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A Fugue on Camp

If perversion is the last word in certainty, then camp has the last word in uncertainty.

Camp agrees with Edith Sitwell insofar as “good taste is one of the worst vices ever invented.”59 When Melissa Bradshaw tells us that “out damned spot” is instead “an issue of make-up, or a wardrobe malfunction,” we discover that camp is a form of critique, not a policing of taste.60 Edith Sitwell as Lady Macbeth is not camp; she simply casts a klieg light on the campiness of Macbeth itself.

Camp also agrees with Diana Vreeland insofar as “we all need a splash of bad taste—it’s hearty, it’s healthy, it’s physical. I think we could use more of it. ‘No taste’ is what I’m against.”61

Camp is a histrionic Heisenberg delighting in realism’s decay.

Camp is an ontology of appearances.

Contrary to popular belief, camp is not hysterical, but hilarious.

If the hysteric’s question is “Am I a man or am I a woman?,” then camp’s question is “Why must I be a man or a woman?”62

Camp is not a hysteric, but an analyst; it is only hysterical in the same way the analyst renders her patient so in the name of truth.

Camp is a midwife in the birth of melodrama. [End Page 28]

Ronald Firbank is the Samuel Beckett of camp.

Camp has an aesthetic, rather than forensic, relation to the anatomy of melancholy.

Camp is a fetish, but eschews the disavowal.

Camp’s relation to the phallus is that of the Laughing Medusa, as in: “Honey, I’ve been staring at that thing all night—I wish it would turn to stone!”63

Camp is not the enemy of masculinity; it merely critiques the sublimity of its earnestness. (By way of example, I submit exhibits A and B: 1960s Batman and the Dark Knight of our moment.)

Camp is not self-loathing; however, it is eminently self-critical.

Camp is a descendant of the baroque. And as such, it is a symptom of modernism.

Camp is the authenticity of affectation.

Camp is the embroidery of nothingness.

Camp tends the bar of repression.

Camp is one of the triumphs of affect over sense.

Camp luxuriates in its ennui; it has a profound intellectual respect for boredom.

Camp is the enemy of identity.

The reports of camp’s death are greatly exaggerated. Indeed, it is the only exaggeration that does not apply to camp.

The anxiety that camp may be dead is a category mistake. Camp is not dead; it is undead.

Camp expresses its discontent with civilization in the name of love.

Camp is an ardent admirer of death’s dominion.

Camp’s loyalty to aestheticism, like Adorno’s to so-called “high art,” is grounded in the art object’s beleaguered nonidentity.

Camp is one of modernism’s others. [End Page 29]

A Selected Canon of Camp Modernism

Seven Men, Max BeerbohmWinesburg, Ohio, Sherwood AndersonFlappers and Philosophers, F. Scott FitzgeraldA Vision, W. B. YeatsOrlando, Virginia WoolfExtraordinary Women, Compton MackenzieThe Pure and the Impure, ColetteThe Apes of God, Wyndham Lewis“Circe” in Ulysses, James JoyceThe Sun Also Rises, Ernest Hemingway“Ash Wednesday,” T. S. EliotHarmonium, Wallace StevensNadja, André BretonNovel on Yellow Paper, Stevie SmithNightwood, Djuna BarnesThe Dance of the Quick and the Dead, Sacheverell SitwellAbsalom, Absalom!, William FaulknerVile Bodies, Evelyn WaughThe Blind Bow-Boy, Carl Van VechtenThe Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, Gertrude SteinThose Barren Leaves, Aldous HuxleyInfants of the Spring, Wallace ThurmanThe Black Book, Lawrence DurrellGood Morning, Midnight, Jean RhysTwo Serious Ladies, Jane BowlesHidden Faces, Salvador DaliSleep in a Nest of Flames, Charles Henri Ford

Camp is both a dangerous supplement and a needful weapon in a handbag of dazzling accessories.

It is an index of the depravity of the time that Lindsay Lohan could be classed as the Tallulah Bankhead of our moment. And an index of our needing camp more than ever.

Camp does not denigrate femininity; rather, it reveals how great and difficult a role it is to pull off.

Camp, as Cocteau obliquely reminds us, copies in order to be original; it is the work of art in the age of rude mechanical reproduction.64

Camp does not mourn what Walter Benjamin would call the decay of the aura; instead, it warms itself with its embers and is grateful for its flattering glow.65 [End Page 30]

Camp resides neither in the eye of the beholder nor in the gaze of the object; rather, camp resides in the unconscious relationship between them.

