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		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7965</id>
		<title>Talk:An American Dream Expanded</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7965"/>
		<updated>2019-04-25T00:32:34Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Welcome to the digital Humanities project, &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded. This page will facilitate the discussion on the development of this project, beginning in the spring of 2019.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Purview==&lt;br /&gt;
This project aims to create a critical and cultural context around the composition and subsequent reaction to [[Norman Mailer]]’s novel &#039;&#039;[[An American Dream]]&#039;&#039;. It will begin with [[J. Michael Lennon]]’s 2004 &#039;&#039;Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969&#039;&#039;. Additional interviews, reviews, essays, and miscellany will be added as they are collected, permissions cleared, and digitized.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Access==&lt;br /&gt;
Participation requires:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;An account on Project Mailer&#039;&#039;&#039;. This cannot be created by users, but must be done by the editor, [[Gerald R. Lucas]]. [[grl:Contact|Send him an email]] requesting an account (please include the username you would like).&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;Access to original documents&#039;&#039;&#039;. Original documents are stored on [https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1GGktIf5f9wvHRjf-uKi2oCQkWAP1S5d0?usp=sharing Google Drive]. Please request access using your Google account. There will be numerous source documents we will be working with on this project.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==To Do==&lt;br /&gt;
See the to-do list on the talk page for &#039;&#039;[[AAD:Letters|Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969]]&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{to do|2}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Discussion==&lt;br /&gt;
. . .&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|grlucas}} Link to my PM Sandbox. Please give feedback when you can and let me know if I have linked this to the wrong location. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox|Dmcgonagill/sandbox for PM]]([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:43, 30 March 2019 (UTC))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} My article is ready to be moved from my sandbox to PM. Am I supposed to move it or are you supposed to review it and then move it?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 17:53, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dillbug}} OK, looking good, but it&#039;s not quite ready. All citations should be formatted correctly using the citation templates for whatever it is you&#039;re citing, like a [[Template:Cite_book|book]] or [[w:Template:Cite_journal|journal article]]. Simply cut and paste the template and fill in the info for each reference (many can already be found on the site&#039;s [[Criticism|crit bibliography]]). Use [[Existentialism, Violent Liberation, and Racialized Masculinities: Norman Mailer’s “The White Negro” and An American Dream|McKinley&#039;s article]] as a guide. The notice up top does not really make sense, either. Next, you need to convert all parenthetical citations to [[Template:Sfn|shortened footnotes]]. Again, use the McKinley article for your reference. I&#039;ll do one or two for you as an example. Finally, I see some typos. Be sure you proof it well. Thanks. (I fixed the beginning for you and gave you some examples to work with.) —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 21:25, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I tried to add two articles from the Misc. drive and am having issues with getting the image. I am going to continue to try and add the images.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:28, 10 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have attempted to post a review, an article to the Gallery, and a Snippet. Please advise if I have done so correctly. I would like to do more but do not want to until I am sure I am on the right track.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 16:57, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Looking good. I cleaned up the language a bit. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Please take a look at the news paper review by William F. Buckley, Jr. at [[User:Dillbug/sandbox.review#Sort_of_Conservative]] and see if the review is ready to be moved to the main page. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:22, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Check spelling of his name. Mailer should only be linked once — usually the first time he is mentioned. Otherwise, proofread and it looks good. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have made the necessary corrections. I do believe, the article is now ready to be moved. Do you want me to try to move it, or will you?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 11:59, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to |grlucas}} Feeling ready to post this review or edit with further direction or model from you on desired formatting. Please take a look and advise. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox/review]] ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:01, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to |grlucas}} I uploaded envelope from misc folder but due to lack of access to a pdf convertor, it stays in that form and appears to be of little value on Wiki. Searched internet for work arounds but found nothing. I&#039;m leaving upload but not adding it to gallery. Please advise. Thanks! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 14:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Yes, that&#039;s right. I would have to install the PDF viewer here. Do you think I should? —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 19:52, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} Yes, please. Increased group contribution would result. Thank you! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:07, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} OK, but give me a bit of time. I&#039;ll get to is ASAP. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:42, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
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{{reply to|Grlucas}} I edited the advertising copy for the gallery. Please take a look at the link and let me know if I am supposed to add the reviews that have been crossed out. I did not know how to cross through them once posted. [[An_American_Dream_Expanded/Advertising_Copy]] Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:20, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Nice work. I took out the third image, since it was only of a blank page. You needn&#039;t worry about the x-out items, unless you want. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:38, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I transcribed the letter in my Trotter sandbox. Please review and advise on what to do for the illegible words. Thank you. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 12:32, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Mango Masala}} Could you give me a link, please? Thanks. —07:38, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} Thank you for reviewing. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 10:52, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas|Mango Masala}} I reviewed your Trotter letter at [[User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965]] and I hope you don&#039;t mind that I made a few minor edits such as adding italics and links. I was able to read most of the words you had questions on with exception of one word. Flat could not make it out. Will have to ask Dr. Lucas if he can and make the edit.  You did a really good job on the letter.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:18, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Dillbug}} Thank you, Dillbug!&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} [[An American Dream Expanded/Trotter Letter, March 14, 1965|This letter]] has been posted, no? 😁 —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:38, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas}} Thank you very much, Dr. Lucas!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== &#039;&#039;MR&#039;&#039; Articles for this Project ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
These are available in the shared Google drive under &#039;&#039;Mailer Review&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 3: Laist: “&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;: American Existentialism”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 5: Sermeus: “Norman Mailer’s Mythmaking in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; and ‘The White’”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 6: McKinley: “Mailer’s Modern Myth: Reexamining Violence and Masculinity in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 7: Batchelor: “Visions of the American Dream: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Bob Dylan, and Norman Mailer Probe at the Heart of the National Idea”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Press ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} We might be getting some press about our recent contributions to this project. As you know, Project Mailer is an official site of the Norman Mailer Society, so what we do here is important. Mailer’s biographer [[JML|Mike Lennon]] has expressed his appreciation for our efforts and others have shown interest in writing about our project! I just wanted to let you know. I’m putting together a press release about what we’ve accomplished this semester, so be sure we’re finishing up with our best, most conscientious work. Your efforts, as always, are very much appreciated. Thanks for all the hard work and congratulations for a great showing! Let me know below if there&#039;s anything you think I should add to the press release. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 20:45, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent news!  -[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] (User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 09:53, 18 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|grlucas}} Sweet! Mention of quick turn around from beginner to able to contribute to project would be cool. It&#039;s pretty amazing the progress.~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:10, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Indeed, I had planned to mention just that. I’m going to write something for the credits page, too. They may be the same thing. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:33, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}}Wow! I did not realize others would be able to view our work, or even appreciate it. I have so enjoyed these past two weeks, now that I have a better understanding of how to edit in Wikipedia. I am truly going to miss editing Norman Mailer!(I would have never thought I would say such a thing a couple of weeks ago.) This class is so different from any class I have taken in the past and the best part, is your assignments are real world work, where what you do makes a difference. I feel a very real sense of accomplishment. Thank you Dr. Lucas for allowing me to be a part of PM.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:08, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dillbug}} Awesome! You all should feel a sense of accomplishment. Everyone has grown so much in just a few short weeks. I&#039;m proud of all the work we&#039;ve accomplished. You all should be proud of yourselves, too. And who says you have to stop when the semester ends? I hope you all keep editing, especially on Wikipedia. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:00, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent News. Happy to see our work is real world experience. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 12:54, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Cool beans. Congrats, all. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 18:41, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} That&#039;s very exciting. Everyone should be well chuffed. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 13:19, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Additions ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, longer gallery additions should probably have their own pages — like the Buckley review; the long ad that lists excerpts from reviews would also be a good candidate for its own page. We could mostly just make them subpages of [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]]. Thanks. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:51, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} OK, all these text-heavy additions &#039;&#039;&#039;should&#039;&#039;&#039; have their own pages. Here&#039;s an example: [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews]]. I appreciate Dillbug’s enthusiasm here. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 17:48, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have rewritten Book Week article 19650130. It is in my [[User:Dillbug/sandbox_BookWeek|sandbox]]. Please review to see if ready to repost. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:38, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug}} You probably should just concentrate on the part of the page that has to do with Mailer. It&#039;s only a small section. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 13:26, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{Reply to|Jules Carry}}Thank you for the feedback. I edited the picture under the gallery to reflect the changes.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:02, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
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== PDFs ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, I have tried to install the PDF handler extension for MediaWiki, but my hosting service is missing a crucial piece of software. I&#039;m going to see if they can help, but I would suggest we continue as if we will &#039;&#039;&#039;not be able to get PDFs to embed&#039;&#039;&#039;. Sorry about that. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:23, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas|waebo|Dmcgonagill|Mango Masala}} I am back online, finally, after the storms, and am able to convert one page PDFs to JPGs. Is there a trick to dealing with a multi-page PDF? Every time I try to convert to a JPG, I get separate files instead of one scrolling picture, like the PDF has. Any ideas, anyone? I&#039;m going to try more tomorrow and work on editing as well-[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 19:16, 20 April 2019  (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} I know little about it - sorry. I&#039;m trying to sort out why the left side of the letter I added is missing. It appears correctly when you click the image, but not when viewing on main page. It appeared correctly in my sandbox. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 19:33, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} Isn&#039;t that frustrating! I know things like that leave me scratching my head and make me just want to hit some chocolate and do some stress eating! [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 09:56, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} You did not follow the formatting for the gallery. I fixed it. 😁 —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:57, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I see. Thank you for correcting.[[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 11:46, 22 April 2019 (EDT) &lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Clean-Up ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} OK, all, the gallery is starting to look a bit crowded. Let&#039;s clean it up by:&lt;br /&gt;
# getting rid of multi-page images. Link to another page where you can display all the images and a transcript.&lt;br /&gt;
# transcribing all longer pieces on their own subpages. (For a guide: see how the Buckley review is done.)&lt;br /&gt;
# filing images in their correct sections.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thanks! —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 11:02, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Will do. Working on editing letters right now and then will move over to the gallery... [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 10:11:14, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I will begin cleaning my submissions up next week and transcribe the longer pieces on their own subpages. I am unclear on what you mean by &amp;quot;filing images in their correct sections&amp;quot;.  Which ones are filed in the wrong place? Oh, hope you have a very Happy Easter!--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 16:25, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I noticed that there&#039;s already an early mock up of the cover, so is the Mock up that I posted a repeat of that mock up? It was on the to do list, but I&#039;ll take it off if it&#039;s just a repeat.  Going to have to work on the multi-page images. They&#039;re giving me trouble, but will figure them out... [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 16:49, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to| JVbird}} Yes, that mock up image has been posted already. As for multiple-page images: why not just post the first page in the gallery and others on the subpage? {{reply to| Dillbug}} I have already moved some items into other sections. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:31, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I&#039;ll take the mock up image down and then fix the multiple-page images. Will be later today, though. [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 07:57, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I&#039;m also working on figuring out how to update my multipage images.[[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 16:57, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to|Grlucas|Sherita Sims-Jones}} I also posted some JPGs with multipage images, so I&#039;m going to have to get mine corrected as well. That will have to be tomorrow, though, it looks like. = I have class tonight with my online students and it&#039;s been a long day. Sherita, if you figure it out, let me know. I thought I had had a breakthrough with the JPG files, but the multipage idea I had just isn&#039;t the solution! [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 17:45, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::::{{Reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, can you check that what I have done with the Saturday Review and North American Review posts is what you mean? I separated the images and posted both as individual pages. Thanks, Josef [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 13:54, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to |grlucas}} Example of your #2 request somewhere? &amp;amp; never heard back about my Didion work...Good? No? Suggestions? Thanks.~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:33, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} Friends, Part 1 of directive 1 above complete (Think I did it right!). Please check me. And, need help on adding corresponding transcripts. See links below for claiming &amp;amp; easy access if you are on board with what I started. (I used [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|&amp;quot;Major Reviews for a Major Novel&amp;quot;]]) as a model: ([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 14:42, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
#&amp;lt;s&amp;gt;[[An American Dream Expanded/Advertising Copy|Advertising Copy]]&amp;lt;/s&amp;gt; Dillbug will try to do&lt;br /&gt;
# &amp;lt;s&amp;gt;[[An American Dream Expanded/Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965|Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965]] &amp;lt;/s&amp;gt;JVbird will do&lt;br /&gt;
# &amp;lt;s&amp;gt;[[&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; Expanded/&#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 22, 1965|&#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 22, 1965]]&amp;lt;/s&amp;gt; I will do--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 13:28, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
# [[An American Dream Expanded/Mailer hosts party for Jose Torres, Herald Tribune April 1, 1965|Mailer hosts party for Jose Torres, Herald Tribune April 1, 1965]] - ([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 15:33, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
# [[An American Dream Expanded/Scene: Inside an Army Tent in Vietnam March 22, 1965|Scene: Inside an Army Tent in Vietnam March 22, 1965]] ssimsjones will do[[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 18:55, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dmcgonagill}} Hey, Dana. I&#039;ll take the Publishers Weekly Press Conference and will be glad to do anything else as well. Just let me know.  I&#039;ll go in and check what you did, but that won&#039;t happen until tonight. If you get a chance, can you check me on the way I&#039;ve done the multi-page  reviews? I&#039;m still not sure I&#039;m doing it right (North American Review, for example). [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 14:51, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Dmcgonagill}} Dana, the transcipt for the Publishers Weekly Press Conference is up but I&#039;m not sure about the format, since the original has columns. Are the columns necessary in the transcription? See what you think, please. --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 12:51, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|JVbird}} Where is your work at? Send me link and I&#039;ll definitely check it out! Thanks!([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 15:29, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Dmcgonagill}} Dana, the multi-pages look great. Thank You very much. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 18:57, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Clean-up 2 ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} All, thanks for all the work. Please use [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews for a Major Novel]] as a guide to posting your gallery stuff. Just posting images will not suffice; there should be a transcript on a separate subpage. They should be subpages, as I mentioned, of [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]], too: just look at the model above. Thanks. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 18:05, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} This is where I am stumped. I&#039;ve gone to the Wiki page for creating a subpage https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:User_pages#User_pages_and_user_space but I am just not getting how to create the subpage. I went to the Major Reviews for a Major Novel and I see what it is doing, that the image has a link to a separate page with the image and the transcript, and I want to be able to do that. I&#039;m missing the steps for doing it, though. Does that make sense? Josef --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 08:27, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} I sent you an email that should help you create it. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 09:07, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} Here&#039;s how I created the example above: &amp;lt;code&amp;gt;&amp;lt;nowiki&amp;gt;[[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews for a Major Novel]]&amp;lt;/nowiki&amp;gt;&amp;lt;/code&amp;gt; off the [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]] page. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 09:10, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas|Sherita Sims-Jones}}  Thanks, Dr. Lucas and Sherita, for the help. Working on these posts now and getting them set up correctly. --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 12:53, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, one more question so I make sure I am doing this correctly. I transcribed the North American (Robert Dana) Review and created a sub page [[TheNorthAmericanReview/RobertDana]]  My question is this. Should it stay as a subpage for now while I&#039;m cleaning it up before I link it to the PM page itself and can you look at it quickly to make sure it&#039;s actually what the subpage should look like? Thanks!  --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 13:27, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to| JVbird}} No, it should be a subpage of &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded, like my example above. I think this was fixed, and since it&#039;s a review, was moved to the bib — it&#039;s fun being a team, huh? 👍🏼 —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:42, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|JVbird}} I hope you don&#039;t mind, I added links and italics where needed to your article.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 17:43, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala&amp;diff=7948</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala&amp;diff=7948"/>
		<updated>2019-04-24T19:16:10Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;[[Category: Student Editors]]&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Early Life==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mango Masala was born in [[Leytonstone]], in East London. She spent most of her childhood in [[Buckinghamshire]] where she attended [[Pipers Corner School]].&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Education==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mango Masala graduated from the [[University of Georgia]] with a BA in English and holds an MA in English (with focus upon South Asian postcolonial literature) from [[Georgia State University]]. She is currently in the graduate certificate program (in technical writing and digital communication) at [[Middle Georgia State University]].&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxTrotter1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxMoosApril231965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxJ.Aldridge8June1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxJohnWilliamCorrington1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxRogerShattuck8June1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxDianaTrilling8June1965]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala&amp;diff=7947</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala&amp;diff=7947"/>
		<updated>2019-04-24T19:14:55Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;[[Category: Student Editors]]&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Early Life==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mango Masala was born in [[Leytonstone]], in East London. She spent most of her childhood in [[Buckinghamshire]] where she attended [[Pipers Corner School]].&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Education==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mango Masala graduated from the [[University of Georgia]] with a BA in English and holds an MA in English (with focus upon South Asian postcolonial literature) from [[Georgia State University]]. She is currently in the graduate certificate program (in technical writing and digital communication) at [[Middle Georgia State University]].&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[/sandboxMangoMasala]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxTrotter1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxMoosApril231965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxJohnWilliamCorrington1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxRogerShattuck8June1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxDianaTrilling8June1965]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala&amp;diff=7943</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala&amp;diff=7943"/>
		<updated>2019-04-24T18:53:00Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;[[Category: Student Editors]]&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Early Life==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mango Masala was born in [[Leytonstone]], in East London. She spent most of her childhood in [[Buckinghamshire]] where she attended [[Pipers Corner School]].&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Education==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mango Masala graduated from the [[University of Georgia]] with a BA in English and holds an MA in English (with focus upon South Asian postcolonial literature) from [[Georgia State University]]. She is currently in the graduate certificate program (in technical writing and digital communication) at [[Middle Georgia State University]].&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[/sandboxTrotter1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxMoosApril231965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxJ.Aldridge8June1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxJohnWilliamCorrington1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxRogerShattuck8June1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxDianaTrilling8June1965]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala&amp;diff=7942</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala&amp;diff=7942"/>
