Freud's sublimation: disgust, desire and the female body.
themselves into--excrement for me (a new Midas!).
Sigmund Freud to Wilhelm Fliess. December 22, 1897
"More so than men who are coaxed toward social success, toward sublimation, women are body" writes Helene Cixous (1976, 257), thus articulating a problematic relation between women's greater proximity to the body and cultural production that still provokes theoretical controversy. I want to interrogate that relation and its implication that women don't sublimate by exploring Freud's concept of sublimation and what it might suggest about the effects of sexual difference on representation. But first, beginning with the word: etymologically, sublimation is linked to the sublime, to an idea of higher states of being valorized by their distance from the body and from quotidian matter. To sublimate is "to purify," "to exalt out of the body," "to transmute from dross into value, into some other state of value."(1) For Freud also, sublimation was an alchemical conversion of the dross of the body into a representation of value conferred by civilization. But in theorizing this transmutation from dross into value which constitutes culture and civilization, Freud indicates that the attribution of value that is sublimation derives from a masculine response to a sexual difference specifically located in the body of the woman.
Freud speaks of sublimation at various points in his papers, and always in terms of value. Describing sublimation as the transformation of a sexual aim into a non-sexual one, he writes in Civilization and its Discontents that "sublimation is what makes it possible for higher psychical activities, scientific, artistic, or ideological, to play such an important part in civilized life" (1930, 97). But for Freud "higher" is not mere metaphor; "higher" activity is literally that which takes place above the lower sexual and excretory organs, although derived from a relation to them. "The unserviceable aim of the various impulses [is] replaced by one that is higher," he explains, an exchange facilitated by "the components of the sexual instinct," which are specially capable of "exchanging their sexual aim for ... one ... comparatively remote and socially valuable" (54). The component instincts--defined by Freud as those attached to pregenital erotogenic zones, particularly the oral and anal--are organized during the oedipal stage into that genitality that for Freud constitutes human sexuality.(2) Significantly, the component instinct that most insists itself into Freud's texts as the one above which the human subject has to rise is anal eroticism. Writing about the changes in instinctual disposition that civilization elicits, he remarks:
The most remarkable example of such a process is
found in the anal eroticism of young human beings.
Their original interest in the excretory function, its
organs and products, is changed in the course of their
growth into a group of traits which are familiar to us
as parsimony, a sense of order and cleanliness. . . .
Repeatedly in his writings Freud singles out the importance of anal eroticism, nowhere more strikingly than in Civilization and its Discontents where he even leaves his central text to pursue his imp of the perverse: the significance of anal eroticism and its concomitant sensory mode, smell, in the development of human sexuality. In long digressive footnotes, he narrates a primal myth which begins with the male response to the menstrual smell of women, lingers on a generalized confusion of sexual and excretory functions and concludes by way of disgust with sublimation. Here is the gist of his story: In the beginning before humans had an erect gait, men were attracted to women intermittently through the smell of their menstrual periods. But with "the diminution of the olfactory stimuli by means of which the menstrual process produced an effect on the male psyche . . . their role was taken over by visual excitations which . . . were able to maintain a permanent effect . . . ." What is more, as he writes, "The diminution of the olfactory stimuli seems itself to be a consequence of man's raising himself from the ground. . . . The fateful process of civilization would thus have set in with man's adoption of an erect posture . . . proceeded through the devaluation of olfactory stimuli and the isolation of the menstrual period to the time when visual stimuli were paramount and the genitals became visible, and thence to the continuity of sexual excitement" (99).
