What is the relationship, in the work of Blanchot and Derrida, between the limit of literature and the limit of death? (original) (raw)

Odo stormir tra queste piante, io quello Infinito silenzio a questa voce Vo comparando: e mi sovvien l'eterno, E le morte stagioni, e la presente E viva, e il suon di lei. Così tra questa Immensità s'annega il pensier mio: E il naufragar m'è dolce in questo mare. Jacques Derrida received a letter from Maurice Blanchot in which Blanchot declares, "Fifty years ago, I knew the happiness of nearly being shot to death." 2 A curious statement, begging the question: why would one feel happiness about almost being murdered? I will return to this letter later on in this essay, when I will discuss the problems concerning testimony and autobiography, but for now I will focus on this question of Blanchot's "happiness," which I believe we can begin to comprehend by referring to Leopardi's poem, cited above, 'L'Infinito'. Here the poet sees himself as sitting on the edge of his favourite hill-top, at a point where he cannot see the full horizon because the view is blocked by a hedge. The poet feels protected by this hedge, and describes how it allows him to imagine the infinite space which lies beyond the horizon, or, that is to say, beyond his comprehension. He compares the hedge that rustles in the wind (E come il vento Odo stormir tra queste piante), with the sound of the infinite silence (Infinito silenzio a questa voce Vo comparando), and feels both pleasure and fear from such an experience. With regards to this, 1 Giacomo Leopardi, 'L'one could draw a hedonistic parallel between this Blanchot's "happiness," and the sensation of vertigo that the poet in 'L'Infinito' implies. Death, Blanchot believes, is, "the richest moment of meaning," 3 which is perhaps because it provides the answer to the question that we can never know in life: what happens when we die?