Dear Vicky,

J. - seriously or coyly - titled our class "The Death of My Discipline." She says she got the inspiration for the title from Gayatri Spivak's book of the same title. (I immediately thought of our imaginary seminars and departments waiting to be funded and instituted.) In her case, the death lies in the admission that she, of European sensibility and education, seems to be othered by the English Dept. I echoed a former professor's remark that if the claim to being a comparatist lies in being multilingual (ergo reading literary texts in the original), she would be the only one who could pass off as one. She quickly responded by saying that, well, P. is old-school, a relic of UP in the 50s, brimming with young teachers educated in schools like (in her case) U of Chicago. But, she adds, since I brought up the question of multilingualism as part of the problematique of the class. Do we continue to acknowledge that the languages of choice still be French and German (among others), languages that, admittedly, most (if not all) CL majors do not have a functioning knowledge of? How about us exploring Philippine languages - Ilokano, Tagalog, Bicolano, Hiligaynon, etc.? In other words, J. does not want to ask the question of whether DECL is doing it all wrong; rather, how is it that DECL is doing it differently? (With presumably, the sub-question of "What is my place in this department?")

R. (a.k.a. your favorite writer with the fantastic book just out) contributes a rather naively constructed but loaded question for the problematique: how are we supposed to compare? At first glance, we encounter classifications such as national literatures, genres, schools, movements, etc. But then what? What makes for 'legitimate' bases for comparison? Could, J. suggests, the Sandman series and Tristan and Isolde be compared on the basis of the theme of love? May raise some eyebrows, especially if one were to factor in the question of pitting together a canonical text with a comic book series. In other words, where does it start and where does it end?

Curiously, that is the greatly belated answer as to why it took me four years to finish my thesis - I couldn't hold on to a concrete bases on how to approach Italo Calvino. Sure, an across-the-board comparison of his writings is in order but how - by genre? aesthetic mode? by an appropriated literary theory? If not confined to one, what would be the appropriate mix?

For next week, J. asked us to go over the first part of Eva Kushner's introduction on the state of comparative literature as a discipline (pp 1-66) and make a two to three page commentary. I was immediately reminded of the recurring thought I had as I read the intro - Kushner seems to be rather defensive of what appears in most angles as a withered discipline. Admittedly, the past two or three years has left me delirious and gasping after the onslaught of literary theory and philosophy. Oddly, the tools that define the name of my program remains foreign to me. The pillars of comparative literature remain names for me. I was a bit embarassed that it was only last night that I saw the book of Wellek and Warren, names synonymous with the discipline. (Of course, J. admitted that the book bonanza show-and-tell was for theatrics.)

I wanted to read Spivak's book immediately. But because of the 5-8 schedule (and what was thought to be a 30-minute first-day meeting turned into 2 1/2 hours), I couldn't wait for the master copies to be finished and have my copy made. Never read Spivak before. Wait, maybe an article in C.'s class. Oh, and there are five required books for the time being. Oh, J. is really psyched to teach this class - for the first time in her 15-year stay at the department, would you believe? - and I am equally psyched to drag my buko-pie ass to Q.C. every week.

Maybe you'll chance upon me loitering at FC once again?

A.