Occult Feelings: Esotericism and Queer Relationality in The
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OCCULT FEELINGS: ESOTERICISM AND QUEER RELATIONALITY IN THE NINETEENTH-CENTURY UNITED STATES A Dissertation Presented to the Faculty of the Graduate School of Cornell University In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy by Brant Michael Torres January 2014 © 2014 Brant Michael Torres ii Brant Michael Torres, Ph.D. Cornell University 2014 Occult Feelings: Esotericism and Queer Relationality in Nineteenth-Century US Literature uncovers the esoteric investments central to American Transcendentalism to analyze how authors used the occult to explore new, and often erotic, relational possibilities. I reveal the different ways that authors, such as Nathaniel Hawthorne, Margaret Fuller, and Amos Bronson Alcott, employed the occult to reimagine intimacy. To this end, my project studies literary representations of occult practices like alchemy and spirit contact, as well as the esoteric philosophies of writers like Emanuel Swedenborg and Jakob Böhme that fascinated authors in the nineteenth-century. Authors of American Transcendentalism—with their depictions of an esoteric correspondence between embodied and disembodied subjects, celestial bodies, plants, and inanimate objects— envisioned relationality as hidden, mystical, and non-dyadic. As such, the occult became a way to find more open and dynamic modes of relation beyond direct interpersonal contact. For example, reading alchemy in Hawthorne, I reveal how an obsessive interest in creating and then suspending homoerotic intimacies allows for queer modes of relation. In Fuller, I illustrate how her mystic intimacy with flowers highlights affective connections while insisting on an ever-present distance with objects. For Bronson Alcott, I demonstrate how his esoteric investments transform his relation to divinity. These authors, by refusing dyadic and concrete relations, offer what I call queer relationality: that is, a mode of relation that allows for queer forms of intimacy and affiliation while also queering relationality itself. I use the world queer both to highlight iii that writers often thought of relationality as erotic, while also underscoring that these re- imagined forms of relation can invigorate debates in queer theory. At its most ambitious, my work speaks against a critical tradition that has tended to consider relationality as being wholly social or anti-social, melancholic or optimistic, normative or non- normative, succeeding or failing. Occult Feelings augments the conceptual language scholars use to describe intimacy and desire both in the historical period of the nineteenth century and within current critical debates. While my project shares other scholars’ fascination with the inchoate nature of desire and sexuality, ultimately, I attend to a wider range of possibilities for relationality that are not wholly circumscribed by categories of interpersonal intimacy or sexual desire. iv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH Brant Torres was born in Garden City, Kansas in 1982. He received a B.A. in English from the University of Colorado at Boulder. At Boulder, he completed his thesis “Dystopia and Displacement: Colonial Horror in de Léry’s History of a Voyage to the Land of Brazil and Crèvecoeur’s Letters from an American Farmer” under the direction of Nan Goodman. Before coming to Cornell for his Ph.D., he received his M.A. in English from The Pennsylvania State University-University Park, where he completed his Master’s Thesis, “‘Sick at Heart’: Queer Melancholy in Walt Whitman’s Franklin Evans.’” v For Devon and Alexa. Our childhood adventures always made the world mysterious. You both have filled my life with love, imagination, and humor—reminding me that there is always a place for magic and enchantment. vi ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Throughout the years of my graduate training, my peers and I would often joke that if getting a Ph.D. were easy, everyone would do it. This is, of course, not true. Finishing the doctorate (and its most intellectually challenging requirement, the dissertation) isn’t just about tenacity. It requires passion for and commitment to the work, and it would be absolutely impossible without the daily support, guidance, and wisdom of mentors, friends, peers, and family. The people in my life, both within and outside academe, have made finishing the dissertation not just possible, but one of the most pleasurable and intellectually rewarding experiences I’ve had. My deepest gratitude goes to the members of my committee, especially my advisor, Shirley Samuels. I have no idea how she does what she does being a mother, a mentor, and a model of scholarship and teaching all with a sense of warmth and equanimity. Shirley exhibits the qualities I admire most