III.6
Breton thus introduces a formal disjunction between reality
and appearance, meaning that the Christian exists in the as if or as though of 1
Cor 7:29-31:
The appointed time has grown
short; from now on, let even those who have wives be as though they had none,
and those who mourn as though they were not mourning, and those who rejoice as
though they were not rejoicing, and those who buy as though they had no
possessions, and those who deal with the world as though they had no dealings
with it. (NRSV)
And, one is tempted to add, let
those who read Breton’s Saint Paul do
so as though they did not read. A book that references such moving words is
dancing to a close with a messianic anticipation of its own: an impetuous
desire to be something other than a book.
It must be with some surprise, then, that Breton’s Saint Paul should encounter itself
again, 23 years later and in English, both as a book (for the nostalgic among
us) and as an instantly purchasable and downloadable stream of data. The latter
option truly makes possible Paul’s dictum to buy without possessing, though
this is probably not what Breton had in mind when imagining the liberative
capacity of this new technology of mediation. The technological capabilities of
the e-book are, of course, consistent with Breton’s demands for a new
technology of mediation, making even the idea of a “concordance” seem patently
anachronistic—texts are now their own concordance. But even this mediation is
mediated by the market; even the one who reads this book as an e-book, with
these added features, must feel a profound sense of disappointment or
unfulfillment upon reaching the book’s conclusion. The spectralization of text
and information has ushered in a new, semi-spectral movement of world
capitalism: the commercialization of the Internet allows currency without
currency to be exchanged for a book without a book—a spectralized book, which,
despite everything, retains its status as “property.”
For those who purchase their e-book through Amazon.com, the
book’s cover again deepens the irony: a fading wisp of smoke will be displayed
on a machine called the “Kindle.” The fire of revolution, it turns out, was never even lit.
