Elizabeth
Grosz’s statement that:
Psychoanalysis exerts an appeal for women which can also be seen as a lure or trap, espe-
cially for those who want to challenge the social functions and values attributed to women
and femininity in our culture (actively affirmed in psychoanalytic theory) (1995, p. 6).
In ‘‘The Ego and The Id’’ Sigmund Freud describes the mechanism of loss as
resulting in an alteration of the ego ‘‘which can only be described as a setting up of
the [lost] object inside the ego, as it occurs in melancholia’’ (Freud 1995b, p. 638).
A Post-Battle Landscape: Doris Lessing’s The Golden Notebook and The Cleft 51
With the introduction of the new language, there comes the need for history and
for a new way of thinking: ‘‘I said think but did we think? Perhaps a new kind of
thinking began like everything else when the Monsters started being born’’
(Lessing 2008, p. 8). Above all, the men bring social organization, the division into
separate communities, both between men and women, and among the women
themselves, who are divided over the question of how to treat the new race.
Importantly, what underlies the Clefts’ decision to establish relations with Squirts
is shame and the feeling of guilt for having killed the first boys.
In his account of the origins of civilization, Freud identifies the beginning of
social organization with patricide and with the sons’ guilt for having killed the all-
powerful patriarch:
Society was now based on complicity in the common crime; religion was based on the
sense of guilt and the remorse attaching to it; while morality was based partly on the
exigencies of this society and partly on the penance demanded by the sense of guilt (Freud
1995c, p. 503).
The original patricide and the ensuing guilt are presented also as the reasons for
the unequal distribution of power within patriarchy as
atonement with the father was all the more complete since the sacrifice was accompanied
by a total renunciation of the women on whose account the rebellion against the father was
started (Freud 1995c, p. 508).
In Lessing’s novel, the original crime from which society springs is ironically
presented as committed by women driven not by their will to power, but by
curiosity and disgust with the boys’ (bodily) otherness. But, although the story of
female supremacy is ‘‘abrasive and may upset certain people’’ (Lessing 2008,
p. 7), its patriarchal effects are the same, even if this time it is the women’s choice,
dictated by what one might call, again ironically, ‘‘the feminine ethics of care’’,
wisdom or simple desire to survive the actions of men who, as Clefts are fond of
repeating, act, but do not think or care.
The Cleft emphasizes the accidental and subjective nature of official history, as
well as the fact that it is being issued by a man. The story of Clefts is a ‘‘mass of
material accumulated over ages, originating as oral history, some of it the same but
written down later’’, ‘‘a cumbersome, unwieldy mass’’ (Lessing 2008, p. 6).
Moreover, ‘‘more than one hopeful historian had been defeated by it, and not only
because of its difficulty, but because of its nature’’ (Lessing 2008, p. 6) which
might explain why the material ‘‘had at various times been regarded as so
inflammatory it had been put with other ‘Strictly Secret’ documents’’ (Lessing
2008, p. 7). The Clefts’ tale is finally put together by a Roman historian, an elderly
man hopelessly in love with his much younger wife, who retreats from the dangers
of Nero’s burning Rome to immerse himself in writing and in fatherly duties. A
lover of peace and family, the historian is contrasted with his wife, an adventurous
and clever woman who safely manages her complicated public affairs, leaving to
him the care over their private life. In this marriage, it is the woman who acts and
the man who is, which contradicts not only the epigraph to the novel, but also the
A Post-Battle Landscape: Doris Lessing’s The Golden Notebook and The Cleft 53
4 A Lost Object
The work of mourning, as Freud tells us, proceeds through incorporating the lost
object into one’s ego and working through the relation, gradually de-cathecting it,
until it can be substituted for by something new (Grosz 1995, p. 30). The desire for
a stable identity, for a complete self before the arrival of any difference—and
perhaps particularly the sexual difference—is what The golden notebook depicts,
while simultaneously, from the start, disbelieving its possibility. ‘‘There is nothing
in the unconscious that accords with the body’’ (Lacan 1985, p. 165) or, to put it
differently, there is no body as a biological fact, but instead there are the lin-
guistically coded body parts of Clefts and Squirts for whom sexual difference is an
invention, a necessary invention of the other (Derrida 1991). To identify oneself
beyond social divisions and not to divide things off, not to compartmentalize, as
Lessing would like us to live (Lessing 1989, p. 10) is, as Lacan would say,
impossible: there is no one without an other, and no two without the Other of the
social (Lacan 1985). If the lost object of The golden notebook and The Cleft is the
woman as One—beyond or before sexual difference—then it is an object which
must be substituted by something new, possibly by writing.3 That this writing as a
whole has been described as ‘‘subject[ing] a divided civilization to scrutiny’’
proves that the object of the lost unity must be abandoned—in anything but fiction.
3
To refer to Lacan again, when he identifies the woman as the symptom of man, he also writes
that the symptom is what never ceases to be written and that writing is ‘‘a means of situating the
repetition of the symptom’’ (Lacan 1985, p. 166).
54 K. Wie˛ckowska
The desire for One returns, like the repressed, in the critical wish to have a
clearly identified writer of a fragmented novel, to arrive at or to secure the one
interpretation, to come up with one definition of what it means to be a feminist, a
feminist writer or a woman, particularly the woman as other than man. That this
desire is recognized as one that cannot be fulfilled is visible in Lessing’s preface to
The golden notebook when she writes about the impossibility and dangers
underlying the authorial wish to control her text:
it is not only childish of a writer to want readers to see what he sees, to understand the
shape and aim of a novel as he sees it – his wanting this means that he has not understood a
most fundamental point. Which is that the book is alive and potent and fructifying and able
to promote thought and discussion only when its plane and shape and intention are not
understood, because the moment of seeing the shape and plan and intention is also the
moment when there is not anything more to be got out of it (Lessing 1989, p. 21).
If, as The Cleft illustrates, our stories are incessantly re-constructed and through
them, so are we, perhaps it is time to see that ‘‘[t]he myth of Woman as other is
now a vacant lot where different women can play with their subjective becoming’’
and that ‘‘the question for the feminist subject [the critic or the reader] is how to
intervene upon Woman in this historical context, so as to create new conditions for
the becoming-subject of women here and now’’ (Braidotti 1994, p. 168). After all,
as one of the male characters of The golden notebook claims, ‘‘the real revolution
is, women against men’’ (Lessing 1989, p. 198), a revolution which, as The Cleft
ironically shows, started a long, long time ago—and doubtless will continue.
References