
She applied the "Page 99 Test" to her new book, Remnants of Refusal: Feminist Affect, National Trauma, with the following results:
On page 99 of my book, Remnants of Refusal: Feminist Affect, National Trauma, the reader confronts two film stills: the first, from YasujirĂ´ Ozu’s Tokyo Story (1953), and below, the second, from Jia Zhangke’s The World (2004). In both shots, an elderly couple sits on a low concrete wall, their faces in profile, their expressions impassive, their shoulders slightly hunched. The couples are dressed in traditional or anachronistic clothing: in Ozu’s film, they wear kimonos, while in Jia’s, the man dons a Mao suit and cap- the uniform of the latter-day proletariat. The Japanese couple in the first still, denizens of the provincial city Onomichi, have traveled to Tokyo to visit their adult children. However, they are quickly sent away by their distracted, inattentive eldest son and daughter to a hot spring spa in the tourist city of Atami. The Chinese couple in the second still, from impoverished Shanxi province, have come to Beijing to bury their son who perished under dangerous conditions as an unlicensed construction worker. Though not shown in these stills, most of the young people in these two films contrast to their elders in their energy and their frenzy to “make it” in the big city.Learn more about Remnants of Refusal at the SUNY Press website.
In the short paragraph on page 99, I explain—as other scholars have also noted—that Ozu and Jia’s films criticize periods of national transition following historical trauma- in this case the Second World War and the 1989 Tiananmen Square Massacre. I write, “Ozu’s film laments the cultural fallout wrought by the early years of the Japanese economic miracle; Jia’s film likewise questions what has become of time-honored beliefs as China enters the age of neoliberal globalization.” This coincides with my book’s larger argument that certain works of film and literature reveal what I term “remnants of refusal,” echoes and afterimages of the past that have been left in suspension between nationally dominant rhetorics of constant progress and the affective persistence of the unmourned past.
Should browsers apply the significance of the images on page 99 to my book as a whole, they would also glean several additional incitements that lie at its heart. Remnants of Refusal: Feminist Affect, National Trauma examines literature and film, engaging in how these works speak affectively—though their melancholy, ambivalence, or exhaustion—to the repression of historical trauma. The film stills on page 99—the immobilized elderly couples gazing without a clear aim at the horizon—serve as examples of these affects and of those figures left behind by national campaigns of renewal. My book claims, too, that such responses align with a feminist position. Ozu and Jia’s films feature women protagonists (Noriko in Tokyo Story and Zhao Tao in The World) who identify with their elders, suggesting a feminist protest to historical waves that cast the nation forward over the unresolved past. Finally, while my book primarily stages these arguments though French and Chinese literature and film, the comparison between China and Japan on page 99 reveals a key — if perhaps implicit — argument: that melancholy, ambivalence, and exhaustion may be affective forms of protest in works of art beyond these two nations, that we might consider how they operate globally.
--Marshal Zeringue