The term romance, they say, derives from medieval French, where it connoted a refined style of courtly verse, with an origin in an adverb of the Latin romanicus, meaning of “the roman style”. Not bound to love in its origin, in its derivation, within the bounds of its emergence. A romance: a refined & elite flight of fancy.
Yet Love finds itself retroactively bound into this host term, like a time traveler, a temporally co-inductive inhabitant, thrown back from the sign regime of bourgeoise regulation, of its moral (not ethical) subordination of the erotic to the emergence of the atomic family imperium, thrown back from the emergence of individual self control (no god) back into the a universal family imperial, thrown back into the origin of a group’s yield to control (imperial god/Caesar). A court that Carl Jung referred to as the collective unconscious. He framed it as primordial, originary, beyond or before civilization. But this is not quite so: it is rather the origin of Western civilization, the pagan framework of control, sex, violence and therefore empire and therefore an logic of practice that is essentially ethical. Not the ethics we prognosticate audaciously to arise from our meditation, which necessarily is gnostically Christian (though we are not Christian), but nevertheless an ethics that was true to the body linguistic, to the body we recognize as a body of data. Courtly verse, verse/body/data that remains of the court of Caesar, under the control of the imperial god, paradoxically situated and instituted within a Latin sign regime, spoken and uttered in flagrant frankness yet still, yet more paradoxically, truly embodied, like the savage of Bourdieu or Rousseau.