in a scholar: sharp insight and attention to detail, kindheartedness and intellectual generosity, and a deep love for the work we do. She has helped to shape and guide my thinking in ways that have allowed me to see new connections in literature, and pushed me to think more deeply about the ways our own lives shape and color our intellectual pursuits. I cannot imagine my graduate education without her. I met Shelley Wong during my first year at Cornell in what remains one of the best and most influential graduate seminars I’ve ever been part of. Shelley has a remarkable ability to understand and get to the core of my arguments, even when I felt lost in an intellectual haze. She has taught me the value of clear thought and the power of terse argumentation, and has always done so with deep kindness and generosity. vii Amy Villarejo has been absolutely essential to my growth as a scholar. Amy can cut to the core of any book, essay, or theory without ever sacrificing complexity. More than this, she is a model for intellectual generosity and demonstrates, in her teaching and in her own scholarship, the value of always thinking of our work as part of a broader conversation. Whenever I have felt lost, she has acted as my guide through different academic fields, and she has helped me navigate what would have otherwise been the unclear and uneven terrain of my own thinking. Amy has always helped me find clarity. Outside of my committee, I am deeply indebted to the teachers who shaped my life as a scholar. I first wish to thank Michael Kramp who believed in me when I was just a college freshman. He gave me the courage to pursue graduate work. Without him, I’m unsure I would have had the nerve to do so. He demonstrated for me how rewarding an academic life could be. At Boulder, Nan Goodman was my mentor, and all these years later, I am honored to call her a friend. Nan guided me through an extended thesis, through applying to graduate school, and she continues to do so as I enter a new phase in my academic life. When I was an undergraduate at Boulder, I would tell my friends that I wanted to be Nan Goodman when I grew up. A tall order. Nan remains one of the most passionate and sagacious people I know, and her insight and wisdom is not limited to literature. Any time I struggled over these years, Nan exemplified the promise of a passionate and intellectual life—and that always kept me going. She taught me how to think, and she is the reason I am an Americanist. At Boulder, I also owe much to the support and guidance of Helga Lúthersdóttir and Frederick Aldama. At Penn State, numerous scholars influenced my work in those early years as a graduate student. I’m especially thankful for Hester Blum, Christopher Castiglia, Carla viii Mulford, Brian Lennon, and Scott Herring. Chris Castiglia taught me to approach scholarship in a way that valued imagination and creativity as much as theory and research, and Carla Mulford was indispensable as a guide. Scott Herring was (and is) incredible, showing me that queer theory could be as fun as it is rigorous. Outside my committee at Cornell, I’m indebted to Ellis Hanson, Kevin Attell, Dagmawi Woubshet, and Tracy Hamler Carrick. They have each demonstrated the importance of teaching and how to do it well. Graduate school would have been impossible were it not for the support of my peers, all of whom have made life rich and rewarding, both on and off campus. I wish to extend deep thanks to my peers Emily Sharpe, Micky New, Lynne Feeley, Jennifer Row, Sarah Ensor, Ingrid Diran, Jonathan Senchyne, Toni Wall Jaunden, Niamh O’Leary and the members of AGR at Cornell (the American Reading Group). I’ve also been fortunate enough to receive guidance and support from some other remarkable scholars. I wish to thank Travis Foster, Peter Coviello, and Jordan Stein. At Cornell, Sarah’s work has shaped my own in numerous ways, and Ingrid has been a generous friend, as well as a kind and incredibly insightful reader. I cannot thank Jennifer Row enough—she’s a fabulous friend, a remarkable scholar, and an amazing cook. In our time at Cornell, I was fortunate enough to enjoy each of these qualities. Jennie’s care and attention as a friend is only matched by her own brilliance as a scholar. She has challenged me to always make the work better, sharper, and more creative. In my time left at Cornell, I will miss Jennie most of all. This project would have been impossible were it not for generous funding from different sources. I’m thankful for the Sage Fellowship, which allowed me time off from ix teaching to write. In addition, the M.H. Abrams Summer Dissertation Fellowship gave me much needed time and resources as this project came to an end. Also, the Joseph F. Martino Lectureship has provided generous summer funding. It’s a real blessing to be afforded so much time to read, think, and write.