Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
Kofman derives this deance of one's origins and its importance for one's
later development from her readings of Nietzsche, more particularly from
his unusual, wild and ctional autobiography, Ecce Homo. In Explosion I
and II she praises his resistance to comply with the natural givens of one's
factual parental origins and celebrates his perpetual self-invention as a
source of freedom and a weapon against racist ideologies resting on the
strengthening of blood-ties. Kofman sees in Nietzsche's invention of a
ECRITURE PARRICIDE
What is it, one wonders, that resonated here on the scene of the
Fifty years after the events they relate, Sarah Kofman writes her own last
words, a little book with a seemingly insignicant title Rue Ordener, rue
Labat. This title indicates a place and, implicitly a time: the place and time
of Kofman's past. Contrary to her praise of the fragmentary and rhapso-
dic form, it is a story, telling a continuous, coherent sequence of events.
And it is, contrary to her celebration of Nietzschean self-creation and
deance of origin, an admission of the inescapable, merely repressed
impact of her own past. The book tells the story of Bereck Kofman's
deportation to Auschwitz, of his death there, reported by witnesses he
was buried alive after having refused to work on Shabbath and of its
aftermath for the little girl Sarah who was then eight years old. How can
Kofman write an autobiography in a form that denies her own verdict
against the retrospective telling of one's own becoming? The book starts
with the following words:
Of him, all I have left is his pen. I took it from my mother's bag where she
kept other memories of my father. A pen of a kind one doesn't make
anymore, and that one has to ll with ink. I used it during all my school-
years. It deserted me before I decided to let go of it. I have it still, put
together with scotchtape, it lies before my eyes on my desk and compels me
to write, write. My many books may have been necessary crossings to
become able to tell `this'. (Kofman, 1994b: 9)5
What is `this'? What is it that she can tell only now, 50 years and `many
books' later? `This' is put in quotation marks, and, in the original French,
reads (certainly not accidentally for the Freudian Kofman) `ca', it.
Rue Ordener, rue Labat is the rst and only entirely non-theoretical book
by Kofman. The `many books' she alludes to in its beginning are primarily
philosophical and theoretical. In Melancholie de l'art Kofman implicitly
reveals the function of her own theoretical work: philosophical specula-
tion, she writes there, is `a mirror that deects the all too horrifying, all too
unbearable images' (Kofman, 1985: 20). Theoretical writing is thus a
means of psychic survival, be it at the price of repressing, and thereby
mastering, insurmountable traumas.
The story is quickly told: in 23 brief chapters Kofman reconstructs the
story of her childhood and youth in Paris after the deportation of her
father on the 16 July 1942. It starts with a poignant sketch of the father's
departure from the house in the rue Ordener, remembers his last postcard
from Drancy and evokes, in a brief ashback, the `religious and holy
atmosphere' in the house of the orthodox rabbi Kofman: the rituals he
performed, the holidays that united the family, the Yiddish spoken at
home. As the situation becomes more and more dangerous, Kofman has
to be hidden in different locations. At rst she cannot bear the separation
from her mother, has to be brought back again and again, refuses to eat,
sometimes using the pretext of having to keep the laws of Kashruth
inculcated into her by her father. The initially close bond with her mother
loosens, and nally breaks, when Kofman and her mother are taken in by
`la dame de la rue Labat', where they are to stay for the rest of the war. The
little girl will gradually turn away from her mother, a whining bundle of
sorrow, and become infatuated with the candour, the blond hair and blue
eyes of her benefactress, whose name is Claire, and who is not, as Kofman
recalls, without anti-semitic prejudices. She demonstrates to the little girl
the ugliness of the Jews by having her run her nger over `la petite bosse',
the little hunch of her nose, says that Kosher food is unhealthy, that Jews
have the Law but no moral principles and that they have crucied Notre
Seigneur Jesus Christ. Later she introduces her to literature and music and
initiates her to the world of the intellect.
