A Humanities Unbounded Collaborative Project in German and Romance Studies at Duke University

Month: August 2024

Archives, Exhibits, and Literature (March 20th, 2024)

On the afternoon of March 20th, 2024, the Global Jewish Modernism lab invited scholars Annette Joseph-Gabriel, Emma Bond, Felwine Sarr, and Max Czollek for a dialogue on archives, exhibits, and literature. Throughout the presentations, the idea of actively addressing absences in the archives emerged as a crucial theme. Pulling from various objects of study and interdisciplinary perspectives, the talks called for rethinking archival methodologies and our engagement with history. Furthermore, the speakers’ presentations and the audience questions that followed underscored the need to critically question how we approach the past and its preservation.

Felwine Sarr discussed the historical process of transmitting collective memory orally in the West African Sahel region. Sarr emphasized the need to question the conventional understandings of what constitutes a ‘cultural’ good and a ‘collection.’ He challenged the traditional Western definitions of the archive, which he called “the scriptural paradigm,” as it gives more credence to the written word than to the orality that was most prominent within West African epistemology, and which was often dismissed as an archival methodology. Sarr argued for a profound shift in how we understand and value cultural heritage. This shift acknowledges historical injustices and seeks to create a more inclusive and equitable framework for appreciating and preserving cultural goods. He made clear that it is necessary to make an active effort to make visible those histories and cultural productions that have been overshadowed or suppressed by dominant western and colonial narratives.

The guiding question for Max Czollek’s presentation was, “What kind of methodology does the archive imply?” In his talk, Czollek discussed the limitations of traditional archival methods in capturing the full scope of history, particularly focusing on events and experiences that have not been documented. Czollek began by highlighting how certain cultural and artistic contributions, like migrant literature in Germany, have been largely excluded from the archives despite their significance to German history. Like Sarr, he argued that what is preserved in archives often reflects the biases of those curating them, leading to a distorted historical record. Czollek spent much of his talk focusing on the challenge of preserving memory as living witnesses to events, such as the Holocaust, passed away. With the loss of these witnesses, archives become the primary source of historical truth. Yet, they cannot represent everything that occurred, especially events with no survivors or documentation. This creates a gap in our understanding, as many acts of resistance or persecution that left no trace are effectively erased from history. Czollek emphasized the need for new methodologies to address these gaps, proposing that we must move beyond a positivist approach that only values recorded events. He suggested that counterfactual narratives and alternative forms of storytelling, such as literature and documentary theater, could help fill these gaps and provide a more comprehensive understanding of history. By exploring the “things that did not happen” and the emotional impact of inaction, particularly through the experiences of second-generation survivors, Czollek insisted that we can develop a richer, more nuanced memory culture. Ultimately, Czollek called for expanding the archival paradigm to include these overlooked aspects of history, using creative and speculative methods to ensure that the full complexity of the past is recognized and remembered.

Emma Bond explored the evolving role of museums and literature in the context of object accumulation and the challenges of memory preservation. She began her talk by recounting the 2023 scandal at the British Museum, where thefts of thousands of items from the museum exposed systemic weaknesses in cataloging and the overwhelming scale of unregistered artifacts. This situation highlighted the broader issue of museums in the Global North, where inadequate funding and an excess of objects make comprehensive cataloging nearly impossible. Bond introduced the concept of the “post-museum,” a shift from traditional accumulation towards a focus on the use and enjoyment of objects. She argued that this crisis of object accumulation has affected contemporary literature, much like museums. Literature, particularly novels, has become a storage medium for the remnants of history, reflecting the overwhelming burden of memory. She discussed the idea that in a digitized world where everything can be archived, the ability to forget has become increasingly valuable. Bond suggested that selectively letting go of the past and associated objects can lead to creative responses and new ways of understanding history. Referencing In Memory of Memory, Bond highlighted Maria Stepanova’s novel as a great illustration of the generative capacity of loss and the importance of letting go of material remnants. Bond also considered the implications of the post-museum, where the traditional functions of collecting, ordering, and preserving memory are being re-evaluated. She suggested that making difficult decisions about deaccessioning and disposal of objects can lead to more sustainable practices and new modes of remembering. To conclude her talk, Bond highlighted literature and museums’ potential to envision post-object futures, where memory and meaning are not tied to physical objects but are found in intangible heritage and stories. Calling for reimagining care and preservation practices, she suggested that leaving spaces un-curated can spark creativity and allow for exploring new possibilities in both literature and museums.

