[Discussion] Postcolonial Contraventions: Cultural Readings of Race, Imperialism and Transnationalism

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*Laura Chrisman.* /Postcolonial Contraventions: Cultural Readings of
Race, Imperialism and Transnationalism//. /Manchester: Manchester
University Press, 2003. viii + 200 pp. Notes, bibliography, index.
$69.95 (cloth), ISBN 0-7190-5827-9; $24.95 (paper), ISBN 0-7190-5828-7.

Reviewed by *Tony Simoes da Silva*, School of English, University of Exeter.
Published by H-SAfrica <http://www.h-net.msu.edu/%7Esafrica> (May, 2004)


*Methods and Manners in Postcolonial Studies*

Readers familiar with the work of Laura Chrisman will have encountered
some, if not most, of the essays contained in this collection elsewhere;
as the author notes in her introductory essay, Postcolonial
Contraventions: Cultural Readings of Race, Imperialism and
Transnationalism brings together work produced over a period of almost a
decade (p. 1). While this is the case with nine of the essays, the book
also includes two new chapters, one of which is the introduction. The
other, chapter 11, focuses on the work of Benita Parry, a critic and
theorist whom Chrisman obviously admires. Parry's work is first referred
to in chapter 8, in which Chrisman takes Robert Young to task for an
attack on Parry, in his review of Gayatri Spivak's Outside in the
Teaching Machine (1993)--a rather circuitous path, but that is in the
nature of scholarly criticism.[1] I use the term "attack" here because
"critique" would be to misread the tone of Chrisman's essay and, indeed,
of Young's words. But Young's posture is important here for another
reason; it epitomizes for Chrisman what she identifies in her
introduction as one of the least productive aspects in postcolonial
studies, a tendency for ad hominem writing that has become associated
with a certain style of "doing" postcolonial criticism.

In her introduction, Chrisman articulates a statement of intention that
is polemic and conciliatory, forceful and responsive, yet, crucially,
one that seeks to convey her critical stance without resorting to
personal attacks. To borrow her own words on Parry and Young, her work
seeks "to evaluate another thinker's ideas critically, foregrounding the
underlying assumptions and the implications of the reasoning contained,
and to suggest (directly or indirectly) alternative ways to
conceptualise the issues" (p. 2). Chrisman's distinct position resides
in this confluence of a forcefully expressed opinion on other critics'
thought; a consistent emphasis on the need for, and a desire to engage
in, a dialogue with them; and a plainly formulated commitment to
materiality in scholarly analysis. Hence the title of my review, for two
key elements seem to me to characterize this work: methodologies that
draw openly on the work of others are perhaps all the more original for
having to cope with anxieties of influence, and critical debates need
not be devoid of good manners.

It is worth stressing, moreover, Chrisman's point that if there is one
quality that her work reflects it is the focus on the materiality of
culture. At the heart of her call lies a suspicion of, and a
full-blooded desire to reject, what she terms the aestheticization of
culture--colonial and postcolonial--that emerges in the work of critics
such as Spivak, Paul Gilroy, Edward Said, Fredric Jameson, Anne
McClintock, and others, if in different ways. By aestheticization,
Chrisman refers to the "presentation of art as the best or (at times)
the only medium of social and political transformation" (p. 91). To that
extent, in her critique of Sol Plaatje and W. E. B. Du Bois (chapter 5),
for instance, Chrisman challenges the appropriateness of Afro-American
cultural and political paradigms to an understanding of African
intellectual movements. Expanding on an argument first set out in a
well-known critique of Gilroy's The Black Atlantic (1993), which is
reprinted in this collection, Chrisman suggests that issues of
nationalism and political struggle retain a degree of importance in
South Africa that may not apply in the United States.[2] Consequently,
she writes, "what we now need [is] the notion of a critical
interrogative black Atlantic political culture, based in dialogue not
emulation" (p. 92). Thus, "rather than view nationalism, organised
political struggle and structural economic analysis as the polar
opposites of black Atlanticism, we need to recognise more complexity in
their relations; at times, I suggest, black Atlanticism and black
nationalism are interdependent practices, not antinomies" (p. 91). This
degree of critical and theoretical pragmatism constitutes perhaps the
hallmark of many of these essays.

