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In literary trauma theory, victimized victimizers represent an ambiguous area. In my thesis, I show how Perry Smith, a historical figure in Truman Capote's In Cold Blood, and Josef Kavalier, a fictional character in Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, represent these ambiguities. Both men become murderers acting out violence that was inflicted upon them as children. However, only Kavalier seems to work through the trauma.

How should we, Americans, confront our complicity in reproducing the Shoah? For complicit we are, if consumerism is any metric: Steven Spielbergs 1993 film Schindlers List had grossed $321 million as of 2012; more than 40 million people have made the pilgrimage to the sacred US Holocaust Museum; at last count, The Diary of Anne Frank had sold 30 million copies. These numbers are stale staples in the debate over the ethics of Shoah representation, of course, but they bear out the skepticism of critics who have questioned American Holocaust consumer culture. And consumerism is only the first of many such ethical quandaries, which include how to deal with the trauma that audiences experience upon viewing Holocaust films and what happens when secondary witnesses overidentify with Holocaust victims.This paper takes up an unusual form of Holocaust art: misrepresentative film. I discuss two films, Quentin Tarantinos Inglourious Basterds and Wes Andersons The Grand Budapest Hotel, to argue that intentional misrepresentations not only call attention to the pitfalls of traditional representation but also encourage audiences to work through the transhistorical trauma of the Shoah. Released in 2009, Tarantinos was perhaps unique in cinema for its radical alteration of history, intended to give audiences the sheer pleasure of seeing the Nazi regime go up, literally, in flames. Though the film is undoubtedly a revenge fantasy that, using Dominick LaCapras terms, embodies acting out€ in response to historical trauma, it does so by flipping the traditional narrative: unlike most depictions of the Shoah, it complicates the victim-perpetrator binary, identifies audiences with the transgressors, and constantly calls attention to its own fictionality. Movies like The Grand Budapest Hotel are evidence that Tarantino really did shatter the constraints of the genre. Basterds certainly makes no effort toward historical accuracy, but since its appeal depends on the audiences awareness of its inaccuracies, Tarantino is still elbow-deep in real history. Anderson is not. Budapest is a troubled film, haunted by invasions, wars, arrests, and displays of arbitrary power, many of which recall the Third Reich. The function of these ominous forces, however, is not to offer commentary on the Shoah but simply to recreate the illusory world of Stefan Zweig, on whose writings it was based. In producing a movie about Nazi-occupied Europe in which the troubles of the period are relegated mostly to the background, Anderson furthers the deconstruction of the Holocaust film genre, raising the possibility that such films can be historically serious without being bound by restrictive rules.

How should we, Americans, confront our complicity in reproducing the Shoah? For complicit we are, if consumerism is any metric: Steven Spielbergs 1993 film Schindlers List had grossed $321 million as of 2012; more than 40 million people have made the pilgrimage to the sacred US Holocaust Museum; at last count, The Diary of Anne Frank had sold 30 million copies. These numbers are stale staples in the debate over the ethics of Shoah representation, of course, but they bear out the skepticism of critics who have questioned American Holocaust consumer culture. And consumerism is only the first of many such ethical quandaries, which include how to deal with the trauma that audiences experience upon viewing Holocaust films and what happens when secondary witnesses overidentify with Holocaust victims.This paper takes up an unusual form of Holocaust art: misrepresentative film. I discuss two films, Quentin Tarantinos Inglourious Basterds and Wes Andersons The Grand Budapest Hotel, to argue that intentional misrepresentations not only call attention to the pitfalls of traditional representation but also encourage audiences to work through the transhistorical trauma of the Shoah. Released in 2009, Tarantinos was perhaps unique in cinema for its radical alteration of history, intended to give audiences the sheer pleasure of seeing the Nazi regime go up, literally, in flames. Though the film is undoubtedly a revenge fantasy that, using Dominick LaCapras terms, embodies œacting out in response to historical trauma, it does so by flipping the traditional narrative: unlike most depictions of the Shoah, it complicates the victim-perpetrator binary, identifies audiences with the transgressors, and constantly calls attention to its own fictionality. Movies like The Grand Budapest Hotel are evidence that Tarantino really did shatter the constraints of the genre. Basterds certainly makes no effort toward historical accuracy, but since its appeal depends on the audiences awareness of its inaccuracies, Tarantino is still elbow-deep in real history. Anderson is not. Budapest is a troubled film, haunted by invasions, wars, arrests, and displays of arbitrary power, many of which recall the Third Reich. The function of these ominous forces, however, is not to offer commentary on the Shoah but simply to recreate the illusory world of Stefan Zweig, on whose writings it was based. In producing a movie about Nazi-occupied Europe in which the troubles of the period are relegated mostly to the background, Anderson furthers the deconstruction of the Holocaust film genre, raising the possibility that such films can be historically serious without being bound by restrictive rules.

