
A figure that critics turn to in large numbers is Melville’s “Bartleby, the Scrivener” (1853). Economic theory thus stands alongside the hegemonic politico-economic sphere which so many scholars in the humanities and social sciences like to criticize. Despite the fact that Vogl’s polemic statement might exaggerate the degree of influence the field of economics has established for itself, the representational authority of economic theory not only has an enormous impact through its political implementation but also as a source of cultural knowledge. The difficulty we are faced with,” Joseph Vogl writes in the preface to his vastly successful The Specter of Capital, “is that the science of economics has spent the last three hundred years creating the very economic facts it is now struggling to decipher” (x). In fact, Bartleby’s “I would prefer not to” might end up reaffirming already existing power structures. Bringing together these three readings, however, renders doubtful the potential of such challenges to power.

In addition, I will provide a reading regarding representational power in relation to the narrator and the (de)stabilization of systems of meaning production, in which I will draw mostly on works by Agamben and Deleuze.

The close reading of Melville’s short story reveals that Bartleby’s resistance to productivity and consumption indeed “opens up a new space outside the hegemonic position and its negation” (Žižek 393). In order to examine the potential of Bartleby’s challenge to power, I will read it against the representational authority of economic theory, and, more specifically, the supply and demand model. Many have found his enigmatic formula “I would prefer not to” to be the embodiment of a long sought-after remedy for seemingly fruitless revolts against oppressive capitalist mechanisms. The subtle insights which give the unnamed narrator no peace also grip the reader in a perplexing examination of the nature and purpose of charity.Abstract: Herman Melville’s “Story of Wall Street” (1853), in which a lawyer gives an account of the life of the scrivener Bartleby, has been extensively commented on by scholars from a variety of disciplines. The humanistic theme, which ties one of life's winners inextricably to the pathetic demise of a loser, relegates the two central characters to a single fraternity, their shared belonging in the family of humankind. Throughout Bartleby's emotional illness, it is sheer will that supplants the necessary parts of his personality that atrophy during his tenure at the Wall Street office. Suggesting the author's own obstinacy, the main character replies to all comers, "I would prefer not to," thereby declaring his independence from outside intervention.Ĭharacterized as a symbolic fable of self-isolation and passive resistance to routine, "Bartleby, the Scrivener" reveals the decremental extinction of a human spirit. One of the most obtuse of these short works, "Bartleby, the Scrivener," subtitled "A Story of Wall-Street," was published for $85 in Putnam's magazine in November and December 1853 its focus is on the dehumanization of a copyist, the nineteenth-century equivalent of a photocopy machine. For the sake of economy and speed, his output dwindled from the full-length novel to the short story, a stylistic constriction with which he never developed ease. The gems hidden among lengthy, digressive passages required more concentrative effort than readers were capable of or willing to put forth.Ĭhallenged to delve into the perplexities of morality, Melville avoided the more obvious superficialities and plunged determinedly into greater mysteries. His readers, accustomed to the satisfying rough and tumble of his sea yarns, were unable to make the leap from straightforward adventure tale to probing fiction. Pierre, his first published work after Moby-Dick, with its emphasis on incest and moral corruption, exemplifies his decision to change direction.

Like his letters, Melville's style became tortuous and demanding his themes questioned the nature of good and evil and what he perceived as upheaval in universal order. Instead, he cultivated a more spiritual language to express the darker, enigmatic side of the soul. With the publication of Moby-Dick, he grew disenchanted with his attempt to please the general reader. The turning point of his career came in 1851. Like many artists, Melville felt constrained to choose between art and money.
