"Speak of me as I am" (Oth, V, II, 342). Othello's final words point to the interconnections that can be established between one's story and one's identity; specifically, to the process of identity construction determined by the act of story-telling. As pointed out by Calbi, Othello's invitation to relate his story is not without complications: as a migrant, the general has in fact inhabited a "multiplicity of personalities" (Calbi, 39) which makes it difficult to pinpoint his identity and, therefore, to "speak of" him
Caryl Phillips's The Nature of Blood, answers Othello's plea by linking his story to those of other displaced figures from early modernity to our postcolonial globality. The discourse around the migrant is thus re-articulated through a plurality of voices which by addressing each other across time and space function as tiles in a composite mosaic of European racism and anti-semitism. Not only does Phillips propose a new way of looking at history, "through the prism of people who have normally been written out of it" (Jaggi, 26), but he also creates a narrative space where the "displaced and the dispossessed" (Phillips, 5) can reappropriate their voices and tell their own stories. By interlocking narratives of Jewish and Black oppression, Phillips let these marginalized figure address each other and their respective sufferings: the figure of the migrant is re-shaped through the dialogue established among outsiders.
This essay will attempt to analyze the juxtapositions between the characters of the novel and to explore the role of narration in relation to identity construction.
The central section is the most strong instance in the novelof the re-appropriation ofthe narrative by the speaker.The unnamed African general identifiable as Shakespeare's Othello relates his arrival and stay in Venice, as well as his "whole course of love" (Oth, I, III, 91). Not only does the first-person narration conform to the play's characterization of Othello as a story-teller but it also creates a structural mise-en-abyme. Within this segment of the novel readers are positioned inside one of Othello's many tales, namely the wooing of Desdemona - that very same "round unvarnish'd tale" (Oth, I,III, 90) delivered by the general in front of the Venetian senators. Wrapped up around this tale are of course other tales - his "travel's history" (Oth, I, III, 139) - of which experience in Venice is yet another piece. Phillips's account, therefore, is perfectly imbedded in the construct of tales within tales that essentially constitute the character of Othello. Shakespeare's Othello relies heavily upon narrativity to engage with the Venetian world and performs his identity as a connoisseur of exotic places and a military man capable to overcome kind of adversity. The tendency to self-fashion (Greenblatt, 137) his life as a story to be narrated in front of an audience works as a defense mechanism that allows him to present to society the version of himself most needed. This mechanism is explicated in The Nature of Blood. "I had made no friends among these people, and my stand in society rested solely upon my reputation in the field. My reputation. It was to be hoped that this one small word might lay to rest any hostility that my natural appearance might provoke." (Phillips, 118). Reputation is here connot as a discourse into which a person is inscribed - "one small word" - as opposed to a visual representation.
The African general feels the need to be defined by words and stories - to be "spoken of" as a fearless and undefeated military man; he dreads being stripped of this discourse because in that case he would be left exposed to the outward gaze that identitifies him as the visible element of difference. On other hand, Shakespeare's Othello appeal to his personal, political and spiritual virtues which will "manifest" - as in, "illustrate", "make clear by sight" - his temperament and integrity: "My part, my title, and my perfect soul shall manifest me rightly" (Oth, I, II, 31-32).
Identity self-fashioning is, however, not a prerogative for the Jews of Portobuffole, who are deprived of the chance to narrate their story. In contrast, they are inscribed in narratives which are not consistent with their religion - the blood libel - and are transformed into the nefarious and wicked characters populating the local tales. The chronicle delivered by an unidentified third-person narrator a collection of manipulations presented as facts: the distortions contained in Dolfin's account, the mass hysteria of the vox populi, the preaching of the Catholic church: all contribute to mould the identity of the Jew figure as "the very devil incarnation" (MV, II, ii, 22-23).This representative mode is evidently superimposed on Shakespeare's own in The Merchant of Venice, whose characters reveal to be imaginary constructs forged either by themselves or by others. Shylock, in particular, as a "dramatic construct built on a cultural construct" (Oz, 97) is a refraction of society's fears and imaginary patterns, those same fears projected on the Portobuffole Jews.