Working within a similar perspective, other chapters explore the work of
David Lloyd (chapter 7); the discipline of cultural studies in South
Africa and its unique vantage point for the development of a genuinely
new way of reading culture in the context of very concrete material and
political contexts; and what Chrisman calls the "transnational
production of Englishness" (chapter 9), examining the way in which the
anti-apartheid movement co-opted certain authors and literary texts into
a broader re-imagining of that "idea that redeems it," to resort,
ungrammatically and inaccurately, to Conrad's words in his own critique
of colonialism.

At her best, Chrisman is a perspicacious reader and a provocative
thinker, intensely committed to the material she examines. Her analysis
of each critic's work is painstakingly set out, supported by close
textual analysis. This is particularly well demonstrated in "Gendering
Imperialism" (chapter 2), in which Chrisman undertakes a critique of
Anne McClintock's reading of Haggard in Imperial Leather (1996).[3]
Although in part a stimulating response to the polemic McClintock's
essay articulated, this is also an extremely scholarly examination of
another critic's work, precisely effective in its ability to highlight
the obvious ways in which McClintock seemed intent on tailoring the text
she examined to her thesis, rather than the other way round. Chrisman's
reading of Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness (1907) in chapter 1 is
equally rich, exploring patiently and persuasively the commodification
of the imperial project as it is addressed in the novella. She
concludes, "By looking in more detail at the ways this text engages
issues of reification, bureaucracy and corporatism, we can better
situate the metropole itself as Conrad's 'Heart of Darkness'" (p. 37).

The discussion of Jameson, Said, and Spivak (chapter 3) follows neatly
from the earlier examination of Heart of Darkness, especially insofar as
their work privileges what Chrisman identifies earlier as the textuality
of colonialism, rather than its material bases. She concludes the
chapter thus: "What emerges from their work is the challenge of
producing an account that neither aestheticises space nor renders it a
synonym for existential aporia but is sensitive both to phenomenological
and political processes, to human production of as well as production
within space" (p. 68). While I wonder if "what emerges from an
examination of their work" as undertaken by Chrisman might be a more
accurate way of summarizing the chapter's function, this chapter is
nevertheless a clear examination of three key figures in postcolonial
studies.

Unfortunately, in spite of an emphasis on critical subtlety, all too
often Chrisman seems to me to adopt a position that is as extreme and
potentially simplistic as some of those whom she critiques. Perhaps I
too am biased toward the textual production of colonialism, but it seems
to me that Chrisman's analysis, on occasion, comes close to "doing a
McClintock." Dialogue involves both a critique, and hence a qualified
rejection, of the views expressed by others and recognition of the ways
in which even the limitations of their work will have facilitated new
forms of thinking. The discussion on Jameson, Said, and Spivak achieves
this quite successfully, but not so with some of the later essays. I
have a little difficulty with the way in which some writers simply
cannot seem to do anything to Chrisman's satisfaction, while others can
do no wrong. This is evident in her treatment of Parry's and Gilroy's
work, as well as that of Achebe and Plaatje.

In her final chapter, discussing Parry's contribution to the field of
postcolonial studies, she writes: "I hesitate to bring in a negative
dimension to the discussion of Parry's work, though I imagine that she
would prefer me to do this rather than deliver an unconditionally
glowing account of my fave rave" (p. 171). Quite, but why does she not
experience similar queasiness when writing on McClintock or Anthony
Appiah? Contrary to what the author seems determined to convey here, the
work of African intellectuals and critics, such as Ntongela Masilela and
Appiah, is far more nuanced than Chrisman allows. That their writings
come through as aloof, ignorant, or (un)wittingly subscribing to
neo-colonial subject positions often is less a reflection of their work
than it is of Chrisman's interpretation of it. If Sol Plaatje's writing
can evince insights into the condition of South African black people in
relation to that of Afro-Americans, as Chrisman insists, he does not do
so in isolation. Both Appiah and Gilroy can write about the African
Diaspora in ways that are every bit as rewarding as Plaatje's.

