Raymond Roussel's Locus Solus

(Please note: Sorry for the length. This is a combination of what I wanted to say in my oral presentation last week and my response to Roussel, so it's a little long.)

Part 1: Roussel, Alchemy, and Jung

          When reading the opening chapters of Locus Solus, I wondered if Roussel had any familiarity with alchemy. By the time I reached the story near the end of the novel of the alchemist Paracelsus' experiments with white powders and skin, I was convinced he was. The opening myth--with its references to cabbalistic rituals, gold ancestral crowns, and the kingly signature of "Ego" (12-13)--sounded like the perfect Jungian alchemical tale. Jung himself believed that alchemists' search for transforming base metals into gold was a metaphor of the human search for a soul, or the process of individuation. Of course, Roussel was writing years before Jung began his interest in alchemy. However, Roussel's opening chapter leads to an interesting psychoanalytic reading that can be informed by Jung's ideas. If gold might be read as the soul, then Jouël's story becomes a metaphorical warning: if we lock the ideal self (the "Ideal I" of our fantasy) so tightly within, then we risk losing access to the very object of value. The Ego's over-protection of the soul (in this case, the cave marked "Ego" protecting the sacred gold with a dream-inspired password) renders the soul hidden forever, buried away, and useless. Although the "sacred gold was buried in a safe place" (13), it was nearly impossible to access, ironically placing it out-of-reach, as if the gold had not existed at all. Only when the dream-message overcomes the Ego (17) might we be allowed access to the gold buried beneath--that is to say, reach individuation. In the terms of Roussel's novel, we might say this is a merging of the mythic and the scientific, the imaginative and the real, and the past and the present.

          Roussel seems to suggest that this process happens through the artistic process. He begins his novel with a mythic tale of "Jouël" and ends with a performer named "Noël," linked to each other by similar-sounding names, but also connected to Canterel as mysterious men who transform fetish objects into art, but in opposite ways. Jouël turns his object (gold inside a cave) into myth, while Noël gives us the rational explanation for his parlor trick--the dice are literally loaded (214). Jouël was the "first to wear the Load" (9) in ancient times, becoming the earliest-living person in the narrative to have access to a fetish object, whereas Noël is the last to appear in the novel to show his metallic material to the visitors. It is interesting to note that Noël learned his trade from alchemist Count Ruolz-Montchal (210), again linking to alchemical themes in the opening chapter. (When I tried searching for connections to Roussel and alchemy, I stumbled upon the following passage from A Critical Bibliography of French Literature: "Breton suggests that at present we read R. with pleasure and little understanding; comprehension would increase our enjoyment. The key should be sought in traditions of alchemy and initiatory literature." (A Critical Bibliography of French Literature: The Twentieth Century, ed. David Clark Cabeen, Douglas William Alden, and Richard A. Brooks. Syracuse: Syracuse UP, 1979. 1104.) In a final connection, Jouël dies and appears as a mythic presence in the stars (11-12), while Noël begins his fortune-telling by offering a prayer to Saturn, "a dazzling star standing almost at zenith" (202). Noël finds a book with "a cabbalistic code whose secret he explained to us [the visitors to Locus Solus]" (204), which again links to the power of Jouël's "cabbalistic utterance" (11). Of course, Noël appears at the end to reveal the trickery behind his mystic objects, not to extend the myth surrounding an object, as Jouël's story achieves. But before explaining further how Roussel synthesizes the stories of Noël, Jouël, and Canterel, I must pause to show how I interpret the novel's structure and how certain important themes function in relation to each other within the narrative arc.

Part 2: The Narrative and Thematic Structure of Locus Solus

          In order to do this, I created the chart below to map the cyclical nature of Roussel’s narrative. An explanation follows the chart...

          Here we see the important themes of the novel arranged around the fetish object, which might be any number of various artifacts that appear in the text, from The Federal to Danton's head to the fatal revolver. The black arrows indicate the narrative arc, beginning with the Artist (Canterel being the prime example) and moving clockwise to a mystical reconstruction of a famous narrative or myth (such as found in the Locus Solus exhibits); then to a narrative of the myth itself; then to a Dream World that often appears within the mythic narrative (this might also be a reference to night, sleeping, or even the "Nocturnal wax"); then to the images of death that are very often closely associated with the dream or sometimes following the dream; then to the rational or "scientific" explanation that lies behind both the myth and the fantastic Locus Solus reconstructions; and then finally leading full circle to the Artist who is giving the rational explanation to assure us that neither trickery nor supernatural elements are involved. The fetish object links items next to each other on the narrative chart, as indicated by the dotted lines. (Therefore, the fetish object connects the Artist to the reconstruction; it also connects the reconstruction to the mythic narrative, and so on...) Notice that the Artist is suspended between the mystical on the right and the rational/scientific on the left (an important theme in the novel, as mentioned in class), but also mirrors the Dream World, which stands directly opposite the Artist. Opposite items on the chart are meant to have a direct correlation through the fetish object, indicated by the dotted lines connecting those items across the diameter of the circle. (Please excuse my poor skills as an artist/graphic designer, but yes, this is meant to be a circle!) Therefore, we can see a dotted line connecting Artist/Dream World, Rationality/Mythic Narrative, and Mystical Reconstruction/Death, pairings that I think are related in the novel through possession or placement of the fetish object.

          As with all such charts, the arrangement over-simplifies a dynamic that is quite complex. This is just a way for my mind to grapple with how these themes function in the novel within the narrative. Others might feel the need to add, swap, or re-arrange items. However, I wouldn’t remove any of these items, as I think each one is essential to understanding the novel.

