Journal of Research & Scholarly Output 2006 - Grimsby Institute of ...

must inherently depend upon an unrelenting
exertion of power which becomes endemic
to its process. In its examination of textual
constructs and the critical circuits we tread
in relation to them, this paper will draw upon
poststructuralist and psychoanalytical
theory to interrogate aspects of critical
practice.
‘The Figure in the Carpet’ presents us with
the quest of an unnamed narrator to unravel
the mystery of the work of Hugh Vereker, an
author he admires. After producing a
commissioned review of Vereker’s new
novel for a journal, he has opportunity to
meet the author who explains that all critical
attention seems to miss his “little point . . .
what shall I call it – the particular thing I’ve
written my books most for” (James: 1896,
15 – emphasis as original). 1 The narrator
becomes intrigued by the elusive “little
point” and becomes embroiled in a critical
pursuit to unveil ‘the particular thing’ to
which the author alludes. His desire is to be
crowned “victor – with the critical laurels”
(32). It is in conversation with Vereker that
the author purports the point of criticism to
be as palpable as a figure in a carpet:
“‘What else in heaven’s name is criticism
supposed to be?’” (17). In his frustrated
questioning of the author, the narrator
ventures “profanely” that ‘the thing’ in the
text might be aligned with “some kind of
game you’re up to with your style,
something you’re after in the language.
Perhaps a preference for the letter P! . . .
Papa, potatoes, prunes - that sort of
thing?’” (19) To the narrator’s list of
‘profane’ suggestions, we might add
another word beginning with ‘the letter P’:
power.
The textual production entitled ‘The Figure
in the Carpet’ is riddled through and through
with configurations of power and this is
overlaid by its intimate connection with
desire as an operative component in the
unravelling of the tale. The “game [it’s] up to
with [its] style” is a correlative of the trickery
at the heart of its subject matter. Its
sentence structures, with their numerous
sub-clauses so reluctant to lay “the subject”
wholly upon the table, tantalize to the last
term. Coercive suspense is written into its
very structuration. This particular short story
grips its subject so tightly that we never
seem to reach its elusive “little point” whilst
simultaneously being invited to miss the
point continually as part of its alluring game.
In its configuration lies its meaning; James’
story is one which inherently dictates how it
is meant to be read as we enter its confines
to negotiate with the iron grasp of its own
enigma. The narrative voice reminds us that
it is captive to its own constructedness:
I had been shut up with my obsession for
ever - my gaolers had gone off with the key.
I find myself quite as vague as a captive in a
dungeon. . . (59)
James’ tale progresses precisely by
withholding its meaning, by not unveiling
‘the thing’ operative at the centre of its
power mechanism. As critics and readers
we dance a figure around the figure in the
carpet with which we are supposed to be
intimately concerned in our critical quest to
uncover the “buried treasure” (23): the
elusive and mysterious object existing as
fascinating fetish point of readerly attentions
and critical intentions.
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