The insight Chrisman detects in the positions of Achebe or Parry is one
that she clearly denies in other critics' work. In fact, Chrisman's
critique of Gilroy's 1993 book comes close to the ad hominem attack she
spends considerable time rejecting throughout the work. Gilroy's text
may have its flaws, but to imply that its popularity within academia (a
space Chrisman refers to as if she wrote from outside it) is simply the
result of the gullibility of academics is disingenuous. Gilroy's text
captured a mood, if that is the right term, in the discipline of
postcolonial studies, that sought to move away from readings of power
and powerlessness, agency and victimhood as forever neatly organized
along dichotomous lines. Whatever flaws we might find in The Black
Atlantic, its contribution towards a subtler understanding of
Afro-Diasporic cultural formations has endowed the field of postcolonial
studies with a range of productive theoretical positions. For these
reasons, Chrisman's awed reading of Achebe's "critique of cosmopolitics"
leads her to oddly unsettling assertions on notions such as
cosmopolitanism, a position that, again, is associated with those
critics whom she dislikes or distrusts. In her discussion of Achebe's
position in Home and Exile, she writes: "Global communication,
ultimately is only liberatory for those sovereigns or states that own
the communication structures. For those who do not own them, these
international structures simply amplify the depth and range of their
unfreedom" (p. 160).[4] These are pretty despondent sentiments.
Moreover, much as it could be argued that the words are a reflection of
Achebe's own take on the condition that Chrisman writes on, these are
her words, not his. And the point I would like to pursue here is that
although we might want or need to read culturalist critics such as Homi
Bhabha, Appiah, and Said with a pinch of salt, or whatever other spice
we might settle for, in order to contravene idiomatic structures, this
should not allow us to insist on the lack of agency of subalterns that
most of us, Achebe included, know primarily as observers. Achebe's
position may be backed by the experience of a life lived between the
extremes of power and powerlessness of an African who has journeyed to
the heart of empire (the new one), but even he is no more representative
of the whole of Africa than Don DeLillo is of the United States or Zadie
Smith of contemporary Britain.

Chrisman describes her collection of essays as a call "to diversify the
field" (p. 1) of postcolonial studies, and the book's broad set of
subjects of study would seem to support this claim. The chapters vary in
quality and purpose, but overall they are eminently readable,
illustrating why Chrisman has become an influential, if understated,
voice in postcolonial studies. Ironically she occupies a place not
dissimilar from Parry's own position in the field. Moreover, despite the
uneven quality of the work as a whole, the way the various essays allow
us to follow Chrisman's intellectual journey over a period of time is
one of the strengths of this kind of book. There are contradictions, and
roads less travelled; there are points excessively labored, and
sometimes a strange feeling that one or two essays might well have been
reconsidered in some sense. I have no brief to defend Robert Young, but
the chapter on him seems completely out of place in the context of this
book's aims and intentions. That said, this is a timely collection of
essays, bringing together Laura Chrisman's unique contribution to
postcolonial studies in a way that makes her writing easily accessible
to scholars and students working in he field.

It seems rather churlish to end on this note, but I was surprised by
Manchester University Press's rather relaxed approach to the text as a
material product. Final proofreading was patchy, and on a few occasions
the omission or inclusion of a word completely changes the meaning of
Chrisman's text (pp. 27, 29, 42, 95). The reader is always able to
detect the intended meaning, but I could not help resenting how unfairly
it reflects on the text as a whole.

Notes

[1]. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, Outside in the Teaching Machine (New
York: Routledge, 1993).

[2]. Paul Gilroy, The Black Atlantic (Cambridge: Harvard University
Press, 1993).

[3]. Anne McClintock, Imperial Leather: Race, Gender, and Sexuality in
the Colonial Conquest (New York: Routledge, 1995).

[4]. Chinua Achebe, Home and Exile (New York: Oxford University Press,
2000).







