Michael Lucey – författare

Gide's Bent investigates the place of sexuality in the writings of André Gide, one of the first "out" modern writers. Focusing on his writing of the 1920s and 1930s, the years in which Gide wrote most openly about his homosexuality and also the years of his most notable left-wing political activity, Gide's Bent interrogates both the political content of his reflections on his homosexuality and the ways his sexuality inflected his political interests. Provocative examination of one of the first openly homosexual writers, André Gide.

Gide's Bent investigates the place of sexuality in the writings of André Gide, one of the first "out" modern writers. Focusing on his writing of the 1920s and 1930s, the years in which Gide wrote most openly about his homosexuality and also the years of his most notable left-wing political activity, Gide's Bent interrogates both the political content of his reflections on his homosexuality and the ways his sexuality inflected his political interests.

What kind of future would the utopian idea of unlimited green energy bring about? On the Grid, based on Michael Warner's Berkeley Tanner Lectures, raises critical questions about the sharp turn in environmental thought which addresses climate change through the form of a new power grid, driven by renewable energy and the goal to "electrify everything." Environmental thought increasingly centers infrastructure, particularly the goal of a decarbonized electrical grid. The aim is unlimited energy use, but without greenhouse gas emissions. Warner asks: What kind of consumer is imagined when climate action takes the form of a green grid? How will that change actions around environmental ethics and politics, for example the mantra "reduce, re-use, recycle"? What other features of the environmentalist tradition now need revision?Will carbon emissions be taken care of silently so individuals will only be asked to use more power? By what process --and with what kind of agency-- is the environmental future being built around and within us? On the Grid seeks to generate such questionings in part by reviewing the cultural and political history that has made grid infrastructure a central but usually unrecognized dimension of government, as well as a structuring framework of the modern. Warner then traces a parallel history of various kinds of resistance to the grid, from Thoreau to present, including a countercultural tradition that was formative for much of the environmental movement. Is the green grid a case of "improved means to unimproved ends"? With contributions by Dale Jamieson, Jedediah Britton-Purdy, and Anahid Nersessian, and an introduction by volume editor Michael Lucey, On the Grid starts a conversation about how the environmental tradition can better adapt to the current politics of grid reform.

What kind of future would the utopian idea of unlimited green energy bring about? On the Grid, based on Michael Warner's Berkeley Tanner Lectures, raises critical questions about the sharp turn in environmental thought which addresses climate change through the form of a new power grid, driven by renewable energy and the goal to "e;electrify everything."e; Environmental thought increasingly centers infrastructure, particularly the goal of a decarbonized electrical grid. The aim is unlimited energy use, but without greenhouse gas emissions. Warner asks: What kind of consumer is imagined when climate action takes the form of a green grid? How will that change actions around environmental ethics and politics, for example the mantra "e;reduce, re-use, recycle"e;? What other features of the environmentalist tradition now need revision?Will carbon emissions be taken care of silently so individuals will only be asked to use more power? By what process --and with what kind of agency-- is the environmental future being built around and within us? On the Grid seeks to generate such questionings in part by reviewing the cultural and political history that has made grid infrastructure a central but usually unrecognized dimension of government, as well as a structuring framework of the modern. Warner then traces a parallel history of various kinds of resistance to the grid, from Thoreau to present, including a countercultural tradition that was formative for much of the environmental movement. Is the green grid a case of "e;improved means to unimproved ends"e;? With contributions by Dale Jamieson, Jedediah Britton-Purdy, and Anahid Nersessian, and an introduction by volume editor Michael Lucey, On the Grid starts a conversation about how the environmental tradition can better adapt to the current politics of grid reform.

What kind of future would the utopian idea of unlimited green energy bring about? On the Grid, based on Michael Warner's Berkeley Tanner Lectures, raises critical questions about the sharp turn in environmental thought which addresses climate change through the form of a new power grid, driven by renewable energy and the goal to "e;electrify everything."e; Environmental thought increasingly centers infrastructure, particularly the goal of a decarbonized electrical grid. The aim is unlimited energy use, but without greenhouse gas emissions. Warner asks: What kind of consumer is imagined when climate action takes the form of a green grid? How will that change actions around environmental ethics and politics, for example the mantra "e;reduce, re-use, recycle"e;? What other features of the environmentalist tradition now need revision?Will carbon emissions be taken care of silently so individuals will only be asked to use more power? By what process --and with what kind of agency-- is the environmental future being built around and within us? On the Grid seeks to generate such questionings in part by reviewing the cultural and political history that has made grid infrastructure a central but usually unrecognized dimension of government, as well as a structuring framework of the modern. Warner then traces a parallel history of various kinds of resistance to the grid, from Thoreau to present, including a countercultural tradition that was formative for much of the environmental movement. Is the green grid a case of "e;improved means to unimproved ends"e;? With contributions by Dale Jamieson, Jedediah Britton-Purdy, and Anahid Nersessian, and an introduction by volume editor Michael Lucey, On the Grid starts a conversation about how the environmental tradition can better adapt to the current politics of grid reform.