Although Freud here moves sexual arousal from the olfactory to the visual field, and thus from an intermittent desire to a continuous one, it remains for him inextricably intermixed with a sexual repugnance that threatens eros itself:
With the assumption of an erect posture by man and
with the depreciation of his sense of smell, it was not
only his anal eroticism which threatened to fall victim
to organic repression, but the whole of his sexuality,
so that this, the sexual function, has been accompanied
by a repugnance which cannot further be accounted
for, and which prevents its complete satisfaction and
forces it away from the sexual aim into sublimations
and libidinal displacements. (106)
Speculating that this repugnance may be primary, Freud explains it by quoting an old adage, "Inter urinas et faeces nascimur," on which he had leaned some thirty years earlier to explain hysterical disgust in the Dora case. In thus returning to this adage, Freud makes clear that it is the intolerable confusion of sexual and excretory organs in the maternal body, a confusion out of which the human subject is born, that causes that disgust which is the key to sublimation. In this anal logic, it is disgust with the smell of sex, which takes the female body particularly as its object, that is the ground for the founding of civilization.(3)
But Freud's emphasis on the conflation of sexual and excretory orifices suggests more at work driving sublimation than disgust with woman's body per se. In describing a generalized historical repugnance at the proximity of the orifices, and the consequent confusion of anus and vagina, Freud virtually elides the female genitals. Not only does such maneuvering to keep the site of difference ambiguous suggest a defense against castration anxiety but this negation of sexual difference also implies an active desire for a non-differentiating eroticism that promotes a male homosexual economy. Thus disgust in Freud's text is also an effect of this other repudiated desire, an active anal-erotic desire for a homosexual object that obliterates sexual difference. What Freud's text thus represents is a social transmutation of the forbidden object of desire (for the same) into the forbidden object of disgust, a disgust displaced onto the female body in a reverse alchemy which implements heterosexual civilization. It is especially he--the male subject--who reaches higher because he is repelled by his attraction to the smell down below.
This intimate intersection of desire, disgust and anal eroticism comes up more fully in Freud's letters to Fliess (ed. Masson, 1985), in which he uses his own self-analysis to generalize about the role of the body in normal sexual repression, the "neurotic" alternative to sublimation:
Insofar as memory has lighted upon an experience
connected with the genitals, what it produces . . . is
libido. Insofar as it has lighted upon an experience
connected with the anus, mouth, and so on . . . it produces
. . . internal disgust, and the final outcome is
consequently that a quota of libido is not able . . . to
force its way through to action . . . . libido and disgust
would seem to be associatively linked.(281)
Suggesting here that disgust is a kind of pregenital negation, Freud makes repression rather than sublimation its consequence. Repression derives from the abandonment of former erotogenic zones, in particular the anus, mouth and throat, the memory of which, still retained, provokes a disturbing pleasure that must be repudiated.(4) "To put it crudely," writes Freud to Fliess, "the memory actually stinks just as in the present the object stinks; and in the same manner as we turn away our sense organ (the head and nose) in disgust, the preconscious and the sense of consciousness turn away from the memory. This is repression"(280).
But why does he here theorize repression rather than sublimation? As I read Freud's expulsive language, I hear his own desublimation, his own repudiated pleasure liberated through the memory of the very anal eroticism about which he is theorizing. "The stink of the memory" threatens to overwhelm the theory. Or, in other words, for Freud a cigar was never just a cigar. Indeed, especially in this context, Freud's own repeated cathexis to the nose and to Fliess's fantasmatic theories about its pivotal significance can be understood as part of the fetishistic network of anal eroticism to which he was drawn.
Freud's text thus oscillates between genital and anal images of desire and repudiation, and thus conforms to that oscillation of the drive that characterizes male hysteria. As Freud himself writes, in arguing that disgust is a strong component of hysteria in the Dora case,
It is scarcely possible to exaggerate the pathogenic significance
of the comprehensive tie uniting the sexual
and the excremental, a tie which is at the basis of a very
large number of hysterical phobias. (1905, 32)(5)
But if the oscillation of the drive between anal and genital aims characterizes male hysteria, female hysteria, I would argue, is characterized by the oscillation between oral and genital aims. Certainly in the Dora case Dora's dis-taste was performed primarily in the oral register: her cough, her aphonia, her primal scene fantasy of the oral sexual relation between her father and Frau K.; yet Freud's symptomatic points of reference in his interpretation of Dora's disgust emphasize anality.(6) Indeed, Freud's analysis of Dora's disgust as a response to the ambiguity of the female orifice from which the subject is born seems to me to reveal more Freud's own hysterical investment in the anal object of disgust than Dora's. In the following passage, for example, analyzing Dora's disgust at the kiss of her unwanted suitor, Herr K., Freud shifts his point of analytic reference from kiss to smell, from oral to anal, and finally from disgust regarding the ambivalent male genitals to the familiar disgust at the proximity of female organs to the excretory functions, thus perpetuating in his argument the ambiguities associated with disgust:
I can arrive at the following derivation for the feelings
of disgust. Such feelings seem originally to be a reaction
to the smell (and afterwards also to the sight) of excrement.
But the genitals can act as a reminder of the
excretory functions; and this applies especially to the
male member, for that organ performs the function of
micturition as well as the sexual function. Indeed, the
function of micturition is the earlier known of the two,
and the only one known during the presexual period.