		<updated>2019-04-24T18:52:40Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;[[Category: Student Editors]]&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Early Life==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mango Masala was born in [[Leytonstone]], in East London. She spent most of her childhood in [[Buckinghamshire] where she attended [[Pipers Corner School]].&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Education==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mango Masala graduated from the [[University of Georgia]] with a BA in English and holds an MA in English (with focus upon South Asian postcolonial literature) from [[Georgia State University]]. She is currently in the graduate certificate program (in technical writing and digital communication) at [[Middle Georgia State University]].&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[/sandboxTrotter1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxMoosApril231965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxJ.Aldridge8June1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxRogerShattuck8June1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxDianaTrilling8June1965]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala&amp;diff=7941</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala&amp;diff=7941"/>
		<updated>2019-04-24T18:52:05Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;[[Category: Student Editors]]&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Early Life==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mango Masala was born in [[Leytonstone]], in East London. She spent most of her childhood in [[Buckinghamshire] where she attended [[Pipers Corner School]].&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Education==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mango Masala graduated from the [[University of Georgia]] with a BA in English and holds an MA in English (with a focus in South Asian postcolonial literature) from [[Georgia State University]]. She is currently in the graduate certificate program (in technical writing and digital communication) at [[Middle Georgia State University]].&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[/sandboxTrotter1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxMoosApril231965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxJ.Aldridge8June1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxRogerShattuck8June1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxDianaTrilling8June1965]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala&amp;diff=7940</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala&amp;diff=7940"/>
		<updated>2019-04-24T18:51:32Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;[[Category: Student Editors]]&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Early Life==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mango Masala was born in [[Leytonstone]], in East London. She spent most of her childhood in [[Buckinghamshire] where she attended [[Pipers Corner School]].&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Education==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mango Masala graduated from the [[University of Georgia]] with a BA in English and holds an MA in English (with a focus in South Asian postcolonial literature) from [[Georgia State University]]. She is currently in the graduate certificate program (in technical writing and digital communication) at Middle Georgia State University&amp;lt;ref&amp;gt;https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Middle_Georgia_State_University.&amp;lt;/ref&amp;gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[/sandboxTrotter1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxMoosApril231965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxJ.Aldridge8June1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxJohnWilliamCorrington1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxRogerShattuck8June1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[/sandboxDianaTrilling8June1965]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala&amp;diff=7939</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala&amp;diff=7939"/>
		<updated>2019-04-24T18:49:51Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;[[Category: Student Editors]]&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Early Life==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mango Masala was born in [[Leytonstone]], in East London. She spent most of her childhood in Buckinghamshire&amp;lt;ref&amp;gt;https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buckinghamshire.&amp;lt;/ref&amp;gt; where she attended Pipers Corner School&amp;lt;ref&amp;gt;https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pipers_Corner_School.&amp;lt;/ref&amp;gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Education==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mango Masala graduated from the University of Georgia&amp;lt;ref&amp;gt;https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/University_of_Georgia.&amp;lt;/ref&amp;gt;  with a BA in English and holds an MA in English (with a focus in South Asian postcolonial literature) from Georgia State University&amp;lt;ref&amp;gt;https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Georgia_State_University.&amp;lt;/ref&amp;gt;. She is currently in the graduate certificate program (in technical writing and digital communication) at Middle Georgia State University&amp;lt;ref&amp;gt;https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Middle_Georgia_State_University.&amp;lt;/ref&amp;gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[/sandboxTrotter1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[/sandboxMoosApril231965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxJ.Aldridge8June1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxJohnWilliamCorrington1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
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[[/sandboxRogerShattuck8June1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[/sandboxDianaTrilling8June1965]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7935</id>
		<title>Talk:An American Dream Expanded</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7935"/>
		<updated>2019-04-24T16:44:13Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Welcome to the digital Humanities project, &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded. This page will facilitate the discussion on the development of this project, beginning in the spring of 2019.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Purview==&lt;br /&gt;
This project aims to create a critical and cultural context around the composition and subsequent reaction to [[Norman Mailer]]’s novel &#039;&#039;[[An American Dream]]&#039;&#039;. It will begin with [[J. Michael Lennon]]’s 2004 &#039;&#039;Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969&#039;&#039;. Additional interviews, reviews, essays, and miscellany will be added as they are collected, permissions cleared, and digitized.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Access==&lt;br /&gt;
Participation requires:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;An account on Project Mailer&#039;&#039;&#039;. This cannot be created by users, but must be done by the editor, [[Gerald R. Lucas]]. [[grl:Contact|Send him an email]] requesting an account (please include the username you would like).&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;Access to original documents&#039;&#039;&#039;. Original documents are stored on [https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1GGktIf5f9wvHRjf-uKi2oCQkWAP1S5d0?usp=sharing Google Drive]. Please request access using your Google account. There will be numerous source documents we will be working with on this project.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==To Do==&lt;br /&gt;
See the to-do list on the talk page for &#039;&#039;[[AAD:Letters|Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969]]&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{to do|2}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Discussion==&lt;br /&gt;
. . .&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|grlucas}} Link to my PM Sandbox. Please give feedback when you can and let me know if I have linked this to the wrong location. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox|Dmcgonagill/sandbox for PM]]([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:43, 30 March 2019 (UTC))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} My article is ready to be moved from my sandbox to PM. Am I supposed to move it or are you supposed to review it and then move it?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 17:53, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dillbug}} OK, looking good, but it&#039;s not quite ready. All citations should be formatted correctly using the citation templates for whatever it is you&#039;re citing, like a [[Template:Cite_book|book]] or [[w:Template:Cite_journal|journal article]]. Simply cut and paste the template and fill in the info for each reference (many can already be found on the site&#039;s [[Criticism|crit bibliography]]). Use [[Existentialism, Violent Liberation, and Racialized Masculinities: Norman Mailer’s “The White Negro” and An American Dream|McKinley&#039;s article]] as a guide. The notice up top does not really make sense, either. Next, you need to convert all parenthetical citations to [[Template:Sfn|shortened footnotes]]. Again, use the McKinley article for your reference. I&#039;ll do one or two for you as an example. Finally, I see some typos. Be sure you proof it well. Thanks. (I fixed the beginning for you and gave you some examples to work with.) —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 21:25, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I tried to add two articles from the Misc. drive and am having issues with getting the image. I am going to continue to try and add the images.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:28, 10 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have attempted to post a review, an article to the Gallery, and a Snippet. Please advise if I have done so correctly. I would like to do more but do not want to until I am sure I am on the right track.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 16:57, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Looking good. I cleaned up the language a bit. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Please take a look at the news paper review by William F. Buckley, Jr. at [[User:Dillbug/sandbox.review#Sort_of_Conservative]] and see if the review is ready to be moved to the main page. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:22, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Check spelling of his name. Mailer should only be linked once — usually the first time he is mentioned. Otherwise, proofread and it looks good. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have made the necessary corrections. I do believe, the article is now ready to be moved. Do you want me to try to move it, or will you?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 11:59, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to |grlucas}} Feeling ready to post this review or edit with further direction or model from you on desired formatting. Please take a look and advise. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox/review]] ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:01, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to |grlucas}} I uploaded envelope from misc folder but due to lack of access to a pdf convertor, it stays in that form and appears to be of little value on Wiki. Searched internet for work arounds but found nothing. I&#039;m leaving upload but not adding it to gallery. Please advise. Thanks! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 14:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Yes, that&#039;s right. I would have to install the PDF viewer here. Do you think I should? —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 19:52, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} Yes, please. Increased group contribution would result. Thank you! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:07, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} OK, but give me a bit of time. I&#039;ll get to is ASAP. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:42, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I edited the advertising copy for the gallery. Please take a look at the link and let me know if I am supposed to add the reviews that have been crossed out. I did not know how to cross through them once posted. [[An_American_Dream_Expanded/Advertising_Copy]] Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:20, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Nice work. I took out the third image, since it was only of a blank page. You needn&#039;t worry about the x-out items, unless you want. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:38, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I transcribed the letter in my Trotter sandbox. Please review and advise on what to do for the illegible words. Thank you. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 12:32, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Mango Masala}} Could you give me a link, please? Thanks. —07:38, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} Thank you for reviewing. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 10:52, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas|Mango Masala}} I reviewed your Trotter letter at [[User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965]] and I hope you don&#039;t mind that I made a few minor edits such as adding italics and links. I was able to read most of the words you had questions on with exception of one word. Flat could not make it out. Will have to ask Dr. Lucas if he can and make the edit.  You did a really good job on the letter.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:18, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Dillbug}} Thank you, Dillbug! &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== &#039;&#039;MR&#039;&#039; Articles for this Project ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
These are available in the shared Google drive under &#039;&#039;Mailer Review&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 3: Laist: “&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;: American Existentialism”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 5: Sermeus: “Norman Mailer’s Mythmaking in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; and ‘The White’”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 6: McKinley: “Mailer’s Modern Myth: Reexamining Violence and Masculinity in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 7: Batchelor: “Visions of the American Dream: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Bob Dylan, and Norman Mailer Probe at the Heart of the National Idea”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Press ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} We might be getting some press about our recent contributions to this project. As you know, Project Mailer is an official site of the Norman Mailer Society, so what we do here is important. Mailer’s biographer [[JML|Mike Lennon]] has expressed his appreciation for our efforts and others have shown interest in writing about our project! I just wanted to let you know. I’m putting together a press release about what we’ve accomplished this semester, so be sure we’re finishing up with our best, most conscientious work. Your efforts, as always, are very much appreciated. Thanks for all the hard work and congratulations for a great showing! Let me know below if there&#039;s anything you think I should add to the press release. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 20:45, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent news!  -[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] (User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 09:53, 18 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|grlucas}} Sweet! Mention of quick turn around from beginner to able to contribute to project would be cool. It&#039;s pretty amazing the progress.~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:10, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Indeed, I had planned to mention just that. I’m going to write something for the credits page, too. They may be the same thing. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:33, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}}Wow! I did not realize others would be able to view our work, or even appreciate it. I have so enjoyed these past two weeks, now that I have a better understanding of how to edit in Wikipedia. I am truly going to miss editing Norman Mailer!(I would have never thought I would say such a thing a couple of weeks ago.) This class is so different from any class I have taken in the past and the best part, is your assignments are real world work, where what you do makes a difference. I feel a very real sense of accomplishment. Thank you Dr. Lucas for allowing me to be a part of PM.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:08, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dillbug}} Awesome! You all should feel a sense of accomplishment. Everyone has grown so much in just a few short weeks. I&#039;m proud of all the work we&#039;ve accomplished. You all should be proud of yourselves, too. And who says you have to stop when the semester ends? I hope you all keep editing, especially on Wikipedia. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:00, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent News. Happy to see our work is real world experience. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 12:54, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Cool beans. Congrats, all. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 18:41, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} That&#039;s very exciting. Everyone should be well chuffed. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 13:19, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Additions ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, longer gallery additions should probably have their own pages — like the Buckley review; the long ad that lists excerpts from reviews would also be a good candidate for its own page. We could mostly just make them subpages of [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]]. Thanks. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:51, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} OK, all these text-heavy additions &#039;&#039;&#039;should&#039;&#039;&#039; have their own pages. Here&#039;s an example: [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews]]. I appreciate Dillbug’s enthusiasm here. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 17:48, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have rewritten Book Week article 19650130. It is in my [[User:Dillbug/sandbox_BookWeek|sandbox]]. Please review to see if ready to repost. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:38, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug}} You probably should just concentrate on the part of the page that has to do with Mailer. It&#039;s only a small section. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 13:26, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{Reply to|Jules Carry}}Thank you for the feedback. I edited the picture under the gallery to reflect the changes.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:02, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== PDFs ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, I have tried to install the PDF handler extension for MediaWiki, but my hosting service is missing a crucial piece of software. I&#039;m going to see if they can help, but I would suggest we continue as if we will &#039;&#039;&#039;not be able to get PDFs to embed&#039;&#039;&#039;. Sorry about that. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:23, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas|waebo|Dmcgonagill|Mango Masala}} I am back online, finally, after the storms, and am able to convert one page PDFs to JPGs. Is there a trick to dealing with a multi-page PDF? Every time I try to convert to a JPG, I get separate files instead of one scrolling picture, like the PDF has. Any ideas, anyone? I&#039;m going to try more tomorrow and work on editing as well-[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 19:16, 20 April 2019  (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} I know little about it - sorry. I&#039;m trying to sort out why the left side of the letter I added is missing. It appears correctly when you click the image, but not when viewing on main page. It appeared correctly in my sandbox. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 19:33, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} Isn&#039;t that frustrating! I know things like that leave me scratching my head and make me just want to hit some chocolate and do some stress eating! [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 09:56, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} You did not follow the formatting for the gallery. I fixed it. 😁 —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:57, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I see. Thank you for correcting.[[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 11:46, 22 April 2019 (EDT) &lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Clean-Up ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} OK, all, the gallery is starting to look a bit crowded. Let&#039;s clean it up by:&lt;br /&gt;
# getting rid of multi-page images. Link to another page where you can display all the images and a transcript.&lt;br /&gt;
# transcribing all longer pieces on their own subpages. (For a guide: see how the Buckley review is done.)&lt;br /&gt;
# filing images in their correct sections.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thanks! —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 11:02, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Will do. Working on editing letters right now and then will move over to the gallery... [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 10:11:14, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I will begin cleaning my submissions up next week and transcribe the longer pieces on their own subpages. I am unclear on what you mean by &amp;quot;filing images in their correct sections&amp;quot;.  Which ones are filed in the wrong place? Oh, hope you have a very Happy Easter!--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 16:25, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I noticed that there&#039;s already an early mock up of the cover, so is the Mock up that I posted a repeat of that mock up? It was on the to do list, but I&#039;ll take it off if it&#039;s just a repeat.  Going to have to work on the multi-page images. They&#039;re giving me trouble, but will figure them out... [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 16:49, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to| JVbird}} Yes, that mock up image has been posted already. As for multiple-page images: why not just post the first page in the gallery and others on the subpage? {{reply to| Dillbug}} I have already moved some items into other sections. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:31, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I&#039;ll take the mock up image down and then fix the multiple-page images. Will be later today, though. [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 07:57, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I&#039;m also working on figuring out how to update my multipage images.[[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 16:57, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to|Grlucas|Sherita Sims-Jones}} I also posted some JPGs with multipage images, so I&#039;m going to have to get mine corrected as well. That will have to be tomorrow, though, it looks like. = I have class tonight with my online students and it&#039;s been a long day. Sherita, if you figure it out, let me know. I thought I had had a breakthrough with the JPG files, but the multipage idea I had just isn&#039;t the solution! [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 17:45, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::::{{Reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, can you check that what I have done with the Saturday Review and North American Review posts is what you mean? I separated the images and posted both as individual pages. Thanks, Josef [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 13:54, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to |grlucas}} Example of your #2 request somewhere? &amp;amp; never heard back about my Didion work...Good? No? Suggestions? Thanks.~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:33, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} Friends, Part 1 of directive 1 above complete (Think I did it right!). Please check me. And, need help on adding corresponding transcripts. See links below for claiming &amp;amp; easy access if you are on board with what I started. (I used [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|&amp;quot;Major Reviews for a Major Novel&amp;quot;]]) as a model: ([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 14:42, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
#&amp;lt;s&amp;gt;[[An American Dream Expanded/Advertising Copy|Advertising Copy]]&amp;lt;/s&amp;gt; Dillbug will try to do&lt;br /&gt;
# &amp;lt;s&amp;gt;[[An American Dream Expanded/Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965|Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965]] &amp;lt;/s&amp;gt;JVbird will do&lt;br /&gt;
# &amp;lt;s&amp;gt;[[&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; Expanded/&#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 22, 1965|&#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 22, 1965]]&amp;lt;/s&amp;gt; I will do--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 13:28, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
# [[An American Dream Expanded/Mailer hosts party for Jose Torres, Herald Tribune April 1, 1965|Mailer hosts party for Jose Torres, Herald Tribune April 1, 1965]] - ([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 15:33, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
# [[An American Dream Expanded/Scene: Inside an Army Tent in Vietnam March 22, 1965|Scene: Inside an Army Tent in Vietnam March 22, 1965]] ssimsjones will do[[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 18:55, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dmcgonagill}} Hey, Dana. I&#039;ll take the Publishers Weekly Press Conference and will be glad to do anything else as well. Just let me know.  I&#039;ll go in and check what you did, but that won&#039;t happen until tonight. If you get a chance, can you check me on the way I&#039;ve done the multi-page  reviews? I&#039;m still not sure I&#039;m doing it right (North American Review, for example). [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 14:51, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Dmcgonagill}} Dana, the transcipt for the Publishers Weekly Press Conference is up but I&#039;m not sure about the format, since the original has columns. Are the columns necessary in the transcription? See what you think, please. --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 12:51, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|JVbird}} Where is your work at? Send me link and I&#039;ll definitely check it out! Thanks!([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 15:29, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Dmcgonagill}} Dana, the multi-pages look great. Thank You very much. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 18:57, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Clean-up 2 ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} All, thanks for all the work. Please use [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews for a Major Novel]] as a guide to posting your gallery stuff. Just posting images will not suffice; there should be a transcript on a separate subpage. They should be subpages, as I mentioned, of [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]], too: just look at the model above. Thanks. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 18:05, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} This is where I am stumped. I&#039;ve gone to the Wiki page for creating a subpage https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:User_pages#User_pages_and_user_space but I am just not getting how to create the subpage. I went to the Major Reviews for a Major Novel and I see what it is doing, that the image has a link to a separate page with the image and the transcript, and I want to be able to do that. I&#039;m missing the steps for doing it, though. Does that make sense? Josef --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 08:27, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} I sent you an email that should help you create it. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 09:07, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} Here&#039;s how I created the example above: &amp;lt;code&amp;gt;&amp;lt;nowiki&amp;gt;[[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews for a Major Novel]]&amp;lt;/nowiki&amp;gt;&amp;lt;/code&amp;gt; off the [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]] page. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 09:10, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas|Sherita Sims-Jones}}  Thanks, Dr. Lucas and Sherita, for the help. Working on these posts now and getting them set up correctly. --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 12:53, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, one more question so I make sure I am doing this correctly. I transcribed the North American (Robert Dana) Review and created a sub page [[TheNorthAmericanReview/RobertDana]]  My question is this. Should it stay as a subpage for now while I&#039;m cleaning it up before I link it to the PM page itself and can you look at it quickly to make sure it&#039;s actually what the subpage should look like? Thanks!  --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 13:27, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to| JVbird}} No, it should be a subpage of &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded, like my example above. I think this was fixed, and since it&#039;s a review, was moved to the bib — it&#039;s fun being a team, huh? 👍🏼 —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:42, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|JVbird}} I hope you don&#039;t mind, I added links and italics where needed to your article.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 17:43, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7934</id>
		<title>Talk:An American Dream Expanded</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7934"/>
