Those familiar with the work of Derrida will recognize the double term in the title as variations, in translation, of Derrida's untimely essay Survivre. To survive in this infinite mood and indefinite form that sets no limit to number, person, or time is at once the theme and the undercurrent that runs through the diverse texts gathered together in this volume. To survive, for such is our exceptional situation, also animates the act of writing: to shelter a personal existence and actualize the promise writing holds for saving something more than (bare) life. Derrida termed it sur-vie or living on. The texts date from different times and phases of the mutating epidemic. In chronological order, they register the progressive evolution and complication of the sense of this novel crisis. The first is contemporaneous with the immediate virus outbreak and with Agambens provocative dismissal of the health crisis. The Two Transcripts are of video interventions that appeared on Jerome Lebre's Youtube channel Philosopher en temps depidemie one of several platforms to call for critical discourse; a third intervention, completing the triptych, was recorded in French but never published. Here an extended, more developed version closes the volume. Engaging Derridas Survie, it also responds to the recent death of Jean-Luc Nancy. At the center, anchoring the volume, is a complex text that can be read as a belated postscript to the first volume On Contemporaneity after Agamben, and / or as a premature preface to its forthcoming successor (The Time That Remains). It asks about the newly acquired sense of the World in Paul Celans often cited last phrase: The world is gone. Living On / To Survive is essential reading for students and scholars in literature, philosophy and psychology. Publication details of these and related titles are provided in the prelims to the book. Related titles The Concept and its Times (978-1-84519-991-3), was published January 2020. Art in the time that remains (978-1-84519-992-0), the second of the two-volume publication, is due November 2022.

In 2004, Jacques Derrida gave one of his final interviews prior to his death. Regarding the future of his work, Derrida advanced two contradictory hypotheses: "I will not be read"; and "despite a handful of good readers... I am yet to be read". This book is an homage to the spirit of Derrida, and seeks to grasp the significance of his death on the rich corpus of his work, in a voice that remains true to the "faithful betrayals" of Derridas own works of deconstuction. Two key journeys underpin Posthumously. The first is an exploration of both Derrida and deconstruction through the unusual prism of cinema and photography, bringing into play Gilles Deleuze's concept of creative repetition. In the second journey, the author embarks on a detailed engagement with Derrida's oft-neglected book on drawing, Memoirs of the Blind, and provides a subversive reading of that text, arguing that its labyrinthine turns (confession, self-portrait, and mourning) obscure a secret ambition to stage the last battle between its own graphic trait and the image in full colour. Beneath this vivid canopy, Zsuzsa Baross brings together a collection of shorter pieces developing the meaning of the term "posthumous" in the world of writing and literary criticism, interrogating Derrida's posthumous lesson on "learning to live". The final act in this unique volume analyses Derrida's last hand-written note; a note, the author argues, that reopens the question of the posthumous and provides an infinitely moving lesson on life.

In 2004, Jacques Derrida gave one of his final interviews prior to his death. Regarding the future of his work, Derrida advanced two contradictory hypotheses: "I will not be read"; and "despite a handful of good readers . . . I am yet to be read". This book is an homage to the spirit of Derrida, and seeks to grasp the significance of his death on the rich corpus of his work, in a voice that remains true to the "faithful betrayals" of Derridas own works of deconstuction. Two key journeys underpin Posthumously. The first is an exploration of both Derrida and deconstruction through the unusual prism of cinema and photography, bringing into play Gilles Deleuze's concept of creative repetition. In the second journey, the author embarks on a detailed engagement with Derrida's oft-neglected book on drawing, Memoirs of the Blind, and provides a subversive reading of that text, arguing that its labyrinthine turns (confession, self-portrait, and mourning) obscure a secret ambition to stage the last battle between its own graphic trait and the image in full colour. Beneath this vivid canopy, Zsuzsa Baross brings together a collection of shorter pieces developing the meaning of the term "posthumous" in the world of writing and literary criticism, interrogating Derrida's posthumous lesson on "learning to live". The final act in this unique volume analyses Derrida's last hand-written note; a note, the author argues, that reopens the question of the posthumous and provides an infinitely moving lesson on life.

Who are our contemporaries today? Alain Badiou, Jean-Luc Nancy, or Giorgio Agamben, or the already neglected Althusser or Lacoue-Labarthe? From among the thinkers of the last great generation of the past century, who are the precursors whose voice is strong enough to speak to our present today? when the nature of time itself is uncertain: a time of mutation (Nancy), a change of epoch (Blanchot), an epoch without an epoch (Stiegler), or more catastrophically, the time of the geocide (Deguy)? Is it Bataille (Inner Experience) or Blanchot (The Writing of the Disaster) who anticipates the future that is already our present? Or Derrida who announced the unsurpassable dilemma of the law of hospitality? Announced a future to be presented only as a monstrosity? Or is it rather Deleuze, whose geo-philosophy already dispenses with the subject, privileges matter over spirit, and subordinates the great movements of peoples and animals of history and revolution, the political and the social as relative to the de- re-territorializing powers of the forces of the Earth? Or again, is it not philosophy but rather art that measures up to the intensity of the forces pressing against us in the present? The exhausted prose of Beckett, the broken verse of Celan? The stammer of Artaud? These are some of the questions that animate the writing in the aftermath of Agamben's influential essay What is the Contemporary?