Annette Joseph-Gabriel’s presentation delved into the complexities of representing and understanding the experiences of enslaved children through the lens of the term “exhibit.” Using the story of Suleiman Capsune, an enslaved Sudanese boy exhibited at an anthropological institute of Great Britain and Ireland in 1883, she explored how both historical and visual documentation frame his narrative. Capsune’s early life, marked by violence and displacement, and his eventual captivity and exhibition highlight the dehumanizing aspects of colonial anthropology and the exploitation of black bodies. In her talk, Joseph-Gabriel examined how Capsune’s scars and his presentation in photographs were used to perpetuate racial stereotypes and serve colonial interests. She discussed the dual meaning of “exhibit” as both a verb and a noun. As a verb, it refers to the act of displaying Capsune’s body for anthropological and voyeuristic purposes. As a noun, it symbolizes the painful evidence of black subjugation and the exhibition of his suffering. Joseph-Gabriel emphasized the need to move beyond these representations by focusing on Capsune’s own agency and perspective. She insisted that his letters and how he navigated his encounters with power reveal his resistance and the complexity of his identity. As such, Joseph-Gabriel argued for a storytelling approach that honors the lived experiences of children like Capsune and respects their agency, rather than reducing them to mere objects of study. In her conclusion, Joseph-Gabriel advocated for a narrative that acknowledges the historical and visual documentation of Capsune’s suffering and engages with his own vision and resistance. By considering what Capsune saw when he looked at others, we can better honor his legacy and the broader history of enslaved children.

The Archives, Exhibits, and Literature Dialogue underscored the need to critically engage with the control of narratives and address the absences in archives. The scholars’ presentations and the discussions during the Q&A session called for a rethinking of methodologies to avoid perpetuating power imbalances. An audience member’s question about the obsessive nature of collections in institutions like the British Museum, where, despite their extensive holdings, there remain significant gaps in the narratives they present opened a conversation about the how the repetitive act of collection often fails to address the fundamental absences within archives. In responding to the question, Felwine Sarr suggested that methodologies “often act as veils that obstruct genuine inquiry.” Like the other panelists, Sarr insisted that archives do not speak for themselves but require active interpretation. In this sense, then, it’s essential to critically examine who is allowed to be seen and who controls the narrative.

Responding to another question about the overburdened concept of archives, Annette Joseph-Gabriel reflected on the overuse of the term “archive,” arguing that it is being made to do more than it can or should. She suggested that storytelling offers a more “elastic” way to engage with the past and warned against positioning creative practices merely as antidotes to history. Adding to Joseph-Gabriel’s response, Sarr introduced the concept of “Oraliteche,” and emphasized the need to create spaces that allow for reconsidering ways of knowing. He advocated for a more protean approach to knowledge and history, one that is adaptable and inclusive.

Translation and World Literature (April 4th)

From translator-spearheaded movements like #NametheTranslator that aim to bring equality to the profession, to the rise in readership and visibility of translated works, we appear to be amid a translated literature revolution. Or should we call it a renaissance? After all, there is no doubt that the circulation of translated works is not a recent phenomenon. In fact, engagement with works from beyond one’s borders has always been crucial to the forging of national and transnational identities. Literature and translation tread a tightrope, between their complicity with the West’s colonization project, and their uses in resistance movements that challenge fixed notions of identity. What are the forces that shape translation and world literature in the present moment, and how do they influence us in turn?

The Global Jewish Modernism lab rang out the 2023-2024 academic year with a cross-disciplinary dialogue that explores these questions in multilingual contexts. On April 4, four Duke professors were joined by Oberlin College’s Stiliana Milkova Rousseva, author of an important book on Elena Ferrante, to probe the role of world literature in an increasingly globalized world, as well as the usefulness of this very concept for working across literary traditions. In an act of cosmic irony, Stiliana Milkova Rousseva was unable to join us in person at Duke’s Holsti-Anderson Family Assembly Room, after several flight cancellations.