Imagine trying to tell someone something about yourself and your desires for which there are no words. What if the mere attempt at expression was bound to misfire, to efface the truth of that ineluctable something? In Someone, Michael Lucey considers characters from twentieth-century French literary texts whose sexual forms prove difficult to conceptualize or represent. The characters expressing these "misfit" sexualities gravitate towards same-sex encounters. Yet they differ in subtle but crucial ways from mainstream gay or lesbian identities--whether because of a discordance between gender identity and sexuality, practices specific to a certain place and time, or the fleetingness or non-exclusivity of desire. Investigating works by Simone de Beauvoir, Colette, Jean Genet, and others, Lucey probes both the range of same-sex sexual forms in twentieth-century France and the innovative literary language authors have used to explore these evanescent forms.As a portrait of fragile sexualities that involve awkward and delicate maneuvers and modes of articulation, Someone reveals just how messy the ways in which we experience and perceive sexuality remain, even to ourselves.

Imagine trying to tell someone something about yourself and your desires for which there are no words. What if the mere attempt at expression was bound to misfire, to efface the truth of that ineluctable something? In Someone, Michael Lucey considers characters from twentieth-century French literary texts whose sexual forms prove difficult to conceptualize or represent. The characters expressing these "misfit" sexualities gravitate towards same-sex encounters. Yet they differ in subtle but crucial ways from mainstream gay or lesbian identities--whether because of a discordance between gender identity and sexuality, practices specific to a certain place and time, or the fleetingness or non-exclusivity of desire. Investigating works by Simone de Beauvoir, Colette, Jean Genet, and others, Lucey probes both the range of same-sex sexual forms in twentieth-century France and the innovative literary language authors have used to explore these evanescent forms.As a portrait of fragile sexualities that involve awkward and delicate maneuvers and modes of articulation, Someone reveals just how messy the ways in which we experience and perceive sexuality remain, even to ourselves.

Imagine trying to tell someone something about yourself and your desires for which there are no words. What if the mere attempt at expression was bound to misfire, to efface the truth of that ineluctable something?  In Someone, Michael Lucey considers characters from twentieth-century French literary texts whose sexual forms prove difficult to conceptualize or represent. The characters expressing these “misfit” sexualities gravitate towards same-sex encounters. Yet they differ in subtle but crucial ways from mainstream gay or lesbian identities—whether because of a discordance between gender identity and sexuality, practices specific to a certain place and time, or the fleetingness or non-exclusivity of desire. Investigating works by Simone de Beauvoir, Colette, Jean Genet, and others, Lucey probes both the range of same-sex sexual forms in twentieth-century France and the innovative literary language authors have used to explore these evanescent forms. As a portrait of fragile sexualities that involve awkward and delicate maneuvers and modes of articulation, Someone reveals just how messy the ways in which we experience and perceive sexuality remain, even to ourselves.

Michael Lucey offers a linguistic anthropological analysis of Proust’s In Search of Lost Time.  What happens when we talk? This deceptively simple question is central to Marcel Proust’s monumental novel In Search of Lost Time. Both Proust’s narrator and the novel that houses him devote considerable energy to investigating not just what people are saying or doing when they talk, but also what happens socioculturally through their use of language. Proust, in other words, is interested in what linguistic anthropologists call language-in-use.Michael Lucey elucidates Proust’s approach to language-in-use in a number of ways: principally in relation to linguistic anthropology, but also in relation to speech act theory, and to Pierre Bourdieu’s sociology. The book also includes an interlude after each of its chapters that contextualizes Proust’s social-scientific practice of novel writing in relation to that of a number of other novelists, earlier and later, and from several different traditions, including Honoré de Balzac, George Eliot, Virginia Woolf, Nathalie Sarraute, and Rachel Cusk. Lucey is thus able to show how, in the hands of quite different novelists, various aspects of the novel form become instruments of linguistic anthropological analysis. The result introduces a different way of understanding language to literary and cultural critics and explores the consequences of this new understanding for the practice of literary criticism more generally.

Michael Lucey offers a linguistic anthropological analysis of Proust’s In Search of Lost Time.  What happens when we talk? This deceptively simple question is central to Marcel Proust’s monumental novel In Search of Lost Time. Both Proust’s narrator and the novel that houses him devote considerable energy to investigating not just what people are saying or doing when they talk, but also what happens socioculturally through their use of language. Proust, in other words, is interested in what linguistic anthropologists call language-in-use.Michael Lucey elucidates Proust’s approach to language-in-use in a number of ways: principally in relation to linguistic anthropology, but also in relation to speech act theory, and to Pierre Bourdieu’s sociology. The book also includes an interlude after each of its chapters that contextualizes Proust’s social-scientific practice of novel writing in relation to that of a number of other novelists, earlier and later, and from several different traditions, including Honoré de Balzac, George Eliot, Virginia Woolf, Nathalie Sarraute, and Rachel Cusk. Lucey is thus able to show how, in the hands of quite different novelists, various aspects of the novel form become instruments of linguistic anthropological analysis. The result introduces a different way of understanding language to literary and cultural critics and explores the consequences of this new understanding for the practice of literary criticism more generally.

