the Author is Dead

Roland Barthes’ famous saying - the author is dead – has been cited quite often as a signifier for the dawn of post-structuralism. Yet I always doubt if his meaning has been misunderstood and misinterpreted, or quite possibly, Barthes himself falls short on thinking further about the subject. To make a judgment that writing is beyond the control of individual writers like what Barthes has said in the death of the author, ‘in the multiplicity of writing, everything is to be disentangled, nothing deciphered’, is not something new and original. It is rather the first step of reflective thinking, which means the readers’ understanding about a piece of writing, is still subjective.

Barthes’ A Lover’s Discourse is a perfect example for such subjective interpretation of writing. He is quite well aware of such seemingly cheery picking style of different works by different authors. In the short preface of this book (English translation by Richard Howard and published by Hill and Wang), Barthes says that ‘the lover’s discourse is today of an extreme solitude’. The discourse is spoken, perhaps, by thousands of subjects, but warranted by no one; it’s forsaken by the surrounding languages: ignored, disparaged, or derided by them, severed not only from authority but also from the mechanisms of authority (sciences, techiniques, arts)’. These are highly stylish words, I must say. The underlying truth is that the Real of love is untouchable and inexplicable, since it’s beyond the power of words. Paradoxically, by denying the existence of one single subject that can speak the truth of love, the Real meaning of love emerges from Barthes’ collection of various fragments from different writings on the subject of love.

To accomplish this work, Barthes must have searched, read, and thought a lot of books. In fact, just scanning its structure and key words he has selected, one would be dazzled by the manifold of this subject. Barthes’ meticulousness has created an alluring labyrinth, which is ready to engulf any desiring subject. But be alert, here lies in the truth of ‘the author is dead’. Barthes as a desiring subject for the true love is actually dead by finishing the book, so he can calmly disembody so many subjects into fragments, and organizes them into his own work. Without understanding such a stance, one would never fully grasp the meaning of ‘the author is dead’. This sounds a bit crude, but it is the truth of creating the masterpiece, or the Tao of the arts. The masterpiece needs not to be analyzed, because it itself is already the Real.