At first glance, Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a tale that reinforces binaries. One of these is the self/other binary that is central to David Hume's and Adam Smith's theories of sympathy that conceive of a self imaginatively identifying and experiencing fellow-feeling for an other. However, this notion is complicated because Jekyll and Hyde are the same person. Further, many critics argue that Stevenson actually challenges binary thinking. While Hume and Smith do not challenge the self/other binary in connection with sympathy, trauma theory critics do challenge a self/other binary that lies at the heart of sympathy: the victim/perpetrator binary. Noted trauma theorist Dominick LaCapra develops a method of empathizing called empathic unsettlement where a secondary witness listens with empathy to a victim's traumatic witness while recognizing the difference of his or her position as a witness. He argues that perpetrators may also warrant understanding, but this understanding does not come through empathy. However, one of the hallmarks of empathic unsettlement is that it does not neatly resolve or replace traumatic narratives. Therefore, I argue that empathic unsettlement could also be a useful method for allowing a perpetrator to witness. While practicing empathic unsettlement for a perpetrator may not be worth the risk in real life, performing a thought experiment in literature can test how using empathy might provide a better way to theorize perpetration. Using two witnesses who attempt to practice empathic unsettlement for Jekyll and Hyde, Dr. Hastie Lanyon (who fails), and Mr. Gabriel John Utterson (who succeeds), I will show how empathic unsettlement could be used for both a victim and perpetrator to tease out the complexities of assessing a traumatic situation.

Title from first page of PDF document. Includes bibliographical references (p. 49-51).

<p>This project presents a case study of postmodern trauma, working at the boundaries of the humanities and computer science to produce an in-depth examination of trauma writing in David Foster Wallace’s novel <i>Infinite Jest</i>. The goal of this project is to examine the intricacies of syntax and language in postmodern trauma writing through an iterative process I refer to as <i>broken reading</i>, which combines traditional humanities methodologies (close reading) and distant, computational methodologies (Natural Language Processing). Broken reading begins with close reading, then ventures into the distant reading processes of sentiment analysis and entity analysis, and then returns again to close reading when the data must be analyzed and the broken computational elements must be corrected. While examining the syntactical structure of traumatic and non-traumatic passages through this broken reading methodology, I found that Wallace represents trauma as gendered. The male characters in the novel, when recollecting past traumata or undergoing traumatic events, maintain their subject status, recognize those around them as subjects, and are able to engage actively with the world around them. On the other hand, the female characters in the novel are depicted as lacking the same capacities for subjectivity and action. Through computational text analysis, it becomes clear that Wallace writes female trauma in a way that reflects their lack of agency and subjectivity while he writes male trauma in a way that maintains their agency and subjectivity. Through close reading, I was able to discover qualitative differences in Wallace’s representations of trauma and form initial observations about syntactical and linguistic patterns; through distant reading, I was able to quantify the differences I uncovered through close reading by conducting part of speech tagging, entity analysis, semantic analysis, and sentiment analysis. Distant reading led me to discover elements of the text that I had not noticed previously, despite the occasional flaw in computation. The analyses I produced through this broken reading process grew richer because of failure—when I failed as an interpreter, and when computational analysis failed, these failures gave me further insight into the trauma writing within the novel. Ultimately, there are marked syntactical and linguistic differences between the way that Wallace represents male and female trauma, which points toward the larger question of whether other white male postmodern authors gender trauma in their writings, too. This study has generated a prototype model for the <i>broken reading </i>methodology, which can be used to further examine postmodern trauma writing.</p>

This thesis seeks to understand how we read and understand the use of depictions of violence by examining its rhetorical presentation. Although the media gives us a mixed understanding of the way that experiencing violence secondarily (that is, through all types of media) affects us, scholarship in this area has proved clear connections between viewing/experiencing depictions of violence and raised levels of aggression. On the other hand, there is a clear difference between gratuitous depictions of violence and socially useful depictions of violence (i.e., the difference between a slasher movie and a holocaust movie) that that area of scholarship does not expressly take into account. I argue that the language of trauma studies has the ability to evaluate the impact of violent texts on audiences and that Kenneth Burke's Dramatistic Pentad has the ability the examine depictions of violence to uncover explicit and hidden ideologies that affect the presentation of the violence and, thus, our reception and interpretation of that violence. Working in conjunction, these two theories can help audience's understand depictions of violence on an ideological level and help them to assess the violence's potential traumatic impact on themselves and others within certain contexts. To demonstrate this theory of understanding violence, I make two short analyses of Native Son and The Lovely Bones and demonstrate an in-depth analysis of Fight Club and Blood Meridian in order to give an example of the type of reading I am advocating and its potential for understanding and interpreting depictions of violence in ways that uncover both social benefit and harm. In the end, I hope that this theory of reading violence might extend beyond the sample readings I have done and into other types of media, so that we can all understand the ways that violence is used rhetorically for social and political purposes and be able to both use it and interpret it responsibly.