Thus it happens that disgust becomes one of the means
of affective expression in the sphere of the sexual life.
The early Christian Father's |inter urinas et faeces nascimur'
clings to sexual life and cannot be detached from
it in spite of every effort at idealization. (1905, 32)
If, as Monique David-Menard points out, "Disgust in hysteria exhibits, at the heart of the conversion symptom, a passionate denial of sexual difference that seeks to attribute to the other a kind of responsibility for having spoiled sexuality" (1989, 103), Freud's theory of sublimation itself rests on that hysterical attribution to the woman. Thus while Freud's comments on disgust in the Dora case may illuminate hysteria as a pathology of ambivalence about gender difference, his own often excessive preoccupation with anal matters brings him into that hysterical circle for whom disgust is a reactive distaste for the female body. In short, if Dora was disgusted, so was Freud.
Of course, Freud was not unaware of what he called his own "petit hysteria." In his letters to Fliess, Freud confesses his hysterical proclivity and uses his self-knowledge to speculate on the relation between sexuality and repression. Yet the rhetoric of his speculations discloses more unconscious connections than he perhaps intended. In a remarkable letter which announces his climactic shift from the seduction theory to the theory of repressed desire, Freud imagines himself giving birth to the "piece of knowledge" that becomes psychoanalytic theory.
It was on November 12, 1897; the sun was precisely in
the eastern quarter; Mercury and Venus were in conjunction -- No,
birth announcements no longer start like
that. It was on November 12, a day dominated by a
left-sided migraine, on the afternoon of which Martin
sat down to write a new poem, on the evening of which
Oli lost his second tooth, that, after the frightful labor
pains of the last few weeks, I gave birth to a new piece
of knowledge. Not entirely new, to tell the truth; it had
repeatedly shown itself and withdrawn again, but this
time it stayed and looked upon the light of day. (1985,
In this constitution of the myth of the origin of psychoanalysis, Freud moves from a playful deflation of the birth of the heroic subject to a fantasy of giving birth to a potent "piece of knowledge" that becomes his new science. Moreover, this piece of knowledge, through the equivalence-formula of psychoanalysis that he developed, must be not only a baby and phallus, but also a turd; all three meanings reverberate in this text and remain operative in Freud's grand sublimation, psychoanalytic theory.
The vicissitudes of sublimation are also given an anal tone in the course of Freud's description of narcissism in "The Ego and the Id" (1923). In narcissism, the ego withdraws its erotic libido from objects onto itself; that is to say, the erotic drive is desexualized, sublimated. But the consequence is "a defusion of the instincts and a liberation of the aggressive instincts in the superego." Freud writes: "After sublimation, the erotic component no longer has the power to bind the whole of the destructiveness that was combined with it, and this is released in the form of an inclination to aggression and destruction" (56). Thus sublimation-primary impetus to civilization-not only generates the seeds of its own destruction but internally promotes a cruel and punishing superego, which Freud represents as destroying the ego in a sadomasochistic psychodrama.
In suffering under the attack of the superego or perhaps
even succumbing to it, the ego is meeting with a
fate like that of the protista which are destroyed by the
products of decomposition that they themselves have
created . . . morality functions in the superego [as]
. . . a similar product of decomposition. (57)
Using a rhetoric of death and decomposition, Freud's theoretical text indulges a fantasy in which a feminized ego passively "succumbs" to an assaultive superego, representative of the father's law and phallus, and is destroyed by its products, imagined as products of decomposition, an anal transformation of generating seed into waste.
