This article utilizes Derrida's explorations of the archive in Archive Fever to debate the status of Greek myth as archive. It begins with out lining a conservative notion of the archive, particularly as it has been conceived by those whose object of study is myth. It ends with an interpretation of the myth of Cassandra that seeks to augment the archive, the archive that is now refigured in terms of metaphors of time and space. An archive has traditionally been considered (...) to be something to do with the past. In the case of myth, the archive is understood as the stories told by the ancient Greeks, which are separate from the cat egorization of those stories and explicit theories or ideas about them. This separation locates myth as something prior and organic, as the archive constituted as the object of study, and the interpretation as something secondary and derivative, a commentary on the archive, which is the thing that scholars do. But at what point does the past begin to be the past? Is Ovid's Metamorphoses part of the archive of Greek myth or a commentary upon it? What of Servius? Or Frazer? Or Freud? Or Bernal? Derrida's suggestion that the archive resides in the future perfect tense leads to a reformulation of the relationship between myth and interpretation, which relies what might be described as a typological model of knowledge. His question 'Where does the outside commence?' forces an examination of who has the right of appropria tion, an issue pertinent to the study of the history of the interpretation of myth. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Wandering in Ancient Greek CultureVanda ZajkoSilvia Montiglio. Wandering in Ancient Greek Culture. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005. xii + 290 pp. Cloth, $50.Beginning at the beginning with Odysseus's poignant statement to Eumaeus at Odyssey 15.343 that "for mortals, nothing is worse than wandering," Silvia Montiglio seeks to present an overview of the conception of wandering from the archaic to the early Roman age. The introduction states clearly (...) that its approach is both synchronic and diachronic, and the way the chapters are organized reinforces this approach, as they focus on particular themes ("Wandering, Lying and Poetry," "The Meaning of 'Home' in One's Journey: From Apollonius' Argonautica to the Novel") while simultaneously pursuing an historical trajectory. The epilogue, entitled "What Greek Wanderers Did Not Do," expands the time fame and provides insights into the differences between pagan and Christian ideas about wandering, contrasting Neoplatonist and Cynic ascetics who describe wandering primarily as a figurative manifestation of the human condition with the peregrinatio of those Christian sages for whom "to wander means to renounce this world and one's earthly self in the expectation of the Kingdom of God" (264).Throughout, there is a preoccupation both with the semantic fields of the words used for wandering, such as, for example, in the second chapter, where the middle-passive voice of the words used for wandering are adduced to emphasize the fundamental passivity of the wanderer within Greek thought, and with the wider symbolic significance of wandering within mythological, geographical, and political landscapes as it is manifested in a variety of genres and historical periods. [End Page 129] This extensive concentration means that the potential readership of the book is a diverse one and includes both those with and without Greek and those interested in particular texts as well as in the ancient world as it is most broadly conceived. There are some places in the discussion where the material is openly and heavily dependent on other works, such as the discussion of liminality that occupies pages 16–23, which to a large extent reviews the insights of Ken Dowden, Death and the Maiden: Girls' Initiation Rites in Greek Mythology (1989), and 37–41, which revisit some of the points made by Ruth Padel, Whom Gods Destroy (1995); but in a work of such scope and eclecticism, this avowed indebtedness testifies to the thoroughness of the scholarship rather than the unoriginality of the thought involved in its production.One of the great strengths of the book is the forging of connections among different kinds of texts. In the chapter entitled "Wandering in Space and Time," Plato's theory of the wandering cause in the Timaeus is read alongside other narratives of beginnings so that the progress of the cosmos from wandering to stability is associated with that of the individual body: Herodotus contrasts the "much-wandering" of the ancestors of the Dorians with the autochthony of the Athenians who are by far the most developed of the Greeks; his successor Thucydides argues that migrations characterized the patterns of habitation of the earliest times; Democritus describes the mother's navel as an anchor that restrains the wandering womb, and he also considers the earth to have wandered before it thickened and became fixed in one position; pursued by Hera, the pregnant Leto searches far and wide for a place to deliver Apollo until she finds refuge on Delos, the island that, according to Callimachus (Hymn to Delos 191–92), also wandered until the birth of the god enabled it to put down roots. Montiglio describes the thematic and conceptual links among these different discourses in a typically fertile passage:Associating wandering within the amorphous beginnings of the cosmos is not idiosyncratic to the philosopher who disparagingly relegates wandering to the world of matter. The materialistic Democritus shares a similar notion, and so do myth and historiography. Wandering, the liminal condition, is systematically removed by growth and progress. Whether it be in biology, history, or geology, progress equals sedentariness, agglomeration, and fixity; whereas wandering defines the physical or social organism when still in the making and/or disjointed. Wandering marks cultural, biological, and geological protohistory.(12)The book... (shrink)