This is an online version of materials for a course I taught in the Spring of 1998 -- one of my favorite classes.


English 114L
Utopian Fictions:
From Paradise to Nowhere
Jesse Cohn, instructor
Tuesdays and Thursdays
11:40-1:05
Hinman 121


Do not
emerge, Eden. Stay
in the mouths of the lost
who dream you.

--Paul Auster, "Hieroglyph"

Semester Schedule and Course Notes

Syllabus



This course is organized around the theme of "utopia", considered both as a philosophical and a political concept, but always and everywhere to be thought about in terms of the literary and the psychological. We are not going to talk, think, and write about utopia just as an abstract notion; we are going to get personal. As the old slogan goes, the personal is political: not only because private choices have a public dimension to them, but also because we can never really think about politics in the abstract -- we always think about it in terms of myths and symbols (like the ones that populate our dreams), and in terms of stories about characters (I'll explain more about this as we go). As long as we are unaware that politics is a business of storytelling, we are subject to being tricked again and again by those very clever storytellers, the politicians (and other assorted authorities). After all, what do they promise us? What everyone wants, deep down inside. And what does everyone want? We want the world. And what do we mean when we say we want the world (since, after all, we are in a world now, and we don't always like it)? We mean that we want a better world. And what's a better world?

Utopia.

But what is this class really about?

We'll be reading a number of recent works of fiction against certain ideas about utopia. Why should thinking about utopia illuminate anything about these books? We'll explore a number of answers to that question: a few of the connecting themes will be "desire", "selfhood", "autonomy", "difference", "irony", "wholeness", "fragmentation", and "family". Perhaps the biggest connecting themes will be the ideas of "Paradise" and "Nowhere"; these will form the starting places for the first and second halves of the semester, respectively. More generally, I will argue that although the very word "utopia" would seem to have begun steadily losing all of its glamor and appeal since the late 19th century, it may be that we have not gotten past it at all -- that we are still perhaps unconsciously fascinated with it, and that, in fact, it is secretly one of the inescapable concepts of our time, for better or worse (or for better and worse). And in that case, why not expect it to turn up in contemporary novels?

Work

Lots of reading: three novellas, a chunky novel, and several short pieces (essays, short stories, etc). A day of discussion-leading with two other people. Two short papers (with a required first draft for each), and one medium-sized final paper: altogether, a lot of writing. Several individual meetings with me outside of class to talk about your writing.

Work (but also play)

But the real work will be the thinking. I promise: this will be a confusing class. You will be frequently asked to think about things that are ambiguous, vague, cloudy, and otherwise difficult. The great thing is that you will be allowed and encouraged to think about things that no one else here will ask you to think about -- some really important (and dangerous) questions about life and the world -- in the context of reading dizzyingly imaginative fiction by some of the most brilliant new writers. The key to enjoying it all is to take a deep breath and accept the confusion. Embrace uncertainties, paradoxes, and huge, open questions; develop and defend ideas, but don't be afraid to be wrong. Realize that everyone around you, including the instructor, is going to have moments of real befuddlement. Don't be too embarassed to ask stupid questions (like "What do you mean?"). The stupid questions are often the ones that shed the most light. Repeat to yourself: Confusion is next, and next after that is the truth (apologies to Sonic Youth).

What you might get from this class

A definite improvement in your writing skills. Also, some rigorous intellectual puzzles and challenges; moments of absolute wonder in the reading; the excitement of some serious arguments; maybe even some questions that will stay with you long after the last day and the last paper...

How to contact me

My office is in the Science 1 Building, on the ground floor (downstairs), room 55-F. My regular office hours will be Mondays and Thursday, 2-3 (except on weeks when I'm having individual conferences), and I can make appointments for other times if those aren't convenient. Papers can be slipped under my office door or delivered to English Department mailbox 133 (not campus mail). You can email me at xxxxxxx@binghamton.edu . If you need to call me at home, my number is xxx-xxxx; I don't mind, but please don't call before 10 in the morning or after 10 at night.



Books

(On order at Bookbridge, in the Vestal Plaza -- both bus systems go there.)

Shorter Texts

(Most of these you will photocopy for yourself; they will be on reserve, in a green binder marked "Personal".)

I may bring one or two more short readings to class, if inspired -- possibly around the end of the semester, when we'll have extra time to play around with. [Note: in fact, I wound up throwing out the Widmer and Siebers readings, and threw in a 1-page handout with quotes from and about Mikhail Bakhtin...]

We'll be reading somewhere around 900 pages over the course of the semester. That's an average of 60 pages of reading per week, not counting that temporary utopian respite from work: Spring Break. Use the schedule to pace yourself; don't wait until the last minute to read an entire novella. Important note: If I sense that discussion is dragging because not enough people are caught up on the reading, I may give surprise quizzes on the reading, which would factor into the participation grade. I would prefer not to do this, as I've always hated taking quizzes myself, but I'll do what it takes to keep things on track! This is also a matter of mutual respect for your fellow students: to assume that someone else will do the reading and talk about it in class so that you don't have to talk is making someone else do your work for you. At the same time, I know that this is tough reading. I don't want to unfairly penalize anyone who is making an effort but struggling anyway. If you're having trouble keeping up with the reading, the honest thing to do -- and the thing that will help you the most -- will be to talk to me about it, before or after class, or on my office hours. I'll do what I can to help.



Grades

Do not expect an A or A- grade unless your total contribution to class -- writing, participation, everything. -- is really superb. I don't expect that most people will get A-level grades. I regard any B-level grade as honorable and decent, though a B- generally indicates that something was off -- a good student having a bad semester, possibly, or someone making a real effort but encountering serious difficulties. A C-level grade is pretty unacceptable; it can only come from serious amounts of missing work, absence, and/or poor participation. I have given C grades to students that I genuinely liked. It was a reflection of how disorganized and depressed they were at the time, not a measure of my regard for them, much less a gauge of their intelligence or worth as people. Grades are made necessary by this institution and our society, but I regard them as a serious obstacle to learning, and especially to the pleasure of learning. If you care about this class and seek pleasure in the work, you'll do fine.

Here is where your grades will come from: