With his Negation, Subjectivity, and the History of Rhetoric, Victor Vitanza makes a gift to us, his readers, of an "attempt at an `erotic' book without reserve" (9). Yet, in order to receive this gift, in order to attend to this book, we must make our own attempt to not ask what the book means or what do we want from this book (9). For these questions are framed in terms of subjects of desires (What Do "I" Want?)--which as we know require negated objects. Such a question restricts the question of desire within a dialectical frame of mind. What if, however, we stop asking "What do I want" or "What does this mean?" (which is the same question, after all)? What if we, contrariwise, figure desire within a general economy where we stop figuring ourselves as subjects of desire (masters) or libertines (sadists) but as sovereigns, where the question of desire is one of How to give? How to attend to the other?
Vitanza's book then asks its readers to receive this gift without reserve--that is, to read by way of a general, not restricted economy. If we receive thus we will have accepted his challenge to reconsider desire and to revisit our (erotic) relation to others in/through language. Vitanza's gift to us is wrapped in the immediate challenge to overcome the History of Rhetoric as it has been canonized via the Negative; but of course, as we continue to unwrap the text, we are also offered the gift, the challenge to overcome our own subjectivity--a subjectivity based on bad faith and ressentiment, subject to k(no)w. And if we accept this challenge, we will find ourselves attending to the kai(e)rotic moment wherein desire desires desire, not its fulfillment, and where it luxuriously, unreproductively, uselessly spasms via "rherotics" (24): subjectivities without reserve, language without reserve, histories without reserve.
Georges Bataille argued that during the twentieth century, the intimacy between self and other had become merely a relation of self and things, demanding returns and profits; likewise, today, at the end of the twentieth century, we could argue that the relation between self and other has become merely a relation of self and information. The question of/for desire within this economy is always: "What is the pay off?"--Answers, of course, which risk nothing, but merely keep exchanges within the restricted economy of supply and demand. In contradistinction to this economy, Vitanza asks us to desire dangerously, without reserve, without return, as a sovereign. The figure of the Vitanzian Sovereign requires that one sacrifice both the self and the other. This risk appears to the subject as irresponsible, apolitical, and apathetic. But it is a risk that must be made, if we are to overcome the negative and its death-grip on all we know of sociality, community, and the other. We are subjects, subject to the Negative. But the sovereign contrariwise is a figure of (non-positive) affirmation.
As we come to risk ourselves and the other, we will have become sovereign and will be able to accept the book for what it "is" a sovereign lover's gift: a sacrifice which expects no return, which is by its very definition useless splendor--and hence divine--as in "impossible, yet there it is" (Bataille, Erotism 206)--as in the schizophrenic's excessive table (Deleuze and Guattari, Anti-Oedipus 6). Of this gift--the one given without reserve--Barthes's writes: "The gift is not necessarily excrement, but it has, nonetheless, a vocation as waste: the gift I receive is more than I know what to do with, it does not fit my space, . . . it is too much: `What am I going to do with your present!'" (76). Indeed, what are we to do with Vitanza's gift? Nothing! and everything. We will ask, not what does it mean, what desire can it fulfill, what use can it serve, but we will ask: how to give?