Camp is a form of Rabelaisian piss-elegance.

Camp, like Sibelius, asks only to be misunderstood correctly.

Camp is not kitsch; in Lacanian terms, camp is the Real of kitsch.

Unlike tragedy, which makes the sublime accessible and immanent in the dazzling, aloof figure of the tragic hero or heroine, and unlike comedy, which makes the sublime accessible and transcendent in the complex play of appearances, camp’s encounters with the sublime make it inaccessible and immanent at the same time.66

That is to say, the transcendental feature of the sublime is made immanent in the camp object or figure as appearance. But as an encounter with sublime knowledge, it remains absurdly and painfully inaccessible. In this case, it is as if a camp figure or object has heard it has an appointment with tragedy, which it slavishly tries to keep, but is continually waylaid by tragedy’s weird sister, comedy. In sum, camp trips, rather than falls, into the abyss.

Camp is an experience of the sublime, but seen from the perspective of the ridiculous.

Camp does not purge us of fear and pity but instead offers the consolation of shame as an object of desire. The shame that attends our enjoyment of camp, the fact that we often mistakenly disavow it as one of our “guilty pleasures,” suggests that we implicitly recognize and turn away from the love we feel for the object. In other words, camp dares us to love our shame.

In matters of art and love, camp yields and shelters confusion.

Camp is a case of expression over imitation.

Camp is the cynosure’s form of flattery.

Camp is a refining mask that refreshes the surface lies of truth.

Camp is a topographical map of enjoyment.

Camp is modernity’s Fugitive City.

Camp is more bathetic than pathetic. [End Page 31]

Camp is a glittering bulwark against the twin forces of philistinism and utility.

Camp has a Hegelian relation to art insofar as it is the triumph of content over form.67

Camp is Kant’s unwritten fourth critique.

Camp removes the cause, but not the symptom.68

Allan Pero

Allan Pero is Associate Professor of English and a member of the core faculty at the Centre for the Study of Theory and Criticism at the University of Western Ontario. He is currently working as editor and contributor to An Encyclopedia of Cultural Theory for the University of Toronto Press and is coediting (with Gyllian Phillips) an essay collection on Edith Sitwell. He is also working on a book-length study of camp and modernism.

Notes

1. Matei Calinescu, Five Faces of Modernity: Modernism, Avant-garde, Decadence, Kitsch, Postmodernism (Durham: Duke University Press, 1987), 230; Eve Sedgwick, Epistemology of the Closet (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), 144.

2. Dennis Denisoff, Aestheticism and Sexual Parody, 1840–1940 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 98; Christopher Nealon, “Camp Messianism; or, The Hopes of Poetry in Late-Late Capitalism,” American Literature 76, no. 3 (2004), 579–602. Many writers have traced the term “camp” back to an eighteenth-century French phrase for, in Denisoff’s words, “displaying oneself through military finery and posturing” (100) and have cited J. Redding Ware’s Passing English of the Victorian Era (1909) as the first definition of camp: “Actions and gestures of exaggerated emphasis. Probably from the French. Used chiefly by persons of exceptional want of character” (quoted in Denisoff, Aestheticism and Sexual Parody, 100). Denisoff adds, however, that the earliest known British deployment of the adjective, in the form “campish,” is to be found in a letter of 1869 by the transvestite Frederick William Park on a “public drag performance” by himself (100). In Camp (1983), Mark Booth locates a French usage in the 1863 Capitaine Fracasse, by Théophile Gautier (quoted in Christian Lassen, Camp Comforts: Reparative Gay Literature in Times of AIDS [Bielefeld: Transcript, 2011], 24–25).