In thus proposing that anal-erotic desublimation marks Freud's text I am of course not pointing to anything extraordinary, nor do I mean to accuse him of anything shameful. Literature seduces us through the process of desublimation, by implanting a fantasy through what John Fletcher has called "a sublimatory reverse" which "solicits and sustains a set of readerly identifications . . . ." (1986, 118). But to return to Cixous's statement with which I began, rather than agreeing that women sublimate less than men, I want to suggest that Freud's text allows us to see the body as functioning differently in these readerly identifications for men and women, that insofar as erotic representations are gender inflected, so is the psychoerotic economy which fuels them. Indeed, I would suggest that not only is the anal erotic body of Freud's text, with its attendant interest in smell, in non-differentiated pieces, in waste, a reactive response to his disgust with the female body, but that Freud's sublimatory reverse characterizes the representation of the erotic body in a great number of male-authored texts which we might call hysterical. Recall, for example, T. S. Eliot's reference to "that good old hardy female stench" in The Wasteland. Or his description of his poems as "blood, mucous, shreds of mucous, purulent offensive discharge."(7) Eliot's hystericized language, which encodes the matter of the fragmented body as disgusting even when that matter is his own production, recalls Freud's meditation on his body's contribution to his theory. But whereas Eliot seems to excoriate the body for its "offensive discharge" -- albeit ambivalently, I would argue--Freud seems openly to enjoy his body's contributions to his theory:
Now to my ideas about the nose: I discharged exceedingly
ample amounts of pus and all the while felt splendid;
now the secretion has nearly dried up and I am
still feeling very well. I propose the following to you;
it is neither the congestion nor the flow of pus that
determines the distant symptoms. . . . (1985, 130)
Indeed, repeatedly Freud insists on the pleasures of the excremental foundation of of his thinking:
I can scarcely detail for you all the things that resolve
themselves into--excrement for me (a new Midas!).
If Freud was following the logic of male desire in his narrative of the origin of sublimation as a reactive response to the female body, perhaps we need another narrative to account for female sublimation. But this alternative narrative could not be merely a reverse of Freud's. For just as Freud convincingly theorized that the female oedipal complex was not merely the obverse of the male's, female sublimation cannot be a mirror image of male sublimation; it cannot turn on a reactive response to the male body. Because the mother is the original object for both sexes, it is the maternal body, the body of a woman, that is the signifier of corporeality for both sexes. Both male and female infants must give up their fantasmatic relation to the mother's body, must in some way negate it in order to re-present it and the object world it initiates. Sublimation thus involves a displacement of interest from the body to its representation in the cultural field, a displacement all human subjects must make.
But although the maternal body is thus abjected (Kristeva) and devalued by both sexes as they move toward sexed positions in culture, since women inhabit the female body, since they are situated as body and as subject, women maintain a double relation to that body. They abject it and "inject" it at the same time. Certainly the fact that corporeality is culturally represented by the woman's body must affect men and women differently. Perhaps female sublimation involves another narrative logic that does not lean upon the occlusion of the female genital site of difference. Perhaps that logic is more inclusive than exclusive, more incremental than excremental. Perhaps women's sublimations are not as easily propelled by a reactive anal disgust?(9) For example, Cixous and other feminist writers imagine multiple libidinal points of origin for different kinds of sublimatory productions based not on an expulsive distancing from but on a proximity to the body. Keeping in touch, but in writing.
Luce Irigaray self-consciously privileges touch as a mode of women's writing. Redefining language to gain a place for the feminine, in "The Power of Discourse and the Subordination of the Feminine," Irigaray writes, "This style or writing of women . . does not privilege sight; instead, it takes each figure back to its source, which is among other things tactile" (1985, 79). In her own writing, Irigaray attempts to represent the structural form of the mouth and female genitals, those parts of female body from which Freud tells us man runs in disgust but women overvalue. Indeed, if we look at the sublimatory reverse among modernist women writers, both disgust and anality seem to be virtually absent in their representations of the eroticized body; other libidinal zones predominate. Of course, psychoanalysis itself privileges oral eroticism as the primary component instinct of feminine sexuality. But while Freud's interpretation of orality makes it a receptive modality, a modality signifying dependence on the other, Irigaray privileges oral zones for their ability to sustain autonomous pleasure, their autoerotic potential, their wholeness rather than holeness.
As for woman, she touches herself in and of herself
without any need for mediation. Woman "touches herself"
all the time, and moreover no one can forbid her
to do so, for her genitals are formed of two lips in
continuous contact. ("This Sex Which Is Not One," 24)
One might say that Irigaray obviously selects her female body parts to serve her announced polemical purpose, namely, to emancipate women from a system of representation deriving from male desire. Yet it remains true that modernist women writers as a group have generally favored oral images of desire. If anal eroticism is valued by men because it negates the female sexual organs while keeping the active-passive polarity of sexual exchange, in contrast, the oral eroticism behind the sublimatory texts of modernist women writers would seem to subvert that polarity, to supplement rather than displace genitality, to augment rather than reduce the zones of sexual exchange.(10) Thus for example Gilbert and Gubar note that Djuna Barnes in her "Ladies Almanack" encodes a female erotic tongue in the moth as a signifier of an active female sexuality, thus literally incorporating a phallic modality within the oral (1988).
