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spacestationtrustfund's review
3.0
Eve Sedgwick argues that most teaching and scholarship has a "don't ask, you shouldn't know" mentality in the face of questions concerning sexuality, particularly homosexuality, within history and literature. A list of the typical "answers" given, according to Sedgwick, includes the following:
1. Passionate language of same-sex attraction was extremely common during whatever period is under discussion—and therefore must have been completely meaningless. Or
2. Same-sex genital relations may have been perfectly common during the period under discussion—but since there was no language about them, they must have been completely meaningless. Or
3. Attitudes about homosexuality were intolerant back then, unlike now—so people probably didn't do anything. Or
4. Prohibitions against homosexuality didn't exist back then, unlike now—so if people did anything, it was completely meaningless. Or
5. The word "homosexuality" wasn't coined until 1869—so everyone before then was heterosexual. (Of course, heterosexuality has always existed.) Or
6. The author under discussion is certified or rumoured to have had an attachment to someone of the other sex—so their feelings about people of their own sex must have been completely meaningless. Or (under a perhaps somewhat different rule of admissible evidence)
7. There is no actual proof of homosexuality, such as sperm taken from the body of another man or a nude photograph with another woman—so the author may be assumed to have been ardently and exclusively heterosexual Or (as a last resort)
8. The author or the author's important attachments may very well have been homosexual—but it would be provincial to let so insignificant a fact make any difference at all to our understanding of any serious project of life, writing, or thought.
What I personally find most interesting about this admittedly frustrating compilation of all-too-common excuses (this book is over 30 years old and these are still issues seen today—when marking down how many of these responses I've encountered in my own research into queer history and sexuality, I got a full bingo) is the fact that there's an element of truth in each of them. It is true, for example, that the word "homosexuality" (no. 5) did not exist until the late 19th century, meaning that previous generations of queer people did not identify themselves as such, and it would therefore be anachronistic to apply the label posthumously to, say, Alexander III of Macedon, since the concept of homosexuality did not exist. It is not true, on the other hand, that everyone was heterosexual before that date: the word "heterosexual," in fact, dates back only to 1886 with the publication of Richard von Krafft-Ebing's Psychopathia Sexualis: eine Klinisch-Forensische Studie, the first academic source to mention heterosexuality, homosexuality, and bisexuality (in the context of human sexuality: the term previously referred exclusively to monoclinous flowers, i.e., those with both stamens and carpels). The best lies are based on truth, as it's said.
I don't necessarily agree with all of her arguments, and in fact I think that Sedgwick adopts a presentist mindset at times; Sedgwick is a genius but this book works best not as a study of the actual physiognomy it claims to delineate but rather as a study of queer perception of queer history in this specific time period and region.
1. Passionate language of same-sex attraction was extremely common during whatever period is under discussion—and therefore must have been completely meaningless. Or
2. Same-sex genital relations may have been perfectly common during the period under discussion—but since there was no language about them, they must have been completely meaningless. Or
3. Attitudes about homosexuality were intolerant back then, unlike now—so people probably didn't do anything. Or
4. Prohibitions against homosexuality didn't exist back then, unlike now—so if people did anything, it was completely meaningless. Or
5. The word "homosexuality" wasn't coined until 1869—so everyone before then was heterosexual. (Of course, heterosexuality has always existed.) Or
6. The author under discussion is certified or rumoured to have had an attachment to someone of the other sex—so their feelings about people of their own sex must have been completely meaningless. Or (under a perhaps somewhat different rule of admissible evidence)
7. There is no actual proof of homosexuality, such as sperm taken from the body of another man or a nude photograph with another woman—so the author may be assumed to have been ardently and exclusively heterosexual Or (as a last resort)
8. The author or the author's important attachments may very well have been homosexual—but it would be provincial to let so insignificant a fact make any difference at all to our understanding of any serious project of life, writing, or thought.