		<updated>2019-04-24T16:42:48Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Welcome to the digital Humanities project, &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded. This page will facilitate the discussion on the development of this project, beginning in the spring of 2019.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Purview==&lt;br /&gt;
This project aims to create a critical and cultural context around the composition and subsequent reaction to [[Norman Mailer]]’s novel &#039;&#039;[[An American Dream]]&#039;&#039;. It will begin with [[J. Michael Lennon]]’s 2004 &#039;&#039;Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969&#039;&#039;. Additional interviews, reviews, essays, and miscellany will be added as they are collected, permissions cleared, and digitized.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Access==&lt;br /&gt;
Participation requires:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;An account on Project Mailer&#039;&#039;&#039;. This cannot be created by users, but must be done by the editor, [[Gerald R. Lucas]]. [[grl:Contact|Send him an email]] requesting an account (please include the username you would like).&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;Access to original documents&#039;&#039;&#039;. Original documents are stored on [https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1GGktIf5f9wvHRjf-uKi2oCQkWAP1S5d0?usp=sharing Google Drive]. Please request access using your Google account. There will be numerous source documents we will be working with on this project.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==To Do==&lt;br /&gt;
See the to-do list on the talk page for &#039;&#039;[[AAD:Letters|Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969]]&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{to do|2}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Discussion==&lt;br /&gt;
. . .&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|grlucas}} Link to my PM Sandbox. Please give feedback when you can and let me know if I have linked this to the wrong location. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox|Dmcgonagill/sandbox for PM]]([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:43, 30 March 2019 (UTC))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} My article is ready to be moved from my sandbox to PM. Am I supposed to move it or are you supposed to review it and then move it?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 17:53, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dillbug}} OK, looking good, but it&#039;s not quite ready. All citations should be formatted correctly using the citation templates for whatever it is you&#039;re citing, like a [[Template:Cite_book|book]] or [[w:Template:Cite_journal|journal article]]. Simply cut and paste the template and fill in the info for each reference (many can already be found on the site&#039;s [[Criticism|crit bibliography]]). Use [[Existentialism, Violent Liberation, and Racialized Masculinities: Norman Mailer’s “The White Negro” and An American Dream|McKinley&#039;s article]] as a guide. The notice up top does not really make sense, either. Next, you need to convert all parenthetical citations to [[Template:Sfn|shortened footnotes]]. Again, use the McKinley article for your reference. I&#039;ll do one or two for you as an example. Finally, I see some typos. Be sure you proof it well. Thanks. (I fixed the beginning for you and gave you some examples to work with.) —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 21:25, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I tried to add two articles from the Misc. drive and am having issues with getting the image. I am going to continue to try and add the images.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:28, 10 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have attempted to post a review, an article to the Gallery, and a Snippet. Please advise if I have done so correctly. I would like to do more but do not want to until I am sure I am on the right track.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 16:57, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Looking good. I cleaned up the language a bit. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Please take a look at the news paper review by William F. Buckley, Jr. at [[User:Dillbug/sandbox.review#Sort_of_Conservative]] and see if the review is ready to be moved to the main page. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:22, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Check spelling of his name. Mailer should only be linked once — usually the first time he is mentioned. Otherwise, proofread and it looks good. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have made the necessary corrections. I do believe, the article is now ready to be moved. Do you want me to try to move it, or will you?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 11:59, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to |grlucas}} Feeling ready to post this review or edit with further direction or model from you on desired formatting. Please take a look and advise. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox/review]] ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:01, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to |grlucas}} I uploaded envelope from misc folder but due to lack of access to a pdf convertor, it stays in that form and appears to be of little value on Wiki. Searched internet for work arounds but found nothing. I&#039;m leaving upload but not adding it to gallery. Please advise. Thanks! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 14:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Yes, that&#039;s right. I would have to install the PDF viewer here. Do you think I should? —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 19:52, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} Yes, please. Increased group contribution would result. Thank you! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:07, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} OK, but give me a bit of time. I&#039;ll get to is ASAP. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:42, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I edited the advertising copy for the gallery. Please take a look at the link and let me know if I am supposed to add the reviews that have been crossed out. I did not know how to cross through them once posted. [[An_American_Dream_Expanded/Advertising_Copy]] Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:20, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Nice work. I took out the third image, since it was only of a blank page. You needn&#039;t worry about the x-out items, unless you want. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:38, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I transcribed the letter in my Trotter sandbox. Please review and advise on what to do for the illegible words. Thank you. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 12:32, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Mango Masala}} Could you give me a link, please? Thanks. —07:38, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} Thank you for reviewing. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 10:52, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas|Mango Masala}} I reviewed your Trotter letter at [[User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965]] and I hope you don&#039;t mind that I made a few minor edits such as adding italics and links. I was able to read most of the words you had questions on with exception of one word. Flat could not make it out. Will have to ask Dr. Lucas if he can and make the edit.  You did a really good job on the letter.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:18, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== &#039;&#039;MR&#039;&#039; Articles for this Project ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
These are available in the shared Google drive under &#039;&#039;Mailer Review&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 3: Laist: “&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;: American Existentialism”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 5: Sermeus: “Norman Mailer’s Mythmaking in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; and ‘The White’”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 6: McKinley: “Mailer’s Modern Myth: Reexamining Violence and Masculinity in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 7: Batchelor: “Visions of the American Dream: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Bob Dylan, and Norman Mailer Probe at the Heart of the National Idea”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Press ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} We might be getting some press about our recent contributions to this project. As you know, Project Mailer is an official site of the Norman Mailer Society, so what we do here is important. Mailer’s biographer [[JML|Mike Lennon]] has expressed his appreciation for our efforts and others have shown interest in writing about our project! I just wanted to let you know. I’m putting together a press release about what we’ve accomplished this semester, so be sure we’re finishing up with our best, most conscientious work. Your efforts, as always, are very much appreciated. Thanks for all the hard work and congratulations for a great showing! Let me know below if there&#039;s anything you think I should add to the press release. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 20:45, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent news!  -[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] (User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 09:53, 18 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|grlucas}} Sweet! Mention of quick turn around from beginner to able to contribute to project would be cool. It&#039;s pretty amazing the progress.~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:10, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Indeed, I had planned to mention just that. I’m going to write something for the credits page, too. They may be the same thing. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:33, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}}Wow! I did not realize others would be able to view our work, or even appreciate it. I have so enjoyed these past two weeks, now that I have a better understanding of how to edit in Wikipedia. I am truly going to miss editing Norman Mailer!(I would have never thought I would say such a thing a couple of weeks ago.) This class is so different from any class I have taken in the past and the best part, is your assignments are real world work, where what you do makes a difference. I feel a very real sense of accomplishment. Thank you Dr. Lucas for allowing me to be a part of PM.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:08, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dillbug}} Awesome! You all should feel a sense of accomplishment. Everyone has grown so much in just a few short weeks. I&#039;m proud of all the work we&#039;ve accomplished. You all should be proud of yourselves, too. And who says you have to stop when the semester ends? I hope you all keep editing, especially on Wikipedia. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:00, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent News. Happy to see our work is real world experience. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 12:54, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Cool beans. Congrats, all. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 18:41, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} That&#039;s very exciting. Everyone should be well chuffed. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 13:19, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Additions ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, longer gallery additions should probably have their own pages — like the Buckley review; the long ad that lists excerpts from reviews would also be a good candidate for its own page. We could mostly just make them subpages of [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]]. Thanks. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:51, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} OK, all these text-heavy additions &#039;&#039;&#039;should&#039;&#039;&#039; have their own pages. Here&#039;s an example: [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews]]. I appreciate Dillbug’s enthusiasm here. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 17:48, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have rewritten Book Week article 19650130. It is in my [[User:Dillbug/sandbox_BookWeek|sandbox]]. Please review to see if ready to repost. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:38, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug}} You probably should just concentrate on the part of the page that has to do with Mailer. It&#039;s only a small section. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 13:26, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{Reply to|Jules Carry}}Thank you for the feedback. I edited the picture under the gallery to reflect the changes.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:02, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== PDFs ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, I have tried to install the PDF handler extension for MediaWiki, but my hosting service is missing a crucial piece of software. I&#039;m going to see if they can help, but I would suggest we continue as if we will &#039;&#039;&#039;not be able to get PDFs to embed&#039;&#039;&#039;. Sorry about that. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:23, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas|waebo|Dmcgonagill|Mango Masala}} I am back online, finally, after the storms, and am able to convert one page PDFs to JPGs. Is there a trick to dealing with a multi-page PDF? Every time I try to convert to a JPG, I get separate files instead of one scrolling picture, like the PDF has. Any ideas, anyone? I&#039;m going to try more tomorrow and work on editing as well-[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 19:16, 20 April 2019  (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} I know little about it - sorry. I&#039;m trying to sort out why the left side of the letter I added is missing. It appears correctly when you click the image, but not when viewing on main page. It appeared correctly in my sandbox. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 19:33, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} Isn&#039;t that frustrating! I know things like that leave me scratching my head and make me just want to hit some chocolate and do some stress eating! [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 09:56, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} You did not follow the formatting for the gallery. I fixed it. 😁 —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:57, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I see. Thank you for correcting.[[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 11:46, 22 April 2019 (EDT) &lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Clean-Up ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} OK, all, the gallery is starting to look a bit crowded. Let&#039;s clean it up by:&lt;br /&gt;
# getting rid of multi-page images. Link to another page where you can display all the images and a transcript.&lt;br /&gt;
# transcribing all longer pieces on their own subpages. (For a guide: see how the Buckley review is done.)&lt;br /&gt;
# filing images in their correct sections.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thanks! —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 11:02, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Will do. Working on editing letters right now and then will move over to the gallery... [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 10:11:14, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I will begin cleaning my submissions up next week and transcribe the longer pieces on their own subpages. I am unclear on what you mean by &amp;quot;filing images in their correct sections&amp;quot;.  Which ones are filed in the wrong place? Oh, hope you have a very Happy Easter!--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 16:25, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I noticed that there&#039;s already an early mock up of the cover, so is the Mock up that I posted a repeat of that mock up? It was on the to do list, but I&#039;ll take it off if it&#039;s just a repeat.  Going to have to work on the multi-page images. They&#039;re giving me trouble, but will figure them out... [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 16:49, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to| JVbird}} Yes, that mock up image has been posted already. As for multiple-page images: why not just post the first page in the gallery and others on the subpage? {{reply to| Dillbug}} I have already moved some items into other sections. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:31, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I&#039;ll take the mock up image down and then fix the multiple-page images. Will be later today, though. [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 07:57, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I&#039;m also working on figuring out how to update my multipage images.[[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 16:57, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to|Grlucas|Sherita Sims-Jones}} I also posted some JPGs with multipage images, so I&#039;m going to have to get mine corrected as well. That will have to be tomorrow, though, it looks like. = I have class tonight with my online students and it&#039;s been a long day. Sherita, if you figure it out, let me know. I thought I had had a breakthrough with the JPG files, but the multipage idea I had just isn&#039;t the solution! [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 17:45, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::::{{Reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, can you check that what I have done with the Saturday Review and North American Review posts is what you mean? I separated the images and posted both as individual pages. Thanks, Josef [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 13:54, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to |grlucas}} Example of your #2 request somewhere? &amp;amp; never heard back about my Didion work...Good? No? Suggestions? Thanks.~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:33, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} Friends, Part 1 of directive 1 above complete (Think I did it right!). Please check me. And, need help on adding corresponding transcripts. See links below for claiming &amp;amp; easy access if you are on board with what I started. (I used [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|&amp;quot;Major Reviews for a Major Novel&amp;quot;]]) as a model: ([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 14:42, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
#&amp;lt;s&amp;gt;[[An American Dream Expanded/Advertising Copy|Advertising Copy]]&amp;lt;/s&amp;gt; Dillbug will try to do&lt;br /&gt;
# &amp;lt;s&amp;gt;[[An American Dream Expanded/Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965|Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965]] &amp;lt;/s&amp;gt;JVbird will do&lt;br /&gt;
# &amp;lt;s&amp;gt;[[&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; Expanded/&#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 22, 1965|&#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 22, 1965]]&amp;lt;/s&amp;gt; I will do--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 13:28, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
# [[An American Dream Expanded/Mailer hosts party for Jose Torres, Herald Tribune April 1, 1965|Mailer hosts party for Jose Torres, Herald Tribune April 1, 1965]] - ([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 15:33, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
# [[An American Dream Expanded/Scene: Inside an Army Tent in Vietnam March 22, 1965|Scene: Inside an Army Tent in Vietnam March 22, 1965]] ssimsjones will do[[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 18:55, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dmcgonagill}} Hey, Dana. I&#039;ll take the Publishers Weekly Press Conference and will be glad to do anything else as well. Just let me know.  I&#039;ll go in and check what you did, but that won&#039;t happen until tonight. If you get a chance, can you check me on the way I&#039;ve done the multi-page  reviews? I&#039;m still not sure I&#039;m doing it right (North American Review, for example). [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 14:51, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Dmcgonagill}} Dana, the transcipt for the Publishers Weekly Press Conference is up but I&#039;m not sure about the format, since the original has columns. Are the columns necessary in the transcription? See what you think, please. --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 12:51, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|JVbird}} Where is your work at? Send me link and I&#039;ll definitely check it out! Thanks!([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 15:29, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Dmcgonagill}} Dana, the multi-pages look great. Thank You very much. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 18:57, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Clean-up 2 ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} All, thanks for all the work. Please use [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews for a Major Novel]] as a guide to posting your gallery stuff. Just posting images will not suffice; there should be a transcript on a separate subpage. They should be subpages, as I mentioned, of [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]], too: just look at the model above. Thanks. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 18:05, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} This is where I am stumped. I&#039;ve gone to the Wiki page for creating a subpage https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:User_pages#User_pages_and_user_space but I am just not getting how to create the subpage. I went to the Major Reviews for a Major Novel and I see what it is doing, that the image has a link to a separate page with the image and the transcript, and I want to be able to do that. I&#039;m missing the steps for doing it, though. Does that make sense? Josef --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 08:27, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} I sent you an email that should help you create it. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 09:07, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} Here&#039;s how I created the example above: &amp;lt;code&amp;gt;&amp;lt;nowiki&amp;gt;[[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews for a Major Novel]]&amp;lt;/nowiki&amp;gt;&amp;lt;/code&amp;gt; off the [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]] page. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 09:10, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas|Sherita Sims-Jones}}  Thanks, Dr. Lucas and Sherita, for the help. Working on these posts now and getting them set up correctly. --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 12:53, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, one more question so I make sure I am doing this correctly. I transcribed the North American (Robert Dana) Review and created a sub page [[TheNorthAmericanReview/RobertDana]]  My question is this. Should it stay as a subpage for now while I&#039;m cleaning it up before I link it to the PM page itself and can you look at it quickly to make sure it&#039;s actually what the subpage should look like? Thanks!  --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 13:27, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to| JVbird}} No, it should be a subpage of &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded, like my example above. I think this was fixed, and since it&#039;s a review, was moved to the bib — it&#039;s fun being a team, huh? 👍🏼 —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:42, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|JVbird}} I hope you don&#039;t mind, I added links and italics where needed to your article.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 17:43, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7933</id>
		<title>Talk:An American Dream Expanded</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7933"/>
		<updated>2019-04-24T16:39:01Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Welcome to the digital Humanities project, &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded. This page will facilitate the discussion on the development of this project, beginning in the spring of 2019.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Purview==&lt;br /&gt;
This project aims to create a critical and cultural context around the composition and subsequent reaction to [[Norman Mailer]]’s novel &#039;&#039;[[An American Dream]]&#039;&#039;. It will begin with [[J. Michael Lennon]]’s 2004 &#039;&#039;Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969&#039;&#039;. Additional interviews, reviews, essays, and miscellany will be added as they are collected, permissions cleared, and digitized.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Access==&lt;br /&gt;
Participation requires:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;An account on Project Mailer&#039;&#039;&#039;. This cannot be created by users, but must be done by the editor, [[Gerald R. Lucas]]. [[grl:Contact|Send him an email]] requesting an account (please include the username you would like).&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;Access to original documents&#039;&#039;&#039;. Original documents are stored on [https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1GGktIf5f9wvHRjf-uKi2oCQkWAP1S5d0?usp=sharing Google Drive]. Please request access using your Google account. There will be numerous source documents we will be working with on this project.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==To Do==&lt;br /&gt;
See the to-do list on the talk page for &#039;&#039;[[AAD:Letters|Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969]]&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{to do|2}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Discussion==&lt;br /&gt;
