The Absence of Center is Presence to Pass On
Texts: Toni Morrison, Beloved; Jacques Derrida, 'Structure, Sign, and Play in the Discourse of the Human Sciences'; Carl D. Malmgren, 'Mixed Genres and the Logic of Slavery in Toni Morrison's Beloved'; X Japan, 'Tears'

Categorizing things has always been an integral part of human nature. Psychological studies have proved that without categories, the mind’s intelligence would be severely limited. However, people continue to produce works that defy the means of categorization, that evade any center of reference. Critics have been debating over the center of Toni Morrison’s Beloved since it was first published, and at times, one comes up with a possible connecting idea, such as slavery as represented by the character of Beloved herself. Still, by using the techniques of Jacques Derrida, it is possible to eliminate any possibility of a center to this unique novel, and finding as its essence the very thing which avoids categorization; that is, the center of the book is that it in fact has no center at all. It can also be concluded, especially when comparing Beloved to the legend of the band X Japan, that this absence of center is what gives both the band and the book their longevity.

When walking into a bookstore, the assumed centers of thousands of different literary works are plain to the eye: romance, poetry, horror, science fiction. The books are placed in certain sections according to what various people believe to be the center, or unifying principle that holds these books together. The search is, in effect, for the almighty source of what fuels a particular genre. In ‘Structure, Sign and Play in the Discourse of the Human Sciences,’ Derrida comments that ‘what appears most fascinating in this critical search for a new status of discourse is the stated abandonment of all reference to a center, to a subject, to a privileged reference, to an origin, or to an absolute archia’ (11). This seems to be a principle problem in the ongoing discussion of Toni Morrison’s Beloved; for truly, what is one to make of a novel that includes harsh visions of slave life, a romantic story, and a flesh-and-blood incarnation of a ghost? One might be able to swallow the presence of a baby’s ghost up to a point, for the focus seems to sway from this supernatural element to more of a family story, between Sethe, Paul D, and Denver, as the novel progresses. However, a reader suddenly encounters a chapter that begins: 'A fully dressed woman walked out of the water... she sat down and leaned against a mulberry tree. All day and all night she sat there, her head resting on the trunk in a position abandoned enough to crack the brim in her straw hat... Nobody saw her emerge or came accidentally by. If they had, chances are they would have hesitated before approaching her... because amid all that she was smiling.' (50) Is this mysterious character, the woman Beloved, the center of the novel? It is easy to see how this could be argued, and many scholars do, for casual readers are not the only ones confused and intrigued by the place the book has in the literary world.

Carl D. Malmgren, in ‘Mixed Genres and the Logic of Slavery in Toni Morrison’s Beloved,’ calls the novel a combination of genres, these being ghost story, historical novel, slave narrative, and love story. One could argue that these do not encompass the entirety of the novel, but they are the focus of Malmgren’s essay. However, he claims that without a center, these forms ‘seem to rub against one another, to co-exist uneasily, in a state of tension’ (96). To Malmgren, this existence is an anomaly, and therefore in his discourse he attempts to attach Beloved ‘to a center, to a subject,’ as Derrida has been previously quoted as saying. For this scholar, that center is the institution of slavery: ‘Slavery, its logic and its legacy, serves as the figure in the novel’s carpet, the cloth that links love story to ghost story to historical novel’ (102).

It is rather simple to see how and why Malmgren might have come to this conclusion. From the historical angle, the driving force which causes Sethe to commit her act of ‘atrocity’ (as some see it) is her vicious hatred and fear of slavery. From the slave narrative and love story angle, there are detailed descriptive passages which tell precisely how Paul D was able to escape from his captivity to make his way to Sethe’s residence. In addition to this, from the ghost story angle, many see the character and essence of the ghost woman Beloved to represent slavery in its entirety. Towards Beloved’s end, the voice of the character herself is heard, and it seems to be the voice of a slave on the Middle Passage, from Africa to America: ‘there will never be a time when I am not crouching and watching others who are crouching too I am always crouching the man on my face is dead... some who eat nasty themselves I do not eat the men without skin bring us their morning water to drink we have none’ (210). If this literary analysis is taken as truth - that is, if Beloved is seen to stand for the horrors of slavery - then the institution becomes even more apparently the center. For the novel itself is called, obviously, Beloved. Even the character’s appearance in the story is in the middle, or the center, of the narrative: she arrives on page 50 and departs on page 262, sandwiched in between the introduction and the denouement.