Virginia Woolf's texts also frequently combine component instincts into a representation of the female sexual body as polymorphously comprehending all pleasure zones, all the sensual possibilities fused into a moment of being. Recall, for example, Clarissa in Mrs. Dalloway remembering "a tinge like a blush which one tried to check and then, as it spread, one yielded to its expansion, and rushed to the farthest verge, and there quivered and felt the world come closer, swollen with some astonishing significance, some pressure of rapture, which split its thin skin and gushed and poured with an extraordinary alleviation over the cracks and sores!" (1925, 47). While here the body's "cracks and sores" might be read as signifiers of disgust, they are alleviated, healed, by a phonemic repetition -- "poured," "extraordinary," "sores" -- an auditory inundation of the "sores" by the purifying "awe." The text represents a momentary experience of the fullness of being as a kind of jouissance, in which "cracks and sores" as well as "gush" and "pour" are included in an erotic verbal bath that forecloses disgust.
In a similar act of linguistic play with the female body, Gertrude Stein's very titles -- "Tender Buttons," "Lifting Belly" -- pun on various parts of the erogenous body, a body whose only lack is signifiers of abjection or disgust. Is it significant that these writers were lesbian, that their chosen objects of desire were female? Certainly their homoerotic desire for the same would seem to preclude rejection and expulsion, and is not easily linked to a waste of shame, as it is in Freud's text. Yet even among the textual productions of women writers who are avowedly heterosexual, disgust seems to be an affect that is not well represented or when represented taken as a sign of profound despair.(11) Is its virtual absence a sign of a more profound repression or of a different economy of desire?
Undoubtedly, there are glaring exceptions to my tendentious generalizations, but they seem to occur primarily among postmodernist women artists and writers. The recent textual productions of Kathy Acker, whose violent images sadomasochistically assault the reader, repeatedly abject the body in the text precisely to provoke disgust. Cindy Sherman's photographs of dead bodies, especially those of dead women as waste products lying in the garbage heap, compel us to stare in deep repugnance at the transformation of human value to dross. Acker's prose and Sherman's photos both make clear an important element of postmodern manipulations of the representation of women. On the one hand, they drive us out of the seduction of an identification that mimetic art ordinarily sustains. At the same time they fascinate, and like a Medusa, compel our resistant look, provoke our desire to become lost in, to be the abject or dead object before us. Indeed, they make clear that if disgust is the embodiment of disavowal, it is an affect that pushes us away from what simultaneously exerts a powerful attraction on us.
Yet postmodern productions like those of Acker and Sherman do not ultimately subvert my correlation of disgust with masculine sublimation. Lyotard describes the postmodern as "that which in the modern puts forward the unpresentable in presentation itself; that which denies itself the solace of good forms, . . . that which searches for new presentations, not in order to enjoy them but in order to impart a stronger sense of the unpresentable" (1984, 81). Postmodern artists like Acker and Sherman are participating in a quest to represent the unpresentable. By manipulating what has already been overly represented, they thus paradoxically impart a sense of the not yet presented. In particular, what they manipulate, play with and on, are simulacra of the body of the woman as constituted by the male gaze. Thus, for example, many of Sherman's photographs of the seventies and early eighties compel us to look through a masculine camera eye at various images of women who are familiar objects from prior representational systems, from paintings, from films, from advertising. The more recent photos of dead women, significantly "Untitled," present images of the female body as an anonymous object, not merely as an image of death, but as waste produced by our commodity-loving, objectfetishizing anal culture. In thus critiquing representations of women through representations of women, Sherman's postmodernist pieces are in sharp contrast to those modernist women artists who were, and still are, engaged in a more direct attempt to represent female authenticity.
In this sense Cixous with whom I began is a modernist, seeking a more authentic form of female writing, writing that will represent the woman's body rather than name it as unrepresentable. Specifically rejecting the dead body composed and decomposed by patriarchal values, Cixous has attempted to resurrect the living body of woman through the act of writing.