Yet, Servadio makes no concessions. "But they are not our masters. We must obey only God" (Phillips, 182) he thinks, in the only passage of the novel he can voice his point of view. His refusal to drink the water and eat the food offered by the Christian authorities before the execution appears as a moral obligation - "We must refuse to drink water" (Phillips, 183) - of endurance rathe than as defiance: an extreme attempt to re-appropriate his identity where spoken words have failed to prove his innocence.
On the other hand, the African general seems to long for acceptance and to be part of the European narrative. The need to adjust to unfamiliar circumstances and places leads him to subscribe to the set of values of the Venetians and to assimilate their language. One of Othello's main concerns upon his arrival in Venice, in fact, had been to compensate for his shortcomings as a speaker by zealously learning the language of which he only possessed a "rudimentary grasp" (Phillips, 108).
This he does as proven by the opening scene of the section. Set mere hours after the wedding, the scene can chronologically be placed in the same span of time which sees Shakespeare's Iago and Roderigo alerting Barbantio of his daughter's elopement with the Moor. Therefore, while the lady identifiable as Desdemona "sleeps peacefully" (Phillips, 106), Barbantio is being told that she is in "the gross clasps of the lascivious Moor" (Oth, I, I, 126). Yet, the image of Desdemona being preyed upon by a ravenous beast survives in Othello's mind: while reflecting on the social consequences of a mixed marriage, he imagines that from now his wife will be an "easy prey for their lascivious thoughts" (Phillips, 106).
Roderigo and Othello's choice of word, lascivious, is the same which is indicative of the general's submission to other people's narratives. In this case, a misogynist story shared by Venetian men on the unfaithfulness of their wives: "I am familiar with the renowned deceit of the Venetian courtesan, yet I have taken a Venetian for a wife" he states (Phillips, 106). The entire section, being retrospectively narrated, is re-voiced according to Othello's newly acquired language and is marked by his prolonged contact with European culture. "I now possess an object of beauty" (Phillips, 148) he states, buying into a system that trades women by means of "a carefully controlled economic and political ritual" (Phillips, 112).
The change in point of view is, nonetheless, significant in going underneath Othello's skin and in tracing the stages of his adjustment to European culture and values, offering insights to understand whether this assimilation is genuine or just a facade. The first-person narrator reveals deep feelings of inadequacy in front of "fair Venice" (Phillips, 108) which is perceived as the cradle of civilization and progress as opposed to his native land. "I had moved from the edge of the world to the centre" (Phillips, 107). He is evidently overwhelmed by the grandiosity of the city buildings, the splendor the canals, the sounds and smells of what he calls a "fabled city" (Phillips, 107): a mythical place carved out of his imagination, where everything appears bright and dazzling and nothing like the "dark margins" (107) he comes from. Venice embodies an ideal concept of whiteness from which the African general is by definition excluded: "I, a man born of royal blood, a might warrior, yet a man who, at one time, could view himself as a poor slave […] " (Phillips, 107-8).
European culture exercises a deep influence on him to the point of changing the perception of himself. The phrasing "one such as I/myself" recurs twice (Phillips, 115; 149) in relation to Othello's interactions with Venetian women - the courtesan and Desdemona- and, being voiced first by the general's landlord and then by Barbantio, is symptomatic ofthe two men's fear of "contamination" of their women by the hand of the black foreigner. However, the fact that the same expression is then pronounced by Othello himself, point to the general's acceptance of a narrative what would place his country and his ethnicity on a level of inferiority to western civilization. "It seemed to my mind peculiar that one such as I might win the affection of so beautiful a creature" (Phillips, 139).
Marrying Desdemona, therefore, offers him not only a stable position at "the heart of the society" (Phillips, 145) but also the chance to recompose his identity and to restore his self-esteem. Yet, this process of rehabilitation does not privilege linguistic devices, but rather visual ones. In Phillips' account there are no sign of the general delivering his famous speech in front of the senators. "I was tempted to remind the gather dignitaries that I, unlike my father-in-law, was born of royal blood […]. But I chose to remain silent" (Phillips, 159). The general entrusts the image of Desdemona standing next to him as a clear, manifest, proof of his social position, of which he considers himself worthy. By forgoing words and choosing silence, however, Othello also renounces to the chance of defining himself.