3. On Whitman and Proust respectively, see contributions by Karl Keller and Gregory Woods in Camp Grounds: Style and Homosexuality, ed. David Bergman (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1993). On Wilde, see essays by Gregory Bredbeck and Moe Meyer in The Politics and Poetics of Camp, ed. Moe Meyer (London: Routledge, 1994), along with Jonathan Dollimore, Sexual Dissidence: Augustine to Wilde, Freud to Foucault (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 310–13, and Alan Sinfield, The Wilde Century: Effeminacy, Oscar Wilde and the Queer Moment (New York: Columbia University Press, 1994), 156. On James, see Jonathan Warren, “Beyond the Rim: Camp Henry James,” in A Companion to Henry James, ed. Greg W. Zacharias (Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2008), 374–89. On Beerbohm, along with Ada Leverson, Robert Hichens, and Christopher Isherwood, see Denisoff, Aestheticism and Sexual Parody. Also on Isherwood, see Peter Thomas, “‘Camp’ and Politics in Isherwood’s Berlin Fiction,” Journal of Modern Literature 5, no. 1 (1976): 117–30. On Pound—as well as Zukofsky, Stein, and Barnes—see Nick Salvato’s Uncloseting Drama: American Modernism and Queer Performance (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010), 58–59 and 180–81. On Stein, see Barbara Will’s Gertrude Stein, Modernism, and the Problem of “Genius” (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2000), 144–48. On H. D., see Diane Collecott’s H. D. and Sapphic Modernism, 1910–1950 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 264, and Marsha Bryant’s Women’s Poetry and Popular Culture (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 23, 41–42. Other modernist figures whose camp aspects have received notice include Ronald Firbank, on whom William Lane Clark writes in Camp Grounds, 134–55, and E. F. Benson, whom Nicola Humble treats in “The Queer Pleasures of Reading: Camp and the Middlebrow,” in Middlebrow Literary Cultures: The Battle of the Brows, 1920–1960, ed. Erica Brown and Mary Grover (Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012), 218–30. Juan A. Suárez opposes camp and modernist tendencies in Charles Henri Ford and Parker Tyler’s The Young and Evil (1933), a novel Suárez invokes to represent queer modernism in his Pop Modernism: Noise and the Reinvention of the Everyday (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2007); see especially 195–200.

4. The brief pieces that follow, which take up the question of camp’s relation to modernism, had their debut in the city where Elvis met Liberace in 1956. Finding it hard to imagine the Las Vegas [End Page 32] edition of the Modernist Studies Association conference without a session on camp, we convened an international roundtable at which Scott Herring, Alexander Howard, Chris Freeman, Madelyn Detloff, Melissa Bradshaw, and Allan Pero presented remarks. We’re delighted that all six offer versions of their talks for this forum. Prior to our roundtable, the last MSA event focusing explicitly on camp was the “Camp Modernism” panel that Melissa Bradshaw organized for MSA 2 in 2000. This earlier camp intervention focused on women modernists: Djuna Barnes, Ada Leverson, and Amy Lowell.

5. Patrick Mullen does call on camp in The Poor Bugger’s Tool: Irish Modernism, Queer Labor, and Postcolonial History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), but the invocation relates mainly to writers of the 1960s. Matthew Tinkom’s Working like a Homosexual: Camp, Capital, Cinema (Durham: Duke University Press, 2002) ranges through twentieth-century film but mentions modernism only in passing. Modernism per se again receives only a passing nod in Michael Trask’s Camp Sites: Sex, Politics, and Academic Style in Postwar America (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2013)—though one of these, warmingly, treats of Las Vegas: “While Vegas may be the final frontier for a certain revisionist upheaval of modernist space, as in Robert Venturi’s influential Learning from Las Vegas (1972), it is also, as Myron and Mary-Ann’s nuptials [in Myra Breckenridge] attest, a place to get married” (178).

6. Daniel Albright, Untwisting the Serpent: Modernism in Music, Literature, and Other Arts (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000), 29.

7. Andreas Huyssen, After the Great Divide: Modernism, Mass Culture, Postmodernism (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1986), 44.

8. David Bergman, introduction to Camp Grounds: Style and Homosexuality, 5.

9. Among recent attempts to taxonomize camp texts, perhaps none has been as deliciously needling as Bruce LaBruce’s sorting of films, performers, and other phenomena into “classic gay camp,” “bad gay camp,” “good straight camp,” “bad straight camp,” “high camp,” “low camp,” “ultra camp,” “bad ultra camp,” and eight other categories (“Notes on Camp/Anti-Camp,” Nat.Brut 3 [April 2013], www.natbrut.com/essay-notes-on-campanti-camp-by-bruce-labruce.html). On the other hand, in another publication of April 2013—the first in a series of sixteen buoyant analyses of the continuing life of camp for Slate—J. Bryan Lowder avers that “what we don’t need is another tired debate about which things are or are not camp” (“Postcards from Camp,” Slate.com, April 1, 2013, www.slate.com/articles/arts/culturebox/features/2013/postcards_from_camp/camp_is_not_dead.html).

