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ANNA LENZ of things themselves instead of the meaning of words," that it could directly improve upon injustices in society, is not one supported by Jelinek: “Diese Illusion kann ich mir eigentlich nicht mehr erlauben”’” — she cannot permit herself this illusion any longer. “Please come back to me, dear word, or do I need to call an angel?” The angel was there all along, tries calling God on the phone (a familiar lyric), but he does not answer. The word, Jelinek says, was always with God — no, is God: she is referring to John 1:1, of course: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” From a piece of postdramatic theater in a postmodern time, we have now returned to a notion of art that resembles an emphatic, romantic notion of “Kunstreligion” more than it does one of a deconstructive postmodernism: the poet, even in quoting “strange tongues,” becomes the priest of that art. But alas, it is not that simple: God does not answer the phone, the word thus is “stuck” — somewhere between God and the poet. The mediator of speech, angel or telephone, is defected: no use in “skyping”, since there is nothing to see but wasteland [Odnis]. This “Tohuwabohu” has been cleared of economy [“Fabriken” und “Bergwerke”] and literary works [Werke] alike, a phrase that is especially telling, since Jelinek has been accredited with writing prototypical postdramatic theater,’ a theater where the written text has become marginalized, where the “Werkgedanke” is no longer said to be essential. As more and more of the text’s complexity becomes evident it shows: Jelinek’s plays must be read as well as seen. What resonates with us does show tendencies of the traditional “Werk” as poetic concept. And this work of literature struggles with its own ability to speak; speak in words that do carry meaning beyond what seems to be trivial. Therefore, the next phrase could be read as one that reviews a long held poetic principle: “away with the word, all the words, we will elect another one, just to lose that one as well, we have lost everything, now we have run out of words, which run to where there is room for entertainment.” And entertainment: that might just be the King, who loses his place upon the “sacrificial stone.” It is instead taken by you, the recipient. And so the speaker, the poet, goes to “fetch the knife”, as they are asked to do in a familiar way: “Abraham! Abraham!”, thus begins — and ends — the sacrifice of Isaak.°° The speaker 56 Barthes: Ibid., 241 5? Gunna Wendt: “Es geht immer alles prekar aus — wie in der Wirklichkeit.” Ein Gesprach mit der Schriftstellerin Elfriede Jelinek über die Unmiindigkeit der Gesellschaft und den Autismus des Schreibens, Frankfurter Rundschau, April 14, 1992, (as quoted in Degner: Ibid., 42). 58 This part is performed in the play by having the King pick up a crucifix as a phone shortly after the part where the skull-headed poet speaks and tries to speak to Jesus himself — unsuccessfully. °° Ingrid Hentschel: Dionysos kann nicht sterben. Theater in der Gegenwart, Berlin, Lit Verlag, 2007, 71. 6° Gen. 1, 22:1 and 22:11. + 208 +
