I.
The everyday expression c'est n'importe quoi has its roots in Old French, evolving from the phrase il n'importe pas quoi.
In its original usage, it simply implied that what was being said didn't matter because it lacked substance or failed to add value to a conversation.
In its modern form, however, the phrase expresses a certain level of exasperation: today, if a French-speaking critic tells you c'est n'importe quoi with reference to your writing - as recently happened to me - they are essentially dismissing your work as utter nonsense.
In other words, when weaponised by a critic speaking with the arrogant authority of bourgeois common sense, the phrase becomes an intellectual and ideological insult. It is a dogmatic insistence on rhetorical clarity and logical coherence.
Not only are they dismissing your thinking as lacking rigueur, they are indicting you for something far more serious: absurdité. To them, your work doesn't warrant a formal refutation and you, as the Humpty Dumptyish writer of such random and relativistic rubbish, do not deserve their respect.
II.
At this point, I can only give a weary sigh, as I feel that I've responded to the same critic - whose name is legion - on this exact topic a thousand times before. However, let me put my Barthesian hat on one more time ...
When wielded by a hostile critic, the phrase c'est n'importe quoi is, first and foremost, a sign of panic when confronted by someone (like me) who prides themselves on being "a kind of Monsieur Teste in reverse" [1].
In other words, someone who doesn't care about logical consistency and happily mixes contradictory ideas without apology provided the result is pleasing for the more audacious reader who prefers the outside of meaning and believes they can have their cake and eat it.
For me, yelling c'est n'importe quoi! every time a post on Torpedo the Ark fails to conform to fixed rules and cultural prejudices is to retreat into the safe space of doxa and pre-packaged ideas.
I would hope that - at its best - TTA opens up a space for thinking that is hors-sens; a world where there are rattlesnakes and palm trees but no policemen, gatekeepers, or grammar nazis. Somewhere that encourages the reader to forge their own connections and not feel constrained (or even particularly convinced) by what I say.
I agree with Barthes that far too many writers and artists overload their work with metaphors and symbols and are obsessed with the production of meaning. And I agree that the best works are suspended in a state of neutralité that baffles the binary and is exempt from the fascist requirement to always make good sense or pass judgement.
If TTA can be said to have an ethical project, this is it.
III.
By suggesting that I have gone too far, my critic is attempting to police the boundary between philosophically interesting work (which still plays by certain rules) and sheer nonsense (which succumbs to pure whim).
They operate from within a classical hermeneutic framework: they accept that a text can have multiple meanings, but they rigidly insist that it must remain tied to truth at some level, and that I, as the author, must be held accountable to my intent.
I fear, therefore, that they will never learn to love a blog like Torpedo the Ark - one which has as its motto: Ce que l'on conçoit bien est mort [2].
Notes
[1] See Roland Barthes, The Pleasure of the Text, trans. Richard Miller (Basil Blackwell Ltd., 1990), p. 3. In Paul Valéry's original conception (1896), Monsieur Teste is a man of pure intellect, logic, and internal consistency.
[2] This is a play on Nicolas Boileau's famous couplet from L'Art poétique (1674): "Ce que l'on conçoit bien s'énonce clairement / Et les mots pour le dire arrivent aisément." Put simply in English prose this reads: What is well conceived can be expressed clearly and in simple terms.