10. Joseph Allen Boone, Libidinal Currents: Sexuality and the Shaping of Modernism (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998), 210. Camp makes a cameo appearance in Boone’s discussions of The Young and Evil and Doris Lessing’s Golden Notebook; see 210, 251, 399.

11. J. Bryan Lowder, “Does Ru Paul’s Drag Race Have a Camp Problem?,” Slate.com, February 27, 2013, www.slate.com/blogs/browbeat/2013/02/27/drag_race_grey_gardens_and_jinx_monsoon_why_the_queens_need_camp.html.

12. James Penner, “Gendering Susan Sontag’s Criticism in the 1960s: The New York Intellectuals, the Counter Culture, and the Kulturkampf over ‘The New Sensibility,’” Women’s Studies 37, no. 8 (2008): 921–41.

13. We might note that these matters of love and death surfaced repeatedly in the Q&A at the Las Vegas roundtable. In a city that incites questions about the distinction between “naïve camp” and “deliberate camp” and between “gay camp” and “pop camp,” it’s perhaps not surprising that a key discussion topic was how the mainstreaming of gay identity might imperil or volatilize camp—and gay culture more generally. Whither camp in the age of RuPaul’s Drag Race, Chris Crocker, and Lady Gaga? On naïve versus deliberate camp, see Susan Sontag, “Notes on ‘Camp,’” in Against Interpretation, and Other Essays (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1966). On gay camp and pop camp, see Lassen, Camp Comforts, Andrew Ross, “Uses of Camp,” Yale Journal of Criticism 2, no. 1 (1988), 1–24, Moe Meyer, introduction to The Poetics and Politics of Camp, 1–19, and Fabio Cleto, introduction to Camp: Queer Aesthetics and the Performing Subject: A Reader, ed. Fabio Cleto (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1999), 1–43. On camp’s present state and near future, see Aymar Jean Christian’s compelling 2010 essay on transformations of camp by Crocker and other YouTube performers: “Camp 2.0: A Queer Performance of the Personal,” Communication, Culture and Critique 3, no. 3 (2010): 352–76. Participants in the Las Vegas session recurred to David Halperin’s exposition of camp for a new generation in How to Be Gay (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2012). Steven Dansky [End Page 33] invokes Halperin in his “On the Persistence of Camp” (Gay and Lesbian Review Worldwide 20, no. 2 [2013]: 15–18), to which we’re indebted for reminding us of the Miranda quatrain with which we close.

14. See Heather K. Love’s note on “the turn to affect in the field” in her introduction to her queer modernism cluster for PMLA (124, no. 3 [2009]: 745).

15. Carmen Miranda, “The Lady in the Tutti Frutti Hat,” The Gang’s All Here (1943), by Busby Berkeley, Youtube video, 7:29, October 17, 2008, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLsTUN1wVrc.

16. Leo Bersani, “Is the Rectum a Grave?,” October 43 (1987): 208.

17. Justin Spring, Secret Historian: The Life and Times of Samuel Steward, Professor, Tattoo Artist, and Sexual Renegade (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010), 16.

18. See Ellis Hanson, Decadence and Catholicism (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1998), for an extended overview of links between decadence and queerness between men.

19. Justin Spring, An Obscene Diary: The Visual World of Sam Steward (New York: Antinous Press, 2010), unpaginated.

20. Readings of the telephone and its relation to hetero- and homosexual desire include Mark Goble on “impossible erotics that would treat the telephone as a sex object” (Beautiful Circuits: Modernism and the Mediated Life [New York: Columbia University Press, 2010], 8) and Ellis Hanson (“The Telephone and Its Queerness,” in Cruising the Performative: Interventions into the Representation of Ethnicity, Nationality, and Sexuality, ed. Sue-Ellen Case, Philip Brett, and Susan Leigh Foster [Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1995], 34–58).

21. Mark Silverberg, The New York School Poets and the Neo-Avant-Garde: Between Radical Art and Radical Chic (Farnham, UK: Ashgate, 2010), 142.

22. Jack Babuscio, “Camp and the Gay Sensibility,” in Camp Grounds: Style and Homosexuality, 23.

23. Charles Henri Ford, “From a Record of Myself” (1948), 140, 139, Ford Papers, series 1, box 5, folder 3, Harry Ransom Center, University of Texas at Austin.

