Derrida

Rorty’s next chapter is about Jacques Derrida, who I consider to the be the most tedious, annoying philosopher I’ve ever come across. The chapter is even worse than that, it’s a juxtaposition of Heidegger and Derrida, which I’m in no mood to explore.

I’ve read a little Derrida, enough to keep me from reading more. Several years back, the first woman I went on a date with after my marriage fell apart was an English adjunct professor at the University of Illinois-Chicago, who was highly versed in theory. She asked me some question about my marriage and I replied something along the lines of “well, I considered telling you this, but actually …” To this she responded “wow, you talk exactly the way Derrida says people should talk.” I don’t really know if that was a compliment or if she was mocking me.

Actually, I’m in a mood where I feel like everyone is mocking me today. And I could elaborate, but in the spirit of Derrida, I’ll refrain.

The next chapter is about cruelty, Nabokov and Orwell. It’s only slightly better. I hope I’m in a better mood for it.