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<font size="+2"><b>Laura Chrisman.</b> <i>Postcolonial Contraventions:
Cultural Readings of Race, Imperialism and Transnationalism</i></font><i>.
</i><font size="+1">Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2003. viii
+ 200 pp.
Notes, bibliography, index.
$69.95 (cloth), ISBN 0-7190-5827-9; $24.95 (paper), ISBN 0-7190-5828-7.</font>
<p><font size="+1">Reviewed by <b>Tony Simoes da Silva</b>, School of
English, University of Exeter.<br>
Published by <a href="http://www.h-net.msu.edu/%7Esafrica">
H-SAfrica</a> (May, 2004)
</font></p>
<p><font size="+1"><br>
</font></p>
<center><font size="+1"><b>Methods and Manners in Postcolonial Studies</b></font></center>
<p>
<font size="+1">Readers familiar with the work of Laura Chrisman will
have encountered some, if not most, of the essays contained in this
collection elsewhere; as the author notes in her introductory essay, <cite>Postcolonial
Contraventions: Cultural Readings of Race, Imperialism and
Transnationalism</cite>
brings together work produced over a period of almost a decade (p. 1).
While this is the case with nine of the essays, the book also includes
two new chapters, one of which is the introduction. The other, chapter
11, focuses on the work of Benita Parry, a critic and theorist whom
Chrisman obviously admires. Parry's work is first referred to in
chapter 8, in which Chrisman takes Robert Young to task for an attack
on Parry, in his review of Gayatri Spivak's <cite>Outside in the
Teaching Machine</cite>
(1993)--a rather circuitous path, but that is in the nature of
scholarly criticism.[1] I use the term "attack" here because "critique"
would be to misread the tone of Chrisman's essay and, indeed, of
Young's words. But Young's posture is important here for another
reason; it epitomizes for Chrisman what she identifies in her
introduction as one of the least productive aspects in postcolonial
studies, a tendency for <cite>ad hominem</cite> writing that has
become associated with a certain style of "doing" postcolonial
criticism. </font></p>
<p><font size="+1">In her introduction, Chrisman articulates a
statement of intention that
is polemic and conciliatory, forceful and responsive, yet, crucially,
one that seeks to convey her critical stance without resorting to
personal attacks. To borrow her own words on Parry and Young, her work
seeks "to evaluate another thinker's ideas critically, foregrounding
the underlying assumptions and the implications of the reasoning
contained, and to suggest (directly or indirectly) alternative ways to
conceptualise the issues" (p. 2). Chrisman's distinct position resides
in this confluence of a forcefully expressed opinion on other critics'
thought; a consistent emphasis on the need for, and a desire to engage
in, a dialogue with them; and a plainly formulated commitment to
materiality in scholarly analysis. Hence the title of my review, for
two key elements seem to me to characterize this work: methodologies
that draw openly on the work of others are perhaps all the more
original for having to cope with anxieties of influence, and critical
debates need not be devoid of good manners. </font></p>
<p><font size="+1">It is worth stressing, moreover, Chrisman's point
that if there is one
quality that her work reflects it is the focus on the materiality of
culture. At the heart of her call lies a suspicion of, and a
full-blooded desire to reject, what she terms the aestheticization of
culture--colonial and postcolonial--that emerges in the work of critics
such as Spivak, Paul Gilroy, Edward Said, Fredric Jameson, Anne
McClintock, and others, if in different ways. By aestheticization,
Chrisman refers to the "presentation of art as the best or (at times)
the only medium of social and political transformation" (p. 91). To
that extent, in her critique of Sol Plaatje and W. E. B. Du Bois
(chapter 5), for instance, Chrisman challenges the appropriateness of
Afro-American cultural and political paradigms to an understanding of
African intellectual movements. Expanding on an argument first set out
in a well-known critique of Gilroy's <cite>The Black Atlantic</cite>
(1993), which is reprinted in this collection, Chrisman suggests that
issues of nationalism and political struggle retain a degree of
importance in South Africa that may not apply in the United States.[2]
Consequently, she writes, "what we now need [is] the notion of a
critical interrogative black Atlantic political culture, based in
dialogue not emulation" (p. 92). Thus, "rather than view nationalism,
organised political struggle and structural economic analysis as the
polar opposites of black Atlanticism, we need to recognise more
complexity in their relations; at times, I suggest, black Atlanticism
and black nationalism are interdependent practices, not antinomies" (p.
91). This degree of critical and theoretical pragmatism constitutes
perhaps the hallmark of many of these essays. </font></p>