. . .&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|grlucas}} Link to my PM Sandbox. Please give feedback when you can and let me know if I have linked this to the wrong location. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox|Dmcgonagill/sandbox for PM]]([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:43, 30 March 2019 (UTC))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} My article is ready to be moved from my sandbox to PM. Am I supposed to move it or are you supposed to review it and then move it?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 17:53, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dillbug}} OK, looking good, but it&#039;s not quite ready. All citations should be formatted correctly using the citation templates for whatever it is you&#039;re citing, like a [[Template:Cite_book|book]] or [[w:Template:Cite_journal|journal article]]. Simply cut and paste the template and fill in the info for each reference (many can already be found on the site&#039;s [[Criticism|crit bibliography]]). Use [[Existentialism, Violent Liberation, and Racialized Masculinities: Norman Mailer’s “The White Negro” and An American Dream|McKinley&#039;s article]] as a guide. The notice up top does not really make sense, either. Next, you need to convert all parenthetical citations to [[Template:Sfn|shortened footnotes]]. Again, use the McKinley article for your reference. I&#039;ll do one or two for you as an example. Finally, I see some typos. Be sure you proof it well. Thanks. (I fixed the beginning for you and gave you some examples to work with.) —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 21:25, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I tried to add two articles from the Misc. drive and am having issues with getting the image. I am going to continue to try and add the images.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:28, 10 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have attempted to post a review, an article to the Gallery, and a Snippet. Please advise if I have done so correctly. I would like to do more but do not want to until I am sure I am on the right track.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 16:57, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Looking good. I cleaned up the language a bit. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Please take a look at the news paper review by William F. Buckley, Jr. at [[User:Dillbug/sandbox.review#Sort_of_Conservative]] and see if the review is ready to be moved to the main page. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:22, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Check spelling of his name. Mailer should only be linked once — usually the first time he is mentioned. Otherwise, proofread and it looks good. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have made the necessary corrections. I do believe, the article is now ready to be moved. Do you want me to try to move it, or will you?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 11:59, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
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{{reply to |grlucas}} Feeling ready to post this review or edit with further direction or model from you on desired formatting. Please take a look and advise. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox/review]] ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:01, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to |grlucas}} I uploaded envelope from misc folder but due to lack of access to a pdf convertor, it stays in that form and appears to be of little value on Wiki. Searched internet for work arounds but found nothing. I&#039;m leaving upload but not adding it to gallery. Please advise. Thanks! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 14:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Yes, that&#039;s right. I would have to install the PDF viewer here. Do you think I should? —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 19:52, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} Yes, please. Increased group contribution would result. Thank you! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:07, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} OK, but give me a bit of time. I&#039;ll get to is ASAP. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:42, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
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{{reply to|Grlucas}} I edited the advertising copy for the gallery. Please take a look at the link and let me know if I am supposed to add the reviews that have been crossed out. I did not know how to cross through them once posted. [[An_American_Dream_Expanded/Advertising_Copy]] Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:20, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Nice work. I took out the third image, since it was only of a blank page. You needn&#039;t worry about the x-out items, unless you want. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:38, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I transcribed the letter in my Trotter sandbox. Please review and advise on what to do for the illegible words. Thank you. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 12:32, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Mango Masala}} Could you give me a link, please? Thanks. —07:38, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} Thank you for reviewing. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 10:52, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas|Mango Masala}} I reviewed your Trotter letter at [[User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965]] and I hope you don&#039;t mind that I made a few minor edits such as adding italics and links. I was able to read most of the words you had questions on with exception of one word. Flat could not make it out. Will have to ask Dr. Lucas if he can and make the edit.  You did a really good job on the letter.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:18, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Dillbug}} Many thanks, Dillbug! &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== &#039;&#039;MR&#039;&#039; Articles for this Project ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
These are available in the shared Google drive under &#039;&#039;Mailer Review&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 3: Laist: “&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;: American Existentialism”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 5: Sermeus: “Norman Mailer’s Mythmaking in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; and ‘The White’”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 6: McKinley: “Mailer’s Modern Myth: Reexamining Violence and Masculinity in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 7: Batchelor: “Visions of the American Dream: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Bob Dylan, and Norman Mailer Probe at the Heart of the National Idea”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Press ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} We might be getting some press about our recent contributions to this project. As you know, Project Mailer is an official site of the Norman Mailer Society, so what we do here is important. Mailer’s biographer [[JML|Mike Lennon]] has expressed his appreciation for our efforts and others have shown interest in writing about our project! I just wanted to let you know. I’m putting together a press release about what we’ve accomplished this semester, so be sure we’re finishing up with our best, most conscientious work. Your efforts, as always, are very much appreciated. Thanks for all the hard work and congratulations for a great showing! Let me know below if there&#039;s anything you think I should add to the press release. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 20:45, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent news!  -[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] (User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 09:53, 18 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|grlucas}} Sweet! Mention of quick turn around from beginner to able to contribute to project would be cool. It&#039;s pretty amazing the progress.~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:10, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Indeed, I had planned to mention just that. I’m going to write something for the credits page, too. They may be the same thing. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:33, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}}Wow! I did not realize others would be able to view our work, or even appreciate it. I have so enjoyed these past two weeks, now that I have a better understanding of how to edit in Wikipedia. I am truly going to miss editing Norman Mailer!(I would have never thought I would say such a thing a couple of weeks ago.) This class is so different from any class I have taken in the past and the best part, is your assignments are real world work, where what you do makes a difference. I feel a very real sense of accomplishment. Thank you Dr. Lucas for allowing me to be a part of PM.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:08, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dillbug}} Awesome! You all should feel a sense of accomplishment. Everyone has grown so much in just a few short weeks. I&#039;m proud of all the work we&#039;ve accomplished. You all should be proud of yourselves, too. And who says you have to stop when the semester ends? I hope you all keep editing, especially on Wikipedia. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:00, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent News. Happy to see our work is real world experience. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 12:54, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Cool beans. Congrats, all. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 18:41, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} That&#039;s very exciting. Everyone should be well chuffed. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 13:19, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Additions ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, longer gallery additions should probably have their own pages — like the Buckley review; the long ad that lists excerpts from reviews would also be a good candidate for its own page. We could mostly just make them subpages of [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]]. Thanks. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:51, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} OK, all these text-heavy additions &#039;&#039;&#039;should&#039;&#039;&#039; have their own pages. Here&#039;s an example: [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews]]. I appreciate Dillbug’s enthusiasm here. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 17:48, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have rewritten Book Week article 19650130. It is in my [[User:Dillbug/sandbox_BookWeek|sandbox]]. Please review to see if ready to repost. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:38, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug}} You probably should just concentrate on the part of the page that has to do with Mailer. It&#039;s only a small section. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 13:26, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{Reply to|Jules Carry}}Thank you for the feedback. I edited the picture under the gallery to reflect the changes.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:02, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== PDFs ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, I have tried to install the PDF handler extension for MediaWiki, but my hosting service is missing a crucial piece of software. I&#039;m going to see if they can help, but I would suggest we continue as if we will &#039;&#039;&#039;not be able to get PDFs to embed&#039;&#039;&#039;. Sorry about that. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:23, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas|waebo|Dmcgonagill|Mango Masala}} I am back online, finally, after the storms, and am able to convert one page PDFs to JPGs. Is there a trick to dealing with a multi-page PDF? Every time I try to convert to a JPG, I get separate files instead of one scrolling picture, like the PDF has. Any ideas, anyone? I&#039;m going to try more tomorrow and work on editing as well-[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 19:16, 20 April 2019  (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} I know little about it - sorry. I&#039;m trying to sort out why the left side of the letter I added is missing. It appears correctly when you click the image, but not when viewing on main page. It appeared correctly in my sandbox. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 19:33, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} Isn&#039;t that frustrating! I know things like that leave me scratching my head and make me just want to hit some chocolate and do some stress eating! [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 09:56, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} You did not follow the formatting for the gallery. I fixed it. 😁 —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:57, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I see. Thank you for correcting.[[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 11:46, 22 April 2019 (EDT) &lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Clean-Up ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} OK, all, the gallery is starting to look a bit crowded. Let&#039;s clean it up by:&lt;br /&gt;
# getting rid of multi-page images. Link to another page where you can display all the images and a transcript.&lt;br /&gt;
# transcribing all longer pieces on their own subpages. (For a guide: see how the Buckley review is done.)&lt;br /&gt;
# filing images in their correct sections.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thanks! —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 11:02, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Will do. Working on editing letters right now and then will move over to the gallery... [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 10:11:14, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I will begin cleaning my submissions up next week and transcribe the longer pieces on their own subpages. I am unclear on what you mean by &amp;quot;filing images in their correct sections&amp;quot;.  Which ones are filed in the wrong place? Oh, hope you have a very Happy Easter!--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 16:25, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I noticed that there&#039;s already an early mock up of the cover, so is the Mock up that I posted a repeat of that mock up? It was on the to do list, but I&#039;ll take it off if it&#039;s just a repeat.  Going to have to work on the multi-page images. They&#039;re giving me trouble, but will figure them out... [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 16:49, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to| JVbird}} Yes, that mock up image has been posted already. As for multiple-page images: why not just post the first page in the gallery and others on the subpage? {{reply to| Dillbug}} I have already moved some items into other sections. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:31, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I&#039;ll take the mock up image down and then fix the multiple-page images. Will be later today, though. [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 07:57, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I&#039;m also working on figuring out how to update my multipage images.[[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 16:57, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to|Grlucas|Sherita Sims-Jones}} I also posted some JPGs with multipage images, so I&#039;m going to have to get mine corrected as well. That will have to be tomorrow, though, it looks like. = I have class tonight with my online students and it&#039;s been a long day. Sherita, if you figure it out, let me know. I thought I had had a breakthrough with the JPG files, but the multipage idea I had just isn&#039;t the solution! [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 17:45, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::::{{Reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, can you check that what I have done with the Saturday Review and North American Review posts is what you mean? I separated the images and posted both as individual pages. Thanks, Josef [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 13:54, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to |grlucas}} Example of your #2 request somewhere? &amp;amp; never heard back about my Didion work...Good? No? Suggestions? Thanks.~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:33, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} Friends, Part 1 of directive 1 above complete (Think I did it right!). Please check me. And, need help on adding corresponding transcripts. See links below for claiming &amp;amp; easy access if you are on board with what I started. (I used [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|&amp;quot;Major Reviews for a Major Novel&amp;quot;]]) as a model: ([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 14:42, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
#&amp;lt;s&amp;gt;[[An American Dream Expanded/Advertising Copy|Advertising Copy]]&amp;lt;/s&amp;gt; Dillbug will try to do&lt;br /&gt;
# &amp;lt;s&amp;gt;[[An American Dream Expanded/Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965|Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965]] &amp;lt;/s&amp;gt;JVbird will do&lt;br /&gt;
# &amp;lt;s&amp;gt;[[&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; Expanded/&#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 22, 1965|&#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 22, 1965]]&amp;lt;/s&amp;gt; I will do--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 13:28, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
# [[An American Dream Expanded/Mailer hosts party for Jose Torres, Herald Tribune April 1, 1965|Mailer hosts party for Jose Torres, Herald Tribune April 1, 1965]] - ([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 15:33, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
# [[An American Dream Expanded/Scene: Inside an Army Tent in Vietnam March 22, 1965|Scene: Inside an Army Tent in Vietnam March 22, 1965]] ssimsjones will do[[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 18:55, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dmcgonagill}} Hey, Dana. I&#039;ll take the Publishers Weekly Press Conference and will be glad to do anything else as well. Just let me know.  I&#039;ll go in and check what you did, but that won&#039;t happen until tonight. If you get a chance, can you check me on the way I&#039;ve done the multi-page  reviews? I&#039;m still not sure I&#039;m doing it right (North American Review, for example). [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 14:51, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Dmcgonagill}} Dana, the transcipt for the Publishers Weekly Press Conference is up but I&#039;m not sure about the format, since the original has columns. Are the columns necessary in the transcription? See what you think, please. --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 12:51, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|JVbird}} Where is your work at? Send me link and I&#039;ll definitely check it out! Thanks!([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 15:29, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Dmcgonagill}} Dana, the multi-pages look great. Thank You very much. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 18:57, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Clean-up 2 ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} All, thanks for all the work. Please use [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews for a Major Novel]] as a guide to posting your gallery stuff. Just posting images will not suffice; there should be a transcript on a separate subpage. They should be subpages, as I mentioned, of [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]], too: just look at the model above. Thanks. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 18:05, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} This is where I am stumped. I&#039;ve gone to the Wiki page for creating a subpage https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:User_pages#User_pages_and_user_space but I am just not getting how to create the subpage. I went to the Major Reviews for a Major Novel and I see what it is doing, that the image has a link to a separate page with the image and the transcript, and I want to be able to do that. I&#039;m missing the steps for doing it, though. Does that make sense? Josef --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 08:27, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} I sent you an email that should help you create it. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 09:07, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} Here&#039;s how I created the example above: &amp;lt;code&amp;gt;&amp;lt;nowiki&amp;gt;[[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews for a Major Novel]]&amp;lt;/nowiki&amp;gt;&amp;lt;/code&amp;gt; off the [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]] page. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 09:10, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas|Sherita Sims-Jones}}  Thanks, Dr. Lucas and Sherita, for the help. Working on these posts now and getting them set up correctly. --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 12:53, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, one more question so I make sure I am doing this correctly. I transcribed the North American (Robert Dana) Review and created a sub page [[TheNorthAmericanReview/RobertDana]]  My question is this. Should it stay as a subpage for now while I&#039;m cleaning it up before I link it to the PM page itself and can you look at it quickly to make sure it&#039;s actually what the subpage should look like? Thanks!  --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 13:27, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to| JVbird}} No, it should be a subpage of &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded, like my example above. I think this was fixed, and since it&#039;s a review, was moved to the bib — it&#039;s fun being a team, huh? 👍🏼 —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:42, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|JVbird}} I hope you don&#039;t mind, I added links and italics where needed to your article.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 17:43, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User_talk:Mango_Masala/sandbox&amp;diff=7925</id>
		<title>User talk:Mango Masala/sandbox</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User_talk:Mango_Masala/sandbox&amp;diff=7925"/>
		<updated>2019-04-24T16:35:13Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
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&lt;div&gt;== Hassan Essay Edits ==&lt;br /&gt;
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{{reply to|Mango Masala}} Please see the comments I left for [[Talk:An American Dream Expanded#Discussion|Dillbug]] about her essay draft. Most of these apply to yours as well. Thanks. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 23:02, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply toGrlucas}} Will do, Dr. Lucas. Thank you for feedback. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 14:34, 3 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|mango Masala}} I updated the link to my feedback above, as it was incorrect. Sorry about that. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:29, 3 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to |Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, would you please offer feedback on this Hassan article. Thank you. I am trying to work out where I&#039;ve gone awry with the notes placement so that {{efn|   }} corresponds accordingly.  [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 16:02, 12 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} It&#039;s looking very good — you&#039;ve come a long way. Get rid of the Ibid in your refs and just use the author&#039;s last name. Other than that, I see just proofreading stuff for now. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 22:44, 12 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to |Grlucas}} Thank you, Dr. Lucas. I&#039;ve cleaned it up quite a bit. For the Works Cited, I removed the page numbers per McKinley&#039;s article, but I&#039;m not certain how to find the publishing information for each? I looked in the PM criticism bibliography, but did not find any. Do I leave it as such? Also, do I move it over to PM, or do you? Thanks. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 20:21, 16 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
::::::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} Looking good. Well, Hassan’s citations are incomplete, so they could be left that way — or, you could find his references in [https://www.worldcat.org WorldCat] and complete them. I will move it to the main space when ready. Thanks. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) &lt;br /&gt;
07:45, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::::{{reply to |Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I researched in World Cat to add publishing houses (where I could); I couldn&#039;t locate some of the sources. I did include the complete title as some of Hassan&#039;s were incomplete.12:35, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandbox&amp;diff=7923</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala/sandbox</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandbox&amp;diff=7923"/>
		<updated>2019-04-24T16:31:12Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: added publisher&lt;/p&gt;
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&lt;div&gt;&#039;&#039;COMPARATIVE LITERATURE STUDIES&#039;&#039; Vol. I, No. 4, 1964&lt;br /&gt;
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Beyond a Theory of Literature: Intimations of Apocalypse?&lt;br /&gt;
{{byline|last=Hassan|first=Ihab}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Begin with an assumption: that literature defines our concepts of criticism or else it defies them, and that life constantly challenges the pieties of both art and thought. What I shall attempt here, then, could not be considered an authoritative review of postwar criticism. It should be understood, rather, as a partial statement on the gathering mood of American criticism, an intimation of a trend which the facts of literary history in the past two decades (colored inevitably by my own sense of fact) may help to clarify.&lt;br /&gt;
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The admission that I neither hold nor accept a definitive view of criticism should not be too shocking. In England, where the empiric temper prevails in the name of common sense or urbanity, and even in France, where questions of methodology yield to a lively concern with new writing, such an admission would seem fairly innocuous. It is otherwise in America. Among us, the notion that criticism must become a rigorous, quasi-scientific activity in order to justify its name still finds wide support. Not long ago —or is it really ages past?— most students of literature, myself included, recognized the elegance of René Wellek’s formulation of the destiny of criticism: “the interpretation of literature as distinct from other activities of man.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=343}} Coming from Professor Wellek, the emphasis on interpretation rather than on literary theory seemed unduly self-effacing. Be that as it may, the formula appealed then to the common rage for order, and seemed also to aver the dignity of the humanities on terms that the age demanded. With the years, however, the formula seems, to me at least, to have lost in elegance as it has gained in naïveté. The breed of technicians it has unwittingly sanctioned may have found a truer consummation of their hopes in the laboratories of Oak Ridge. Literature as a distinct activity of man? Criticism as a distinct response to a distinct activity of man? What is man that we should be so little mindful of him, so arbitrary with the complexities of his mind? From Surrealism to Absurdism, literature itself suggests that a distinct aesthetic response may be defined only at the risk of deadly discrimination.&lt;br /&gt;
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Yet my object is not to engage in polemics. The point can be stated with some equanimity: a new breed of American critics are anxious to assert them selves against the rigors and pieties they have inherited. Their mood is restless, eclectic, speculative; sometimes, it is even apocalyptic. Those who feel out of sympathy with them may wish to apply different epithets: romantic, primitivist, existential, amateurish, or plain anti-intellectual. (The usefulness of these tags, dispensed usually with contumely, is as doubtful as their accuracy.) Others, however, may recognize the creative possibilities of this new mood, troubled, vague, or disruptive as it may seem.&lt;br /&gt;
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Evidence of the new mood is various though one senses behind it the enduring search for wholeness and vitality in the literary response. One senses, too, the paradoxical desire to appropriate literature to the dream life of men, and then again to implicate it in the widest sphere of their daily actions. Is not the secret task, for poet and critic alike, to participate in that magic process whereby the word is turned into flesh?&lt;br /&gt;
