Jacqueline Rose (1) (1949–)
Author of Feminine Sexuality: Jacques Lacan and the école freudienne
For other authors named Jacqueline Rose, see the disambiguation page.
About the Author
Jacqueline Rose has a Chair in English at Queen Mary and Westfield College at the University of London.
Works by Jacqueline Rose
Associated Works
Children's Literature: Classic Texts and Contemporary Trends (2009) — Contributor — 31 copies, 1 review
The Clarinet Revealed — Translator, some editions — 2 copies
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Birthdate
- 1949
- Gender
- female
- Education
- University of Oxford (St Hilda's College)
The Sorbonne, Paris, France
University of London - Occupations
- Professor of Humanities
- Organizations
- Birkbeck Institute for the Humanities
- Awards and honors
- Fellow, British Academy
- Relationships
- Rose, Gillian (sister)
- Nationality
- UK
- Birthplace
- London, England, UK
- Places of residence
- London, England, UK
Paris, France - Associated Place (for map)
- UK
Members
Reviews
Jacqueline Rose always gives me a lot to think about. This book of essays about motherhood was no exception. The shifting reflections Rose makes here about motherhood in literature and philosophy and in culture fascinated me. I especially loved the way, late in this essay collection, Rose weaves in her personal experience. My only disappointment was that this book could have been so much longer...it covers a lot of ground and in some cases I felt the themes were lightly touched upon rather show more than explored at the depth they deserved.
So the book felt more like a springing-off-from place, to explore thoughts of my own about motherhood, rather than a finished thesis.
This approach to writing is very Jacqueline Rose-y, in a way, though. I always feel with Rose that I’m being invited to have a conversation with her, rather than being told what to think. This impression lines up nicely with her style of literary criticism which tends to invite dialogue rather than to insist on there being one definitive way to interpret a given literary work. show less
So the book felt more like a springing-off-from place, to explore thoughts of my own about motherhood, rather than a finished thesis.
This approach to writing is very Jacqueline Rose-y, in a way, though. I always feel with Rose that I’m being invited to have a conversation with her, rather than being told what to think. This impression lines up nicely with her style of literary criticism which tends to invite dialogue rather than to insist on there being one definitive way to interpret a given literary work. show less
Reading psychoanalytical theory requires a lot of effort and doesn’t always offer proportionate rewards. The essays in this collection were denser than I expected, given that they were supposed to be applied theory rather than pure uncut Lacan-language. Although there were interesting elements to be found within, this was ultimately a book whose meandering, misty style did not provide sufficient comprehensible substance for my taste. I picked it up from the library shelf in the first place show more because I am a frequent insomniac, however the title should not be taken literally. Perhaps the most interesting chapter re-examines Freud’s [b:The Interpretation of Dreams|93981|The Interpretation of Dreams|Sigmund Freud|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1171268617s/93981.jpg|1758256], but that’s as close as Rose comes to discussing sleep. Somewhat ironically, I found the first half of the book quite soporific, so it in fact helped me to sleep. The initial six chapters are psychoanalytical literary criticism, which reminded me why I chose not to do English Lit A-level. I struggled through them, especially given the morbid emphasis on female writers who committed suicide.
The latter chapters covered topics of greater appeal, to me at least. There was some interesting stuff about the split between Freud and Jung, focusing on the interpersonal conflict rather than theoretical disagreements. In fact, this book is the first I’ve come across that discusses psychoanalysis as both theory and practise, noting the differences between the two. The former resides largely in academia, whilst the latter is shaped by the disagreements between key (male) figures who have shaped it. Rose asks what qualifies someone to be a psychoanalyst - is it enough to have been psychoanalysed by someone else for a certain period? This implies a particular sort of apprenticeship rather than formal academic training, yet it reminded me of my experience of academic teaching. As a postgraduate, I was considered qualified to supervise undergraduates as I’d been through the supervision system as an undergraduate myself. Actually, the similarities don’t end there, as supervisions involve semi-structured discussion in which the supervisor prompts their students to explore their ideas through careful questioning. I’ve never been psychoanalysed but the format is surely quite like that, albeit with a very different conversation topic to, say, housing policy!
I also appreciated Rose’s discussion of psychoanalysis as an institution, rather than just a body of theory. Although I knew that Lacan set up his own breakaway school, I hadn’t realised that he was experimenting with an alternate governance structure. Rose describes it as monarchical, as Lacan apparently had quite the cult of personality going. It’s striking to consider (what little I understand of) psychoanalytical theory in light of the conduct of those that came up with it. The final two chapters take psychoanalytical angles on public grief after Princess Diana’s death and the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission, both fascinating subjects for analysis. Yet my main thought when reading each of those chapters was, “But what is your thesis?” In the fashion of her discipline, Rose’s writing raises a question then drifts in another direction, lacking the clarity of structure that I expect from academic work. Nonetheless, there were thought-provoking elements to be found and I don’t regret reading the book. To gauge whether you’d find it worthwhile, here is the most memorably annoying paragraph:
If you can cope with that, I think you'll be fine. show less
The latter chapters covered topics of greater appeal, to me at least. There was some interesting stuff about the split between Freud and Jung, focusing on the interpersonal conflict rather than theoretical disagreements. In fact, this book is the first I’ve come across that discusses psychoanalysis as both theory and practise, noting the differences between the two. The former resides largely in academia, whilst the latter is shaped by the disagreements between key (male) figures who have shaped it. Rose asks what qualifies someone to be a psychoanalyst - is it enough to have been psychoanalysed by someone else for a certain period? This implies a particular sort of apprenticeship rather than formal academic training, yet it reminded me of my experience of academic teaching. As a postgraduate, I was considered qualified to supervise undergraduates as I’d been through the supervision system as an undergraduate myself. Actually, the similarities don’t end there, as supervisions involve semi-structured discussion in which the supervisor prompts their students to explore their ideas through careful questioning. I’ve never been psychoanalysed but the format is surely quite like that, albeit with a very different conversation topic to, say, housing policy!
I also appreciated Rose’s discussion of psychoanalysis as an institution, rather than just a body of theory. Although I knew that Lacan set up his own breakaway school, I hadn’t realised that he was experimenting with an alternate governance structure. Rose describes it as monarchical, as Lacan apparently had quite the cult of personality going. It’s striking to consider (what little I understand of) psychoanalytical theory in light of the conduct of those that came up with it. The final two chapters take psychoanalytical angles on public grief after Princess Diana’s death and the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission, both fascinating subjects for analysis. Yet my main thought when reading each of those chapters was, “But what is your thesis?” In the fashion of her discipline, Rose’s writing raises a question then drifts in another direction, lacking the clarity of structure that I expect from academic work. Nonetheless, there were thought-provoking elements to be found and I don’t regret reading the book. To gauge whether you’d find it worthwhile, here is the most memorably annoying paragraph:
Both novels are grounded, narratively and ideologically, in property, specifically in a house - two in the case of Bowen - which, partly due to the economic conditions or aftermath of the war, is in the process of dramatically and painfully changing hands. And both choose to supplement the violence of the war, whether as memory and anticipation in the case of Butts or concrete, lived, backdrop in the case of Bowen whose novel takes place during the Blitz, with a death, or number of deaths, which remain at least partially and bafflingly contingent to the historic conflict whose emotional and psychic vicissitudes they also trace.
If you can cope with that, I think you'll be fine. show less
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- 16
- Also by
- 5
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- Popularity
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- Rating
- 3.5
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- ISBNs
- 87
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