Even the purest of artists thrive under tension. For some artists, politics has provided a crucial source of tension which has led to great achievement. Usually, it doesn’t. Why? Because artists, like critics, are often poor at gauging political realities. (Artists are usually better off not getting involved with “ideological confusion and violence,” as Greenberg put it.) Occasionally, though, problems become so acute that being unserious about the world is not an option—the 1930s was like this for some, and maybe a second Trump presidency will have a similar effect on artists and critics today, although there is real room for doubt.
Although I love all her novels, this one is the easiest to love and recommend (and it is beautifully translated).
Anna Seghers hated the idea of “art & politics,” as though they were separable entities to be glued together. Seghers—Jewish, Communist, especially the latter—wrote this book quite literally on the run from the Nazis, in cafés in France, on ships in the Atlantic, and in Mexico, where she lived in exile during the war. But you would never know it; it is as fluidly written as anything she ever wrote. In general, Seghers thrived in high tension situations.
It is a detective story, love story, wartime journalism, yet very little happens. Kafka’s Castle minus the parables and mysticism. It is also one of the deepest reflections on the nature of writing and narrative I know.
INTRODUCED BY STUART EVERS: 'A genuine, fully fledged masterpiece of the twentieth century; one that remains just as terrifyingly relevant and truthful in the twenty-first'
An existential, political, literary thriller first published in 1944, Transit explores the plight of the refugee with extraordinary compassion and insight.
Having escaped from a Nazi concentration camp in Germany and a work camp in Rouen, the nameless narrator finds himself in the dusty seaport of Marseille. Along the way he was asked to deliver a letter to Weidel, a writer in Paris whom he discovered had killed himself as the Nazis entered the city.…
Ok, I cheated (already). This is not really about art, but it is about politics. There are some essays on art, but all of it is about how badly we have screwed up how we think about politics, especially in the United States.
We think and talk—incessantly, endlessly—about disparities between groups. What this book shows, from every angle, is that this way of talking and thinking is how exploiters want us to talk and think. Sounds counterintuitive, I know.
The point is to stop talking about disparities and disproportionalities of awfulness and start talking about class inequality. The point is also to say that addressing class inequality is addressing disparities, but not vice versa.
Denouncing racism and celebrating diversity have become central to progressive politics. For many on the left, it seems, social justice would consist of an equitable distribution of wealth, power and esteem among racial groups. But as Adolph Reed Jr. and Walter Benn Michaels argue in this incisive collection of essays, the emphasis here is tragically misplaced. Not only can a fixation with racial disparities distract from the pervasive influence of class, it can actually end up legitimising economic inequality. As Reed and Michaels put it, “racism is real and anti-racism is both admirable and necessary, but extant racism isn’t what…
It is hard to describe what this book is about, except to say it is a profound attempt to think through the relation between memory and fact. Maybe the point is best summarized with the phrase, “One has to invent for the truth’s sake.”
Christa T. is Wolf’s creation and a real person, the act of writing her is an act of production, and maybe the best picture of Communism we have. Wolf is a complicated figure whose work—Marxist, feminist, deeply invested in subjectivity—is tougher and more serious about art and politics than any contemporary writer I know.
When The Quest for Christa T. was first published in East Germany ten years ago, there was an immediate storm: bookshops in East Berlin were given instructions to sell it only to well-known customers professionally involved in literary matters; at the annual meeting of East German Writers Conference, Mrs Wolf's new book was condemmed. Yet the novel has nothing eplicity to do with politics.
I have to put Brecht on this list. Which Brecht? I don’t know, but I find myself coming back to the Journals more often than anything else. These record his responses to the world between 1934 and 1955, but the war years are the most gripping.
Once more, it is the seamlessness with which art and politics come together that characterizes Brecht’s achievement. Brecht is the touchstone, the rock, the ground to which I often return. Brecht’s prose—concrete, direct, transparent—has had more effect on me than any other author. I call it not just “getting to the point” but “getting it right.”
This book contains selected poems, plays, and prose by Bertolt Brecht taken from various points throughout his career. It includes translations of two prose works and provides some background information on Brecht's life and career.
If Brecht is my nature, so are Cézanne’s paintings. Clark understands Cézanne better than anyone else (and there is a vast literature on Cézanne). Was Cézanne a “political” artist? Clark shows that Cézanne—the pillar of modern art—thought seriously about painting his world. And his world was changing, mostly for the worse.
Part of that change involved two-dimensional pictures (literally and figuratively) altering our environment. Cézanne takes the flattening of experience as his subject; that’s Clark’s point—and we’ll never see Cézanne the same way again.
A penetrating analysis of the work of one of the most influential painters in the history of modern art by one of the world's most respected art historians.
For more than a century the art of Paul Cezanne was held to hold the key to modernity. His painting was a touchstone for Samuel Beckett as much as Henri Matisse. Rilke revered him deeply, as did Picasso. If we lost touch with his sense of life, they thought, we lost an essential element in our self-understanding.
My book presents a new way of thinking about art and politics, focusing on the revolutionary work of Aleksandr Rodchenko, Bertolt Brecht, and Sergei Eisenstein between the wars.
Looking at photographs, dramas, films, and writings by these artists, I explore a structure of thinking about art and politics that has largely been lost, the structure called “class conflict.” Writing against contemporary liberal pieties, my book aims to show a way out of the current fixation on empathy and back to thinking about how a largely invisible class structure shapes how we live and think about the world. The last chapter on Eisenstein is one of the better things I have written, even if the one on Brecht and Race is the most well-known.
My book is fantastical historical fiction about two characters who're wrestling with the monstrosity of their grief.
It takes you into London high society, where Ambrose tries to forget about how much he misses Bennett and how much he dreads becoming as cold as their Grandfather. It takes you to the family's country manor house, where Mattie isolates and old ghosts start to come out of the woodwork.
It's a story about loss and depression; it's a story about friends who don't let you walk through the valley of death alone.
Ambrose Bancroft returns to London society with his younger sister, hoping they'll leave ghosts of memory behind. They have only each other left. While Ambrose attempts to draw Mattie out, dragging her to balls and threatening to seek suitors for her, his sister recoils from his meddling. Finally, when Ambrose compels her to attend art class before she's ready, Mattie paints something horrific enough to banish them from society in public disgrace.
At Linwood Manor, Mattie and Ambrose aren't as alone as they think. Taking advantage of Mattie's desperate need to find freedom, a vanishing room lures Ambrose's sister into…
