Introduction

We each borrow the first-person singular "I," a pronoun that allows each of us to speak "on behalf of" another, of each other, which is what we do here, collectively and singularly. There are many I's who populated this event and this issue of Discourse, and in this introduction we initiate the proliferation of first-person singularities on behalf of a community that gathered to thank and appreciate Peggy Kamuf.

The daylong event on December 8, 2017, honoring the legacy of Peggy Kamuf on the occasion of her retirement from teaching, her many contributions to the institution and the field, and the immense, immeasurable generosity she extended to so many—friends, students, colleagues—began with a series of origin narratives, each participant adding to the registry stories of their first encounters with Peggy. My own was at Cerisy-la-Salle in Normandy in 1997. The occasion was a colloquium organized around the work of Jacques Derrida, to which he assigned the title "L'animal autobiographique: Autour de Jacques Derrida." The gathering included many prominent scholars, including Peggy and Derrida himself, and for someone at the beginning of their career, participating in such an event felt in equal parts fascinating and daunting. As was frequently the case wherever Derrida was present, a surge of energy enveloped the château in Normandy. At times, it reached a frenzy. This energy, as many can attest, could be exhilarating and energizing but also at times exhausting and even debilitating—it demanded relentless expenditure without always time to replenish. "L'animal autobiographique" was such an event, mediated further by the presence of Safaa Fathy's film crew shooting what would later become D'ailleurs, Derrida. (None of the scenes at Cerisy made it into the final version of the film, although the crew was ubiquitous throughout the ten-day colloquium.) An effect of the film crew's presence was that the event, already at the threshold of a spectacular hysteria, rendered every activity a scene in a movie to come, every participant at Cerisy an actor. One felt surveilled, everything appearing to happen twice, once live and then almost immediately in spectral broadcast. In the midst of this overmediation, Peggy appeared calm. She frequently sported a faint smile, as if mildly amused, ironic (just slightly detached) but poised and welcoming. In the convivial chaos that marked the opening of "L'animal autobiographique," she was especially welcoming to more junior figures attending, making many of us feel included. This was my first and lasting impression: Peggy is welcoming.

It's not exactly correct to call Peggy "calm," not that she wasn't or isn't, but that may not be the most accurate description of the effect she generates at scenes such as Cerisy but also elsewhere, most everywhere else. She has the ability to remain essential without dominating the space or moment; instead, she holds the space open for others and extends the moment so others have time. I have seen her do this many other times. Never the gatekeeper, Peggy makes it possible for others to enter a space that might otherwise seem restricted and join a conversation that might appear closed. At some point Peggy mentioned that she'd heard a lot about me, which seemed implausible but clearly sincere. She had looked forward to meeting me.

I had the opportunity to meet Peggy for the first time when I was interviewing for a position at her (our) university. I recall delivering my talk, with not much more than the average performance anxiety, before a roomful of colleagues and only feeling intimidated by the question that Peggy might ask. Unsurprisingly, she asked a probing, curious, insightful question that, while I am quite sure I did not respond sufficiently to it, made a lasting impression on that project, which was at the time in its early stages. While I'd read and continue to read her work (both her criticism and translations of Derrida) over the years, it is, I think, the thoughtful, studied questions she asks at every talk she attends (and even in her "retirement" she remains...