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The critic therefore feels the need for commitment; he wants to testify. And what is to prevent him? The encounter with an authentic work of art is a bruising experience, full of strange knowledge and hidden pleasure, of the kind we usually spend a life-time resisting. The critic knows that he himself is on trial, and that the act of literary criticism is above all an act of self-judgement. Since his business is to speak of literature, speech in his case must ultimately take the form of self-revelation. But the need for self-revelation is not only a private or existential need. It is also a social function of the critic. “Is art always an outrage - must it by its very nature be an outrage?&amp;quot; Durrell asks.{{sfn|Durrell|Perles|1961|p=9}} The question haunts the critic even more than it does the oafish censors of our time. For should the critic insist on his dubious right to privacy or detachment, his deepest knowledge of literature would remain locked, a private outrage, an inner wound. Yet literature, we know, acts through language; it is a communal call, there where words and experience are one, as it is solitary subversion, where words begin to fail. In the act of testimony, therefore, the critic admits the &#039;&#039;relevance&#039;&#039; of the buried power of literature; he offers himself to the harsh task of mediating between society and vision, culture and anarchy. Only thus can he give to outrage wider reference, give it a meaning beyond itself. There is the risk of course, that such mediation may rob both culture and outrage of their particular force. Yet from that loss a new life in history may be gained, a new consciousness of self and society may be born. This is precisely the gain, implicit in the discomforts of critical commitment, which Lionel Trilling, in his otherwise subtle essay, “On the Modern Element in Modern Literature,” seems to ignore.{{sfn|Trilling|1962|p=267 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Commitment, however, is but a single impulse of the new critical attitude; it simply prepares the ground for dialogue. Another impulse may be defined as the refusal wholly to objectify the work of literature. The art work, of course, has been long considered as an &#039;&#039;object&#039;&#039;, an object for dissection or knowledge, idolatry or classification. Yet the encounter between critic and work is neither entirely objective nor purely aesthetic; it may be a “dialogue” of the kind Martin Buber has proposed. In Buber&#039;s sense, the work of art resists identification with insensible It; for the work demands answer and response, and it requires a meeting. Is it then so perverse to ask the critic, whether he subscribes to Buber’s theology or not, that he “turn toward” the work and confess with Buber, “in each instance a word demanding an answer has happened to me” ?{{sfn|Buber|1955|p=10}} Nothing is mystical in this statement, nothing inimical to the spirit of poetry. The statement, in fact, points to some rather mundane questions which Walter J. Ong, theologian of another faith, happily raises. In his original essay, “The Jinnee in the Well-Wrought Urn,” Father Ong states: “Creative activity is often...powered by the drive to accomplish, in terms of the production of an object of art, an adjustment or readjustment in certain obscure relationships with other persons.&amp;quot; What does this mean? Quite obviously, it means that behind every work of art lurks and strains a human being; less obviously, perhaps, it means that the voice of the human creator, raging heart and feet of clay, is not entirely silenced in his art. The jinnee cannot be exorcised from the urn it inhabits, however shapely the latter may prove; the artifact still comes to life with voices unknown. And indeed this is what we, as readers, require. Once again, Father Ong sees the point clearly: “as a matter of full, serious, protracted contemplation and love, it is unbearable for a man or woman to be faced with anything less than a person. . . .”{{sfn|Ong|1962|p=19, 25}} This is precisely what critics, compelled by the difficult reciprocities of love, may now want to face: not an object but a presence mediated cunningly, incomprehensibly, by language. Such a presence is not simply human. It is the presence, moving and participating in reality, which Owen Barfield, in &#039;&#039;Saving the Appearances&#039;&#039;, has shown us to lie at the heart of the symbolic process. In facing such a presence, critics may hope to recover the primal connection with a universe mediated increasingly by abstractions. But they may also hope to recover something more modest: a spontaneity of judgment which reaches outward, reaches beyond itself. Holden Caulfield, we recall, was moved to call on an author whose work he had much enjoyed. In such naïveté there may be a parable for critics as well as an occasion for derision.&lt;br /&gt;
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If some postwar critics are loth to consider the literary work merely as an object, they are equally reluctant to believe that contemplation is the sole reaction to it. Beyond testimony, beyond participation or dialogue, the critic now wishes to entertain in the possibility that &#039;&#039;action&#039;&#039; maybe a legitimate response to art. By this, of course, I do not mean that he rushes to the barricades after reading &#039;&#039;The Conquerors&#039;&#039;, or that he develops tuberculosis after reading &#039;&#039;The Magic Mountain&#039;&#039;. I mean that the experience of a literary work does not leave him unchanged. To the extent that he is altered in the recesses of his imagination, indeed of his being, to that extent he must act differently in daily life. For if literature is both cognitive and experiential, as we have been so often told, then how can new knowledge but prompt new action? We may have accepted the Thomist notion of &#039;&#039;stasis&#039;&#039; in art much too uncritically. The counter-statement is boldly presented in Sartre&#039;s essay, “ Qu’est Ce Que la Littérature? ” “Parler c’est agir:” Sartre claims, “tout chose qu&#039;on nomme n’est déjà plus tout à fait la même, elle a perdu son innocence.” Sartre continues: “L&#039;œuvre d’art est valeur parce qu’elle est appel.”{{sfn|Sartre|1948|p=72, 98}} The appeal, above all, is to that act of self-definition which the work persuades its reader to perform, an act of definition and also of freedom. For in a sense, the work itself is “created” by the freedom of the reader to give it a concrete and, ultimately, personal meaning. The work, that is, finally enters the total existence of a man, not simply his dream life or aesthetic consciousness, and in doing so, it becomes subject to the total judgment of human passions. This is precisely what an existential writer of a different breed, Camus, meant when he wrote, “To create today is to create dangerously. Any publication is an act, and that act exposes one to the passions of an age that forgives nothing...”{{sfn|Camus|1961|p=251}} But if the writer must create dangerously these days, the critic cannot afford to criticize timorously. Dangerous criticism assumes that final and somewhat frightening responsibility which some critics naturally resist; namely, the willing suspension of aesthetic judgment in the interests of right action.&lt;br /&gt;
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I quite realize the enormity of this assertion. For one thing, it brings the critic dangerously close to the posture of the censor— the commissar, the propaganda helot, the prurient chief of police—who requires that every work of art display its social credentials or else stand convicted. No doubt, the redemption of man is a more momentous task than the creation of beauty, and virtue and goodness are not to be scoffed at. Yet redemption, one suspects, does not lie in the grasp of regulators; nor does virtue depend on the degradation of art by power. How, then, can the critic hope to transcend the aesthetic domain of literature without seeming to capitulate to dogma or authority, without seeming to endorse a vulgar or repressive utilitarianism?&lt;br /&gt;
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There are many answers to this question, though all are equally provisional, for in this as in other literary matters, tact not theory comes to our aid. We can begin, however, by making two observations. First, serious literature offers great resistance to political expediency; other forms of propaganda are far more effective. The basic affinity of modern literature particularly is with vision and outrage. By vision, I mean neither doctrine nor even revelation, but simply a concrete projection of the imagination into the conduct of life. Henry Miller has such an idea in mind when he says: “The role which the artist plays in society is to revive the primitive, anarchic instincts which have been sacrificed for the illusion of living in comfort”; or when he says again: “I do not call poets those who make verses, rhymed or unrhymed. I call that man poet who is capable of profoundly altering the world.”{{sfn|Miller|1939|p=156, 38 ff}} Both these statements reveal the artist’s conception of himself as visionary actor; both attest to his hope that prophecy may find its incarnation, beyond language, in action. Emboldened by such statements—and they are by no means restricted to Miller—the critic may feel justified in participating in the action that the work initiates. This is to say that the critic becomes himself part of the devious process by which a writer’s vision penetrates culture. The character of this devious process is closer to the character of pedagogy than of social reform. This leads me to the second observation. Since the process is indeed devious, subject to all the ambiguities of modern culture, the critic cannot really maintain a purely pragmatic, a purely political view of literature. This is salutary for the activist critic who finds in the visionary or subversive power of literature an inner check on his propensity for dogma, his penchant for expediency. This critical ideal is not nearly as pretentious as it may sound, nor does it always require the critic to make his home in the midst of chaos. It may require him, however, to heed certain &#039;&#039;thematic&#039;&#039; questions which were once considered beneath notice. A number of critical works of the last decade reflect this emergent concern. In &#039;&#039;The Tragic Vision&#039;&#039;, for instance, Murray Krieger pertinently asks, “But how, if we limit ourselves to technical literary definitions, can we find for the tragic any meaning beyond that of Aristotle? The answer is, by moving from formalistic aesthetics to what I would term &#039;thematics.&#039;” Krieger’s analysis of that term cannot be summarized easily, but the implications of his method are stated succinctly enough. He concludes thus: “All of which is perhaps to say only that a literary theory must be adequate to the literary experiences for which it is to account and that we trust our way of experiencing literature only as it is adequate to the life out there, which cries for a way of being organized literarily that will yet leave it preserved intact.”{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=2, 244}}  If the insistence on “the life out there” does not necessarily force the critic into a study of “thematics,” it does persuade him to dwell on precisely those formal matters that invoke the larger aspects of reality and may even engage religious thought. Thus the essays of James E. Miller, Jr., Karl Shapiro, and Bernice Slote, in &#039;&#039;Start With the Sun&#039;&#039;, explore the relation of Dionysian poetry to cosmic consciousness, mystery, and apocalypse. Miss Slote ends taking her cue from a noble phrase of Lawrence, “Perhaps then we may be absolved from the poetry of mirrors.{{sfn|Miller|Shapiro|Slote|1960|p=238}}  Parallel explorations of fiction lead R.W.B. Lewis, in his fine study, &#039;&#039;The Picaresque Saint&#039;&#039;, to distinguish between the generation of Proust, Joyce, and Mann, in whose world the aesthetic experience was supreme, and the generation of Silone, Faulkner, Camus, and Greene, in whose world “the chief experience has been the discovery of what it means to be a human being and to be alive.” Lewis continues: “Criticism, examining this world, is drawn to the more radically human considerations of life and death, and of the aspiring, sinful nature of man.”{{sfn|Lewis|1959|p=9}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Perhaps I have spoken long enough of certain interests of postwar criticism, though I feel I have spoken of them only tangentially. If one were to search for the theoretical basis of these interests—a task which I must leave to more philosophical critics one might be inclined to develop a view of literature that does not put the idea of form as its center. By this I do not simply mean a redefinition of the concept of form so that it may account, say, for the plays of Beckett or the novels of Burroughs. I would plead for a more radical view. From Kant to Cassirer, from Coleridge to Croce and down to the New Critics, the idea of organic form has been a touchstone of value and a cornerstone of theory in literary study. We assume, and indeed we believe, that the imagination incarnates itself only as an aesthetic order, and that such an order is available to the analytic mind. We believe more: that aesthetic order defines the deepest pleasures of literature and conveys its enduring attractions. I am not at all secure in these beliefs. Indeed, I am willing to take the devil&#039;s part and entertain the notion that “structure” is not always present or explicable in literary works; and that where it reveals itself, it is not always worth the attention we give it. Such works as &#039;&#039;Hamlet&#039;&#039; and &#039;&#039;Don Quixote&#039;&#039; not diminished by the discovery that their form, whatever it may be, is less organic than we expect the form of great works to be. Even that supreme artifact of our century, that total structure of symbols, puns, and cross-references, that city of words full of secret alleys and connecting catacombs, even Joyce&#039;s &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039;, may prove to the keen, fresh eye of a critic more of a labyrinth, dead ends and ways without issue, than Dublin itself which encloses the nightmare of history. This is precisely what Robert Martin Adams concludes in his fascinating study, &#039;&#039;Surface and Symbol&#039;&#039;. Adams inspects minutely the wealth of details in the novel, and finds that many of them serve to blur or confuse rather than to sustain patterns: &amp;quot;The close reading of &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039; thus reveals that the meaningless is deeply interwoven with the meaningful in the texture of the novel...It is a book and an antibook, a work of art particularly receptive to accident. It builds to acute and poignant states of consciousness, yet its larger ambition seems to be to put aside consciousness as a painful burden.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Adams|1962|p=245, 253}}Nothing catastrophic to the future of criticism is presaged by this statement. Quite the contrary: criticism may derive new vitality from some attention to the unstructured and even random element in literature. For is not form, after all, best conceived as a mode of awareness, a function of cognition, a question, that is, of epistemology rather than ontology? Its objective reality is qualified by the overpowering reality of human &#039;&#039;need&#039;&#039;. In the end, we perceive what we need to perceive, and our sense of pattern as of relation is conditioned by our deeper sense of relevance. This is why the aesthetic of the future will have to reckon with Freud, Nietzsche, and even Kierkegaard, who have given us, more than Marx himself, compelling economies of human needs.{{efn|In recent criticism, certain works have already begun to reflect this particular concern. Besides the works by R. W. B. Lewis and Murray Krieger already cited, one might mention Geoffrey Hartman, &#039;&#039;The Unmediated Vision&#039;&#039; (New Haven, 1954), Ihab Hassan, &#039;&#039;Radical Innocence&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1961), Frederick J. Hoffman, &#039;&#039;The Mortal No&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1964), and Arturo B. Fallico, &#039;&#039;Art and Existentialism&#039;&#039; (Englewood Cliffs, N. J., 1962).}} &lt;br /&gt;
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I could not persist in suggesting the theoretical implications of postwar criticism without falling into the trap which I have myself described. We do not always need a theoretical argument to bring forth a new critical attitude; we only need good critics. But perhaps we need, more than anything else, to regard literature in a more oblique fashion, regard it even in the slanting light of its own absurdity. We might then see that the theoretical solemnity of modern criticism ignore the self-destructive element of literature, its need for self-annulment. What Camus said of his own work applies, in various ways, to all literature: the act of creation is akin to chance and disorder, to which it comes through diversity, and it constantly meets with futility. &amp;quot;Creating or not creating changes nothing, &amp;quot; Camus writes. &amp;quot;The absurd creator does not prize his work. He could repudiate it.&amp;quot; And again: &amp;quot;The absurd work illustrates the intelligence that works up appearances and covers with images what has no reason. If the world were clear, art would not exist.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Camus|1959|p=72 ff}} Perhaps the function of literature, after all, is not to clarify that world but to help create a world in which literature becomes superfluous. And perhaps the function of criticism, as I shall argue later, is to attain to the difficult wisdom of perceiving how literature is finally, and &#039;&#039;only&#039;&#039; finally, inconsequential.{{efn|These heretical statements are developed more fully in my essay &amp;quot;The Dismemberment of Orpheus,&amp;quot; &#039;&#039;American Scholar&#039;&#039;, XXXII.}}{{sfn|Hassan|1963|p=463-484}}                                                                       &lt;br /&gt;
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The foregoing remarks limn certain trends in postwar criticism; they are not intended to define a school or movement. Still, I feel it wise to anticipate some objections before concluding this mock survey.&lt;br /&gt;
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It may be argued, for instance, that many of the attitudes I have described are not so novel as I make them out to be. Richards&#039; emotive theories, Burke&#039;s concept of action, Leavis’ cultural vitalism, Trilling’s depth-view of manners and imagination, Blackmur’s metaphors of silence in literature, and above all, Herbert Read’s sympathy for the anarchic spirit, certainly open the way to the speculations of younger critics. The latter, however, still distinguish themselves by a certain quality of passion, a generosity toward the perversities of spirit, and a sense of crisis in man’s fate. Two recent books of criticism, R. W. B. Lewis’ &#039;&#039;The American Adam&#039;&#039; and Leslie Fiedler&#039;s &#039;&#039;Love and Death at the American Novel&#039;&#039;, seem quite disparate in tone and method; yet both, I think, stand in this respect closer to Lawrence’s seminal work, &#039;&#039;Studies in Classic American Literature&#039;&#039;, than to Matthiessen’s &#039;&#039;American Renaissance&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
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Then again, it might be argued that my use of the terms, “form” and “theory,&amp;quot; appears tendentious; that, ideally speaking, neither of these terms excludes larger commitments; and that, in any case, there are so many concepts of “form” and “structure” in modern criticism as to make a general condemnation of them irresponsible. I should like to think that there are more wicked uses of irresponsibility than in the criticism of criticism. What an ideal formalist theory may contribute to our appreciation of literature is not in dispute; what it has contributed in the past by way of practical criticism is also very considerable. Still, do we not all sense the growing inertness of the Spirit of criticism beneath the weight of the Letter? One sometimes feels that in another decade or two, the task or criticism may be safely performed by some lively computing machine which, blessed with total recall, would never misquote as some critics are reputed to do.&lt;br /&gt;
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I speak, of course, hyperbolically. Perhaps I can make the point clearer, and sharpen thereby the distinction between two generations of critics, by referring to two eminent theoreticians of literature. Both René Wellek and Northrop Frye are men of vast erudition; both have shaped the course of literary studies in America. This, I think, is entirely as it should be; the timely authority of such works as Wellek and Warren’s &#039;&#039;Theory of Literature&#039;&#039; or Frye’s &#039;&#039;Anatomy of Criticism&#039;&#039; deserves nothing less. Yet at the risk of seeming ungracious, it is to their later, and perhaps lesser, works that I wish to refer. After all, the question still remains: what lies beyond formalist theory?&lt;br /&gt;
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In &#039;&#039;Concepts of Criticism&#039;&#039;, Professor Wellek shows himself to be somewhat out of love with the directions of contemporary criticism. “It seems to me that in spite of the basic truth of the insight of organicism, the unity of content and form, we have arrived today at something like a deadend,” he states.{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=65}} His dissatisfaction, however, is of short duration. Professor Wellek sees the way out in the doctrine of “structuralism,&amp;quot; evolved by the Prague Linguistic Circle - alas, now defunct! “Such a concept of the literary work of art avoids two pitfalls,” Professor Wellek hopes, “the extreme of organicism which leads to a lumpish totality in which discrimination becomes impossible, and the opposite danger of atomistic fragmentation.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=68}} The way out, as it turns out, comes very close to the ancient ideal of the golden mean. This is judicious. But is it really judiciousness which prompts him in two later chapters, “Philosophy and Post- war American Criticism” and “Main Trends of Twentieth-Century Criticism,” to deride all recent criticism? The brilliant and inventive concern with American literature in the last two decades is deplored as an example of “romantic historicism,” and mythic and existential criticism are condemned as an instance of “the irrationalistic philosophies of Europe” adapted to the pragmatic temper of the United States.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=333 ff}} Professor Wellek sadly concludes: “Only those who adhere to either the German idealist tradition, in the Kantian or Coleridgean version, or those who rediscover Aristotle, still keep a grasp on the nature of art and recognize the necessity of an aesthetic and the ideal of a study of literature as literature.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=342}} Having defined literature in formalist terms, it is no wonder that Professor Wellek &#039;&#039;still&#039;&#039; believes formalist theory to be the most rewarding view of literature. Thus is the rigor of tautology achieved.&lt;br /&gt;
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&#039;&#039;The Well-Tempered Critic&#039;&#039;, which is not wrought in the massive architectural manner of Professor Frye’s earlier work, is too urbane to be tautological. Its urbanity expresses a fine subtlety of mind in the final chapter of the book, and the subtlety itself disguises a somewhat chilly view of literature. Professor Frye acknowledges the distinction between the classic and romantic tempers in criticism, and proceeds to discover the correlatives of each. The classic temper, he informs us, is aesthetic, the romantic is psychological; the former views art as artifact, the latter as expression; the one derives from Aristotle, the other from Longinus. I do not quarrel with these distinctions, particularly when categorical distinctions make the very basis of the geometric edifices Professor Frye likes to erect. “The first step to take here,&amp;quot; he argues, “is to realize that just as a poem implies a distinction between the poet as man and the poet as verbal craftsman, so the response to a poem implies a corresponding distinction in the critic.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=123}} For both Northrop Frye and René Wellek, we see, the critical act rests on the &#039;&#039;separation&#039;&#039; of certain human faculties from the continuum of felt life. There are few critics willing to speak professionally for the ancient female principle, acceptance and fusion, and the enveloping wholeness of things, few willing to speak for the fourfold vision of Blake. Yet carried far enough, distinctions become the source of the mind’s alienation, the Cartesian madness of the West. &lt;br /&gt;