24. John Crowe Ransom, The New Criticism (Norfolk, CT: New Directions, 1941), 295.

25. Charles Henri Ford, “Notes on Neo-Modernism” (ca. 1944), n.p., Ford Papers, series 4, box 21, folder 2, Harry Ransom Center, University of Texas at Austin.

26. Christopher Isherwood, The World in the Evening (New York: Random House, 1954), 110.

27. In a similar fashion, Ford’s “Imaginationist Manifesto” also anticipates the creative practices of the New York school poets, who were interested, in Mark Silverberg’s estimation, “in working with American culture as they found it—exposing, playing up, and camping up its quirks, absurdities, and odd (queer) mannerisms” (New York School, 135).

28. Ford’s confidant and coeditor Parker Tyler captures something of the flavor of the relationship between European and American forms of surrealism in an analogy in his introduction to the “Americana Fantastica” issue of View (January 1943). “Hence the Americana Fantastica in this number of View are not so much indigenous to America as susceptible to it, just as oranges are not indigenous to this country, but could grow here” (“Americana Fantastica,” in View: Parade of the Avant-Garde, 1940–47, ed. Charles Henri Ford [New York: Thunder’s Mouth Press, 1991], 59).

29. Despite Ford’s fondness for Breton’s work, the relationship between the two remained fraught. On an artistic level, Breton believed that Ford posed a threat to his authority at the head of the surrealist table. On a personal level, Ford’s sexuality represented an awkwardness for the notoriously homophobic Breton.

30. Nicolas Calas’s “Interview with André Breton” appeared on the front cover of the October–November 1941 surrealist issue of View (nos. 7–8).

31. André Breton, “The Point of View: Testimony 45,” in View: Parade of the Avant-Garde, 1940–47, 122.

32. William Carlos Williams, “The Genius of France” (1946) in View: Parade of the Avant-Garde 1940–47, 239.

33. Suárez, Pop Modernism, 195.

34. Building in part on Boone’s analysis of The Young and Evil, Suárez posits that camp “is a language of communal identification, usually practiced in public spaces, whereas experimental modernism is associated with private spaces, introspection, and the portrayal of individual interiority” (195). [End Page 34]

35. Charles Henri Ford and Parker Tyler, The Young and Evil (London: Gay Men Press, 1989), 164. Ford and Tyler are also referring to Beatrice Lillie’s rendition of the song “I’m a Campfire Girl,” which was particularly popular in the gay (urban) world of the 1920s and 1930s.

36. Anyone interested in detailed historical and conceptual accounts of the nonnormative enclaves of Harlem and Greenwich Village is encouraged to seek out Martin Duberman, Martha Vicinus, and George Chauncey’s edited collection Hidden from History: Reclaiming the Gay and Lesbian Past (London: Penguin, 1991) and George Chauncey’s Gay New York: Gender, Urban Culture, and the Making of the Gay Male World, 1890–1940 (New York: Basic Books, 1994).

37. Linda Mizejewski, Divine Decadence: Fascism, Female Spectacle, and the Makings of Sally Bowles (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992), 69. See especially chapter 2, “Good Heter Stuff.”

38. Christopher Isherwood, Berlin Stories (New York: New Directions, 2008), 395.

39. Wilde’s 1882 North American lecture tour was arranged in part as a publicity opportunity for Gilbert and Sullivan’s comic opera Patience, a full-fledged send-up—a camp—of aesthetes like Wilde and his confreres in London society. Wilde was charged with helping American audiences understand the sensibilities and humor of the opera. The character of Bunthorne was of the outrageous Wildean type, so Wilde performed the decadent man of letters and arbiter of taste and style in his lectures. See Richard Ellmann, Oscar Wilde (New York: Knopf, 1988), 152: “From the beginning it was understood that Wilde was to be paraded as a figure in English society.” David M. Friedman sorts out truth and legend in Wilde in America: Oscar Wilde and the Invention of Modern Celebrity (New York: Norton, 2014).

40. Isherwood seems to be alluding to Leni Riefenstahl’s hero-worshipping style. Is Riefenstahl camp?

41. See Cabaret, dir. Bob Fosse (ABC Pictures, 1972). A haunting scene in the film takes place in a beer garden, when a member of the Hitler Youth sings “Tomorrow Belongs to Me.” The whole crowd joins in and salutes Hitler at the end.