What I personally find most interesting about this admittedly frustrating compilation of all-too-common excuses (this book is over 30 years old and these are still issues seen today—when marking down how many of these responses I've encountered in my own research into queer history and sexuality, I got a full bingo) is the fact that there's an element of truth in each of them. It is true, for example, that the word "homosexuality" (no. 5) did not exist until the late 19th century, meaning that previous generations of queer people did not identify themselves as such, and it would therefore be anachronistic to apply the label posthumously to, say, Alexander III of Macedon, since the concept of homosexuality did not exist. It is not true, on the other hand, that everyone was heterosexual before that date: the word "heterosexual," in fact, dates back only to 1886 with the publication of Richard von Krafft-Ebing's Psychopathia Sexualis: eine Klinisch-Forensische Studie, the first academic source to mention heterosexuality, homosexuality, and bisexuality (in the context of human sexuality: the term previously referred exclusively to monoclinous flowers, i.e., those with both stamens and carpels). The best lies are based on truth, as it's said.
I don't necessarily agree with all of her arguments, and in fact I think that Sedgwick adopts a presentist mindset at times; Sedgwick is a genius but this book works best not as a study of the actual physiognomy it claims to delineate but rather as a study of queer perception of queer history in this specific time period and region.
cythera15's review
5.0
What an amazing book! I've been working through it for a while for my theory reading group and finally, I finished it! Sedgwick is very clever and original. Some of the chapters were less clear because of the way she refers to texts I have not read. I wonder if I will be as impressed/convinced after reading the original text. While many in our reading group sympathized with Sedgwick's reading of "Billy Budd" as "gay," it seemed that a lot of people also had second thoughts on her reading.
sg94's review against another edition
informative
medium-paced
4.5
I had too much side reading to do for this one, however, I think it was worth it. It's a very interesting exploration of history, literature, and the concept of the closet.
lemon_peel's review against another edition
i read this for my dfd with a particular topic in mind; so some parts i found more useful than others. i don't think giving it an overall rating is fair because of it. however the parts i did find useful were incredibly insightful and very helpful.
henrygravesprince's review against another edition
informative
reflective
slow-paced
4.0
Content Warnings
Graphic: Homophobia, Biphobia, Sexual violence, and Lesbophobia
dvlavieri's review
5.0
I have been thinking a lot lately about how variable the gay experience is across America and around the world, and even by individual. I have been recently seeing a guy from Venezuela who is only in the process of coming out. He hasn't come out to his parents, but has come out to his American friends and classmates, as well as some of his close female cousins. He has three brothers, and after coming out to one of them recently, he received the response that while his brother respects him, he does not support him. I was a bit taken aback by the rather brash out-casting in this day and age, and a bit shocked that there is still so much hatred and misunderstanding in the world today. Being raised in Massachusetts in the middle class, my perception of acceptance is likely to be pretty skewed toward liberal notions of equality, acceptance, etc. I haven't lost any friends, I haven't been eschewed from my family or work communities; I have been accepted for who I am, gay. But I wonder if I am missing out on some important rites and rituals as a homosexual, being so readily accepted? Am I missing out on an experience that is supposed to shape me?
It has been a while now since I have read through Eve Sedgewick's Epistemology of the Closet and while I may have lost some of the particulars and nuances into the receding oblivion, the impact it has made on my world view persists. Throughout literature, just as throughout life, we encounter everywhere the metaphor of the closet. So much rhetoric has been propped up against this metaphor of the "closet" that it seems that it creates this vicious cycle of stigmatizing people who are unsure, figuring it out, or simply constrained by other forces. Being "in" the closet is perceived as living a false, sham half-life - it isn't living. You are deemed doubly guilty: of being gay, and of being ashamed of it. We live in such an insecure society, and everyone is in one closet or another, and many of them are made of glass: they wear their insecurities on their sleeves. It is not only "us" versus "them" - gay versus straight, there is such a broad range of internally directed hatred, judgment and shaming within the gay community. As a group we parade and champion acceptance, but behind the confines of our paper partitions, we do not often accept one another for our variations on the same theme.
I read recently that many believe that homophobia is a fear that the homophobe himself may be gay - that is probably true, and is by no means a new idea. What is the origin of this? Where did all this hate even come from? In the ancient past, homosexuality was a fairly common and accepted passtime, though socially constructed in such a way. Hadrian and Antinoos, Achilles and Patrocles, Jove and Ganymede, Apollo and Hyacinth etc. There was not any kind of enduring relationship - no gaily married men on Olympus that I know of, anyhow. But the sexual component was accepted if not promoted by the ancients. I suppose it must have been the rise of religion that gave voice to the prudish hatred for the sexual act. I have a Mormon friend whose parents told him that while he is entitled to love whoever he chooses, they condemn the homosexual act. What a reverse! Are love and sex not a golden braid in themselves? A complicated relationship exists between the commingling of hearts and the physical manifestation in bodies, but it seems a gross hypocrisy to allow one and condemn the other.