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Again, Professor Frye views criticism not as the experience of literature but, more discretely, as an area of knowledge. This leads him to the hard-boiled conclusion, so repugnant to visionary educators, that “the values we want the student to acquire from us cannot be taught: only knowledge of literature can be taught.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=136}} Can knowledge be dissociated from value, and criticism forego its aspiration to wisdom? Apparently so. “The fundamental act of criticism is a disinterested response to a work of literature in which all one’s beliefs, engagements, commitments, prejudices, stampedings of pity and terror, are ordered to be quiet,” he continues.{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=140}} Ordered to be quiet! Who listens, then, and who speaks instead? The imagination never demanded such frozen void, nor do the supreme fictions of the mind reject the earth they transmute. We have seen criticism gaze long enough on the world with the quiet eyes of Apollo. Shall we ever see it partake again of the sacred flesh of Dionysus?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I do not wish to suggest that the Dionysiac vision is bound to penetrate literary criticism the world over. I do sense, however, a movement in contemporary letters which must force us to revise our tenets or else accept the charge of theoretical isolationism in America. It is doubtful, for instance, that the plays of Beckett or Genet or Artaud, the novels of William Burroughs, Maurice Blanchot, or Alain Robbe-Grillet, the later stories of Salinger, the poetry of Charles Olson, Blaise Cendrars, or Dylan Thomas—and I cite these names quite at random—can be illuminated brightly by the critical terms of Professors Wellek and Frye. Nathalie Sarraute&#039;s latest book, &#039;&#039;The Golden Fruits&#039;&#039;, and Marc Saporta’s “shuffle novel,” &#039;&#039;Number 1&#039;&#039;, deny the conventional idea of structure. The first is a novel about a novel which cancels itself in the very act of reading; the second is a stratagem which accepts the principle of chance as an integral part of the literary experience. As for Burroughs’ &#039;&#039;The Soft Machine&#039;&#039;, it applies— to what extent, no one will know— the “cut up method of Brion Gysin,” a method which combines collage and montage. If these works possess a form, it is probably a “non-telic&amp;quot; form of the kind recently reflected in painting and music.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Meyer|1963|p=169-186}} Must we then dismiss such works as faddish freaks, of more interest to literary gossip than literary history?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In France, where criticism has been long associated with the spirit of lucidity, critics take a different stand. A quick look at some of their statements may persuade us that their view of literature is not too far from the view I have proposed. The common theme of Claude Mauriac’s &#039;&#039;The New Literature&#039;&#039; is stated thus: “After the silence of Rimbaud, the blank page of Mallarmé, the inarticulate cry of Artaud, a literature finally dissolves in alliteration with Joyce. The author of &#039;&#039;Finnegans Wake&#039;&#039; in fact creates out of whole cloth words full of so many diverse overtones that they are eclipsed by them. For Beckett, on the contrary, words all say the same thing.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Mauriac|1959|p=12}} The theme of Roland Barthes&#039; &#039;&#039;Le Degré Zéro de L‘Ecriture&#039;&#039; is similar: the avatar of the new literature is absence. Barthes writes: “dans ces écritures neutres, appelées ici ‘le degré zéro de l’écriture,&#039; on peut facilement discerner le mouvement même d’une négation, comme si la Littérature, tendant depuis un siècle à transmuer sa surface dans une forme sans hérédité, ne trouvait plus de pureté que dans l’absence de tout signe, proposant en fin l’accomplissement de ce rêve orphéen: un écrivain sans Littérature.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Barthes|1959|p=12}} Likewise, for Maurice Blanchot literature is moving toward “l’ère saris parole.” This movement may lead to a form of writing that is incessant sound; or it may lead, as Blanchot states in Le Livre à Venir, quite in the other direction: “la littérature va vers elle-même, vers son essence qui est la disparition.”{{sfn|Blanchot|1959|p=237}} Both directions, we can surmise, end in the dissolution of significant form, the abdication of language. Is this silence at the heart of modern literature the definition of outrage, a subjective correlative of our terror? Or is the monstrous language of action, which Bachelard {{sfn|Bachelard|1963|p=154}} believes to be pointing, beyond Lautréamontism, toward “une réintegration de l&#039;humain dans la vie ardente...,” a closer correlative of that terror? We can only observe that from Sade and Lautréamont to Kafka and Beckett, the twin dark streams of poetry, the poetry of action and the poetry of silence, have been flowing toward some unknown sea wherein some figure of apocalypse, man or beast, still lies submerged.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Critics, however, are of many ilks, and for some the mantic role is as foreign as Elijah&#039;s. I wish to force no prophecies in the mouths of students of literature. Still, it is not unreasonable to ask that criticism evolve a method which takes deeper cognizance of the evolving character of life as of literature. The point is almost too obvious: contemporary letters can be judged as little by the standards of pure formalism as, let us say, Romantic poetry can we evaluated by the strict conventions of neo-Classicism.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The problem of criticism, however, must not be left to the indolent spirit of literary relativism. Indeed, the problems may not prove to be one of literary method at all. The problem of criticism is always the challenge of awareness, full awareness of human existence in time and in place, but also outside of both, in the dream world which antecedes all responsibilities. In the end, perhaps, the problem of critics and poets alike is one of human destiny. To say less is to confuse cowardice with modesty.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If there is underlying theme in recent American criticism, it is the implicit theme of crisis, a crisis not merely of literary method but of literature itself, which means of culture and consciousness. The crisis, as Nicolas Berdyaev knew, is not the crisis of humanism but of humanity itself. In the past, periods of crisis have often bred visions of apocalypse.{{sfn|Rowley|nd|p=150-178}} Such visions may come our way again. They may even lurk in a critic&#039;s perplexity. Here is how Krieger put the question: “Or is it, perhaps, that the Kierkegaardian version is right and that our world has itself become the tragic visionary in its unbelief using self-destructive crises to force itself finally to confront the absurdities of earthly reality...? Which is to ask fearfully and even unwillingly, whether we have not been beguiled by aesthetic satisfactions and whether the utterly striped tragic vision may not after all be less illusory than the fullness which shines through tragedy.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=12}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is no time to sit in judgment on the world or to interpret its modern tragedy. From the Revelation of St. John the Divine to Norman O. Brown’s extraordinary PBK address, entitled &amp;quot;Apocalypse,” men have envisioned the destruction of the world and foreseen its resurrection. “Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection: on such the second death has no power...,” St. John says.{{sfn|Revelation|nd|p=xx.6}} But we are not at the first resurrection yet; we are not even beyond madness. Thus from Norman O. Brown: “The alternative to mind is certainly madness... Our real choice is between holy and unholy madness: open your eyes and look around you—madness is in the saddle anyhow.”{{sfn|Brown|1961|p=47}} What task will criticism perform, wavering between holy and unholy madness? What bootless task?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Criticism is no country for old men of any age. Criticism, which was born to behold literature, must still do so and look beyond itself. Tack and rigor may attend all our words, but our words, but our words will avail nothing if man prevails not. What lies beyond criticism? D.H. Lawrence knew. This is what he says in his &#039;&#039;Apocalypse&#039;&#039;: “O lovely green dragon of the new day, the undawned day, &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; in touch, and release us from the horrid grip of the evil-smelling old Logos! Come in silence, and say nothing. Come in touch, in soft new touch like a spring-time, and say nothing.”{{sfn|Lawrence|1931|pp. 233 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
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{{Template:Aade-sm}}&lt;br /&gt;
==Notes==&lt;br /&gt;
{{notelist}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Citations==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Reflist|20em}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Works Cited==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Refbegin|40em}}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Adams |first=Robert Martin |date=1962 |title=Surface and Symbol: The Consistency of James Joyce&#039;s Ulysses |location=New York |publisher=Oxford University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Bachelard |first=Gaston |date=1963 |title=Lautréamont |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Barthes|first=Roland |date=1959 |title=Le Degré Zéro de L&#039;Ecriture  |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Blanchot |first=Maurice|date=1959 |title= Le Livre à Venir |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last=Brown |first=Norman O.|date=1961 |title=Apocalypse. |url= |journal=Harper&#039;s|volume= |issue= |pages= |doi= |access-date= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Buber|first=Martin |date=1955 | title=Between Man and Man |location=Boston |publisher=Harcourt, Brace, &amp;amp; World |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Camus|first=Albert |date=1961 |title=Resistance, Rebellion, and Death |location=New York |publisher=Knopf |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Durrell |first=Lawrence and Alfred Perles |date=1961 |title=Art and Outrage: A Correspondence about Henry Miller |location=New York|publisher=Dutton |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Frye|first=Northrop |date=1963 |title=The Well-Tempered Critic|location=Bloomington |publisher=Indiana University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger|first=Murray |date=1959 |title=The Myth of Sisyphus|location=New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger |first=Murray |date=1960 |title=The Tragic Vision: Variations on a Theme of Literary Interpretation |location=New York |publisher=Holt, Rinehart and Winston |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lawrence |first=D.H. |date=1931 |title= Apocalypse |location=Florence |publisher=G. Orioli |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lewis|first=R.W.B. |date=1959 |title=The Picaresque Saint|location=Philadelphia and New York|publisher=Lippincott |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Mauriac|first=Claude |date=1959 |title=The New Literature |publisher=G. Braziller|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Meyer|first=Leonard B. |date=1963 |title=The End of the Renaissance |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=Henry |date=1939 |title=The Cosmological Eye |location=Norfork|publisher=New Directions|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=James E., Karl Shapiro and Bernice Slote|date=1960 |title=Start With the Sun|location=Lincoln |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Ong|first=Walter J. |date=1962 |title=The Barbarian Within, and Other Fugitive Essays and Studies |publisher=Macmillan |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Rowley |first= H.H.|title= The Relevance of Apocalyptic&#039;&#039; |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Sartre|first=Jean-Paul |date=1948 |title=Situations. li, Qu&#039;est-Ce Que La Littérature? |location=Paris |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last1=Trilling |first1=Lionel |date=1962 |title=On the Modern Element in Modern Literature |journal=The Partisan Review Anthology |volume= |issue= |pages= | ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Wellek |first=René |date=1963 |title=Concepts of Criticism |url= |location=New Haven |publisher=Yale University Press|page=|isbn= |author-link= |ref=harv }}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
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		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: added more to publication title&lt;/p&gt;
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&lt;div&gt;&#039;&#039;COMPARATIVE LITERATURE STUDIES&#039;&#039; Vol. I, No. 4, 1964&lt;br /&gt;
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Beyond a Theory of Literature: Intimations of Apocalypse?&lt;br /&gt;
{{byline|last=Hassan|first=Ihab}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Begin with an assumption: that literature defines our concepts of criticism or else it defies them, and that life constantly challenges the pieties of both art and thought. What I shall attempt here, then, could not be considered an authoritative review of postwar criticism. It should be understood, rather, as a partial statement on the gathering mood of American criticism, an intimation of a trend which the facts of literary history in the past two decades (colored inevitably by my own sense of fact) may help to clarify.&lt;br /&gt;
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The admission that I neither hold nor accept a definitive view of criticism should not be too shocking. In England, where the empiric temper prevails in the name of common sense or urbanity, and even in France, where questions of methodology yield to a lively concern with new writing, such an admission would seem fairly innocuous. It is otherwise in America. Among us, the notion that criticism must become a rigorous, quasi-scientific activity in order to justify its name still finds wide support. Not long ago —or is it really ages past?— most students of literature, myself included, recognized the elegance of René Wellek’s formulation of the destiny of criticism: “the interpretation of literature as distinct from other activities of man.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=343}} Coming from Professor Wellek, the emphasis on interpretation rather than on literary theory seemed unduly self-effacing. Be that as it may, the formula appealed then to the common rage for order, and seemed also to aver the dignity of the humanities on terms that the age demanded. With the years, however, the formula seems, to me at least, to have lost in elegance as it has gained in naïveté. The breed of technicians it has unwittingly sanctioned may have found a truer consummation of their hopes in the laboratories of Oak Ridge. Literature as a distinct activity of man? Criticism as a distinct response to a distinct activity of man? What is man that we should be so little mindful of him, so arbitrary with the complexities of his mind? From Surrealism to Absurdism, literature itself suggests that a distinct aesthetic response may be defined only at the risk of deadly discrimination.&lt;br /&gt;
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Yet my object is not to engage in polemics. The point can be stated with some equanimity: a new breed of American critics are anxious to assert them selves against the rigors and pieties they have inherited. Their mood is restless, eclectic, speculative; sometimes, it is even apocalyptic. Those who feel out of sympathy with them may wish to apply different epithets: romantic, primitivist, existential, amateurish, or plain anti-intellectual. (The usefulness of these tags, dispensed usually with contumely, is as doubtful as their accuracy.) Others, however, may recognize the creative possibilities of this new mood, troubled, vague, or disruptive as it may seem.&lt;br /&gt;
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Evidence of the new mood is various though one senses behind it the enduring search for wholeness and vitality in the literary response. One senses, too, the paradoxical desire to appropriate literature to the dream life of men, and then again to implicate it in the widest sphere of their daily actions. Is not the secret task, for poet and critic alike, to participate in that magic process whereby the word is turned into flesh?&lt;br /&gt;
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The critic therefore feels the need for commitment; he wants to testify. And what is to prevent him? The encounter with an authentic work of art is a bruising experience, full of strange knowledge and hidden pleasure, of the kind we usually spend a life-time resisting. The critic knows that he himself is on trial, and that the act of literary criticism is above all an act of self-judgement. Since his business is to speak of literature, speech in his case must ultimately take the form of self-revelation. But the need for self-revelation is not only a private or existential need. It is also a social function of the critic. “Is art always an outrage - must it by its very nature be an outrage?&amp;quot; Durrell asks.{{sfn|Durrell|Perles|1961|p=9}} The question haunts the critic even more than it does the oafish censors of our time. For should the critic insist on his dubious right to privacy or detachment, his deepest knowledge of literature would remain locked, a private outrage, an inner wound. Yet literature, we know, acts through language; it is a communal call, there where words and experience are one, as it is solitary subversion, where words begin to fail. In the act of testimony, therefore, the critic admits the &#039;&#039;relevance&#039;&#039; of the buried power of literature; he offers himself to the harsh task of mediating between society and vision, culture and anarchy. Only thus can he give to outrage wider reference, give it a meaning beyond itself. There is the risk of course, that such mediation may rob both culture and outrage of their particular force. Yet from that loss a new life in history may be gained, a new consciousness of self and society may be born. This is precisely the gain, implicit in the discomforts of critical commitment, which Lionel Trilling, in his otherwise subtle essay, “On the Modern Element in Modern Literature,” seems to ignore.{{sfn|Trilling|1962|p=267 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Commitment, however, is but a single impulse of the new critical attitude; it simply prepares the ground for dialogue. Another impulse may be defined as the refusal wholly to objectify the work of literature. The art work, of course, has been long considered as an &#039;&#039;object&#039;&#039;, an object for dissection or knowledge, idolatry or classification. Yet the encounter between critic and work is neither entirely objective nor purely aesthetic; it may be a “dialogue” of the kind Martin Buber has proposed. In Buber&#039;s sense, the work of art resists identification with insensible It; for the work demands answer and response, and it requires a meeting. Is it then so perverse to ask the critic, whether he subscribes to Buber’s theology or not, that he “turn toward” the work and confess with Buber, “in each instance a word demanding an answer has happened to me” ?{{sfn|Buber|1955|p=10}} Nothing is mystical in this statement, nothing inimical to the spirit of poetry. The statement, in fact, points to some rather mundane questions which Walter J. Ong, theologian of another faith, happily raises. In his original essay, “The Jinnee in the Well-Wrought Urn,” Father Ong states: “Creative activity is often...powered by the drive to accomplish, in terms of the production of an object of art, an adjustment or readjustment in certain obscure relationships with other persons.&amp;quot; What does this mean? Quite obviously, it means that behind every work of art lurks and strains a human being; less obviously, perhaps, it means that the voice of the human creator, raging heart and feet of clay, is not entirely silenced in his art. The jinnee cannot be exorcised from the urn it inhabits, however shapely the latter may prove; the artifact still comes to life with voices unknown. And indeed this is what we, as readers, require. Once again, Father Ong sees the point clearly: “as a matter of full, serious, protracted contemplation and love, it is unbearable for a man or woman to be faced with anything less than a person. . . .”{{sfn|Ong|1962|p=19, 25}} This is precisely what critics, compelled by the difficult reciprocities of love, may now want to face: not an object but a presence mediated cunningly, incomprehensibly, by language. Such a presence is not simply human. It is the presence, moving and participating in reality, which Owen Barfield, in &#039;&#039;Saving the Appearances&#039;&#039;, has shown us to lie at the heart of the symbolic process. In facing such a presence, critics may hope to recover the primal connection with a universe mediated increasingly by abstractions. But they may also hope to recover something more modest: a spontaneity of judgment which reaches outward, reaches beyond itself. Holden Caulfield, we recall, was moved to call on an author whose work he had much enjoyed. In such naïveté there may be a parable for critics as well as an occasion for derision.&lt;br /&gt;
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If some postwar critics are loth to consider the literary work merely as an object, they are equally reluctant to believe that contemplation is the sole reaction to it. Beyond testimony, beyond participation or dialogue, the critic now wishes to entertain in the possibility that &#039;&#039;action&#039;&#039; maybe a legitimate response to art. By this, of course, I do not mean that he rushes to the barricades after reading &#039;&#039;The Conquerors&#039;&#039;, or that he develops tuberculosis after reading &#039;&#039;The Magic Mountain&#039;&#039;. I mean that the experience of a literary work does not leave him unchanged. To the extent that he is altered in the recesses of his imagination, indeed of his being, to that extent he must act differently in daily life. For if literature is both cognitive and experiential, as we have been so often told, then how can new knowledge but prompt new action? We may have accepted the Thomist notion of &#039;&#039;stasis&#039;&#039; in art much too uncritically. The counter-statement is boldly presented in Sartre&#039;s essay, “ Qu’est Ce Que la Littérature? ” “Parler c’est agir:” Sartre claims, “tout chose qu&#039;on nomme n’est déjà plus tout à fait la même, elle a perdu son innocence.” Sartre continues: “L&#039;œuvre d’art est valeur parce qu’elle est appel.”{{sfn|Sartre|1948|p=72, 98}} The appeal, above all, is to that act of self-definition which the work persuades its reader to perform, an act of definition and also of freedom. For in a sense, the work itself is “created” by the freedom of the reader to give it a concrete and, ultimately, personal meaning. The work, that is, finally enters the total existence of a man, not simply his dream life or aesthetic consciousness, and in doing so, it becomes subject to the total judgment of human passions. This is precisely what an existential writer of a different breed, Camus, meant when he wrote, “To create today is to create dangerously. Any publication is an act, and that act exposes one to the passions of an age that forgives nothing...”{{sfn|Camus|1961|p=251}} But if the writer must create dangerously these days, the critic cannot afford to criticize timorously. Dangerous criticism assumes that final and somewhat frightening responsibility which some critics naturally resist; namely, the willing suspension of aesthetic judgment in the interests of right action.&lt;br /&gt;
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I quite realize the enormity of this assertion. For one thing, it brings the critic dangerously close to the posture of the censor— the commissar, the propaganda helot, the prurient chief of police—who requires that every work of art display its social credentials or else stand convicted. No doubt, the redemption of man is a more momentous task than the creation of beauty, and virtue and goodness are not to be scoffed at. Yet redemption, one suspects, does not lie in the grasp of regulators; nor does virtue depend on the degradation of art by power. How, then, can the critic hope to transcend the aesthetic domain of literature without seeming to capitulate to dogma or authority, without seeming to endorse a vulgar or repressive utilitarianism?&lt;br /&gt;
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There are many answers to this question, though all are equally provisional, for in this as in other literary matters, tact not theory comes to our aid. We can begin, however, by making two observations. First, serious literature offers great resistance to political expediency; other forms of propaganda are far more effective. The basic affinity of modern literature particularly is with vision and outrage. By vision, I mean neither doctrine nor even revelation, but simply a concrete projection of the imagination into the conduct of life. Henry Miller has such an idea in mind when he says: “The role which the artist plays in society is to revive the primitive, anarchic instincts which have been sacrificed for the illusion of living in comfort”; or when he says again: “I do not call poets those who make verses, rhymed or unrhymed. I call that man poet who is capable of profoundly altering the world.”{{sfn|Miller|1939|p=156, 38 ff}} Both these statements reveal the artist’s conception of himself as visionary actor; both attest to his hope that prophecy may find its incarnation, beyond language, in action. Emboldened by such statements—and they are by no means restricted to Miller—the critic may feel justified in participating in the action that the work initiates. This is to say that the critic becomes himself part of the devious process by which a writer’s vision penetrates culture. The character of this devious process is closer to the character of pedagogy than of social reform. This leads me to the second observation. Since the process is indeed devious, subject to all the ambiguities of modern culture, the critic cannot really maintain a purely pragmatic, a purely political view of literature. This is salutary for the activist critic who finds in the visionary or subversive power of literature an inner check on his propensity for dogma, his penchant for expediency. This critical ideal is not nearly as pretentious as it may sound, nor does it always require the critic to make his home in the midst of chaos. It may require him, however, to heed certain &#039;&#039;thematic&#039;&#039; questions which were once considered beneath notice. A number of critical works of the last decade reflect this emergent concern. In &#039;&#039;The Tragic Vision&#039;&#039;, for instance, Murray Krieger pertinently asks, “But how, if we limit ourselves to technical literary definitions, can we find for the tragic any meaning beyond that of Aristotle? The answer is, by moving from formalistic aesthetics to what I would term &#039;thematics.&#039;” Krieger’s analysis of that term cannot be summarized easily, but the implications of his method are stated succinctly enough. He concludes thus: “All of which is perhaps to say only that a literary theory must be adequate to the literary experiences for which it is to account and that we trust our way of experiencing literature only as it is adequate to the life out there, which cries for a way of being organized literarily that will yet leave it preserved intact.”{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=2, 244}}  If the insistence on “the life out there” does not necessarily force the critic into a study of “thematics,” it does persuade him to dwell on precisely those formal matters that invoke the larger aspects of reality and may even engage religious thought. Thus the essays of James E. Miller, Jr., Karl Shapiro, and Bernice Slote, in &#039;&#039;Start With the Sun&#039;&#039;, explore the relation of Dionysian poetry to cosmic consciousness, mystery, and apocalypse. Miss Slote ends taking her cue from a noble phrase of Lawrence, “Perhaps then we may be absolved from the poetry of mirrors.{{sfn|Miller|Shapiro|Slote|1960|p=238}}  Parallel explorations of fiction lead R.W.B. Lewis, in his fine study, &#039;&#039;The Picaresque Saint&#039;&#039;, to distinguish between the generation of Proust, Joyce, and Mann, in whose world the aesthetic experience was supreme, and the generation of Silone, Faulkner, Camus, and Greene, in whose world “the chief experience has been the discovery of what it means to be a human being and to be alive.” Lewis continues: “Criticism, examining this world, is drawn to the more radically human considerations of life and death, and of the aspiring, sinful nature of man.”{{sfn|Lewis|1959|p=9}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Perhaps I have spoken long enough of certain interests of postwar criticism, though I feel I have spoken of them only tangentially. If one were to search for the theoretical basis of these interests—a task which I must leave to more philosophical critics one might be inclined to develop a view of literature that does not put the idea of form as its center. By this I do not simply mean a redefinition of the concept of form so that it may account, say, for the plays of Beckett or the novels of Burroughs. I would plead for a more radical view. From Kant to Cassirer, from Coleridge to Croce and down to the New Critics, the idea of organic form has been a touchstone of value and a cornerstone of theory in literary study. We assume, and indeed we believe, that the imagination incarnates itself only as an aesthetic order, and that such an order is available to the analytic mind. We believe more: that aesthetic order defines the deepest pleasures of literature and conveys its enduring attractions. I am not at all secure in these beliefs. Indeed, I am willing to take the devil&#039;s part and entertain the notion that “structure” is not always present or explicable in literary works; and that where it reveals itself, it is not always worth the attention we give it. Such works as &#039;&#039;Hamlet&#039;&#039; and &#039;&#039;Don Quixote&#039;&#039; not diminished by the discovery that their form, whatever it may be, is less organic than we expect the form of great works to be. Even that supreme artifact of our century, that total structure of symbols, puns, and cross-references, that city of words full of secret alleys and connecting catacombs, even Joyce&#039;s &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039;, may prove to the keen, fresh eye of a critic more of a labyrinth, dead ends and ways without issue, than Dublin itself which encloses the nightmare of history. This is precisely what Robert Martin Adams concludes in his fascinating study, &#039;&#039;Surface and Symbol&#039;&#039;. Adams inspects minutely the wealth of details in the novel, and finds that many of them serve to blur or confuse rather than to sustain patterns: &amp;quot;The close reading of &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039; thus reveals that the meaningless is deeply interwoven with the meaningful in the texture of the novel...It is a book and an antibook, a work of art particularly receptive to accident. It builds to acute and poignant states of consciousness, yet its larger ambition seems to be to put aside consciousness as a painful burden.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Adams|1962|p=245, 253}}Nothing catastrophic to the future of criticism is presaged by this statement. Quite the contrary: criticism may derive new vitality from some attention to the unstructured and even random element in literature. For is not form, after all, best conceived as a mode of awareness, a function of cognition, a question, that is, of epistemology rather than ontology? Its objective reality is qualified by the overpowering reality of human &#039;&#039;need&#039;&#039;. In the end, we perceive what we need to perceive, and our sense of pattern as of relation is conditioned by our deeper sense of relevance. This is why the aesthetic of the future will have to reckon with Freud, Nietzsche, and even Kierkegaard, who have given us, more than Marx himself, compelling economies of human needs.{{efn|In recent criticism, certain works have already begun to reflect this particular concern. Besides the works by R. W. B. Lewis and Murray Krieger already cited, one might mention Geoffrey Hartman, &#039;&#039;The Unmediated Vision&#039;&#039; (New Haven, 1954), Ihab Hassan, &#039;&#039;Radical Innocence&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1961), Frederick J. Hoffman, &#039;&#039;The Mortal No&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1964), and Arturo B. Fallico, &#039;&#039;Art and Existentialism&#039;&#039; (Englewood Cliffs, N. J., 1962).}} &lt;br /&gt;