          Finally, I want to take a moment to give my definition of "fetish object," which we discussed briefly in class. I see the fetish as a tangible artifact that gives access to a distant, unobtainable object of desire. The fetish functions as a substitute for what cannot be possessed. I'm basing this on my previous readings of Lacan's objet a, which was in turn developed from Freud's writing on the totem. As Freud writes, a totem can offer protection or be a communal item, whereas a fetish is always individual (Totem and Taboo. 2nd ed. Trans. James Strachey. London: Routledge, 2004. 120.). Henry Krips writes that the totem appears "lacking as a site of desire," whereas the fetish is the point at which desire is located (Fetish: An Erotics of Culture. Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1999. 66-67.). I would add to this that the fetish offers a point of access to desire, which I think is the key to understanding how the fetish objects function in Locus Solus.

Part 3: Artist-as-Trickster

          Although many of the artists' narratives in the novel tend to follow the same cyclical route mapped above, I think the three most important center on Jouël, Noël, and Canterel. I'm calling Jouël an "artist" because of his mythic ability to create a chamber/tomb in a mountain out of magic. Indeed, I think the "artist-as-magician" is an important idea in the novel. Whereas Jouël is the mythical artist and Noël is the "real life" example (i.e. explaining away his "magic" as tricks), Canterel walks a line between the two. He is constantly trying to prove no trickery is taking place ("Look: nothing up my sleeve!") while at the same time clearly engaging in imaginative play that mimics the mystical and mythical events from which he draws inspiration. By ending with Noël's loaded dice, Roussel is suggesting that the artist must be mystic, alchemist, performer, and trickster rolled into one. The novel portrays the act of generating art as cycles of creation and destruction, imaginative dreaming and real-world application of craft, and death and life. Like desire, art is a cycle that reproduces itself. It is no surprise that the figures represented at Locus Solus are a menagerie of artists: several poets, an actor, a writer, a sculptor, a weaver, fortune tellers/stage performers, orators, craftsworkers, etc.

          By the end of the novel, I was reminded of the opening scene of Orson Welles' documentary F for Fake (1973), which explores the art of fraud and trickery in film, painting, and writing. The first two minutes of the film have Welles performing a magic trick for a young boy as a film crew records the events:

          As we can see from the opening shot, the key functions here as the fetish object ("a small, personal object"): the tangible item in front of our eyes that is certainly real, but also has a story linking it to the imaginative and the seemingly unreal. “Hold it above your head," Welles commands the child, as if he were holding a sacred object. “TEN FEET over your head!” Here is the fetish object to be elevated and observed—a point of access to the magic soon to come. In transforming the key into a coin (from base metal into gold, no less!), Welles as the writer/poet/artist, like the metaphorical alchemist or magician, has created a work of art from the objet a. Something ethereal has taken place. But what then happens to the key, that all-important object offering access to the realm of dream/fantasy and prompting the artist to create in the first place? It doesn’t really “go” anywhere. It has never left. That twin desire--to possess both key and coin, imagination and reality--cycles back to the beginning, awaiting the next sleight of hand. As Welles intones with a coy smile, "What happened to the key? It's been returned to you...Look closely, sir. You’ll find the key…back in your pocket." The fetish object is “returned to us” through the transformative nature of the work of art (the novel, the painting, the wunderkammer, the parlor trick, etc.).  I say “transformative nature” because the work of art, in the act of its very creation, becomes a tangible replacement for the initial objet a. The artist has essentially transferred the power of the fetish from the original fetish object (which might still exist or be long lost—it ultimately doesn’t matter), to the work of art itself. (“As for the key,” Welles deadpans, “it wasn’t symbolic of anything. This isn’t that kind of movie.” Of course, Welles, as the self-proclaimed “charlatan,” is pulling our leg. He cuts to a shot of the film crew on the word “symbolic,” letting his audience know with a wink that this is exactly “that type of movie”…). 

          The prime example of the work of art taking the place of the fetish occurs in chapter six when Canterel elicits fear in Sileis, the Sudanese fortune teller, by showing her a painting of a Sudanese mythic sacrificial rite (197). Notice the arc of the narrative in terms of my chart, all linked by the painting titled Dancing girl with Fruit: Artist (Canterel/Vollon) --> a mystical reconstruction (the painting of the ritual) --> myth (the fruit tree predicting death) --> dream (the trance-state of Sileis) --> death (Sileis’ fear of death in seeing the mythic image in the painting) --> rational explanation (the process of inducing a chemical reaction to create a small explosion).  The painting as an access point to the power of the myth generates real emotion and fear from Sileis, bringing her too close to the myth. For her, there is no "rational explanation" (that is reserved for Canterel and the visitors). As seen in the chart above, when this step in the cycle is skipped, the only result can be an arrow linking death to the artist, which is precisely the fear felt by Sileis as she performs her fortune telling while staring at the painting. 

          To take the idea of artist-as-trickster to the extreme, one might suggest that the entire reason Canterel brought his visitors to Locus Solus was to get their signatures as witnesses to the transformation of globules to gunpowder. After all, the visitors were only more than willing to sign a legal document as witnesses to the extraordinary event after being prepped all day by a long string of amazing sights and tales. Perhaps Canterel was simply out to make money? But such a cynical reading would fly in face of everything Canterel had told us up to that point. Like the visitors to Locus Solus, we have to take Canterel's word that the final experiment was "based on a unrepeatable effect of surprise and illusion" (199). If this is true, then there would be no money to be made in the creation of something that can never be repeated. We can only conclude that the entire event was just a bit of imaginative fun, and that like any good magician, Canterel never repeats the same trick twice.