Issues
Past by Author
Past by Date
Present
Future

Volume 34, Number S2

S1 Introduction

S2 Elizabeth Abel
Double Take: Photography, Cinema, and the Segregated Theater

S21 Slavoj Žižek
Intellectuals, Not Gadflies

S36 Ingrid Monson
Hearing, Seeing, and Perceptual Agency

S59 J. Hillis Miller
What Do Stories about Pictures Want?

S98 Michael Taussig
Zoology, Magic, and Surrealism in the War on Terror

S117 Teresa de Lauretis
Nightwood and the “Terror of Uncertain Signs” 

S130 Ronald Paulson
The Perfect Teeth: Dental Aesthetics and Morals

S146 Daniel Tiffany
Rhapsodic Measures

S170 Robert Morris
Blind Time VI, Moral Blinds, Moral Limit

S172 Fredric Jameson
The Square Peg in the Round Hole or the History of Spaceflight

S184 Michael Fried
Seven Poems

S191 Henry Louis Gates, Jr.
Third World of Theory: Enlightenment's Esau

Teresa de Lauretis

Nightwood and the “Terror of Uncertain Signs”

“In every society,” writes Roland Barthes, “various techniques are developed intended to fix the floating chain of signifieds in such a way as to counter the terror of uncertain signs.” That is the function of the linguistic message in the (advertising) image, whose polysemy would otherwise produce a traumatic suspension of meaning. Such an anchoring function is provided by narrative in literary fiction, where the rhetorical/figural dimension of language, in disrupting the stability of meaning, carries what Paul de Man calls “the persistent threat of misreading.” Or, as de Man puts it elsewhere, reading a literary text “leaves a residue of indetermination that has to be, but cannot be, resolved by grammatical means.”
Narrative, like grammar and logic, refers to an extralinguistic and generalizable set of phenomena; even as fiction, disbelief suspended, narrative reaffirms the stable, familiar ground of referential meaning. When narrativization, the construction of a narrative in the literary text, is not working properly, whether by fault or by design, “the terror of uncertain signs” threatens the reader as would an incomplete sentence or an illogical statement, and all the more so if the novel is figurally dense and highly wrought grammatically. Djuna Barnes’s Nightwood is such a novel, written in a style both stark and intensely allusive, at once lucid and obfuscating, as if only language—to paraphrase Barnes—could dress life in the garments of the unknowable.


Teresa de Lauretis is professor of the History of Consciousness at the University of California, Santa Cruz. Her most recent books are Figures of Resistance: Essays in Feminist Theory (2007) and the forthcoming Freud’s Drive: Readings in Psychoanalysis, Literature, and Film (2008).

Critical Inquiry Volume 34, Number S2, Winter© 2008 by The University of Chicago.
0093-1896/08/34S1-0001$10.00