I have minor quibbles about methodology, and some things are translated in ways that are different to later translations that can make Todorov a confusing outlier with regards to Bakhtin’s terminology, but this is a really good compact but comprehensive summary of dialogue in Bakhtin’s work. It also ends on a genuinely very touching note about using the book to try and bring Bakhtin the audience he could never achieve in the USSR. I’ll quote it here, because this book is hard to find in print or pdf. It comes just after discussing Bakhtin’s concept of a ‘super receiver’, a figure like god (or the notion of scientific discovery) who we imagine as the second receiver of everything we say/do, who is aware of the entire history of discourse and remembers all that individuals by their nature forget. We imagine this figure to allow for our own ideas/discourses to not be in vain even if they aren’t heard by another receptive individual. This is where Todorov picks up:
“One does not feel the right to confine oneself to pure textual analysis here, and to forget the circumstances in which these very pages were written. Some have relished in pointing out the paradox of having an invalid and mutilated individual write the paean to the body that is the ‘Rabelais’. But isn’t it even more moving to see the theoretician of dialogue, a man for whom the absence of response is evil absolute, hell, suffer this singular fate: never get a response? Either his books appear, but under another name; then someone else gets the response (we have a letter full of astonishment from Pasternak addressed to Medvedev: Pasternak did not imagine him capable of such penetration); or he takes the responsibility for his books, but to put them in a drawer: twenty-five years for the ‘Rabelais’, forty for ‘Questions of Literature and Aesthetics’; and a book written before 1925 will only appear toward 1980... ; others may never appear, lost or censored. At a time of frenzied overpublication, one can admire Bakhtin’s determination for developing the same thoughts over fifty years while putting them away in his files. But one may well wonder to what extent the whole theory of dialogue may have originated from the desire to understand this unbearable state — the absence of response. Bakhtin describes the fate of Dostoevsky’s characters in capitalistic society thus:
“Hence the representation of sufferings, humiliations, and the non-recognition of man in class society. His recognition and his name have been taken away. He has been thrown out into forced loneliness, that the unsubjugated attempt to transform into *proud solitude* (making do without recognition, without others).”
What is there to say about his fate, in his society? And does it suffice to imagine super-receivers to compensate the absence of recipients, of responsive understanding? It is in order to remedy this lack that I have tried, in these pages, to have Bakhtin’s voice be heard again: so that the dialogue can finally begin.”