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I could not persist in suggesting the theoretical implications of postwar criticism without falling into the trap which I have myself described. We do not always need a theoretical argument to bring forth a new critical attitude; we only need good critics. But perhaps we need, more than anything else, to regard literature in a more oblique fashion, regard it even in the slanting light of its own absurdity. We might then see that the theoretical solemnity of modern criticism ignore the self-destructive element of literature, its need for self-annulment. What Camus said of his own work applies, in various ways, to all literature: the act of creation is akin to chance and disorder, to which it comes through diversity, and it constantly meets with futility. &amp;quot;Creating or not creating changes nothing, &amp;quot; Camus writes. &amp;quot;The absurd creator does not prize his work. He could repudiate it.&amp;quot; And again: &amp;quot;The absurd work illustrates the intelligence that works up appearances and covers with images what has no reason. If the world were clear, art would not exist.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Camus|1959|p=72 ff}} Perhaps the function of literature, after all, is not to clarify that world but to help create a world in which literature becomes superfluous. And perhaps the function of criticism, as I shall argue later, is to attain to the difficult wisdom of perceiving how literature is finally, and &#039;&#039;only&#039;&#039; finally, inconsequential.{{efn|These heretical statements are developed more fully in my essay &amp;quot;The Dismemberment of Orpheus,&amp;quot; &#039;&#039;American Scholar&#039;&#039;, XXXII.}}{{sfn|Hassan|1963|p=463-484}}                                                                       &lt;br /&gt;
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The foregoing remarks limn certain trends in postwar criticism; they are not intended to define a school or movement. Still, I feel it wise to anticipate some objections before concluding this mock survey.&lt;br /&gt;
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It may be argued, for instance, that many of the attitudes I have described are not so novel as I make them out to be. Richards&#039; emotive theories, Burke&#039;s concept of action, Leavis’ cultural vitalism, Trilling’s depth-view of manners and imagination, Blackmur’s metaphors of silence in literature, and above all, Herbert Read’s sympathy for the anarchic spirit, certainly open the way to the speculations of younger critics. The latter, however, still distinguish themselves by a certain quality of passion, a generosity toward the perversities of spirit, and a sense of crisis in man’s fate. Two recent books of criticism, R. W. B. Lewis’ &#039;&#039;The American Adam&#039;&#039; and Leslie Fiedler&#039;s &#039;&#039;Love and Death at the American Novel&#039;&#039;, seem quite disparate in tone and method; yet both, I think, stand in this respect closer to Lawrence’s seminal work, &#039;&#039;Studies in Classic American Literature&#039;&#039;, than to Matthiessen’s &#039;&#039;American Renaissance&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
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Then again, it might be argued that my use of the terms, “form” and “theory,&amp;quot; appears tendentious; that, ideally speaking, neither of these terms excludes larger commitments; and that, in any case, there are so many concepts of “form” and “structure” in modern criticism as to make a general condemnation of them irresponsible. I should like to think that there are more wicked uses of irresponsibility than in the criticism of criticism. What an ideal formalist theory may contribute to our appreciation of literature is not in dispute; what it has contributed in the past by way of practical criticism is also very considerable. Still, do we not all sense the growing inertness of the Spirit of criticism beneath the weight of the Letter? One sometimes feels that in another decade or two, the task or criticism may be safely performed by some lively computing machine which, blessed with total recall, would never misquote as some critics are reputed to do.&lt;br /&gt;
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I speak, of course, hyperbolically. Perhaps I can make the point clearer, and sharpen thereby the distinction between two generations of critics, by referring to two eminent theoreticians of literature. Both René Wellek and Northrop Frye are men of vast erudition; both have shaped the course of literary studies in America. This, I think, is entirely as it should be; the timely authority of such works as Wellek and Warren’s &#039;&#039;Theory of Literature&#039;&#039; or Frye’s &#039;&#039;Anatomy of Criticism&#039;&#039; deserves nothing less. Yet at the risk of seeming ungracious, it is to their later, and perhaps lesser, works that I wish to refer. After all, the question still remains: what lies beyond formalist theory?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In &#039;&#039;Concepts of Criticism&#039;&#039;, Professor Wellek shows himself to be somewhat out of love with the directions of contemporary criticism. “It seems to me that in spite of the basic truth of the insight of organicism, the unity of content and form, we have arrived today at something like a deadend,” he states.{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=65}} His dissatisfaction, however, is of short duration. Professor Wellek sees the way out in the doctrine of “structuralism,&amp;quot; evolved by the Prague Linguistic Circle - alas, now defunct! “Such a concept of the literary work of art avoids two pitfalls,” Professor Wellek hopes, “the extreme of organicism which leads to a lumpish totality in which discrimination becomes impossible, and the opposite danger of atomistic fragmentation.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=68}} The way out, as it turns out, comes very close to the ancient ideal of the golden mean. This is judicious. But is it really judiciousness which prompts him in two later chapters, “Philosophy and Post- war American Criticism” and “Main Trends of Twentieth-Century Criticism,” to deride all recent criticism? The brilliant and inventive concern with American literature in the last two decades is deplored as an example of “romantic historicism,” and mythic and existential criticism are condemned as an instance of “the irrationalistic philosophies of Europe” adapted to the pragmatic temper of the United States.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=333 ff}} Professor Wellek sadly concludes: “Only those who adhere to either the German idealist tradition, in the Kantian or Coleridgean version, or those who rediscover Aristotle, still keep a grasp on the nature of art and recognize the necessity of an aesthetic and the ideal of a study of literature as literature.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=342}} Having defined literature in formalist terms, it is no wonder that Professor Wellek &#039;&#039;still&#039;&#039; believes formalist theory to be the most rewarding view of literature. Thus is the rigor of tautology achieved.&lt;br /&gt;
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&#039;&#039;The Well-Tempered Critic&#039;&#039;, which is not wrought in the massive architectural manner of Professor Frye’s earlier work, is too urbane to be tautological. Its urbanity expresses a fine subtlety of mind in the final chapter of the book, and the subtlety itself disguises a somewhat chilly view of literature. Professor Frye acknowledges the distinction between the classic and romantic tempers in criticism, and proceeds to discover the correlatives of each. The classic temper, he informs us, is aesthetic, the romantic is psychological; the former views art as artifact, the latter as expression; the one derives from Aristotle, the other from Longinus. I do not quarrel with these distinctions, particularly when categorical distinctions make the very basis of the geometric edifices Professor Frye likes to erect. “The first step to take here,&amp;quot; he argues, “is to realize that just as a poem implies a distinction between the poet as man and the poet as verbal craftsman, so the response to a poem implies a corresponding distinction in the critic.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=123}} For both Northrop Frye and René Wellek, we see, the critical act rests on the &#039;&#039;separation&#039;&#039; of certain human faculties from the continuum of felt life. There are few critics willing to speak professionally for the ancient female principle, acceptance and fusion, and the enveloping wholeness of things, few willing to speak for the fourfold vision of Blake. Yet carried far enough, distinctions become the source of the mind’s alienation, the Cartesian madness of the West. &lt;br /&gt;
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Again, Professor Frye views criticism not as the experience of literature but, more discretely, as an area of knowledge. This leads him to the hard-boiled conclusion, so repugnant to visionary educators, that “the values we want the student to acquire from us cannot be taught: only knowledge of literature can be taught.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=136}} Can knowledge be dissociated from value, and criticism forego its aspiration to wisdom? Apparently so. “The fundamental act of criticism is a disinterested response to a work of literature in which all one’s beliefs, engagements, commitments, prejudices, stampedings of pity and terror, are ordered to be quiet,” he continues.{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=140}} Ordered to be quiet! Who listens, then, and who speaks instead? The imagination never demanded such frozen void, nor do the supreme fictions of the mind reject the earth they transmute. We have seen criticism gaze long enough on the world with the quiet eyes of Apollo. Shall we ever see it partake again of the sacred flesh of Dionysus?&lt;br /&gt;
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I do not wish to suggest that the Dionysiac vision is bound to penetrate literary criticism the world over. I do sense, however, a movement in contemporary letters which must force us to revise our tenets or else accept the charge of theoretical isolationism in America. It is doubtful, for instance, that the plays of Beckett or Genet or Artaud, the novels of William Burroughs, Maurice Blanchot, or Alain Robbe-Grillet, the later stories of Salinger, the poetry of Charles Olson, Blaise Cendrars, or Dylan Thomas—and I cite these names quite at random—can be illuminated brightly by the critical terms of Professors Wellek and Frye. Nathalie Sarraute&#039;s latest book, &#039;&#039;The Golden Fruits&#039;&#039;, and Marc Saporta’s “shuffle novel,” &#039;&#039;Number 1&#039;&#039;, deny the conventional idea of structure. The first is a novel about a novel which cancels itself in the very act of reading; the second is a stratagem which accepts the principle of chance as an integral part of the literary experience. As for Burroughs’ &#039;&#039;The Soft Machine&#039;&#039;, it applies— to what extent, no one will know— the “cut up method of Brion Gysin,” a method which combines collage and montage. If these works possess a form, it is probably a “non-telic&amp;quot; form of the kind recently reflected in painting and music.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Meyer|1963|p=169-186}} Must we then dismiss such works as faddish freaks, of more interest to literary gossip than literary history?&lt;br /&gt;
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In France, where criticism has been long associated with the spirit of lucidity, critics take a different stand. A quick look at some of their statements may persuade us that their view of literature is not too far from the view I have proposed. The common theme of Claude Mauriac’s &#039;&#039;The New Literature&#039;&#039; is stated thus: “After the silence of Rimbaud, the blank page of Mallarmé, the inarticulate cry of Artaud, a literature finally dissolves in alliteration with Joyce. The author of &#039;&#039;Finnegans Wake&#039;&#039; in fact creates out of whole cloth words full of so many diverse overtones that they are eclipsed by them. For Beckett, on the contrary, words all say the same thing.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Mauriac|1959|p=12}} The theme of Roland Barthes&#039; &#039;&#039;Le Degré Zéro de L‘Ecriture&#039;&#039; is similar: the avatar of the new literature is absence. Barthes writes: “dans ces écritures neutres, appelées ici ‘le degré zéro de l’écriture,&#039; on peut facilement discerner le mouvement même d’une négation, comme si la Littérature, tendant depuis un siècle à transmuer sa surface dans une forme sans hérédité, ne trouvait plus de pureté que dans l’absence de tout signe, proposant en fin l’accomplissement de ce rêve orphéen: un écrivain sans Littérature.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Barthes|1959|p=12}} Likewise, for Maurice Blanchot literature is moving toward “l’ère saris parole.” This movement may lead to a form of writing that is incessant sound; or it may lead, as Blanchot states in Le Livre à Venir, quite in the other direction: “la littérature va vers elle-même, vers son essence qui est la disparition.”{{sfn|Blanchot|1959|p=237}} Both directions, we can surmise, end in the dissolution of significant form, the abdication of language. Is this silence at the heart of modern literature the definition of outrage, a subjective correlative of our terror? Or is the monstrous language of action, which Bachelard {{sfn|Bachelard|1963|p=154}} believes to be pointing, beyond Lautréamontism, toward “une réintegration de l&#039;humain dans la vie ardente...,” a closer correlative of that terror? We can only observe that from Sade and Lautréamont to Kafka and Beckett, the twin dark streams of poetry, the poetry of action and the poetry of silence, have been flowing toward some unknown sea wherein some figure of apocalypse, man or beast, still lies submerged.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Critics, however, are of many ilks, and for some the mantic role is as foreign as Elijah&#039;s. I wish to force no prophecies in the mouths of students of literature. Still, it is not unreasonable to ask that criticism evolve a method which takes deeper cognizance of the evolving character of life as of literature. The point is almost too obvious: contemporary letters can be judged as little by the standards of pure formalism as, let us say, Romantic poetry can we evaluated by the strict conventions of neo-Classicism.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The problem of criticism, however, must not be left to the indolent spirit of literary relativism. Indeed, the problems may not prove to be one of literary method at all. The problem of criticism is always the challenge of awareness, full awareness of human existence in time and in place, but also outside of both, in the dream world which antecedes all responsibilities. In the end, perhaps, the problem of critics and poets alike is one of human destiny. To say less is to confuse cowardice with modesty.&lt;br /&gt;
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If there is underlying theme in recent American criticism, it is the implicit theme of crisis, a crisis not merely of literary method but of literature itself, which means of culture and consciousness. The crisis, as Nicolas Berdyaev knew, is not the crisis of humanism but of humanity itself. In the past, periods of crisis have often bred visions of apocalypse.{{sfn|Rowley|nd|p=150-178}} Such visions may come our way again. They may even lurk in a critic&#039;s perplexity. Here is how Krieger put the question: “Or is it, perhaps, that the Kierkegaardian version is right and that our world has itself become the tragic visionary in its unbelief using self-destructive crises to force itself finally to confront the absurdities of earthly reality...? Which is to ask fearfully and even unwillingly, whether we have not been beguiled by aesthetic satisfactions and whether the utterly striped tragic vision may not after all be less illusory than the fullness which shines through tragedy.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=12}}&lt;br /&gt;
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This is no time to sit in judgment on the world or to interpret its modern tragedy. From the Revelation of St. John the Divine to Norman O. Brown’s extraordinary PBK address, entitled &amp;quot;Apocalypse,” men have envisioned the destruction of the world and foreseen its resurrection. “Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection: on such the second death has no power...,” St. John says.{{sfn|Revelation|nd|p=xx.6}} But we are not at the first resurrection yet; we are not even beyond madness. Thus from Norman O. Brown: “The alternative to mind is certainly madness... Our real choice is between holy and unholy madness: open your eyes and look around you—madness is in the saddle anyhow.”{{sfn|Brown|1961|p=47}} What task will criticism perform, wavering between holy and unholy madness? What bootless task?&lt;br /&gt;
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Criticism is no country for old men of any age. Criticism, which was born to behold literature, must still do so and look beyond itself. Tack and rigor may attend all our words, but our words, but our words will avail nothing if man prevails not. What lies beyond criticism? D.H. Lawrence knew. This is what he says in his &#039;&#039;Apocalypse&#039;&#039;: “O lovely green dragon of the new day, the undawned day, &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; in touch, and release us from the horrid grip of the evil-smelling old Logos! Come in silence, and say nothing. Come in touch, in soft new touch like a spring-time, and say nothing.”{{sfn|Lawrence|1931|pp. 233 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
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{{Template:Aade-sm}}&lt;br /&gt;
==Notes==&lt;br /&gt;
{{notelist}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Citations==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Reflist|20em}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Works Cited==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Refbegin|40em}}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Adams |first=Robert Martin |date=1962 |title=Surface and Symbol: The Consistency of James Joyce&#039;s Ulysses |location=New York |publisher=Oxford University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Bachelard |first=Gaston |date=1963 |title=Lautréamont |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Barthes|first=Roland |date=1959 |title=Le Degré Zéro de L&#039;Ecriture  |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Blanchot |first=Maurice|date=1959 |title= Le Livre à Venir |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last=Brown |first=Norman O.|date=1961 |title=Apocalypse. |url= |journal=Harper&#039;s|volume= |issue= |pages= |doi= |access-date= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Buber|first=Martin |date=1955 | title=Between Man and Man |location=Boston |publisher=Harcourt, Brace, &amp;amp; World |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Camus|first=Albert |date=1961 |title=Resistance, Rebellion, and Death |location=New York |publisher=Knopf |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Durrell |first=Lawrence and Alfred Perles |date=1961 |title=Art and Outrage: A Correspondence about Henry Miller |location=New York|publisher=Dutton |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Frye|first=Northrop |date=1963 |title=The Well-Tempered Critic|location=Bloomington |publisher=Indiana University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger|first=Murray |date=1959 |title=The Myth of Sisyphus|location=New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger |first=Murray |date=1960 |title=The Tragic Vision: Variations on a Theme of Literary Interpretation |location=New York |publisher=Holt, Rinehart and Winston |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lawrence |first=D.H. |date=1931 |title= Apocalypse |location=Florence |publisher=G. Orioli |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lewis|first=R.W.B. |date=1959 |title=The Picaresque Saint|location=Philadelphia and New York|publisher=Lippincott |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Mauriac|first=Claude |date=1959 |title=The New Literature |publisher=G. Braziller|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Meyer|first=Leonard B. |date=1963 |title=The End of the Renaissance |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=Henry |date=1939 |title=The Cosmological Eye |location=Norfork|publisher=New Directions|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=James E., Karl Shapiro and Bernice Slote|date=1960 |title=Start With the Sun|location=Lincoln |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Ong|first=Walter J. |date=1962 |title=The Barbarian Within, and Other Fugitive Essays and Studies |publisher=Macmillan |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Rowley |first= H.H.|title= The Relevance of Apocalyptic&#039;&#039; |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Sartre|first=Jean-Paul |date=1948 |title=Situations. li, Qu&#039;est-Ce Que La Littérature? |location=Paris |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last1=Trilling |first1=Lionel |date=1962 |title=On the Modern Element in Modern Literature |journal=The Partisan Review Anthology |volume= |issue= |pages= | ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Wellek |first=René |date=1963 |title=Concepts of Criticism |url= |location=New Haven|page=|isbn= |author-link= |ref=harv }}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
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&lt;div&gt;&#039;&#039;COMPARATIVE LITERATURE STUDIES&#039;&#039; Vol. I, No. 4, 1964&lt;br /&gt;
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Beyond a Theory of Literature: Intimations of Apocalypse?&lt;br /&gt;
{{byline|last=Hassan|first=Ihab}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Begin with an assumption: that literature defines our concepts of criticism or else it defies them, and that life constantly challenges the pieties of both art and thought. What I shall attempt here, then, could not be considered an authoritative review of postwar criticism. It should be understood, rather, as a partial statement on the gathering mood of American criticism, an intimation of a trend which the facts of literary history in the past two decades (colored inevitably by my own sense of fact) may help to clarify.&lt;br /&gt;
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The admission that I neither hold nor accept a definitive view of criticism should not be too shocking. In England, where the empiric temper prevails in the name of common sense or urbanity, and even in France, where questions of methodology yield to a lively concern with new writing, such an admission would seem fairly innocuous. It is otherwise in America. Among us, the notion that criticism must become a rigorous, quasi-scientific activity in order to justify its name still finds wide support. Not long ago —or is it really ages past?— most students of literature, myself included, recognized the elegance of René Wellek’s formulation of the destiny of criticism: “the interpretation of literature as distinct from other activities of man.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=343}} Coming from Professor Wellek, the emphasis on interpretation rather than on literary theory seemed unduly self-effacing. Be that as it may, the formula appealed then to the common rage for order, and seemed also to aver the dignity of the humanities on terms that the age demanded. With the years, however, the formula seems, to me at least, to have lost in elegance as it has gained in naïveté. The breed of technicians it has unwittingly sanctioned may have found a truer consummation of their hopes in the laboratories of Oak Ridge. Literature as a distinct activity of man? Criticism as a distinct response to a distinct activity of man? What is man that we should be so little mindful of him, so arbitrary with the complexities of his mind? From Surrealism to Absurdism, literature itself suggests that a distinct aesthetic response may be defined only at the risk of deadly discrimination.&lt;br /&gt;
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Yet my object is not to engage in polemics. The point can be stated with some equanimity: a new breed of American critics are anxious to assert them selves against the rigors and pieties they have inherited. Their mood is restless, eclectic, speculative; sometimes, it is even apocalyptic. Those who feel out of sympathy with them may wish to apply different epithets: romantic, primitivist, existential, amateurish, or plain anti-intellectual. (The usefulness of these tags, dispensed usually with contumely, is as doubtful as their accuracy.) Others, however, may recognize the creative possibilities of this new mood, troubled, vague, or disruptive as it may seem.&lt;br /&gt;
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Evidence of the new mood is various though one senses behind it the enduring search for wholeness and vitality in the literary response. One senses, too, the paradoxical desire to appropriate literature to the dream life of men, and then again to implicate it in the widest sphere of their daily actions. Is not the secret task, for poet and critic alike, to participate in that magic process whereby the word is turned into flesh?&lt;br /&gt;
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The critic therefore feels the need for commitment; he wants to testify. And what is to prevent him? The encounter with an authentic work of art is a bruising experience, full of strange knowledge and hidden pleasure, of the kind we usually spend a life-time resisting. The critic knows that he himself is on trial, and that the act of literary criticism is above all an act of self-judgement. Since his business is to speak of literature, speech in his case must ultimately take the form of self-revelation. But the need for self-revelation is not only a private or existential need. It is also a social function of the critic. “Is art always an outrage - must it by its very nature be an outrage?&amp;quot; Durrell asks.{{sfn|Durrell|Perles|1961|p=9}} The question haunts the critic even more than it does the oafish censors of our time. For should the critic insist on his dubious right to privacy or detachment, his deepest knowledge of literature would remain locked, a private outrage, an inner wound. Yet literature, we know, acts through language; it is a communal call, there where words and experience are one, as it is solitary subversion, where words begin to fail. In the act of testimony, therefore, the critic admits the &#039;&#039;relevance&#039;&#039; of the buried power of literature; he offers himself to the harsh task of mediating between society and vision, culture and anarchy. Only thus can he give to outrage wider reference, give it a meaning beyond itself. There is the risk of course, that such mediation may rob both culture and outrage of their particular force. Yet from that loss a new life in history may be gained, a new consciousness of self and society may be born. This is precisely the gain, implicit in the discomforts of critical commitment, which Lionel Trilling, in his otherwise subtle essay, “On the Modern Element in Modern Literature,” seems to ignore.{{sfn|Trilling|1962|p=267 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Commitment, however, is but a single impulse of the new critical attitude; it simply prepares the ground for dialogue. Another impulse may be defined as the refusal wholly to objectify the work of literature. The art work, of course, has been long considered as an &#039;&#039;object&#039;&#039;, an object for dissection or knowledge, idolatry or classification. Yet the encounter between critic and work is neither entirely objective nor purely aesthetic; it may be a “dialogue” of the kind Martin Buber has proposed. In Buber&#039;s sense, the work of art resists identification with insensible It; for the work demands answer and response, and it requires a meeting. Is it then so perverse to ask the critic, whether he subscribes to Buber’s theology or not, that he “turn toward” the work and confess with Buber, “in each instance a word demanding an answer has happened to me” ?{{sfn|Buber|1955|p=10}} Nothing is mystical in this statement, nothing inimical to the spirit of poetry. The statement, in fact, points to some rather mundane questions which Walter J. Ong, theologian of another faith, happily raises. In his original essay, “The Jinnee in the Well-Wrought Urn,” Father Ong states: “Creative activity is often...powered by the drive to accomplish, in terms of the production of an object of art, an adjustment or readjustment in certain obscure relationships with other persons.&amp;quot; What does this mean? Quite obviously, it means that behind every work of art lurks and strains a human being; less obviously, perhaps, it means that the voice of the human creator, raging heart and feet of clay, is not entirely silenced in his art. The jinnee cannot be exorcised from the urn it inhabits, however shapely the latter may prove; the artifact still comes to life with voices unknown. And indeed this is what we, as readers, require. Once again, Father Ong sees the point clearly: “as a matter of full, serious, protracted contemplation and love, it is unbearable for a man or woman to be faced with anything less than a person. . . .”{{sfn|Ong|1962|p=19, 25}} This is precisely what critics, compelled by the difficult reciprocities of love, may now want to face: not an object but a presence mediated cunningly, incomprehensibly, by language. Such a presence is not simply human. It is the presence, moving and participating in reality, which Owen Barfield, in &#039;&#039;Saving the Appearances&#039;&#039;, has shown us to lie at the heart of the symbolic process. In facing such a presence, critics may hope to recover the primal connection with a universe mediated increasingly by abstractions. But they may also hope to recover something more modest: a spontaneity of judgment which reaches outward, reaches beyond itself. Holden Caulfield, we recall, was moved to call on an author whose work he had much enjoyed. In such naïveté there may be a parable for critics as well as an occasion for derision.&lt;br /&gt;