Michael Lucey offers a linguistic anthropological analysis of Proust’s In Search of Lost Time.   What happens when we talk? This deceptively simple question is central to Marcel Proust’s monumental novel In Search of Lost Time. Both Proust’s narrator and the novel that houses him devote considerable energy to investigating not just what people are saying or doing when they talk, but also what happens socioculturally through their use of language. Proust, in other words, is interested in what linguistic anthropologists call language-in-use. Michael Lucey elucidates Proust’s approach to language-in-use in a number of ways: principally in relation to linguistic anthropology, but also in relation to speech act theory, and to Pierre Bourdieu’s sociology. The book also includes an interlude after each of its chapters that contextualizes Proust’s social-scientific practice of novel writing in relation to that of a number of other novelists, earlier and later, and from several different traditions, including Honoré de Balzac, George Eliot, Virginia Woolf, Nathalie Sarraute, and Rachel Cusk. Lucey is thus able to show how, in the hands of quite different novelists, various aspects of the novel form become instruments of linguistic anthropological analysis. The result introduces a different way of understanding language to literary and cultural critics and explores the consequences of this new understanding for the practice of literary criticism more generally.

In more than ninety novels and novellas, HonorÉ de Balzac (1799–1850) created a universe teeming with over two thousand characters. The Misfit of the Family reveals how Balzac, in imagining the dense, vividly rendered social world of his novels, used his writing as a powerful means to understand and analyze-as well as represent-a range of forms of sexuality. Moving away from the many psychoanalytic approaches to the novelist's work, Michael Lucey contends that in order to grasp the full complexity with which sexuality was understood by Balzac, it is necessary to appreciate how he conceived of its relation to family, history, economics, law, and all the many structures within which sexualities take form.The Misfit of the Family is a compelling argument that Balzac must be taken seriously as a major inventor and purveyor of new tools for analyzing connections between the sexual and the social. Lucey’s account of the novelist’s deployment of "sexual misfits" to impel a wide range of his most canonical works-Cousin Pons, Cousin Bette, Eugenie Grandet, Lost Illusions, The Girl with the Golden Eyes-demonstrates how even the flexible umbrella term "queer" barely covers the enormous diversity of erotic and social behaviors of his characters. Lucey draws on the thinking of Michel Foucault and Pierre Bourdieu and engages the work of critics of nineteenth-century French fiction, including Naomi Schor, D. A. Miller, Franco Moretti, and others. His reflections on Proust as Balzac’s most cannily attentive reader suggest how the lines of social and erotic force he locates in Balzac’s work continued to manifest themselves in twentieth-century writing and society.

Never Say I reveals the centrality of representations of sexuality, and particularly same-sex sexual relations, to the evolution of literary prose forms in twentieth-century France. Rethinking the social and literary innovation of works by Marcel Proust, AndrÉ Gide, and Colette, Michael Lucey considers these writers’ production of a first-person voice in which matters related to same-sex sexuality could be spoken of. He shows how their writings and careers took on political and social import in part through the contribution they made to the representation of social groups that were only slowly coming to be publicly recognized. Proust, Gide, and Colette helped create persons and characters, points of view, and narrative practices from which to speak and write about, for, or as people attracted to those of the same sex.Considering novels along with journalism, theatrical performances, correspondences, and face-to-face encounters, Lucey focuses on the interlocking social and formal dimensions of using the first person. He argues for understanding the first person not just as a grammatical category but also as a collectively produced social artifact, demonstrating that Proust’s, Gide’s, and Colette’s use of the first person involved a social process of assuming the authority to speak about certain issues, or on behalf of certain people. Lucey reveals these three writers as both practitioners and theorists of the first person; he traces how, when they figured themselves or other first persons in certain statements regarding same-sex identity, they self-consciously called attention to the creative effort involved in doing so.

In more than ninety novels and novellas, Honoré de Balzac (1799–1850) created a universe teeming with over two thousand characters. The Misfit of the Family reveals how Balzac, in imagining the dense, vividly rendered social world of his novels, used his writing as a powerful means to understand and analyze—as well as represent—a range of forms of sexuality. Moving away from the many psychoanalytic approaches to the novelist''s work, Michael Lucey contends that in order to grasp the full complexity with which sexuality was understood by Balzac, it is necessary to appreciate how he conceived of its relation to family, history, economics, law, and all the many structures within which sexualities take form.

The Misfit of the Family is a compelling argument that Balzac must be taken seriously as a major inventor and purveyor of new tools for analyzing connections between the sexual and the social. Lucey’s account of the novelist’s deployment of "sexual misfits" to impel a wide range of his most canonical works—Cousin Pons, Cousin Bette, Eugenie Grandet, Lost Illusions, The Girl with the Golden Eyes—demonstrates how even the flexible umbrella term "queer" barely covers the enormous diversity of erotic and social behaviors of his characters. Lucey draws on the thinking of Michel Foucault and Pierre Bourdieu and engages the work of critics of nineteenth-century French fiction, including Naomi Schor, D. A. Miller, Franco Moretti, and others. His reflections on Proust as Balzac’s most cannily attentive reader suggest how the lines of social and erotic force he locates in Balzac’s work continued to manifest themselves in twentieth-century writing and society.