The central section is the most strong instance in the novelof the re-appropriation ofthe narrative by the speaker.The unnamed African general identifiable as Shakespeare's Othello relates his arrival and stay in Venice, as well as his "whole course of love" (Oth, I, III, 91). Not only does the first-person narration conform to the play's characterization of Othello as a story-teller but it also creates a structural mise-en-abyme. Within this segment of the novel readers are positioned inside one of Othello's many tales, namely the wooing of Desdemona - that very same "round unvarnish'd tale" (Oth, I,III, 90) delivered by the general in front of the Venetian senators. Wrapped up around this tale are of course other tales - his "travel's history" (Oth, I, III, 139) - of which experience in Venice is yet another piece. Phillips's account, therefore, is perfectly imbedded in the construct of tales within tales that essentially constitute the character of Othello. Shakespeare's Othello relies heavily upon narrativity to engage with the Venetian world and performs his identity as a connoisseur of exotic places and a military man capable to overcome kind of adversity. The tendency to self-fashion (Greenblatt, 137) his life as a story to be narrated in front of an audience works as a defense mechanism that allows him to present to society the version of himself most needed. This mechanism is explicated in The Nature of Blood. "I had made no friends among these people, and my stand in society rested solely upon my reputation in the field. My reputation. It was to be hoped that this one small word might lay to rest any hostility that my natural appearance might provoke." (Phillips, 118). Reputation is here connot as a discourse into which a person is inscribed - "one small word" - as opposed to a visual representation.
The African general feels the need to be defined by words and stories - to be "spoken of" as a fearless and undefeated military man; he dreads being stripped of this discourse because in that case he would be left exposed to the outward gaze that identitifies him as the visible element of difference. On other hand, Shakespeare's Othello appeal to his personal, political and spiritual virtues which will "manifest" - as in, "illustrate", "make clear by sight" - his temperament and integrity: "My part, my title, and my perfect soul shall manifest me rightly" (Oth, I, II, 31-32).
Identity self-fashioning is, however, not a prerogative for the Jews of Portobuffole, who are deprived of the chance to narrate their story. In contrast, they are inscribed in narratives which are not consistent with their religion - the blood libel - and are transformed into the nefarious and wicked characters populating the local tales. The chronicle delivered by an unidentified third-person narrator a collection of manipulations presented as facts: the distortions contained in Dolfin's account, the mass hysteria of the vox populi, the preaching of the Catholic church: all contribute to mould the identity of the Jew figure as "the very devil incarnation" (MV, II, ii, 22-23).This representative mode is evidently superimposed on Shakespeare's own in The Merchant of Venice, whose characters reveal to be imaginary constructs forged either by themselves or by others. Shylock, in particular, as a "dramatic construct built on a cultural construct" (Oz, 97) is a refraction of society's fears and imaginary patterns, those same fears projected on the Portobuffole Jews.
Yet, Servadio makes no concessions. "But they are not our masters. We must obey only God" (Phillips, 182) he thinks, in the only passage of the novel he can voice his point of view. His refusal to drink the water and eat the food offered by the Christian authorities before the execution appears as a moral obligation - "We must refuse to drink water" (Phillips, 183) - of endurance rathe than as defiance: an extreme attempt to re-appropriate his identity where spoken words have failed to prove his innocence.
On the other hand, the African general seems to long for acceptance and to be part of the European narrative. The need to adjust to unfamiliar circumstances and places leads him to subscribe to the set of values of the Venetians and to assimilate their language. One of Othello's main concerns upon his arrival in Venice, in fact, had been to compensate for his shortcomings as a speaker by zealously learning the language of which he only possessed a "rudimentary grasp" (Phillips, 108).
This he does as proven by the opening scene of the section. Set mere hours after the wedding, the scene can chronologically be placed in the same span of time which sees Shakespeare's Iago and Roderigo alerting Barbantio of his daughter's elopement with the Moor. Therefore, while the lady identifiable as Desdemona "sleeps peacefully" (Phillips, 106), Barbantio is being told that she is in "the gross clasps of the lascivious Moor" (Oth, I, I, 126). Yet, the image of Desdemona being preyed upon by a ravenous beast survives in Othello's mind: while reflecting on the social consequences of a mixed marriage, he imagines that from now his wife will be an "easy prey for their lascivious thoughts" (Phillips, 106).
