Columbia Journal of Literary Criticism https://journals.library.columbia.edu/index.php/cjlc Google UA Columbia University Libraries en-US Columbia Journal of Literary Criticism 2836-6379 “My Body Knows Unheard of Songs” https://journals.library.columbia.edu/index.php/cjlc/article/view/8766 <p><span style="font-weight: 400;">In 1908, shortly after giving birth to her first son, Cécile Sauvage, a young poet from rural south-eastern France, grieves the alteration of physical, emotional, and spiritual intimacy with her newborn son. Sauvage engenders her coming of age as a mother in twenty poems, which together comprise </span><em><span style="font-weight: 400;">L’Âme en bourgeon</span></em><span style="font-weight: 400;"> (“The Soul in Bud”) forming the latter part of her first 1910 collection </span><em><span style="font-weight: 400;">Tandis que la terre tourne</span></em><span style="font-weight: 400;"> (“As the Earth Spins”).Through the poetic figuration of her conflicting joys and melancholies with maternal status, Sauvage’s works reflect an oscillation between her embodiment of and detachment from the natural environment. While pregnancy manifests the closest and most fulfilling relationship possible for Sauvage, childbirth signifies a distancing of the relationship with her son, herself, and the natural world. She shifts between embracing and subverting the romanticization of motherhood through natural imagery to de-romanticize the reckoning bound up with the decentering of self intrinsic to motherhood. Her poems serve not only to foreground the subjects of pregnancy, childbirth, and motherhood in an art form that about these experiences, but functions, moreover, to complicate facile notions of maternal agency, eroticism, and death.</span></p> Alice Donnellan Copyright (c) 2021 Columbia Journal of Literary Criticism 2021-10-07 2021-10-07 18 1 10 16 10.52214/cjlc.v18i1.8766 Intimacy as Transparency https://journals.library.columbia.edu/index.php/cjlc/article/view/8767 <p><span style="font-weight: 400;">In this essay, I use the term “intimacy” to refer to a sentiment of emotional proximity between two or more people. For queer theorist Lauren Berlant, intimacy principally “involves an aspiration for a narrative about something shared, a story about both oneself and others that will turn out a particular way” (281). At its core, an intimate practice is one that allows individuals to share themselves, to know each other more closely, and to work towards a narrative together. In the French society of the 1990s, the dominant heteronormative narrative deemed marriage and sex the most intimate acts largely for their procreative potential, as they produced the ideal emotional proximity and contained this proximity to the perfect nuclear family. In turn, as Berlant notes, queers are forced to find alternative methods of being intimate, whether it be their own non-procreative sex or emotionally invested practices that disavow sex completely. Although sex is heavily present within the work explored in this essay, it becomes clear that queer intimacy does not simply turn straight sex on its head by virtue of having gay participants, but rather that queer intimacy can hold a more subversive role by hinging on sexual objectification and producing emotional proximity on a larger, communal level.</span></p> Robbie Spratt Copyright (c) 2021 Columbia Journal of Literary Criticism 2021-10-07 2021-10-07 18 1 38 42 10.52214/cjlc.v18i1.8767 A Natural History of Derangement https://journals.library.columbia.edu/index.php/cjlc/article/view/8765 <p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Amid the liquefaction of the apparently solid conditions of the Earth as they have existed for the entirety of human history, which now retreat like tides around our accumulated observations and predictions of normalcy, it becomes evident that our relationship with the precarious intangibles undergirding our existence is more fraught than has been previously assumed.</span></p> Sam Clark Copyright (c) 2021 Columbia Journal of Literary Criticism 2021-10-07 2021-10-07 18 1 26 31 10.52214/cjlc.v18i1.8765