notes towards welcoming dirty geeky girl-p0rn into the ivory tower via bombastic literary criticism
An key-note lecture by hir eminence Ms Sophielle van Pseud, BA Eng Lit (Oxon) (1st Class Hons) (and many other letters as well)
Established littérateur Anonymous’s experiments with stream-of-consciousness narrative in Open Sauce (The Internet, 2011) centres on the versatile protagonist ‘Julie’: an overtly neo-Shakespearean gesture of hieronymic naming in the context of erotic duality; one which nevertheless suggests, by the curtailing of the ultimate ‘t’ of Verona’s teenaged heroine’s appellation, the menace of castration and the foreclosure of closure itself.
Open Sauce, a veritable festum voluptatis of chaotic prurience, displays stylistic inconsistency so consistently that the reader is drawn into an impression of polyphonic collaboration, an effet de réel one feels is achieved in part through anacoluthonic sentence formations (“Your thing, your thingy thing, your beautiful buttock, your extraordinary fish soup”) and unabashed anacrusis (“And I say, I say, oh yes baby, yes,”) taking the place of pornographic discourse’s traditional, controlled monoglossia.
The term ‘wiki’, it is bruited, originates in the Hawaiian word ‘wiki’, meaning ‘fast’, where indeed, the haptic resonance and velocity of the term permeate the act of writing Open Sauce, its imaged – and of course unreliable – narrators burning the textual candle’s wick at both ends, wickedly, whacking out prose passages of the purplest hues, in a work entirely characterised by Arnold’s spontaneity of conscience or Hellenism of the discursive mind.
Palimpsestic and paratactic elaboration of the linguistic kernel laid by the originary Open Sauce, the mosaic of ironized intertext borrowed entirely from the works of Mills & Boon, has elicited an anti-teleological plurality of différance amounting to an heuristic for conjoining the split halves of ‘writer’/’reader’ actant subjectivity and uniting the two, as Boal’s Oppressed theatre’s ‘spect-actor’, around the jouissante figure of the masturbating girl – writing her own orgasm even as she ‘reads’ its panoptic valency.
The imperative asserts itself therefore, to welcome Open Sauce into the canon as a libidinally driven melodramatic oeuvre for our times, resplendent with meta-ethical innovation, new masculinity, and xenophilia. Herstory may now and forevermore be understood as an open source of sauce, peopled with geeks and riot grrls whose provocative pornographic leipsomena and salacious narratorial tiffs and macula celebrate the intended co-lectant’s state of blissful post-intellectual aporia.