Roderigo and Othello's choice of word, lascivious, is the same which is indicative of the general's submission to other people's narratives. In this case, a misogynist story shared by Venetian men on the unfaithfulness of their wives: "I am familiar with the renowned deceit of the Venetian courtesan, yet I have taken a Venetian for a wife" he states (Phillips, 106). The entire section, being retrospectively narrated, is re-voiced according to Othello's newly acquired language and is marked by his prolonged contact with European culture. "I now possess an object of beauty" (Phillips, 148) he states, buying into a system that trades women by means of "a carefully controlled economic and political ritual" (Phillips, 112).
The change in point of view is, nonetheless, significant in going underneath Othello's skin and in tracing the stages of his adjustment to European culture and values, offering insights to understand whether this assimilation is genuine or just a facade. The first-person narrator reveals deep feelings of inadequacy in front of "fair Venice" (Phillips, 108) which is perceived as the cradle of civilization and progress as opposed to his native land. "I had moved from the edge of the world to the centre" (Phillips, 107). He is evidently overwhelmed by the grandiosity of the city buildings, the splendor the canals, the sounds and smells of what he calls a "fabled city" (Phillips, 107): a mythical place carved out of his imagination, where everything appears bright and dazzling and nothing like the "dark margins" (107) he comes from. Venice embodies an ideal concept of whiteness from which the African general is by definition excluded: "I, a man born of royal blood, a might warrior, yet a man who, at one time, could view himself as a poor slave […] " (Phillips, 107-8).
European culture exercises a deep influence on him to the point of changing the perception of himself. The phrasing "one such as I/myself" recurs twice (Phillips, 115; 149) in relation to Othello's interactions with Venetian women - the courtesan and Desdemona- and, being voiced first by the general's landlord and then by Barbantio, is symptomatic ofthe two men's fear of "contamination" of their women by the hand of the black foreigner. However, the fact that the same expression is then pronounced by Othello himself, point to the general's acceptance of a narrative what would place his country and his ethnicity on a level of inferiority to western civilization. "It seemed to my mind peculiar that one such as I might win the affection of so beautiful a creature" (Phillips, 139).
Marrying Desdemona, therefore, offers him not only a stable position at "the heart of the society" (Phillips, 145) but also the chance to recompose his identity and to restore his self-esteem. Yet, this process of rehabilitation does not privilege linguistic devices, but rather visual ones. In Phillips' account there are no sign of the general delivering his famous speech in front of the senators. "I was tempted to remind the gather dignitaries that I, unlike my father-in-law, was born of royal blood […]. But I chose to remain silent" (Phillips, 159). The general entrusts the image of Desdemona standing next to him as a clear, manifest, proof of his social position, of which he considers himself worthy. By forgoing words and choosing silence, however, Othello also renounces to the chance of defining himself.
The lines demarking Othello's agency in relation to the discourses he can control and the discourses into which he is inscribed are extremely unstable. At one point in the novel, a disembodied twentieth-century voice interjects to rebuke the general for his "white mask".
And so you shadow your every move, attend to her every whim, like the black Uncle Tom that you are. Fighting the white man's war [..] you tuck your black skin away beneath their epauletted uniforms, appropriate their words (Rude am I in speech), their manners [...] yet you conveniently forget your own family [...] a sad black man, first in a long line of so-called achievers [...] (Phillips, 181)
This "disembodied, historical and decontextualized" (Calbi, 49) narrator judges Othello's behavior by contemporary standards and disregards early-modern conceptions of difference, therefore, inscribing the general in a narrative of utter and undignified submission to European white culture. This judgmental position is yet another amongst many refashioning of the Othello's narrative, and it can only constitute a partial view on the path the general should take: "[..] go home. No good can come from your foreign adventure" (Phillips, 183). The dichotomy signaled by the words "home" and "foreign" suggests the existence of clear-cut geographical and cultural borders that should not be crossed and traces a pattern of exclusion on the basis of rigid and fixed concepts of home and belonging.