La Rochefoucauld wrote "There are some people who would never have fallen in love if they had not heard there was such a thing" - does the same go for hate as goes for love? How would someone grow to hate themselves or to hate others for their differences, if someone aeons ago had not given voice, conceived of such a word, as defines something to be hated? And will that rhetoric of homophobia and hatred ever truly be extricated from our language? Language is very powerful - it can make people fall in love, it can entertain, it can enlighten, but it can also breed hatred and misunderstanding, it can lie, it can kill.
It has been a while now since I have read through Eve Sedgewick's Epistemology of the Closet and while I may have lost some of the particulars and nuances into the receding oblivion, the impact it has made on my world view persists. Throughout literature, just as throughout life, we encounter everywhere the metaphor of the closet. So much rhetoric has been propped up against this metaphor of the "closet" that it seems that it creates this vicious cycle of stigmatizing people who are unsure, figuring it out, or simply constrained by other forces. Being "in" the closet is perceived as living a false, sham half-life - it isn't living. You are deemed doubly guilty: of being gay, and of being ashamed of it. We live in such an insecure society, and everyone is in one closet or another, and many of them are made of glass: they wear their insecurities on their sleeves. It is not only "us" versus "them" - gay versus straight, there is such a broad range of internally directed hatred, judgment and shaming within the gay community. As a group we parade and champion acceptance, but behind the confines of our paper partitions, we do not often accept one another for our variations on the same theme.
I read recently that many believe that homophobia is a fear that the homophobe himself may be gay - that is probably true, and is by no means a new idea. What is the origin of this? Where did all this hate even come from? In the ancient past, homosexuality was a fairly common and accepted passtime, though socially constructed in such a way. Hadrian and Antinoos, Achilles and Patrocles, Jove and Ganymede, Apollo and Hyacinth etc. There was not any kind of enduring relationship - no gaily married men on Olympus that I know of, anyhow. But the sexual component was accepted if not promoted by the ancients. I suppose it must have been the rise of religion that gave voice to the prudish hatred for the sexual act. I have a Mormon friend whose parents told him that while he is entitled to love whoever he chooses, they condemn the homosexual act. What a reverse! Are love and sex not a golden braid in themselves? A complicated relationship exists between the commingling of hearts and the physical manifestation in bodies, but it seems a gross hypocrisy to allow one and condemn the other.
La Rochefoucauld wrote "There are some people who would never have fallen in love if they had not heard there was such a thing" - does the same go for hate as goes for love? How would someone grow to hate themselves or to hate others for their differences, if someone aeons ago had not given voice, conceived of such a word, as defines something to be hated? And will that rhetoric of homophobia and hatred ever truly be extricated from our language? Language is very powerful - it can make people fall in love, it can entertain, it can enlighten, but it can also breed hatred and misunderstanding, it can lie, it can kill.
stefhyena's review
3.0
An interesting book. One of those ones where trying to wrap your head around it gives you a headache (in a good way). I wish I had read the books she discussed in it! For me the connection between (unacknowledged) male homosexuality and women's experience, even queer women's experience was convincingly shown by the text (in addition many of the observations about being closetted/known are transferrable as are many of the fears.
Probably everyone should read it, or something like it to show how culture is constituted of open secrets and unacknowledged presences of various types of "others". Also how we all bear otherness in ourselves and xenophobia is fear of BEING the strange rather than a seperated out fear of the strange. Confusing to read about all the embodied denials and ignorances of privilege.
At times maybe she was a bit self-indulgent, there was enough traces of self-mockery to make this forgivable, even enjoyable.
But Oooooooh what a difficult read!
Probably everyone should read it, or something like it to show how culture is constituted of open secrets and unacknowledged presences of various types of "others". Also how we all bear otherness in ourselves and xenophobia is fear of BEING the strange rather than a seperated out fear of the strange. Confusing to read about all the embodied denials and ignorances of privilege.
At times maybe she was a bit self-indulgent, there was enough traces of self-mockery to make this forgivable, even enjoyable.
But Oooooooh what a difficult read!