Decolonizing Trauma Studies: A Response
Decolonizing Trauma Studies: A Response
复制标题
创伤研究非殖民化：回应
DOI：
10.1353/sdn.0.0005
复制
发表时间：
2008
影响因子：
0.2
通讯作者：
Michael Rothberg
中科院分区：
文献类型：
--
作者：
Michael Rothberg
安德烈·施瓦兹-巴特（Andre Schwarz-Bart）的长篇小说《一个叫孤独的女人》（La mulatresse Solitude，1972）讲述了一个关于跨大西洋奴隶制的史诗故事，对当代创伤研究具有启示意义。在《孤独》的过程中，小说开头所描绘的非洲田园风光的后裔成为了加勒比地区的流散者--他们仍然在耕种土地，但条件却大不相同。小说的主人公巴扬古梅在中途被俘虏、驱逐和强奸，生下了一个女儿，“la mulatresse Solitude”（“黑白混血儿的孤独”），瓜德罗普历史上的传奇人物。孤独后来被处决，因为她在一次奴隶叛乱中的角色，在她生下自己的孩子的第二天，她也注定要作为某人的财产生活。在小说简短的尾声中，叙述者打破了文本的历史框架，想象有一天一个游客会来参观孤独和其他叛乱分子反抗奴役的种植园-一个被叛乱领导人绝望地炸毁的地方：如果旅行者坚持，他将被允许参观旧Danglemont种植园的遗迹。卫兵会挥挥手，就像变魔术一样，一个衣衫褴褛的黑人工人会出现。他会带着一种模糊的怀疑的表情迎接旧石头的爱好者，他们会开始。[T]他们将漫步这条路，最终来到一个膝盖高的墙和一个土堆的残余与骨碎片。意识到一种淡淡的灰烬的味道，游客会随意走几步，在豪宅周围画出越来越大的圆圈。他的脚会撞到一块建筑用的石头上，这些石头被枯叶掩盖着，这些树叶被爆炸分散了，然后多年来被田野工人无辜的锄头打磨，挖掘，覆盖，再挖出来。如果他有心情向一段记忆致敬，他的想象力就会出现在这个空间里，人类的形象就会在他周围升起，就像在华沙犹太人区屈辱的废墟上游荡的幽灵据说会在其他旅行者的眼前升起一样。（A Woman 149- 150）在小说的这些结尾句中，施瓦茨-巴特描绘了一幅充满废墟、骨碎片、灰烬和幻影的创伤景观。(1)他调动了各种形式的时代错误和“anatopism”（空间错位），以描绘多种创伤遗产。(2)就像小说的开头段落一样，这段话混合了神话和世俗。但是，在开头对童话故事的召唤（小说开头是“从前”[3]）的地方，更多的哥特式，甚至是创伤性的时间性出现在尾声中。就像骨头的碎片一样，时间也是支离破碎的。虽然小说本身不断地从非洲移动到瓜德罗普，从世纪中期到19世纪初，但结尾跳到小说阐述的当代时刻，跳到一个假设的、分层的欧洲/加勒比空间。据推测，欧洲旅行者和西印度群岛的导游似乎在空间和时间上都是一样的--前者是因为他对“古老的石头”的令人困惑的热爱，后者是因为他神奇的出现和破烂的外表。作为废墟，种植园的遗址本身与现在脱节，被近两个世纪的“无辜”活动半埋，但仍然证明了一个暴力的过去。如果像《小说研究》这一重要特刊的许多撰稿人令人信服地指出的那样，千禧年之交的创伤研究仍然停留在欧美的概念和历史框架内，那么施瓦茨-巴特的工作表明了另一种趋势：（至少）60年来，某些作家和知识分子一直在寻求将欧洲的创伤与殖民和后殖民空间的创伤联系起来。…
Andre Schwarz-Bart's slim novel A Woman Named Solitude (La mulatresse Solitude, 1972) tells an epic tale of trans-Atlantic slavery with implications for contemporary trauma studies. Over the course of Solitude, the descendants of a pastoral African landscape depicted at the novel's opening become diasporic subjects in the Caribbean-still tilling the land but under significantly different conditions. Captured, deported, and raped during the Middle Passage, the novel's protagonist Bayangumay gives birth to a daughter, "la mulatresse Solitude" ("the mulatto Solitude"), a legendary figure in Guadeloupe's history. Solitude is later executed for her role in a slave rebellion the day after giving birth to her own child, who is also destined to live as someone's property. In the novel's brief epilogue, the narrator breaks the historical frame of the text and imagines that a tourist will one day come to visit the plantation where Solitude and other rebels fought against their enslavement--a site that was dynamited in desperation by the rebellion's leader: If the traveler insists, he will be permitted to visit the remains of the old Danglemont plantation. The guard will wave his hand, and as though by magic a tattered black field worker will appear. He will greet the lover of old stones with a vaguely incredulous look, and they will start off.... [T]hey will stroll this way and that and ultimately come to a remnant of knee-high wall and a mound of earth intermingled with bone splinters.... Conscious of a faint taste of ashes, the visitor will take a few steps at random, tracing wider and wider circles around the site of the mansion. His foot will collide with one of the building stones, concealed by dead leaves, which were dispersed by the explosion and then over the years buffed, dug up, covered over, and dug up again by the innocent hoes of the field workers. If he is in the mood to salute a memory, his imagination will people the environing space, and human figures will rise up around him, just as the phantoms that wander about the humiliated ruins of the Warsaw ghetto are said to rise up before the eyes of other travelers. (A Woman 149-50) In these concluding sentences of the novel, Schwarz-Bart depicts a landscape of trauma replete with ruins, bone splinters, ashes, and phantoms. (1) He mobilizes various forms of anachronism and "anatopism" (spatial misplacement) in order to depict multiple traumatic legacies. (2) Like the novel's opening paragraphs, this passage mingles the mythical and the mundane. But in the place of the opening's invocation of the fairy-tale ("Once upon a time," the novel begins [3]), more gothic, even traumatic, temporalities emerge in the epilogue. Like the fragments of bone, time is literally splintered. While the novel proper moves continuously from Africa to Guadeloupe and from the mid-eighteenth century to the beginning of the nineteenth, the epilogue jumps to the contemporary moment of the novel's enunciation and to a hypothetical, layered European/ Caribbean space. Both the presumably European traveler and the West Indian guide appear equally displaced spatially and temporally--the former because of his perplexing love of "old stones," the latter because of his magical emergence and tattered appearance. As ruin, the site of the plantation is itself disjoined from the present, half-buried by nearly two centuries of "innocent" activities but still testifying to a violent past. If, as many of the contributors to this important special issue of Studies in the Novel convincingly argue, turn-of-the-millennium trauma studies has remained stuck within Euro-American conceptual and historical frameworks, Schwarz-Bart's work demonstrates another tendency: for sixty years (at least), certain writers and intellectuals have been seeking to articulate traumas within Europe with traumas in colonial and postcolonial space. …