As a matter of fact, the very meaning of home is negotiated through the entire novel. Stephen and Othello share the same aspiration to acquire a rooted identity but also the same willingness to uproot themselves - to leave behind their countries and their families - and travel on new routes. They are willing migrants whose ideas of belonging are in a state of flux and whose stories intersect in the very place that evokes transition. The beginning of Stephen's section and the end of Othello's are set on the island of Cyprus.
Because of its geographical position, Cyprus appears as a liminal place between West and East, (Ledent, 150);in the larger context of narrative it stands for a temporal type of transience, between past and future, a new chapter in each character's personal story: it is here that both Stephan and Othello mark a break with the past, a sea change, and wait before they can sail towards their home-to-be. In Othello's and Stephan's respective narratives of border-crossing, Cyprus is the threshold - literally and symbolically the place in-between - the point from which "to turn back is impossible"(Phillips, 160)."Venice […] was a city that I might now have to consider home for what remained of my life" (Phillips, 147). The general acknowledges the full implications of his marriage which will preclude him the possibility of ever returning to his home country just as Stephan knows that "the old world is dead" (Phillips, 9). Cyprus, then, signifies both a rupture and a starting point towards a new destination. Venice and Israel, which both seem to indicate the end of wandering, the solution to homelessness.
"How can she use the word 'home'? It is cruel to do so in such circumstances. I cannot call that place home. 'Home' is a place where one feels a welcome" (Phillips, 37). Eva's words seem to answer to Stephan's (and Othello's) idealizations and remind them that the concept of home must measure itself against hospitality. Despite his reputation as an undefeated military man, the "valiant Moor" (Oth, I, III, 34) arrives in Venice unwelcomed and unnoticed with only the city's buildings and bridges there to greet him. "Where was the party to meet me? The fanfare?" (Phillips, 122).Similarly Malka, as a Ethiopian Jew, does not feel welcomed in the newly found state of Israel. First rejected from Ethiopia because of her religion and now discriminate in Israel because of her race, she is the victim of age-old European categories of purity to which the Promise Land - Stephan's dream of egalitarian opportunities and tolerance - is not immune. The discrimination against the "Falashas""repeats the neurosis adopted by societies embracing the tenets of dangerous nationalisms" (Armstrong, 130), as if fragments of age-old European narratives of intolerance had drifted and contaminated the founding of the new homeland. "This Holy Land did not deceive us. The people did" (Phillips, 209) Malka bitterly observes, unable to find a job and forced to live in less than ideal arrangements, with her parents and a sister, "at the edge of the city where her people had been placed" (Phillips, 204).
This geography of exclusion is reminiscent of the Jewish ghettos constructed in Europe since the sixteenth century, starting from the Venetian one. "The Jews paid dearly to live and do commerce at the heart of the Venetian empire" (Phillips, 130), Othello reflects while walking the labyrinth of narrow streets surrounded by walls and gates where the Jews were forced to live. He fails, however, to empathize with them even though his presence in Venice is tied to reasons no different from theirs. The Republic of Venice's policy of tolerance towards the Jewish communities living in its territory was contingent on the economic benefits they could provide. Similarly, the African general's stay in the city is due to political expedience and, consequently, depends on the ability to prove useful to the Republic. "I was only to serve in a time of crisis" (Phillips, 116). In the eyes of the senators, he is no more than a good investment, a "prize acquisition" (Phillips, 128) whose value needs to be assessed. The dominant culture is, therefore, established as a ruthless system which evaluates the elements of difference through a risk-benefit analysis, alternatively deciding to use or persecute them.