Further arguments can be made in this direction; however, so doing would be counterproductive to Malmgren’s analysis, and plunging into the system of analysis that Jacques Derrida has established: deconstructionalism. For deconstruction replaces each center with another, in the way that slavery has replaced Beloved. This takes the assumed ‘center’ of a work and continues further along its plane of origin, in essence showing that there is no center at all. Derrida says, ‘the entire history of the concept of structure... must be thought of as a series of substitutions of center for center, as a linked chain of determinations of the center. Successively, and in a regulated fashion, the center receives different forms or names’ (3). Malmgren, in his attempt at discovering Beloved’s center, has already taken the first steps in this direction, and in effect contradicted his very objective.

Let us examine this process. First of all, Beloved the character is initially determined as the novel’s center. However, then the center is pushed farther back, into a more complete and encompassing idea, that of slavery. This is the point at which Derrida’s theory becomes evident: what, in turn, does slavery push one back to? One might say race relations, or even the ancient need of people to dominate or see themselves as better than others, and this in itself certainly encompasses Beloved. One might even say that it encircles it to a higher degree, since the idea also includes the fact that the townspeople look down upon Sethe and her family for Sethe’s act of violence. In keeping with this process, the act of violence that is at the heart of the novel can be examined in the light of a larger center - human nature. In this way, slavery as a unifier of Morrison’s novel becomes erroneous. The same could be done if Carl Malmgren had decided to label time as the center of the novel, or memories. As Derrida states, ‘the movement of signification adds something, which results in the fact that there is always more’ (15). There is always another step to take in the categorization of the book.

Still, although Malmgren may see a co-existence of genres as an anomaly, the problem of finding a core to this ‘mess’ might be avoided by viewing the novel in a completely different light. The existence of Morrison’s book, which prior to deconstruction would have been attributed to its center, can be credited to its lack of a center; that is, as in Derrida’s claim that ‘the center is not the center’ (3), the essence that allows Beloved to linger among generations of scholars as a great literary work is the essence that does not constitute a center, or even a genre. On the last page of the book, a nameless narrator is speaking of what has passed, and says, ‘This is not a story to pass on’ (275). Let us try and assume once more that Malmgren is correct, and that the story is centered on slavery. The last page of the book itself, in essence, would prove him wrong. The institution of slavery has been dead for over a century; it has not been ‘passed on.’ One could come to the conclusion, then, using slavery as the center, that the story has not been passed on; however, it is known for a fact that this is not the case; otherwise this essay would have no substance. Thus, it must be concluded that since slavery has not been passed on but the story continues to exist, the center or origin of the story which remains cannot be slavery. Without this center, however, Beloved’s story remains, cherished with every passing year.

This longevity is illuminated further under the light of another entity, the Japanese band X Japan. X Japan must be deconstructed in order to explain their music’s continuing existence and the artistic imprint left on the music scene as a whole. The video for the song ‘Tears,’ shown in class, appears to be an anomaly in the same way that Beloved is, because its assumed center is in fact no center at all. Yoshiki Hayashi has been called many times the ‘leader’, or center, of the band: he writes most of the songs, plays two instruments, and is in charge of much of what the band decides to do. Yoshiki has not created anything for X Japan in over two years, and yet the band lives, continuing to gain fans as the years go on. The video evokes a history of the band that reaches beyond identifying a center, however. ‘Tears’ has a certain disjointed quality: each shot in sequence during the video is of a different member of the band; some lyrics are in English and others in Japanese; the band is swaying sentimentally in one moment and rocking out crazily in the next, creating a ‘tribute’ to the band’s history of sorts. The shots blend together, creating a perfect, solid form of something. The combination is what makes it what it is; the combination of each member of the band, each style of music they produce.

Toni Morrison’s Beloved is certainly something, but the elements contributing to it point in a multitude of directions; as Derrida says, ‘There is too much, more than one can say’ (15). It is this very absence of a center that contributes to its ‘passing on’: in no one sentence can one convey the essential quality of Beloved; in no few words can the importance of X Japan as a musical entity be summed up. Therefore, each new generation must learn so for itself. ‘Tears’ and Morrison’s novel, these things defy genre, and in so doing they allow themselves to live on. The very thing that Malmgren was so determined to eliminate - contradiction, in this case absence equals presence, unifies such works of art as beyond category, as above it, and thus identifying that elusive quality that stretches the imagination and makes one believe - in ghosts, in horrible things like slavery, in the amazing existence of a band long gone.


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