<p><font size="+1">Working within a similar perspective, other chapters
explore the work
of David Lloyd (chapter 7); the discipline of cultural studies in South
Africa and its unique vantage point for the development of a genuinely
new way of reading culture in the context of very concrete material and
political contexts; and what Chrisman calls the "transnational
production of Englishness" (chapter 9), examining the way in which the
anti-apartheid movement co-opted certain authors and literary texts
into a broader re-imagining of that "idea that redeems it," to resort,
ungrammatically and inaccurately, to Conrad's words in his own critique
of colonialism. </font></p>
<p><font size="+1"> At her best, Chrisman
is a perspicacious reader and a provocative thinker, intensely
committed to the material she examines. Her analysis of each critic's
work is painstakingly set out, supported by close textual analysis.
This is particularly well demonstrated in "Gendering Imperialism"
(chapter 2), in which Chrisman undertakes a critique of Anne
McClintock's reading of Haggard in <cite>Imperial Leather</cite>
(1996).[3] Although in part a stimulating response to the polemic
McClintock's essay articulated, this is also an extremely scholarly
examination of another critic's work, precisely effective in its
ability to highlight the obvious ways in which McClintock seemed intent
on tailoring the text she examined to her thesis, rather than the other
way round. Chrisman's reading of Joseph Conrad's <cite>Heart of
Darkness</cite>
(1907) in chapter 1 is equally rich, exploring patiently and
persuasively the commodification of the imperial project as it is
addressed in the novella. She concludes, "By looking in more detail at
the ways this text engages issues of reification, bureaucracy and
corporatism, we can better situate the metropole itself as Conrad's
'Heart of Darkness'" (p. 37). </font></p>
<p><font size="+1"> The discussion of Jameson, Said, and Spivak
(chapter 3) follows neatly from the earlier examination of <cite>Heart
of Darkness</cite>,
especially insofar as their work privileges what Chrisman identifies
earlier as the textuality of colonialism, rather than its material
bases. She concludes the chapter thus: "What emerges from their work is
the challenge of producing an account that neither aestheticises space
nor renders it a synonym for existential aporia but is sensitive both
to phenomenological and political processes, to human production of as
well as production within space" (p. 68). While I wonder if "what
emerges from an examination of their work" as undertaken by Chrisman
might be a more accurate way of summarizing the chapter's function,
this chapter is nevertheless a clear examination of three key figures
in postcolonial studies. </font></p>
<p><font size="+1"> Unfortunately,
in spite of an emphasis on critical subtlety, all too often Chrisman
seems to me to adopt a position that is as extreme and potentially
simplistic as some of those whom she critiques. Perhaps I too am biased
toward the textual production of colonialism, but it seems to me that
Chrisman's analysis, on occasion, comes close to "doing a McClintock."
Dialogue involves both a critique, and hence a qualified rejection, of
the views expressed by others and recognition of the ways in which even
the limitations of their work will have facilitated new forms of
thinking. The discussion on Jameson, Said, and Spivak achieves this
quite successfully, but not so with some of the later essays. I have a
little difficulty with the way in which some writers simply cannot seem
to do anything to Chrisman's satisfaction, while others can do no
wrong. This is evident in her treatment of Parry's and Gilroy's work,
as well as that of Achebe and Plaatje. </font></p>
<p><font size="+1">In her final chapter, discussing Parry's
contribution to the field of
postcolonial studies, she writes: "I hesitate to bring in a negative
dimension to the discussion of Parry's work, though I imagine that she
would prefer me to do this rather than deliver an unconditionally
glowing account of my fave rave" (p. 171). Quite, but why does she not
experience similar queasiness when writing on McClintock or Anthony
Appiah? Contrary to what the author seems determined to convey here,
the work of African intellectuals and critics, such as Ntongela
Masilela and Appiah, is far more nuanced than Chrisman allows. That
their writings come through as aloof, ignorant, or (un)wittingly
subscribing to neo-colonial subject positions often is less a
reflection of their work than it is of Chrisman's interpretation of it.
If Sol Plaatje's writing can evince insights into the condition of
South African black people in relation to that of Afro-Americans, as
Chrisman insists, he does not do so in isolation. Both Appiah and
Gilroy can write about the African Diaspora in ways that are every bit
as rewarding as Plaatje's. </font></p>