Instead, Milkova Rousseva delivered the opening remarks to the “Translation and World Literature” symposium on Zoom, against the bustling backdrop of a busy JFK terminal in New York. In her talk, she introduced her latest project on self-translation and world literature. Milkova Rousseva argued that self-translation exposes and undermines the hierarchy established between an original and its translation, where the latter is seen as an inauthentic copy and thus inherently inferior. Instead, self-translation reconfigures this relationship, showing how translation is not an act of copying or reproduction, but one of original creation. However, considering the “politics of prestige in the world republic of letters,” Milkova Rousseva uncovers the complicated dynamics embedded in self-translation, specifically through the works of Jhumpa Lahiri, a Pulitzer-prize winning author, translator, and academic who moved to Italy in 2012 and has since published four works in Italian. For Milkova Rousseva, Lahiri’s success is a double-edged sword. Lahiri has forged a new identity and a new home for herself in Italian, but both Lahiri’s otherness and her status as a literary juggernaut have been commodified in the marketplace of world literature. In some ways, her exemplary trajectory has outshined both translators and other migrant or non-white voices writing in Italian.

Keeping with the theme of Italy’s contributions to world literature, Milkova Rousseva’s remarks were followed by Martin Eisner’s presentation on Dante’s enduring international success. Perhaps Italy’s most famous literary export, the litany of translations of The Divine Comedy speak to the importance of translation for the survival of such texts. Eisner’s presentation focused precisely how Dante has managed to survive into the present, and how to reconstruct the rich path of Dante’s global reception. According to Eisner, these questions were of interest to Dante too: Dante’s works were preoccupied with change and survival over time, as he considered how to ensure Beatrice’s survival in poetic form. In tracing the journey of Dante’s global reception, Eisner pushed us to consider how the creation of the world literature canon is indebted to the material culture of the book and to a multitude of interpolations and interpretations that establish a conversation with Dante’s original texts, while also departing from them significantly.  This transformation was necessary to Dante’s survival, given our profound alienation from Dante’s own context, important as that context may be. As Eisner remarked, “We differ more from those who lived in our countries in the past, rather than those who live in the present with us in different countries.”

Reut Ben-Yaakov tackled the ethics of translation in world literature from its source: what pushes a translator to translate something in the first place? Ben-Yaakov attempted to answer this question by probing her own experience as a translator. She took us on a journey from her discovery of Eudora Welty’s 1963 short story “Where is the Voice Coming From?” to her translation of the piece into Hebrew. The story, written by Welty in the aftermath of Medgar Evers’ murder by a white supremacist in Jackson, Mississippi, is written from the perspective of the killer, continuously interpellating the reader into the logic of white supremacy. While Ben-Yaakov translated the story quickly after her first reading, she found herself unable to put it forward for publication. The story’s inquisitive title haunted her too: where was the voice coming from? Why did the imagined perspective of a white supremacist demand translation into Hebrew? Eventually, Ben-Yaakov had come to see the story as an attempt by Welty to implicate the reader in a literary gesture that seeks to represent the way systemic violence implicates us all. In this framework, the act of translation becomes another layer of implication, considering the translator’s conscious move to bring an uncomfortable tale to a new audience. She published an essay version of the talk in Reading in Translation.

What we saw throughout this panel is the unexpected connections enabled by looking beyond the usual framework of translation from a “foreign” language into English. Sarah Quesada addresses the limits of world literature by using a Global South perspective, as she outlines the conversation established by African and Latin American authors throughout the 20th century. Quesada exposes the wealth of African francophone novels that take as their subject matter stories from Latin America. Works like Kously Lamko’s Les racines du yucca that takes place about Guatemala, or Tierno Monénembo’s Les Coqs Cubains Chantent à Minuit, are not translated into English but they testify to South-South axis of cultural exchange that is rooted in the two continents’ struggle for decolonization. In her work, Quesada also outlines the African roots of Latinx literature and how much Africa’s decolonization efforts mattered to the Latin American imaginary, not least the under reported history of Gabriel García Márquez’s time in Angola, whose ensuing chronicles exist only in Spanish. Of course, Quesada warns us not to see Global South solidarity as a given, or the South-Sough axis as an inherently positive one, given the evidence of antagonism between both camps. But a comparatist approach between Latin American and Africa provides a fruitful terrain for exploring the role and limits of world literature as a concept beyond a Global North perspective.

