The Stucture of Theory: Fanon's Exploding Textual Style

I am still not certain what exactly I have just read. Fanon’s writing seems to wander—it is a collage of stream-of-consciousness, non-linear style, social science, essay, story, “clinical study” (13), and more. I know what Fanon is saying, but I am troubled by so many things about the first three chapters that I am not certain how or on what to focus. I'm not at all convinced by anything I have just read, particularly since in an introduction and three chapters, I have not found anything to be convinced of. I have written “Okay, but HOW?” in the margin so many times that I am even tired of writing it. It seems that Fanon is looking toward some type of action—even, perhaps, a solution, considering his final comment of chapter three: “We shall see that another solution is possible. It implies a restructuring of the world” (82). I just have no idea whatsoever what type of action he may suggest, which is frustrating. Moreover, the idea of restructuring the world is so massive that I would love to see how he proposes getting it implemented and finished. The nature of not reading something in its entirety, I’m sure, but I had hoped for some idea of…something.

Through his writing style Fanon seems to be exploding the ideas of the way theory is written and read. He is anecdotal, which is unusual for theoretical writing. This may be because he doesn’t want the human to be removed from the reader’s thoughts while reading, which is frequently what happens when one reads straight theory. If maintaining ideas of humanity instead of thinking in terms of entities such as ‘society’ or ‘culture’ is what Fanon has in mind with his writing style, then the approach makes sense, for what purpose has theory either when it cannot be applied or when the process of its application so changes its original essence that nothing remotely resembling the original remains? He seems to be blurring an unquestioned binary that exists in literature: empirical theory non-fiction / narrative fiction. Perhaps this is so that the reader can see that the binaries need not exist—a text can occupy liminal spaces just as humans do, and be comfortable and successful in its liminal existence.

Still, I find some of Fanon’s comments problematic, primarily because they rely so heavily on stereotypes, which Fanon seems interested in destroying in terms of writing. If the text can obliterate stereotypes of writing, why then must Fanon pose and rely on them for his human study? Fanon begins by stating that “there are two camps: the white and the black” (8). Furthermore, he believes that “[t]he white man is sealed in his whiteness,” and “[t]he black man in his blackness” (9). He seems to turn this on its head when he comments, “[m]any Negroes will not find themselves in what follows. This is equally true of many whites” (12); nonetheless, he peppers the essay with such back-and-forth ideas that I am half convinced of Fanon’s delight in playing devil’s advocate. A deconstructive approach must, of course, turn ideology on its head, and at heart, what Fanon is exploring is language and its inherent power, so it does make sense that he plays with language and its indeterminacy. To throw the human part in with that, though, seems dangerous.

Although I do have to say that having waded through all of that to write this, it does make much more sense. In essence, to rid oneself of the imperialist collar, one must (re)claim language insofar as language offers identity. Hence, to play with the structure of the essay and the form of the theoretical claim allows the writer to ‘plant his or her flag’ in the text—i.e. the language—and in so doing, stake one’s identity as well. In the end, then, Fanon actually explodes the binaries by so exactly and overtly placing them in front of the reader that he can claim them in his own formulated text-identity, disposing of them in his space and time--exactly as he has deconstructed and re-produced the structure of the theorectical text.