Portrait of Jacques Derrida as a Young Jewish Saint

Hélène Cixous

2001

This is a story that begins with J. It was the fifteenth of July 1930.

It’s about J; it’s about a consonant still a little vowelish, a little i-ish in the aftermath of a magic philology.

Were I not “Jewish,” I say to myself, holding the word to my lips shyly, in and with respect, were I unable to address this word to myself in some way…

Please login or register for free access to Posen Library Already have an account?

Engage with this Source

You may also like