Fittingly, Eileen Chengyin Chow rounded up this panel by bringing us to the topic of home and diaspora—or rather, to the question of what kind of literature is produced by those who have left home and return to a place that they thought they knew very well, only to find themselves alienated from it? Where do these works fit in the realm of world literature? Chow explored this topic by conducting a close reading of her translation of “Upon Returning to my Home Village,” a poem by Chinese writer He Zhizhang 賀知章 (659-744). Playing with that well-known adage that “the past is a foreign country,” Chow breaks down the porosity of the term “world” in world literature and reflects on alienation as a function not only of space, but time and language. She puts He’s poem in conversation with other works that testify to the enduring appeal of homesickness and alienation as fodder for literature: moments from Ijeoma Umebinyuo, Diaspora Blues, or excerpts from poems written on walls by displaced Cantonese workers who longed to return home. Chow suggests that migration and exile produce literature that mixes memoir, fiction, and poetry to create a new language in order to express the diasporic subject’s uncertain place in a world made of boundaries, including in the realm of world literature.

The concept of world literature, from its inception in Goethe’s Weltliteratur, to its institutionalization in classrooms across the globe, has proven hard to shake off. It has served both to narrativize the creation of a global literary canon, and to criticize Western cultural hegemony. This panel discussed topics as diverse as the survival of Dante’s works across the centuries, the translator’s ethics, and even contended with the changing landscape of one’s position across the elusive domain of time. Working across centuries of literature and a myriad of linguistic traditions, the panelists showcased the importance of thinking about and through world literature in the contemporary moment. And while world literature has its limits, they also testified to the enduring appeal of the notion of a shared literary consciousness.

Mapping Jewish Modernism (February 28th)

What do we talk about when we talk about Jewish Modernism? On February 28, the Duke community was invited to explore the porous, intersecting, and ever-shifting boundaries of this question at the opening of the “Mapping Jewish Modernism” exhibit. The exhibit, housed at the Mary Duke Biddle Room between February 9 and August 10, displays key moments and figures in the history of Jewish modernism as curated by Duke and UNC students. The objects on display were the result of the work conducted by these students in Kata Gellen and Saskia Ziolkowski’s eponymous class, taught in Spring 2023.

Using materials from Rubenstein’s rare books collections, the students’ projects showcase the diversity and global expanse of Jewish life and culture in the 20th century. Some pieces map the influence of Jewish thought in modernist literature and art, including by unearthing the Jewish elements embedded in James Joyce’s Ulysses or in the creation of Hogarth Press in London by Virginia and Leonard Woolf.  The exhibit is a testament to the enduring legacy of Jewish writing in Western literature and beyond: from Franz Kafka and Stefan Zweig in Europe to Philip Roth and Alan Ginsberg in the U.S. In fact, a copy of Ginsberg’s poem Kaddish was on display at the exhibit.

The exhibition explores also Jewishness at the margins of and beyond Europe. There are artifacts that testify to the presence of Jewish communities in the remote villages of Ethiopia whose isolation provided fertile ground for the conservation and reinterpretation of Jewish traditions.  Other items recount the history of the founding of Birobidzhan, a town in the far east portion of the former Soviet Union (today’s Russia) that became the country’s Jewish Autonomous Oblast. A series of prints made by Chicago artists to support Birobidzhan reflect the utopian aspirations of the community and its significance for Jews around the world.

