The Queer Art of Failure (a John Hope Franklin Center Book)
by Jack Halberstam
A John Hope Franklin Center Book (2011)
On This Page
Description
The Queer Art of Failure is about finding alternatives-to conventional understandings of success in a heteronormative, capitalist society; to academic disciplines that confirm what is already known according to approved methods of knowing; and to cultural criticism that claims to break new ground but cleaves to conventional archives. Halberstam proposes "low theory" as a mode of thinking and writing that operates at many different levels at once. Low theory is derived from eccentric show more archives. It runs the risk of not being taken seriously. It entails a willingness to fail and to lose one's way, to pursue difficult questions about complicity, and to find counterintuitive forms of resistance. Tacking back and forth between high theory and low theory, high culture and low culture, Halberstam looks for the unexpected and subversive in popular culture, avant-garde performance, and queer art. Halberstam pays particular attention to animated children's films, revealing narratives filled with unexpected encounters between the childish, the transformative, and the queer. Failure sometimes offers more creative, cooperative, and surprising ways of being in the world, even as it forces us to face the dark side of life, love, and libido. show lessTags
Recommendations
Member Reviews
Browsing in a library is one of the great joys of life, as it allows serendipitous book discoveries like this: a rehabilitation of failure through academic analysis of pop culture artefacts. Once I started reading ‘The Queer Art of Failure’, I realised it was calculated to appeal to:
1. Those who feel like failures most of the time, in part because because they find most popular markers of success tedious and unappealing, and in part due to general negativity;
2. Those who feel like failures in academia because the corporate imperatives to perpetually publish, to sell education to students, and to market yourself are repellent and exhaustingly difficult;
3. Those who, despite deep ambivalence about academia, genuinely enjoy reading show more theory and do so as a leisure activity;
4. Those who alternate reading depressing non-fiction with watching trashy American films;
5. Those who are tired of heteronormativity.
I am all five of these people, so this book delighted me. Halberstam wanders across high and low culture, through various areas of theory, tacitly endorsing scholarship that isn’t particularly useful or constructive. Although I didn’t agree with, or even understand, every idea in the book, I greatly appreciated its defence of laziness, fallibility, and the analysis of animated kids films. I took particular pleasure in the brazen re-purposing of academic theory as a rationale for being a lazy and reluctant academic. From the introduction:
This has an intuitive appeal for me. Subsequent chapters examine an intriguing range of topics relating to queerness and failure. One considers animation, another masochism, another forgetfulness, yet another the homoerotic element of fascism. Halberstam draws upon a diverse range of theorists to interpret art installations, films, and photographs. In keeping with the subject matter, the book avoids sweeping unequivocal statements. Instead, arguments are nuanced without becoming too obtuse, for example:
At times I wasn’t sure whether I was enjoying the book sincerely or parodically, but it didn’t matter. Either way, this is a sublime sentence:
Another highlight is Halberstam’s vehement disagreement with Slavoj Žižek’s interpretation of Kung Fu Panda. My favourite part, however, was the analysis of the awful film Dude, Where’s My Car? which I have of course seen. Halberstam cheerfully acknowledges the possibility of creating non-existent depths in a stupid American comedy, then proceeds to discuss said comedy for more than ten pages. While the whole thing merits quotation, I’ll confine myself to this:
This reminded me of the time I was trapped in a boring seminar while caffeinated and wrote five pages on the ways in which the Fast and Furious franchise is an ongoing allegory for the War on Terror. Despite its depressingly corporate nature, academia is perhaps the only reasonable milieu to channel the perpetual over-analysis my brain would conduct anyway. I wouldn’t necessarily have given this book five stars had I read it at another time in my life. By sheer luck, I found it when especially receptive to a subversive and entertaining angle on academia and failure. If that’s your niche too, I definitely recommend ‘The Queer Art of Failure’. show less
1. Those who feel like failures most of the time, in part because because they find most popular markers of success tedious and unappealing, and in part due to general negativity;
2. Those who feel like failures in academia because the corporate imperatives to perpetually publish, to sell education to students, and to market yourself are repellent and exhaustingly difficult;
3. Those who, despite deep ambivalence about academia, genuinely enjoy reading show more theory and do so as a leisure activity;
4. Those who alternate reading depressing non-fiction with watching trashy American films;
5. Those who are tired of heteronormativity.
I am all five of these people, so this book delighted me. Halberstam wanders across high and low culture, through various areas of theory, tacitly endorsing scholarship that isn’t particularly useful or constructive. Although I didn’t agree with, or even understand, every idea in the book, I greatly appreciated its defence of laziness, fallibility, and the analysis of animated kids films. I took particular pleasure in the brazen re-purposing of academic theory as a rationale for being a lazy and reluctant academic. From the introduction:
For Moten and Hanley, the critical academic is not the answer to encroaching professionalisation but an extension of it, using the very same tools and legitimating strategies to become ‘an ally of professional education’. Moten and Hanley prefer to pitch their tent with the ‘subversive intellectuals’, a maroon community of outcast thinkers who refuse, resist, and renege on the demands of ‘rigour’, ‘excellence’, and ‘productivity’. They tell us to ‘steal from the university’, ‘to steal the enlightenment for others’ [...]
