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102ROCKY MOUNTAIN REVIEW

Christopher Norris. Deconstruction: Theory and Practice. New York: Methuen,

1982. 157p.
Of all the movements in recent literary criticism, no critical approach has
become more controversial or more misunderstood than deconstruction. Although
many scholars and teachers in the past several years have been content to dismiss
this brand of criticism as nihilism or cognitive atheism, more open-minded readers
have become curious as to what deconstruction is all about, and these same readers

have become excited and sometimes frightened by its implications. But the most
difficult problem for the student of deconstruction is in finding a means of being
introduced to the theory in a clear, concise manner. Although it is not the first book
on deconstruction (nor the last), Christopher Norris's Deconstruction: Theory and
Practice is just such an introduction to a difficult but important mode of criticism.
Perhaps the book's most valuable asset is its breadth of scope, for the book is
admirable in its attempt to survey the most influential practitioners of
deconstruction and to confront the theory's philosophical framework and political
implications. However, this asset also becomes the book's major fault: Norris simply
cannot thoroughly explain and develop all of these considerations in 135 pages of
text. The book becomes, then, a useful if underdeveloped introduction to
deconstructive criticism. But Norris's text will only take the reader so far, leaving
him or her to confront Derrida, de Man, and the others on their terms.

Norris begins his book by exploring the "roots" of deconstruction: structuralism

and New Criticism. His contention is that both New Criticism and structuralism had

an "orthodox side" that allowed the critical community to homogenize these

theories, putting them to use in a conformable and "safe" manner. Norris claims,
however, that "at the same time they both tended to generate, in livelier minds, a
sense of unease or frustration which called their very methods into question" (p. 15).
Roland Barthes becomes Norris's example of sucha thinker, especially in Barthes's
later works where he begins to question his earlier assumptions about language.
When detailing Derrida's analysis of Saussure, Norris goes on to explain that
deconstruction does not in fact, cannot reject structuralism or New Criticism,
but that instead deconstruction's goal is pushing both projects to their "ultimate
conclusions and seeing where those conclusions work to challenge the project's
conventional premises" (p. 30).
Derrida, of course, becomes the most important practitioner of deconstruction,
and Norris devotes two important chapters specifically to Derrida's writing, focusing
mainly on Of Grammatology, which has become the basic text for the deconstructive
enterprise. Although his book is no substitute for Derrida, Norris explains crucial
sections of Derrida's work in clear, concise language. Norris is, however, somewhat
sparse in his development of several key elements of deconstruction most notably
"phonocentrism" and thfe "metaphysics of presence," both vitally important
concerns for an elementary understanding of Derrida. Despite this problem, Norris
goes on to provide a general overview of the Derridean project. Especially good is
Norris's insistence that we never forget that Derrida is a philosopher and that his
work represents a critique of philosophy from within philosophy itself. In the
difficult but important chapter that follows, Norris explains Derrida's relation to
Nietzsche. This section will perhaps be a bit off-putting to those of us with limited
backgrounds in philosophy, but Nietzsche's insight into the figurative nature of
language is crucial to Derrida's entire argument.

Two rather frustrating chapters follow. Although Norris's attempt to examine

the relationship between Marxism and deconstruction is admirable, his conclusion

that the two are not easily reconciled does not seem terribly surprising. As in many

Book Reviews103

other parts of the book, Norris's position appears informed, but several difficult
points need clear and specific explanations. The chapter on the American
deconstructionists is similarly frustrating not because Norris neglects to develop
his points, but because he refuses to do so. Although he outlines very well the
position of Paul de Man (again, for better or worse, mainly concentrating on one key
text: Allegories of Reading), Norris dismisses Geoffrey Hartman and J. Hillis Miller
much too easily as practicing "deconstruction on the wild side." Instead of probing
the works of these two important critics to discover what value they may have,
Norris actively seeks to set up an opposition between the early, rigorous writings of
Derrida and the later, "dizzy and exuberant" work of the Americans an opposition
that deconstruction would disallow.

The book's final chapter, "Dissenting Voices," is its weakest segment. Basically,
Norris sets up a few straw men (literary critics who are out of fashion) and
obliterates them without delving into their arguments in any depth. Although he
devotes a few pages to Wittgenstein, Norris fails to adequately come to terms with
this important philosopher who may very well be deconstruction 's most devastating
opponent.

Despite its faults, Norris's book remains a valuable introduction to

deconstructive theory. Especially worthwhile is the annotated bibliography.
Though it is not a replacement for the writings of Derrida and others,
Deconstruction: Theory and Practice becomes a clear and useful guide to consult
before submerging oneself in the "primary texts." Although Norris could be faulted
for not fully explaining all of his points, his project is ambitious and admirable.
RONALD D. MORRISON

University of Kansas

Tom Quirk. Melville's Confidence Man: From Knave to Knight. Columbia:

University of Missouri Press, 1982. 174p.
It is not surprising, in view of the tenth anniversary of Watergate occurring last
year, that the decade has evidenced a growing fascination with the confidence man

and his nefarious game. Three major studies have appeared in the last eight years:
Warwick Wadlington's The Confidence Game in American Literature (Princeton,
1975), John G. Blair's The Confidence Man in Modern Fiction (Barnes and Noble,
1979), and Gary Lindberg's The Confidence Man in American Literature (Oxford,
1982). Each of these studies begins with a consideration of the seminal work which is

now the subject of the publication of its first book-length study: Melville's intriguing
last novel, The Confidence Man (1857).
The author argues that Melville's novel progresses from bitter satire to deeply

felt human sympathy, the archetypal protagonist from simple knave to knighterrant of confidence. He begins (citing extensively from an unpublished
dissertation) by discussing the apparent source of the novel and origin of the phrase
"confidence man" a diddler who was apprehended in New York City in 1849,

reemerging in 1855. An attempt is made to identify in the novel a single dominant

character with eight separate masquerades. Subsequent chapters discuss "literary

models" (Milton, Shakespeare, and Cervantes), "the personal elements" (focusing
on the five interpolated stories), and what the author calls "Melville's problem of

belief" (considering the novel in terms of Northrop Frye's "anatomy" or

"Menippean satire").