Oracular abject: an aut0theoretical approach to theory and process in the Noracle

Abstract

The Noracle is an experimental memoir as well as a version of the ancient Chinese book of divination the I Ching. In sixty-four concrete prose poems I follow the six-stanza, varying broken/solid line shapes of the original I Ching hexagrams to tell stories from my painful childhood and early adulthood in New York City; the vertigo the combination of form and content produces is meant to recreate a sense of trauma, reflection and finally repositioning, inviting the reader to maintain mindful poise while experiencing confusion and pain. The subject matter, like the original I Ching, is occupied with meaning, morals and fate. The writing, though lyrical, has a quality of inescapable density, relying heavily on personal symbolism and an internal logic that is not always easy for the reader to grasp; this produces an intentional fug meant to mimic the drug-infused atmosphere of my upbringing. Like the original, the Noracle can be ‘consulted’ as an oracle, i.e. read randomly from any page. Further, each line has an individual negative or positive connotation, that if approached in the fashion of the I Ching will give an answer that I tried to align with the original ‘fortune’. When read through from beginning to end, the Noracle aims to tells a story of hope that isn’t reliant on happy endings or justice, but rather on being in the present and appreciating every instant of being alive, no matter how disorienting or frightening.

‘The Oracular Abject’ is a reflection on the themes of the Noracle, and to a lesser extent my other works to date. Using Julia Kristeva’s feminist psychoanalytic concept of the developmental stage of abjection, I examine how my dissociation from childhood trauma has made me the anti-form writer I am in style, practice and end product. Looking at the prevalence of the Hero’s Journey story as our hegemonic model of meaning-making and utilising Laura Fournier’s theory of autotheory, I use Barthian mini-essays and an emphatic Kristevan tone to build on/unearth the topic of what writing about my past has been for me, and how it is, to quote the epigraph I’ve chosen by Jabès, ‘the opposite of imagining’.