Dwight Macdonald

The Prisoners of Dwight MacDonald

A RANT

(photo of chateau d’if prison c/o travelfrance)

We’re imprisoned by our own attitudes.

We’re held back by the preconceptions, prejudices, and stereotypes with which we address the world. They become invisible jail bars around our minds. We construct a fortress around our accepted ideas– stone walls that an army couldn’t break through.

One sees this in every aspect of life– including in the literary realm. Writers and critics cling to rules laid down sixty-four years ago by a handful of intellectual pundits, most notably Dwight MacDonald in his 1960 Partisan Review essay, “Masscult and Midcult.”(An earlier essay by Clement Greenberg in the same publication, edited by Dwight MacDonald, set the tone.)

UNBREAKABLE RULES:

No Kitsch! Whatever kitsch is. Anything which might entertain the public.

Beware the Public! No masscult, midcult, on the edges or in-between.

Allowed: Completely inscrutable, alienating, pretentious and goofy examples of upper-class overeducated posturing known as the avant-garde.

Whither the fate of the prisoners of Dwight MacDonald?

They sit cautiously in their antiseptic modernist-designed offices and rooms. No art adorns the walls– only a single beige baize stripe (the walls themselves are gray) in the style of Barnett Newman, and a distorted portrait of a sparrow, meant to symbolize one of their captured-behind-glass idols, Proust.

The prisoners wait for: something. Not commutation of their sentences. They love their sentences– both kinds. They sit carefully at cold metal tables writing sentences on laptops, well-written one-direction sentences– always very well written, carefully screened: they rigidly police this– more and more sentences, always more of them, long ones, jammed impressively together in ever-longer paragraphs on more and more pages– Infinite Graphomania– and the sentences are acceptable if they’re intellectual, not passionate or emotional; not too much plot or excitement; no outbursts or melodrama– that would be kitsch– the sentences are permissible, approved, allowable, laudable just as long as they don’t engage the stray incautious reader in any way.

-Karl Wenclas

(These thoughts to appear someday in a planned book on the technocracy.)

Are Arts Critics Pretentious?

photo of Dwight Macdonald c/o Bettmann-Corbis

THAT WAS THE QUESTION making the rounds on social media this past weekend as a video parody of snobby film critics circulated on Tik Tok and Twitter.

BUT: Is pretentiousness a fair criticism? Seeing that synonyms of “pretentious” include “affected” and “ostentatious,” I’d guess yes— based on quick looks at a couple essays by literary critics at New Left Review, of all places.

First is this one, by Hermione Hoby:

Here’s another fast glimpse of another essay from the same venue, this one by Leo Robson:

Clear-thinking criticism or pseudo-intellectual blather?

The reason I pulled the excerpts from New Left Review, is because at a “leftist” journal, certainly, is where you’d expect to find writing accessible to ordinary workers– to millions of curious readers from all areas of society eager to find writing they can agree, or disagree, with, and sometimes be moved by. Passion! Polemics! Opinions!! WHY NOT?

Instead they get exercises in intellectualism, from former university students who never left the classroom– or the classroom never left them. They’re still writing for professors or dissertation committees, or for other inside-the-box, don’t-make-waves thinkers just like them.

Pretentious? You bet!

-Karl Wenclas