Claire, whom she calls `meme', operates, under the eyes of her suffering
and impotent mother, a `radical transformation' on the little girl. After the
food she gives her pork and raw horse meat to strengthen her health
she changes her hairstyle, her clothing, her habits. A key moment of
detachment from her mother occurs when Sarah recalls the different
reactions of what she now presents as her two mothers at a time when she
got ill: her mother's Yiddish lamentations, which ll her with embarrass-
ment and the healing effect of meme's gentile serenity. After a while the
transformation and the child's change of loyalty from one camp to the
other, from rue Ordener to rue Labat is complete. At the end of the war,
Kofman lives with her mother again; it is a period of continuous illnesses
interrupted by moments of relative happiness thanks to books, school and
rare contacts with meme. Some time later her mother sends her to a home
for Jewish children to bring her back to Judaism; but on the last pages, her
life as an adolescent in postwar Paris, with a despised mother and
occasional visits to meme, is summed up in the image of her reading
Sartre's Les Chemins de la liberte with a lamp under her covers after her
mother has switched off the lights. As a young student she breaks all
contact with meme for a couple of years: `I could', Kofman writes, `not
take it to hear her talk about the past all the time' (Kofman, 1994b: 99).
Rue Ordener, rue Labat is a story told almost entirely as a coherent, linear
and continuous `history of events', in a simple and realistic form. Is Rue
Ordener, rue Labat thus precisely what according to her theory should not
be told? And what about ecriture parricide? The traditional mode in which
the story is told lends a metaphorical meaning to the introduction
describing her father's pen, this old-fashioned, now broken writing tool
she put back together with scotchtape and that lies on her desk as she
writes. Could it be that the form of this memoir restores the father's
authority, if not his presence, by letting him guide her pen?
But just as the scotchtape only hides the crack in the pen, there lies, in
the midst of this seemingly smooth and sober memoir, a disruptive core:
the memory of a guilt and of an offence that underly not only this story,
but, to judge from the introductory words, Kofman's whole life and work.
As the title indicates, Kofman's memoir tells the story of her journey from
rue Ordener to rue Labat, places that are only one metro station apart. Rue
Ordener: the address of her father's home, her `original' place in the
`order of things', the place of order, of ordo, of law, of the law of her father.
Rue Labat, named after a missionary of the 17th century, but also la-bas,
there, over there. Rue Ordener, rue Labat retraces how she turned away
from her mother, her past, her father's memory and her Judaism to
`become what she was to be' until the end of her life: a secular intellectual
celebrating Nietzsche and ecriture parricide. In her memoir, the recollection
of her denial of her origins and blood-ties, Kofman faces the guilt,
repressed so many years, of having, in a way, `buried' her father a
second time: `A Kapo', it says, a Jew that joined the enemy, `buried him
alive'. A few pages further we read: `I had, it seems, buried the whole past
. . . I did not think of my father anymore at all' (Kofman, 1994b: 67). Of her
mother she remembers: `I had completely forgotten about her. I was
simply happy' (Kofman, 1994b: 66). In a chapter ambivalently entitled
`Liberations', she writes: `I now feared that the war may end!' (Kofman,
1994b: 67).
Her guilt is twofold: of having betrayed her origins and of having, in
the midst of the war years, `joyfully' joined the enemy. Through her
infatuation with meme, an infatuation occasionally carrying erotic under-
tones, Kofman turned away from her mother and her father which, in her
descriptions, stand for two sides of Judaism: from suffering and victimiz-
ation on the one hand, from law and authority on the other. She rejected
both to follow the Chemins de la liberte.
In one of the two little chapters that interrupt the otherwise continuous
history of events the other is the description of a scene in a Hitchcock
movie evoking the horror her mother inspired in her Kofman refers to a
painting by Leonardo that she used for the cover of her rst book,
L'Enfance de l'art (Kofman, 1970), depicting two women, the Virgin and
St Anne bending over the child Jesus. This reference is followed by a long
quote by Freud on the painting, in which he points out parallels with
Leonardo's own situation in childhood. He too had two mothers, his real
one and his father's second wife, the latter `undoubtedly replacing the
former in his heart' (Kofman, 1994b: 74). According to Freud the painting
hides the pain and envy of the real mother who had to give to the noble
rival `rst the father, then the child' (Kofman, 1994b: 74). What does
Kofman's mentioning of this passage imply for her own story? Projected
back onto her own situation, the mother's double pain of the loss of father
then child to the same rival fuses, in her own case, those who took the
father the murderers of Auschwitz with meme, the one who `took' her,
took the child. Behind Kofman's blurring of the factual and crucial
distinction between the murderers of her father and the woman who,
after all, helped her survive the war, lies the memory of an offence and,
maybe, the secret link between her theory and her autobiography. And
this is where, far from invalidating her philosophical work, her memoir
also reveals her theory's autobiographical blueprint.