Eva Stern represents the extreme extensions which institutionalized persecution reached in nineteenth century Europe. After surviving the horror of the Holocaust, her sense of self has been annihilated along with her family. The trauma Eva suffered affects the shape of her narration."As a displace person, Eva has a displaced narrative" (Clingman, 152), a bundle of tangled memories and loose threads unraveling across the story of her life as well as across the stories of the other characters. This narrative form is indicative of the impossibility to fully express trauma through linguistic means. Following the liberation from the concentration camp, Eva does not share her story with anyone, not even the doctors: she struggles to communicate and prefers isolation until eventually she closes herself into permanent silence. "I finally abandoned words" (Phillips, 194). Eva's silence speaks of "the inaccessibility of trauma" (Caruth, 10), of a severed communication between her inner shattered self and the whole of the outside word: hers is an experience that cannot be mediated nor interpreted through words. "They cannot know what I know. They can never know what I know" (Phillips, 46). interpreted through words. "They cannot know what I know. They can never know what I know" (Phillips, 46). Her traumatized self, however, cannot be erase through silence and it subconsciously emerges through nightmares, hallucinations and phantoms that haunt her. "Every night I endure an uncomfortable journey to a place of distorted and unnecessary recollection" (Phillips, 27). Although fragmented, Eva's memories become narratives that are inextricably part of her sense of self. The female characters - her mother, Margot, Rosa, Bella - who emerge from Eva's memory as doubled versions are remainders of the fact she should have died with them. The girl with "a jagged slash of lipstick around her mouth, red like blood" (Phillips, 197) who follows Eva represents a guilt that cannot be shaken, a form of dissociation from herself and from the actions she was forced to do in the lager - being part of the Nazis' Sonderkommand - and that allowed her to survive, to become one of the "saved" as opposed to the "drowned" (Levi).Eva survived to live and tell - she could bear witness to the tragedy of the Holocaust, relate and share her experience - yet, she finds that she cannot do that. For Eva, memory is a form of violence too brutal to endure.
"Memory. That untidy room with unpredictable visting hours. I am forever being thrust through the door and into that untidy room" (Phillips, 11). Phillips's look at the past and at the manifestations of the past as memory is mirrored by the intertextuality of the novel, its inner linguistic discourse. As a matter of fact, the act of remembering resembles the nature of intertextuality as a combination of "citations, references, echoes" (Barthes, 160), a pattern in which traces of the past merge with the present.
In its personal dimension, memory functions as a tool to remember one's past and relate one's individual story - "I remembered" (122), says the African general before relating his arrival to the city-state -, a container of identity-shaping experiences. This private type of memory is, however, interlaced with larger collective memory. "In Portobuffole I was respected" (Phillips, 182): Servadio's words, while referring to his private experience, speak also of a shared story of marginalization and diaspora. The memory of combined cumulative sufferings contributes to shape a history of racial and religious discriminations and persecutions. Although Eva would agree to Stephen's statement that "to remember too much is, indeed, a form of madness" (Phillips, 212), nevertheless she also recognizes on a unconscious level that the communicative act of bearing witness - to remember through words -is a necessary, albeit a difficult, one.
Eva Stern represents the extreme extensions which institutionalized persecution reached in nineteenth century Europe. After surviving the horror of the Holocaust, her sense of self has been annihilated along with her family. The trauma Eva suffered affects the shape of her narration."As a displace person, Eva has a displaced narrative" (Clingman, 152), a bundle of tangled memories and loose threads unraveling across the story of her life as well as across the stories of the other characters. This narrative form is indicative of the impossibility to fully express trauma through linguistic means. Following the liberation from the concentration camp, Eva does not share her story with anyone, not even the doctors: she struggles to communicate and prefers isolation until eventually she closes herself into permanent silence. "I finally abandoned words" (Phillips, 194). Eva's silence speaks of "the inaccessibility of trauma" (Caruth, 10), of a severed communication between her inner shattered self and the whole of the outside word: hers is an experience that cannot be mediated nor interpreted through words. "They cannot know what I know. They can never know what I know" (Phillips, 46). interpreted through words. "They cannot know what I know. They can never know what I know" (Phillips, 46). Her traumatized self, however, cannot be erase through silence and it subconsciously emerges through nightmares, hallucinations and phantoms that haunt her. "Every night I endure an uncomfortable journey to a place of distorted and unnecessary recollection" (Phillips, 27). Although fragmented, Eva's memories become narratives that are inextricably part of her sense of self. The female characters - her mother, Margot, Rosa, Bella - who emerge from Eva's memory as doubled versions are remainders of the fact she should have died with them. The girl with "a jagged slash of lipstick around her mouth, red like blood" (Phillips, 197) who follows Eva represents a guilt that cannot be shaken, a form of dissociation from herself and from the actions she was forced to do in the lager - being part of the Nazis' Sonderkommand - and that allowed her to survive, to become one of the "saved" as opposed to the "drowned" (Levi).Eva survived to live and tell - she could bear witness to the tragedy of the Holocaust, relate and share her experience - yet, she finds that she cannot do that. For Eva, memory is a form of violence too brutal to endure.