42. Thomas, “Camp and Politics,” 130.

43. Halperin, How to Be Gay, 216.

44. Philip Core, Camp: The Lie That Tells the Truth (London: Plexus, 1984), 15.

45. Lincoln Kirstein, the model for the Charles Kennedy character, wrote Isherwood a rather harsh letter about the shortcomings of the novel’s camp: “I think the queerity [his word for camp] is rather ambiguous; happy but not sharp. … There is a big aria about camp, but they certainly don’t do it” (quoted in Jaime Harker, Middlebrow Queer: Christopher Isherwood in America [Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2013], 39). See also chapter 2 of Harker, “Too Queer to be Quaker.”

46. Allan Bérubé, Coming Out Under Fire (New York: Free Press, 1990), 144–45. Wilson is interviewed in Arthur Dong’s 1994 documentary based on Berube’s book.

47. Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick, “Paranoid Reading and Reparative Reading,” in Novel Gazing, ed. Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick (Durham: Duke University Press, 1997), 28.

48. George Piggford, for example, calls Orlando an exemplar of “Bloomsbury camp biography” (“Camp Sites: Biographies of Queer Bloomsbury,” in Queer Forster, ed. Robert K. Martin and George Piggford [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997], 97–101), and the novel has made the short list of Allan Pero’s canon of camp modernism (“A Fugue on Camp”) in this forum.

49. Ted Cohen, Jokes: Philosophical Thoughts on Joking Matters (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001), 28.

50. Leonard Woolf, Downhill All the Way: An Autobiography of the Years 1919 to 1939 (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1967), 27.

51. Judith Butler, Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity (New York: Routledge, 1999), 175.

52. Virginia Woolf, Orlando (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1981), 24, 116, 157.

53. Sarah Ruhl, Chekhov’s “Three Sisters” and Woolf’s “Orlando”: Two Renderings for the Stage (New York: Theatre Communications Group, 2013), 120.

54. Linda Roethke, email correspondence with the author, March 8, 2013.

55. Orlando, dir. Sally Potter (Adventure Pictures, 1992). [End Page 35]

56. John Pearson, The Sitwells: A Family’s Biography (New York: Harcourt, 1978), 417.

57. Robert M. Post, “To Read as a Poet: Major Performances of Edith Sitwell,” Text and Performance Quarterly 11, no. 2 (1991): 136.

58. See Jerry Rosco, Glenway Wescott Personally (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2002).

59. This remark, often attributed to Edith Sitwell, has as yet no confirmed source. Richard Greene, one of Sitwell’s biographers, told me in conversation (January 18, 2013) that it likely appeared in one of her many journalistic pieces in the 1930s.

60. See Melissa Bradshaw, “Lady Macbeth Goes to Hollywood,” in this forum.

61. Diana Vreeland, D.V., George Plimpton and Christopher Hemphill, eds. (New York: Knopf, 1984), 22.

62. Jacques Lacan, The Seminar of Jacques Lacan, vol. 3, The Psychoses, 1955–1956, ed. Jacques-Alain Miller, trans. Russell Grigg (New York: Norton, 1997), 171.

63. Hélène Cixous, “The Laugh of the Medusa,” trans. Keith Cohen and Paula Cohen, Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 1, no. 4 (1976): 885.

64. Jean Cocteau, Cocteau’s World: An Anthology of Writings by Jean Cocteau, ed. and trans. Margaret Crosland (London: Peter Owen, 1972), 317.

65. Walter Benjamin, “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” in Illuminations: Essays and Reflections, ed. Hannah Arendt, trans. Harry Zohn (New York: Schocken, 1969), 221.

66. Alenka Zupančič, The Shortest Shadow: Nietzsche’s Philosophy of the Two (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2003), 170–71.

67. See G. W. F. Hegel, Introductory Lectures on Aesthetics, ed. Michael Inwood, trans. Bernard Bosanquet (Toronto: Penguin, 1993), 76–78.

68. This is, of course, a recasting of Frank N. Furter’s bon mot in the song “Sweet Transvestite”: “I’ll remove the cause, but not the symptom!” See The Rocky Horror Picture Show, dir. Jim Sharman (Twentieth-Century Fox, 1975). [End Page 36]