<p><font size="+1"> The insight
Chrisman detects in the positions of Achebe or Parry is one that she
clearly denies in other critics' work. In fact, Chrisman's critique of
Gilroy's 1993 book comes close to the <cite>ad hominem</cite> attack
she spends considerable time rejecting throughout the work. Gilroy's
text may have its flaws, but to imply that its popularity within
academia (a space Chrisman refers to as if she wrote from outside it)
is simply the result of the gullibility of academics is disingenuous.
Gilroy's text captured a mood, if that is the right term, in the
discipline of postcolonial studies, that sought to move away from
readings of power and powerlessness, agency and victimhood as forever
neatly organized along dichotomous lines. Whatever flaws we might find
in <cite>The Black Atlantic</cite>, its contribution towards a subtler
understanding of Afro-Diasporic cultural formations has endowed the
field of postcolonial studies with a range of productive theoretical
positions. For these reasons, Chrisman's awed reading of Achebe's
"critique of cosmopolitics" leads her to oddly unsettling assertions on
notions such as cosmopolitanism, a position that, again, is associated
with those critics whom she dislikes or distrusts. In her discussion of
Achebe's position in <cite>Home and Exile</cite>, she writes: "Global
communication, ultimately is only liberatory for those sovereigns or
states that own the communication structures. For those who do not own
them, these international structures simply amplify the depth and range
of their unfreedom" (p. 160).[4] These are pretty despondent
sentiments. Moreover, much as it could be argued that the words are a
reflection of Achebe's own take on the condition that Chrisman writes
on, these are her words, not his. And the point I would like to pursue
here is that although we might want or need to read culturalist critics
such as Homi Bhabha, Appiah, and Said with a pinch of salt, or whatever
other spice we might settle for, in order to contravene idiomatic
structures, this should not allow us to insist on the lack of agency of
subalterns that most of us, Achebe included, know primarily as
observers. Achebe's position may be backed by the experience of a life
lived between the extremes of power and powerlessness of an African who
has journeyed to the heart of empire (the new one), but even he is no
more representative of the whole of Africa than Don DeLillo is of the
United States or Zadie Smith of contemporary Britain. </font></p>
<p><font size="+1">Chrisman describes her collection of essays as a
call "to diversify the
field" (p. 1) of postcolonial studies, and the book's broad set of
subjects of study would seem to support this claim. The chapters vary
in quality and purpose, but overall they are eminently readable,
illustrating why Chrisman has become an influential, if understated,
voice in postcolonial studies. Ironically she occupies a place not
dissimilar from Parry's own position in the field. Moreover, despite
the uneven quality of the work as a whole, the way the various essays
allow us to follow Chrisman's intellectual journey over a period of
time is one of the strengths of this kind of book. There are
contradictions, and roads less travelled; there are points excessively
labored, and sometimes a strange feeling that one or two essays might
well have been reconsidered in some sense. I have no brief to defend
Robert Young, but the chapter on him seems completely out of place in
the context of this book's aims and intentions. That said, this is a
timely collection of essays, bringing together Laura Chrisman's unique
contribution to postcolonial studies in a way that makes her writing
easily accessible to scholars and students working in he field. </font></p>
<p><font size="+1">It seems rather churlish to end on this note, but I
was surprised by
Manchester University Press's rather relaxed approach to the text as a
material product. Final proofreading was patchy, and on a few occasions
the omission or inclusion of a word completely changes the meaning of
Chrisman's text (pp. 27, 29, 42, 95). The reader is always able to
detect the intended meaning, but I could not help resenting how
unfairly it reflects on the text as a whole. </font></p>
<p><font size="+1"> Notes </font></p>
<p><font size="+1"> [1]. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, <cite>Outside in
the Teaching Machine</cite> (New York: Routledge, 1993). </font></p>
<p><font size="+1"> [2]. Paul Gilroy, <cite>The Black Atlantic</cite>
(Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993). </font></p>
<p><font size="+1"> [3]. Anne McClintock, <cite>Imperial Leather:
Race, Gender, and Sexuality in the Colonial Conquest</cite> (New York:
Routledge, 1995). </font></p>
<p><font size="+1"> [4]. Chinua Achebe, <cite>Home and Exile</cite>
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2000). </font></p>
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