"Memory. That untidy room with unpredictable visting hours. I am forever being thrust through the door and into that untidy room" (Phillips, 11). Phillips's look at the past and at the manifestations of the past as memory is mirrored by the intertextuality of the novel, its inner linguistic discourse. As a matter of fact, the act of remembering resembles the nature of intertextuality as a combination of "citations, references, echoes" (Barthes, 160), a pattern in which traces of the past merge with the present.
In its personal dimension, memory functions as a tool to remember one's past and relate one's individual story - "I remembered" (122), says the African general before relating his arrival to the city-state -, a container of identity-shaping experiences. This private type of memory is, however, interlaced with larger collective memory. "In Portobuffole I was respected" (Phillips, 182): Servadio's words, while referring to his private experience, speak also of a shared story of marginalization and diaspora. The memory of combined cumulative sufferings contributes to shape a history of racial and religious discriminations and persecutions. Although Eva would agree to Stephen's statement that "to remember too much is, indeed, a form of madness" (Phillips, 212), nevertheless she also recognizes on a unconscious level that the communicative act of bearing witness - to remember through words -is a necessary, albeit a difficult, one.
I dreamt that nobody believed me. That I was in America and I was finally telling some people my story, the despondent words falling awkwardly from my mouth. Just my story. (… dazed children wandering the streets, searching for their parents ... ) They looked at me, their faces marked with respect, and they nodded with cultivated fascination.
(Phillips, 34)
Eva fears that the tragedy she suffered will be met with disbelief and distrust or, even worse, with indifference by the Western world, in what could be considered as the natural progression of Barbantio's complete lack of interest for the general's "foreign adventures and travels" (Phillips, 124): both attitude are indicative of the same Eurocentric and linear type of history in which the figures of the Other never the protagonists.
Phillips's The Nature of Blood propose a "transtemporal view of history" (Clingman, 162), in which the "Others" - figures of displacement, of marginalization, of migration - retrieve their lost representation and re-appropriate their identity by addressing each other and by drawing from a collective memory that cannot be erased.
Martina Cincotto
- PHILLIPS, C. (1997) The Nature of Blood. Vintage
- SHAKESPEARE, W. (2005) The Merchant of Venice, Norton Critical Editions
- SHAKESPEARE, W. (2009) Otello/Othello, Marsilio
- CLINGMAN, S. (2004) 'Forms of History and Identity in the Nature of Blood'. Salmagundi, No. 143: 141-166
- CALBI, M. (2006) 'The Ghosts of Strangers: Hospitality, Identity and Temporarility in Caryl Phillips's The Nature of Blood', Journal for Early Modern Cultural Studies, Vol. 6, No. 2: 38-54
- OZ, A. (1995) The Yoke of Love: Prophetic Riddles in The Merchant of Venice, University of Delaware Press
- LEDENT, B. (2002) Caryl Phillips, Manchester University Press ARMSTRONG, A. (2008) 'It's in the Blood! Othello and his Descendants: Reading the Spatialization of Race in Caryl Phillips' The Nature of Blood'’. Shibboleths: a Journal of Comparative Theory, Vol.2, No 2: 118-132
- GREENBLAT, S. (2012) Renaissance Self-fashioning: from More to Shakespeare. University of Chicago Press
- JAGGI, M. (1994) "Crossing the River: Caryl Phillips talks to Maya Jaggi" Wasafiri 20: 25-30
- LEVI, P. (1986) I sommersi e i salvati. Einaudi.
- BARTHES, R. (1978) From Work to Text, Image-Music-Text. Farrar, Straus and Giroux
- CARUTH, C. (1995) Trauma: Exploration in Memory. JHU Press
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