Both her autobiography and the theoretical positions she defended
imply the imperative to respect the stranger, the different, alterity in all its
guises. In Paroles suffoquees Kofman writes that love `implies the encounter
with the heterogeneous' and denounces the error of the belief that `prox-
imity, fusion, absence of difference and distance are constitutive of love'
(Kofman, 1987: 35). Meme's love, which divested the little girl of her
difference in order to turn her into one like herself, may have been such an
error. Without regretting the consequences or wanting to reverse meme's
`work', Kofman, both in her theoretical and her autobiographical writ-
ings, relentlessly tried to give a voice to the silenced other, who, at the
time, was also herself. The last words of her memoir are a homage to
meme tinged with bitter irony; at the funeral of the `dame de la rue Labat'
the priest recalls that the good woman had saved a little Jewish girl
during the war.
Francoise Collin calls Kofman a `lle indele et dele de peres morts'
and explains: `She always, and radically, thought and wrote within the
textual corpus of the other, the thinker or the writer of yesterday or
today, appropriating him for herself and estranging him from himself
only to better restitute him to himself. She only used the pen of the other.'6
In her memoir Kofman tells the story of an appropriation of her self by
meme who obliterated her Jewish otherness to make her the same le
meme as herself. Writing a traditional autobiography and thereby
metaphorically resuscitating the pen of her father within her own author-
ship, she remains faithful to her theoretical injunction of introducing the
other into the same. Like in Hoffmann's tale, who is same and who is
other becomes blurred, revealing the iterability of the gendered oppo-
sition between the different modes of writing the self.
NOTES
REFERENCES
Benstock, Shari (1988) `Authorizing the Autobiographical', pp. 2030 in The Private
Self: Theory and Practice of Women's Autobiographical Writings. London:
Routledge.
Blanchot, Maurice (1980) L'Ecriture du desastre. Paris: Gallimard.
Collin, Francoise and Francoise Proust (1997) Sarah Kofman, Les Cahiers du Grif.
Paris.
Kofman, Sarah (1970) L'Enfance de l'art. Paris: Payot.
Kofman, Sarah (1976) Autobiogriffures. Du chat Murr d'Hoffmann. Paris: Bourgeois.
Kofman, Sarah (1980) L'Enigme de la femme. La femme dans les textes de Freud. Paris:
Galilee.
Kofman, Sarah (1984) Lectures de Derrida. Paris: Galilee.
Kofman, Sarah (1985) Melancholie de l'art. Paris: Galilee.
Kofman, Sarah (1987) Paroles suffoquees. Paris: Galilee.
Kofman, Sarah (1992)Explosion I. De `l'Ecce Homo' de Nietzsche. Paris: Galilee.
Kofman, Sarah (1993) Explosion II. Les enfants de Nietzsche. Paris: Galilee.
Kofman, Sarah (1994a) Le Mepris des Juifs. Paris: Galilee.
Kofman, Sarah (1994b) Rue Ordener, rue Labat. Paris: Galilee.
Van der Waal, Henk (1994) `Sarah Kofman en de eeuwige terugkeer van
Nietzsche', Tmesis 7: 7089.
Vivian Liska has been professor of German literature at the University of Antwerp UIA,
Belgium since 1997. She teaches German literature, feminist theory and rhetoric.
She received her BA at the University of Maryland, and her Licentie and PhD at the
UIA. Her publications include Die Nacht der Hymnen. Paul Celans Gedichte
19381945 (Bern: Lang, 1993); Vrouwen/Feminisme/Literatuur (with Wim
Neetens, Antwerp, 1993); Die Dichterin und das schelmische Erhabene. Else
Lasker-Schulers Die Nachte Tino von Bagdads (Tubingen: Francke Verlag,
1997); Die Moderne Ein Weib. Ricarda Huch und Annette Kolb (Tubingen:
Francke Verlag, forthcoming in 2000). She has also written various articles on
Nietzsche, Kafka, Walter Benjamin, Paul de Man, Paul Celan, Gerhard Roth, Uwe
Johnson, Ilse Aichinger, feminist theory and modernism.