Across these texts and objects, the exhibition “Mapping Jewish Modernism” shows how important Jewish history and thought, broadly conceived, was for the birth and promulgation of the modernist movement on a transnational scale. The exhibition makes a clear case that this influence was due both to the global reach of the Jewish diaspora, and the affinity that many non-Jewish writers and thinkers demonstrate for Jewish intellectual history, including Jewish hermeneutics. This latter is also the argument put forward by Yitzhak Lewis whose lecture, “Reading Globally: Redrawing the Map of Jewish Modernism,” looks at the influence of Jewish literature and critical traditions across three continents.

Yitzhak Lewis is an assistant professor of the Humanities at Duke Kushnan, where he works on Hebrew, Spanish, and Yiddish literatures, as well as literary theory and world literature. Lewis is the author of A Permanent Beginning: R. Nachman of Braslav and Jewish Literary Modernity (SUNY Press, 2020) and his new book on Borges’s ties to Kabbalah and other Jewish traditions is forthcoming with Rutgers University Press. Along with a team of undergraduate research assistants at Duke Kushnan, in recent years Lewis has spearheaded a project tracing the reception of Yiddish literature in China. Building on these interconnected research strands, Lewis’ lecture at Duke focused precisely on the role that Jewish thought has played in the works of Argentinian writer Jorge Luis Borges and Chinese novelist Mao Dun.

Referring to the concept of “mapping” that guided the exhibition, Lewis considered the insufficiency of current cartographic frameworks that attempt to draw boundaries around Jewish textual practices and what Jewish modernism entails. Untethering these practices from specific communities or nations, Lewis suggests instead that the category of the “Judaic” need not be only a genetic affinity, but also an affective one. This is the case for Borges, whose short stories and literary criticism are rife with references to Jewish traditions. Lewis explores the breadth of Borges’ engagement with Jewishness, including the tension that arises due to Borges’ insistence of the purity of classical Jewish texts and his rejection of modern Jewish literature. In this sense, Lewis reads Borges’ affinity for Jewish literature as arising also from something other than aesthetic appreciation. For Lewis, while we see Borges as a canonical writer, his position within 20th century modernism is not an easily definable one. Considering the way that Jewishness is conceptualized as an emblematic Other that exemplifies the alienation at the heart of 20th century modernism, so Borges’ position in the literary landscape is one of tension rather than easy belonging. According to Lewis, this aspect of Borges’ relationship to Jewishness is as crucial as the writer’s direct engagement with Jewish thought.

In his lecture, Lewis spoke also of the research he, collaborator Anruo Bao, and his students have conducted on the reception of Yiddish literature in China, mainly through the work of novelist Mao Dun (1896-1981). Mao Dun was instrumental to the translation and promulgation of Yiddish literature in China, as in 1921 he penned an article on “A Survey of New Jewish Literature.”  As in the case of Borges, the affective affinity that Mao Dun establishes with Jewishness works along two planes: it is both material, and ideological. According to Lewis, Mao Dun found inspiration in the trajectory of Yiddish language and literature as a budding movement that was trying to establish its own independent identity apart from Hebrew. Mao Dun noticed strong parallels to China’s own trajectory and contemporary political moment, rooted in the rejection of Western hegemony. China’s national revival, as with Yiddish culture, relied on language and literature to shape national consciousness. In this sense, Mao Dun was also taken by the idea of Yiddish as a colloquial and everyday language, an aspect crucial to the creation of a literature accessible to the masses.

Both Lewis’ lecture and the “Mapping Jewish Modernism” exhibit reveal the symbiotic relationship between Jewishness and modernism. In some instances, this relationship is one of direct influence: how Jewish textual and religious practices have shaped both Western and non-Western writers and thinkers. But as Lewis argues, Jewish modernism is also about engaging with Jewish literary and textual practices as a form of Modernist expression. During his lecture, Lewis references several moments of misunderstanding and mistranslations in the works of Borges and Mao Dun, as these authors engage with traditions that are not their own. But accuracy of understanding is less important than the desire and openness to Jewish traditions, and their application to these writers’ poetics and politics. In this sense, Lewis presents a thought-provoking opportunity to any project that contends with the circulation of literature and art in a multiplicity of languages and cultures: we must reinterpret the very concept of the map, and thinking of mapping not as fixing boundaries, but rather as attempts at mapping encounters.

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