margins are perceived as more permeable and abstract (though Brexit
and the rise of right-wing populism suggest a dissatisfaction with
suchlike official culture). Hill likes writers who perceive the constitution in the double sense of ‘civil polity’ and ‘body’, captured in the
image of the ‘body politic’. This kind of ‘constituted’ vision of society
has been traditionally expressed as a human body or as a tree; or both,
as with Coleridge, who refers in this context to “the circulating sap of
life” and “the nisis formativus [shaping power] of the body politic”.12
UK are implicitly charged to forget, or at any rate not think about, the fundamental indebtedness of ‘Brexit’ to the nonsensical portmanteau-making of Lewis Carroll’s Humpty Dumpty) 70 seems set to make the kinds of translational, translanational, transliterational, transgenic, telephonic might of ‘side thinking’ appear more irrelevant than ever. 71
But in the same breath, the same sigh, we might also suggest that now – more than ever – side thinking is needed. This postscript, seeking to return us to the beginning ‘at last’, offers another O, a side
What does it feel like to be on the brink of transition? 1
The date of writing is important. Much of this book was written during two years of negotiations counting down to Britain’s exit from the European Union. As I worked towards this book’s first deadline, I watched the political clock tick down several times as exit dates came and went. I hoped for infinite delay.
As the late medieval playmakers understood, our experiences of time, and of writing, are heavily influenced by our politics. Underpinning much of the desire for Brexit is a nostalgic desire
forewords: each offers a sort of new entry point for reading Cixous, another beginning or beginningame (to recall a neologism from the previous chapter).
Nanoment is a portmanteau of ‘nano’ and ‘moment’. As we have seen, Cixous loves portmanteau words: she scarcely ever travels without them. 3 Whether in a literary context (such as Lewis Carroll) or a real-life context (such as a motel or Brexit), the portmanteau draws attention to itself as a fiction or linguistic artifice. Whether dark or funny (or uncertainly both), it does something new
and literature alike.
Abderrezak’s chapter unpacks western rhetoric (which conflates terrorism,
clandestinity, and drug trafficking) with regard to a ‘war on terror’ that thinly
disguises, under the pretext of international security, the implementation of
murderous borders to safeguard Fortress Europe. At a time when European
political parties from England to Poland defensively retreat into nationalist agendas and platforms (as shown by the recent Brexit in the United
Kingdom and the prominence of the Front National on France’s political
scene), this chapter reminds
governmental support. The case of Trump’s word ban
also makes apparent that the language of vulnerability does not only regard
a competition for attention or a politics of recognition, but also a redistribution of resources and access to healthcare (Butler, 1997c; Fraser, 1997; Fraser
and Honneth, 2003).
In the wake of Brexit (the UK’s decision to leave the European Union),
the 2016 US presidential election resulting in Donald Trump’s election, and
the rise of European populism, narratives of wounded nations, genders, and
classes permeate news and other journalism. As a