By writing her self, woman will return to the body which
has been more than confiscated from her, which has
been turned into the uncanny stranger on display--the
ailing or dead figure, which so often turns out to be
the nasty companion . . . . It is time for women to start
scoring their feats in written and oral language. (1980,
Until recently, Cixous's body, like Irigaray's, was represented through a privileged metaphorics of orality. "Voice, milk," she intoned in "The Laugh of the Medusa" (1976), calling women to write through their bodies. But in her recent work, Cixous seems to have appropriated for herself, and labors to redeem for feminist discourse, the realm of disgust and anality. In a talk at the University of California at Irvine (April, 1990), Cixous extravagantly praised the most provocatively repugnant images of Jean Genet, and pronouncing the nether world of his fictional imagination the true source of creativity, she sub-merged her own voice in his, reading aloud from his text as well as from the text of her beloved Clarice Lispector, rather than presenting her own voice. Voice, milk--the earlier oral metaphorics of "The Laugh of the Medusa" were displaced by a valorization of the excremental lower depths. How do we read this displacement downward? Her subjection or her sublimation?
Clearly Cixous's intent was to recuperate even the anal body for culture, to use disgust to compel cultural recognition of the marginalized body. But it is significant that she performed this recuperation through the mediation of Genet's voice rather than in her own. Indeed, unlike those postmodern feminist evocations of disgust with the female body which expose cultural decay, Cixous was attempting a sublimation that insists on the positive libidinous connection of culture to the body, a sublimation that, unlike Freud's, assaults the privilege accorded the object at a remove from libidinal investment. In this project Cixous's branch of French feminism participates in a strategic feminist revaluation of, rather than reaction against, the body as the source of, and continued link to, representation. That revaluation has indeed made its influence felt in a continuously expanding interrogation of the body's relation to representation.
(1.) These definitions are culled from a number of dictionaries including Webster's Collegiate Dictionary (1942) and Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary (1973). (2.) "The sexual instinct . . . is made up of component instincts into which it may once more break up and which are only gradually united into well-defined organizations. . ." Freud (1905). "Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality" SE 7. (3.) This relation between disgust, desire and the female body is consonant with Julia Kristeva's concept of abjection; see Powers of Horror. (4.) "A memory of excitation of the abandoned sexual zones releases unpleasure," he writes, "an internal sensation analogous to disgust in the case of the object . . ." (1985, 280). (5.) See Freud's reading of Dora's oral-urethral eroticism and David-Menard's discussion of the relation between disgust and hysteria: "The word catarrh refers . . . to the anal and urethral component of Dora's disgust" (1989, 93). (6.) As David-Menard points out, "Freud is careful to point out at once that Dora did not distinguish clearly between genital sexuality and anality" (1989, 93). (7.) See Aiken, Ushant (New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce; Boston: Little Brown, 1952), 253; quoted in Gilbert and Gubar, No Man's Land, 1988, 235. (8.) In a remarkable contemporary analogy, Jonathan Weinberg recently delineated the excremental vision of Jasper Johns ("It's in the Can: Jasper Johns and the Anal Society," Genders. Spring, 1988.) (9.) Where we find reactive disgust, we would expect to find also pathological dissociation and self-repudiation. (10.) Thus, for example, the act of nursing is both being suckled and sucking, an ambiguity that arises in Freud's descriptions of the suckling mother as engaging in an active modality. (11.) For example, the fierce excremental vision of Sylvia Plath's poetry marked the despair of her poetic voice.
Cixous, Helene. 1976. "The Laugh of the Medusa," Signs; rpt. in New French Feminisms, ed. Elaine Marks and Isabel DeCourtivron, University of Massachusetts Press, 1980. David-Menard, Monique. 1989. Hysteria from Freud to Lacan. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Fletcher, John. 1986. "Poetry, Gender and Primal Fantasy." Formations of Fantasy. Eds. Victor Burgin, James Donald and Cora Kaplan. New York: Methuen. Freud, Sigmund. 1905. "Fragment of an Analysis of a Case of ---- Hysteria." SE 7. --. 1910. "Five Lectures on Psychoanalysis." SE 11. --. 1923. "The Ego and the Id," SE 19. --. 1930. "Civilization and its Discontents." SE 21. --. 1985. The Complete Letters of Sigmund Freud to Wilhelm Fliess (1887-1904). Trans. and ed. Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Gilbert, Sandra M. and Susan Gubar. 1988. No Man's Land, vol 1. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Irigaray, Luce. 1985. This Sex Which is Not One, trans. Catherine Porter with Carolyn Burke. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Kristeva, Julia. 1982. Powers of Horror. New York: Columbia University Press. Lyotard, J. 1984. The Postmodern Condition. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota. Woolf, Virginia. 1925. Mrs. Dalloway. Rpt. New York: Harcourt Brace & World-Harvest, 1953.
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|Title Annotation:||The Body; Sigmund Freud|
|Date:||Dec 22, 1992|
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