This book joins forces with their ‘subversive intellectual’ and agrees to steal from the university, to, as they say, ‘abuse its hospitality’ and to be ‘in it but not of it’. Moten and Harney’s these exhort the subversive intellectual to, among other things, worry about the university, refuse professionalisation, forge a collectivity, and retreat to the external world beyond the ivied walls of the campus. I would add to their these the following. First, Resist mastery.
This has an intuitive appeal for me. Subsequent chapters examine an intriguing range of topics relating to queerness and failure. One considers animation, another masochism, another forgetfulness, yet another the homoerotic element of fascism. Halberstam draws upon a diverse range of theorists to interpret art installations, films, and photographs. In keeping with the subject matter, the book avoids sweeping unequivocal statements. Instead, arguments are nuanced without becoming too obtuse, for example:
In order to capture the complexity of these shifting relations we cannot afford to settle on linear connections between radical desires and radical politics; instead we have to be prepared to be unsettled by the politically problematic connections history throws our way.
At times I wasn’t sure whether I was enjoying the book sincerely or parodically, but it didn’t matter. Either way, this is a sublime sentence:
Chicken Run is different from Toy Story in that the Oedipal falls away as a point of reference in favour of a Gramscian structure of counterhegemony engineered by organic (chicken) intellectuals.
Another highlight is Halberstam’s vehement disagreement with Slavoj Žižek’s interpretation of Kung Fu Panda. My favourite part, however, was the analysis of the awful film Dude, Where’s My Car? which I have of course seen. Halberstam cheerfully acknowledges the possibility of creating non-existent depths in a stupid American comedy, then proceeds to discuss said comedy for more than ten pages. While the whole thing merits quotation, I’ll confine myself to this:
My quick summary of Dude does not immediately suggest that the film offers much in the way of redemptive narratives for a lost generation. And yet if we must live with the logic of white male stupidity, and it seems we must, then understanding its form, its seductions, and its power are mandatory. Dude offers a surprisingly complete allegorical map of what Raymond Williams calls ‘a lived hegemony’.
This reminded me of the time I was trapped in a boring seminar while caffeinated and wrote five pages on the ways in which the Fast and Furious franchise is an ongoing allegory for the War on Terror. Despite its depressingly corporate nature, academia is perhaps the only reasonable milieu to channel the perpetual over-analysis my brain would conduct anyway. I wouldn’t necessarily have given this book five stars had I read it at another time in my life. By sheer luck, I found it when especially receptive to a subversive and entertaining angle on academia and failure. If that’s your niche too, I definitely recommend ‘The Queer Art of Failure’. show less
An interesting view of how the queer community gracefully accepts and works with failure. A comparative evaluation of the queer community and pop culture, with references to popular works such as Finding Nemo.
Not exactly a review, but I brought Halberstam in to help with a discussion of Alan Garner's The Owl Service: https://zwieblein.bearblog.dev/a-fantastic-nonfailure/
Reviewed here.
Ratings
Members
- Recently Added By
Lists
Books in the Bibliography of Digital Lethargy by Tung-Hui Hu
151 works; 3 members
Author Information
Some Editions
Series
Common Knowledge
- Original publication date
- 2011-09
- Blurbers
- Munoz, Jose Esteban; Duggan, Lisa; Berlant, Lauren; Freeman, Elizabeth
- Original language
- Emglish
Classifications
- Genres
- Nonfiction, Sexuality and Gender Studies, LGBTQ+, Philosophy, General Nonfiction
- DDC/MDS
- 121 — Philosophy & psychology Epistemology (how do you know what you know?) Epistemology (Theory of knowledge)
- LCC
- BD175 .H33 — Philosophy, Psychology and Religion Speculative philosophy Speculative philosophy Epistemology. Theory of knowledge
- BISAC
Statistics
- Members
- 482
- Popularity
- 62,995
- Reviews
- 4
- Rating
- (4.01)
- Languages
- 5 — English, German, Italian, Spanish, Turkish
- Media
- Paper, Ebook
- ISBNs
- 10
- ASINs
- 5






























