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If some postwar critics are loth to consider the literary work merely as an object, they are equally reluctant to believe that contemplation is the sole reaction to it. Beyond testimony, beyond participation or dialogue, the critic now wishes to entertain in the possibility that &#039;&#039;action&#039;&#039; maybe a legitimate response to art. By this, of course, I do not mean that he rushes to the barricades after reading &#039;&#039;The Conquerors&#039;&#039;, or that he develops tuberculosis after reading &#039;&#039;The Magic Mountain&#039;&#039;. I mean that the experience of a literary work does not leave him unchanged. To the extent that he is altered in the recesses of his imagination, indeed of his being, to that extent he must act differently in daily life. For if literature is both cognitive and experiential, as we have been so often told, then how can new knowledge but prompt new action? We may have accepted the Thomist notion of &#039;&#039;stasis&#039;&#039; in art much too uncritically. The counter-statement is boldly presented in Sartre&#039;s essay, “ Qu’est Ce Que la Littérature? ” “Parler c’est agir:” Sartre claims, “tout chose qu&#039;on nomme n’est déjà plus tout à fait la même, elle a perdu son innocence.” Sartre continues: “L&#039;œuvre d’art est valeur parce qu’elle est appel.”{{sfn|Sartre|1948|p=72, 98}} The appeal, above all, is to that act of self-definition which the work persuades its reader to perform, an act of definition and also of freedom. For in a sense, the work itself is “created” by the freedom of the reader to give it a concrete and, ultimately, personal meaning. The work, that is, finally enters the total existence of a man, not simply his dream life or aesthetic consciousness, and in doing so, it becomes subject to the total judgment of human passions. This is precisely what an existential writer of a different breed, Camus, meant when he wrote, “To create today is to create dangerously. Any publication is an act, and that act exposes one to the passions of an age that forgives nothing...”{{sfn|Camus|1961|p=251}} But if the writer must create dangerously these days, the critic cannot afford to criticize timorously. Dangerous criticism assumes that final and somewhat frightening responsibility which some critics naturally resist; namely, the willing suspension of aesthetic judgment in the interests of right action.&lt;br /&gt;
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I quite realize the enormity of this assertion. For one thing, it brings the critic dangerously close to the posture of the censor— the commissar, the propaganda helot, the prurient chief of police—who requires that every work of art display its social credentials or else stand convicted. No doubt, the redemption of man is a more momentous task than the creation of beauty, and virtue and goodness are not to be scoffed at. Yet redemption, one suspects, does not lie in the grasp of regulators; nor does virtue depend on the degradation of art by power. How, then, can the critic hope to transcend the aesthetic domain of literature without seeming to capitulate to dogma or authority, without seeming to endorse a vulgar or repressive utilitarianism?&lt;br /&gt;
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There are many answers to this question, though all are equally provisional, for in this as in other literary matters, tact not theory comes to our aid. We can begin, however, by making two observations. First, serious literature offers great resistance to political expediency; other forms of propaganda are far more effective. The basic affinity of modern literature particularly is with vision and outrage. By vision, I mean neither doctrine nor even revelation, but simply a concrete projection of the imagination into the conduct of life. Henry Miller has such an idea in mind when he says: “The role which the artist plays in society is to revive the primitive, anarchic instincts which have been sacrificed for the illusion of living in comfort”; or when he says again: “I do not call poets those who make verses, rhymed or unrhymed. I call that man poet who is capable of profoundly altering the world.”{{sfn|Miller|1939|p=156, 38 ff}} Both these statements reveal the artist’s conception of himself as visionary actor; both attest to his hope that prophecy may find its incarnation, beyond language, in action. Emboldened by such statements—and they are by no means restricted to Miller—the critic may feel justified in participating in the action that the work initiates. This is to say that the critic becomes himself part of the devious process by which a writer’s vision penetrates culture. The character of this devious process is closer to the character of pedagogy than of social reform. This leads me to the second observation. Since the process is indeed devious, subject to all the ambiguities of modern culture, the critic cannot really maintain a purely pragmatic, a purely political view of literature. This is salutary for the activist critic who finds in the visionary or subversive power of literature an inner check on his propensity for dogma, his penchant for expediency. This critical ideal is not nearly as pretentious as it may sound, nor does it always require the critic to make his home in the midst of chaos. It may require him, however, to heed certain &#039;&#039;thematic&#039;&#039; questions which were once considered beneath notice. A number of critical works of the last decade reflect this emergent concern. In &#039;&#039;The Tragic Vision&#039;&#039;, for instance, Murray Krieger pertinently asks, “But how, if we limit ourselves to technical literary definitions, can we find for the tragic any meaning beyond that of Aristotle? The answer is, by moving from formalistic aesthetics to what I would term &#039;thematics.&#039;” Krieger’s analysis of that term cannot be summarized easily, but the implications of his method are stated succinctly enough. He concludes thus: “All of which is perhaps to say only that a literary theory must be adequate to the literary experiences for which it is to account and that we trust our way of experiencing literature only as it is adequate to the life out there, which cries for a way of being organized literarily that will yet leave it preserved intact.”{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=2, 244}}  If the insistence on “the life out there” does not necessarily force the critic into a study of “thematics,” it does persuade him to dwell on precisely those formal matters that invoke the larger aspects of reality and may even engage religious thought. Thus the essays of James E. Miller, Jr., Karl Shapiro, and Bernice Slote, in &#039;&#039;Start With the Sun&#039;&#039;, explore the relation of Dionysian poetry to cosmic consciousness, mystery, and apocalypse. Miss Slote ends taking her cue from a noble phrase of Lawrence, “Perhaps then we may be absolved from the poetry of mirrors.{{sfn|Miller|Shapiro|Slote|1960|p=238}}  Parallel explorations of fiction lead R.W.B. Lewis, in his fine study, &#039;&#039;The Picaresque Saint&#039;&#039;, to distinguish between the generation of Proust, Joyce, and Mann, in whose world the aesthetic experience was supreme, and the generation of Silone, Faulkner, Camus, and Greene, in whose world “the chief experience has been the discovery of what it means to be a human being and to be alive.” Lewis continues: “Criticism, examining this world, is drawn to the more radically human considerations of life and death, and of the aspiring, sinful nature of man.”{{sfn|Lewis|1959|p=9}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Perhaps I have spoken long enough of certain interests of postwar criticism, though I feel I have spoken of them only tangentially. If one were to search for the theoretical basis of these interests—a task which I must leave to more philosophical critics one might be inclined to develop a view of literature that does not put the idea of form as its center. By this I do not simply mean a redefinition of the concept of form so that it may account, say, for the plays of Beckett or the novels of Burroughs. I would plead for a more radical view. From Kant to Cassirer, from Coleridge to Croce and down to the New Critics, the idea of organic form has been a touchstone of value and a cornerstone of theory in literary study. We assume, and indeed we believe, that the imagination incarnates itself only as an aesthetic order, and that such an order is available to the analytic mind. We believe more: that aesthetic order defines the deepest pleasures of literature and conveys its enduring attractions. I am not at all secure in these beliefs. Indeed, I am willing to take the devil&#039;s part and entertain the notion that “structure” is not always present or explicable in literary works; and that where it reveals itself, it is not always worth the attention we give it. Such works as &#039;&#039;Hamlet&#039;&#039; and &#039;&#039;Don Quixote&#039;&#039; not diminished by the discovery that their form, whatever it may be, is less organic than we expect the form of great works to be. Even that supreme artifact of our century, that total structure of symbols, puns, and cross-references, that city of words full of secret alleys and connecting catacombs, even Joyce&#039;s &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039;, may prove to the keen, fresh eye of a critic more of a labyrinth, dead ends and ways without issue, than Dublin itself which encloses the nightmare of history. This is precisely what Robert Martin Adams concludes in his fascinating study, &#039;&#039;Surface and Symbol&#039;&#039;. Adams inspects minutely the wealth of details in the novel, and finds that many of them serve to blur or confuse rather than to sustain patterns: &amp;quot;The close reading of &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039; thus reveals that the meaningless is deeply interwoven with the meaningful in the texture of the novel...It is a book and an antibook, a work of art particularly receptive to accident. It builds to acute and poignant states of consciousness, yet its larger ambition seems to be to put aside consciousness as a painful burden.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Adams|1962|p=245, 253}}Nothing catastrophic to the future of criticism is presaged by this statement. Quite the contrary: criticism may derive new vitality from some attention to the unstructured and even random element in literature. For is not form, after all, best conceived as a mode of awareness, a function of cognition, a question, that is, of epistemology rather than ontology? Its objective reality is qualified by the overpowering reality of human &#039;&#039;need&#039;&#039;. In the end, we perceive what we need to perceive, and our sense of pattern as of relation is conditioned by our deeper sense of relevance. This is why the aesthetic of the future will have to reckon with Freud, Nietzsche, and even Kierkegaard, who have given us, more than Marx himself, compelling economies of human needs.{{efn|In recent criticism, certain works have already begun to reflect this particular concern. Besides the works by R. W. B. Lewis and Murray Krieger already cited, one might mention Geoffrey Hartman, &#039;&#039;The Unmediated Vision&#039;&#039; (New Haven, 1954), Ihab Hassan, &#039;&#039;Radical Innocence&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1961), Frederick J. Hoffman, &#039;&#039;The Mortal No&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1964), and Arturo B. Fallico, &#039;&#039;Art and Existentialism&#039;&#039; (Englewood Cliffs, N. J., 1962).}} &lt;br /&gt;
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I could not persist in suggesting the theoretical implications of postwar criticism without falling into the trap which I have myself described. We do not always need a theoretical argument to bring forth a new critical attitude; we only need good critics. But perhaps we need, more than anything else, to regard literature in a more oblique fashion, regard it even in the slanting light of its own absurdity. We might then see that the theoretical solemnity of modern criticism ignore the self-destructive element of literature, its need for self-annulment. What Camus said of his own work applies, in various ways, to all literature: the act of creation is akin to chance and disorder, to which it comes through diversity, and it constantly meets with futility. &amp;quot;Creating or not creating changes nothing, &amp;quot; Camus writes. &amp;quot;The absurd creator does not prize his work. He could repudiate it.&amp;quot; And again: &amp;quot;The absurd work illustrates the intelligence that works up appearances and covers with images what has no reason. If the world were clear, art would not exist.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Camus|1959|p=72 ff}} Perhaps the function of literature, after all, is not to clarify that world but to help create a world in which literature becomes superfluous. And perhaps the function of criticism, as I shall argue later, is to attain to the difficult wisdom of perceiving how literature is finally, and &#039;&#039;only&#039;&#039; finally, inconsequential.{{efn|These heretical statements are developed more fully in my essay &amp;quot;The Dismemberment of Orpheus,&amp;quot; &#039;&#039;American Scholar&#039;&#039;, XXXII.}}{{sfn|Hassan|1963|p=463-484}}                                                                       &lt;br /&gt;
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The foregoing remarks limn certain trends in postwar criticism; they are not intended to define a school or movement. Still, I feel it wise to anticipate some objections before concluding this mock survey.&lt;br /&gt;
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It may be argued, for instance, that many of the attitudes I have described are not so novel as I make them out to be. Richards&#039; emotive theories, Burke&#039;s concept of action, Leavis’ cultural vitalism, Trilling’s depth-view of manners and imagination, Blackmur’s metaphors of silence in literature, and above all, Herbert Read’s sympathy for the anarchic spirit, certainly open the way to the speculations of younger critics. The latter, however, still distinguish themselves by a certain quality of passion, a generosity toward the perversities of spirit, and a sense of crisis in man’s fate. Two recent books of criticism, R. W. B. Lewis’ &#039;&#039;The American Adam&#039;&#039; and Leslie Fiedler&#039;s &#039;&#039;Love and Death at the American Novel&#039;&#039;, seem quite disparate in tone and method; yet both, I think, stand in this respect closer to Lawrence’s seminal work, &#039;&#039;Studies in Classic American Literature&#039;&#039;, than to Matthiessen’s &#039;&#039;American Renaissance&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
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Then again, it might be argued that my use of the terms, “form” and “theory,&amp;quot; appears tendentious; that, ideally speaking, neither of these terms excludes larger commitments; and that, in any case, there are so many concepts of “form” and “structure” in modern criticism as to make a general condemnation of them irresponsible. I should like to think that there are more wicked uses of irresponsibility than in the criticism of criticism. What an ideal formalist theory may contribute to our appreciation of literature is not in dispute; what it has contributed in the past by way of practical criticism is also very considerable. Still, do we not all sense the growing inertness of the Spirit of criticism beneath the weight of the Letter? One sometimes feels that in another decade or two, the task or criticism may be safely performed by some lively computing machine which, blessed with total recall, would never misquote as some critics are reputed to do.&lt;br /&gt;
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I speak, of course, hyperbolically. Perhaps I can make the point clearer, and sharpen thereby the distinction between two generations of critics, by referring to two eminent theoreticians of literature. Both René Wellek and Northrop Frye are men of vast erudition; both have shaped the course of literary studies in America. This, I think, is entirely as it should be; the timely authority of such works as Wellek and Warren’s &#039;&#039;Theory of Literature&#039;&#039; or Frye’s &#039;&#039;Anatomy of Criticism&#039;&#039; deserves nothing less. Yet at the risk of seeming ungracious, it is to their later, and perhaps lesser, works that I wish to refer. After all, the question still remains: what lies beyond formalist theory?&lt;br /&gt;
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In &#039;&#039;Concepts of Criticism&#039;&#039;, Professor Wellek shows himself to be somewhat out of love with the directions of contemporary criticism. “It seems to me that in spite of the basic truth of the insight of organicism, the unity of content and form, we have arrived today at something like a deadend,” he states.{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=65}} His dissatisfaction, however, is of short duration. Professor Wellek sees the way out in the doctrine of “structuralism,&amp;quot; evolved by the Prague Linguistic Circle - alas, now defunct! “Such a concept of the literary work of art avoids two pitfalls,” Professor Wellek hopes, “the extreme of organicism which leads to a lumpish totality in which discrimination becomes impossible, and the opposite danger of atomistic fragmentation.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=68}} The way out, as it turns out, comes very close to the ancient ideal of the golden mean. This is judicious. But is it really judiciousness which prompts him in two later chapters, “Philosophy and Post- war American Criticism” and “Main Trends of Twentieth-Century Criticism,” to deride all recent criticism? The brilliant and inventive concern with American literature in the last two decades is deplored as an example of “romantic historicism,” and mythic and existential criticism are condemned as an instance of “the irrationalistic philosophies of Europe” adapted to the pragmatic temper of the United States.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=333 ff}} Professor Wellek sadly concludes: “Only those who adhere to either the German idealist tradition, in the Kantian or Coleridgean version, or those who rediscover Aristotle, still keep a grasp on the nature of art and recognize the necessity of an aesthetic and the ideal of a study of literature as literature.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=342}} Having defined literature in formalist terms, it is no wonder that Professor Wellek &#039;&#039;still&#039;&#039; believes formalist theory to be the most rewarding view of literature. Thus is the rigor of tautology achieved.&lt;br /&gt;
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&#039;&#039;The Well-Tempered Critic&#039;&#039;, which is not wrought in the massive architectural manner of Professor Frye’s earlier work, is too urbane to be tautological. Its urbanity expresses a fine subtlety of mind in the final chapter of the book, and the subtlety itself disguises a somewhat chilly view of literature. Professor Frye acknowledges the distinction between the classic and romantic tempers in criticism, and proceeds to discover the correlatives of each. The classic temper, he informs us, is aesthetic, the romantic is psychological; the former views art as artifact, the latter as expression; the one derives from Aristotle, the other from Longinus. I do not quarrel with these distinctions, particularly when categorical distinctions make the very basis of the geometric edifices Professor Frye likes to erect. “The first step to take here,&amp;quot; he argues, “is to realize that just as a poem implies a distinction between the poet as man and the poet as verbal craftsman, so the response to a poem implies a corresponding distinction in the critic.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=123}} For both Northrop Frye and René Wellek, we see, the critical act rests on the &#039;&#039;separation&#039;&#039; of certain human faculties from the continuum of felt life. There are few critics willing to speak professionally for the ancient female principle, acceptance and fusion, and the enveloping wholeness of things, few willing to speak for the fourfold vision of Blake. Yet carried far enough, distinctions become the source of the mind’s alienation, the Cartesian madness of the West. &lt;br /&gt;
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Again, Professor Frye views criticism not as the experience of literature but, more discretely, as an area of knowledge. This leads him to the hard-boiled conclusion, so repugnant to visionary educators, that “the values we want the student to acquire from us cannot be taught: only knowledge of literature can be taught.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=136}} Can knowledge be dissociated from value, and criticism forego its aspiration to wisdom? Apparently so. “The fundamental act of criticism is a disinterested response to a work of literature in which all one’s beliefs, engagements, commitments, prejudices, stampedings of pity and terror, are ordered to be quiet,” he continues.{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=140}} Ordered to be quiet! Who listens, then, and who speaks instead? The imagination never demanded such frozen void, nor do the supreme fictions of the mind reject the earth they transmute. We have seen criticism gaze long enough on the world with the quiet eyes of Apollo. Shall we ever see it partake again of the sacred flesh of Dionysus?&lt;br /&gt;
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I do not wish to suggest that the Dionysiac vision is bound to penetrate literary criticism the world over. I do sense, however, a movement in contemporary letters which must force us to revise our tenets or else accept the charge of theoretical isolationism in America. It is doubtful, for instance, that the plays of Beckett or Genet or Artaud, the novels of William Burroughs, Maurice Blanchot, or Alain Robbe-Grillet, the later stories of Salinger, the poetry of Charles Olson, Blaise Cendrars, or Dylan Thomas—and I cite these names quite at random—can be illuminated brightly by the critical terms of Professors Wellek and Frye. Nathalie Sarraute&#039;s latest book, &#039;&#039;The Golden Fruits&#039;&#039;, and Marc Saporta’s “shuffle novel,” &#039;&#039;Number 1&#039;&#039;, deny the conventional idea of structure. The first is a novel about a novel which cancels itself in the very act of reading; the second is a stratagem which accepts the principle of chance as an integral part of the literary experience. As for Burroughs’ &#039;&#039;The Soft Machine&#039;&#039;, it applies— to what extent, no one will know— the “cut up method of Brion Gysin,” a method which combines collage and montage. If these works possess a form, it is probably a “non-telic&amp;quot; form of the kind recently reflected in painting and music.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Meyer|1963|p=169-186}} Must we then dismiss such works as faddish freaks, of more interest to literary gossip than literary history?&lt;br /&gt;
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In France, where criticism has been long associated with the spirit of lucidity, critics take a different stand. A quick look at some of their statements may persuade us that their view of literature is not too far from the view I have proposed. The common theme of Claude Mauriac’s &#039;&#039;The New Literature&#039;&#039; is stated thus: “After the silence of Rimbaud, the blank page of Mallarmé, the inarticulate cry of Artaud, a literature finally dissolves in alliteration with Joyce. The author of &#039;&#039;Finnegans Wake&#039;&#039; in fact creates out of whole cloth words full of so many diverse overtones that they are eclipsed by them. For Beckett, on the contrary, words all say the same thing.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Mauriac|1959|p=12}} The theme of Roland Barthes&#039; &#039;&#039;Le Degré Zéro de L‘Ecriture&#039;&#039; is similar: the avatar of the new literature is absence. Barthes writes: “dans ces écritures neutres, appelées ici ‘le degré zéro de l’écriture,&#039; on peut facilement discerner le mouvement même d’une négation, comme si la Littérature, tendant depuis un siècle à transmuer sa surface dans une forme sans hérédité, ne trouvait plus de pureté que dans l’absence de tout signe, proposant en fin l’accomplissement de ce rêve orphéen: un écrivain sans Littérature.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Barthes|1959|p=12}} Likewise, for Maurice Blanchot literature is moving toward “l’ère saris parole.” This movement may lead to a form of writing that is incessant sound; or it may lead, as Blanchot states in Le Livre à Venir, quite in the other direction: “la littérature va vers elle-même, vers son essence qui est la disparition.”{{sfn|Blanchot|1959|p=237}} Both directions, we can surmise, end in the dissolution of significant form, the abdication of language. Is this silence at the heart of modern literature the definition of outrage, a subjective correlative of our terror? Or is the monstrous language of action, which Bachelard {{sfn|Bachelard|1963|p=154}} believes to be pointing, beyond Lautréamontism, toward “une réintegration de l&#039;humain dans la vie ardente...,” a closer correlative of that terror? We can only observe that from Sade and Lautréamont to Kafka and Beckett, the twin dark streams of poetry, the poetry of action and the poetry of silence, have been flowing toward some unknown sea wherein some figure of apocalypse, man or beast, still lies submerged.&lt;br /&gt;
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Critics, however, are of many ilks, and for some the mantic role is as foreign as Elijah&#039;s. I wish to force no prophecies in the mouths of students of literature. Still, it is not unreasonable to ask that criticism evolve a method which takes deeper cognizance of the evolving character of life as of literature. The point is almost too obvious: contemporary letters can be judged as little by the standards of pure formalism as, let us say, Romantic poetry can we evaluated by the strict conventions of neo-Classicism.&lt;br /&gt;
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The problem of criticism, however, must not be left to the indolent spirit of literary relativism. Indeed, the problems may not prove to be one of literary method at all. The problem of criticism is always the challenge of awareness, full awareness of human existence in time and in place, but also outside of both, in the dream world which antecedes all responsibilities. In the end, perhaps, the problem of critics and poets alike is one of human destiny. To say less is to confuse cowardice with modesty.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If there is underlying theme in recent American criticism, it is the implicit theme of crisis, a crisis not merely of literary method but of literature itself, which means of culture and consciousness. The crisis, as Nicolas Berdyaev knew, is not the crisis of humanism but of humanity itself. In the past, periods of crisis have often bred visions of apocalypse.{{sfn|Rowley|nd|p=150-178}} Such visions may come our way again. They may even lurk in a critic&#039;s perplexity. Here is how Krieger put the question: “Or is it, perhaps, that the Kierkegaardian version is right and that our world has itself become the tragic visionary in its unbelief using self-destructive crises to force itself finally to confront the absurdities of earthly reality...? Which is to ask fearfully and even unwillingly, whether we have not been beguiled by aesthetic satisfactions and whether the utterly striped tragic vision may not after all be less illusory than the fullness which shines through tragedy.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=12}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is no time to sit in judgment on the world or to interpret its modern tragedy. From the Revelation of St. John the Divine to Norman O. Brown’s extraordinary PBK address, entitled &amp;quot;Apocalypse,” men have envisioned the destruction of the world and foreseen its resurrection. “Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection: on such the second death has no power...,” St. John says.{{sfn|Revelation|nd|p=xx.6}} But we are not at the first resurrection yet; we are not even beyond madness. Thus from Norman O. Brown: “The alternative to mind is certainly madness... Our real choice is between holy and unholy madness: open your eyes and look around you—madness is in the saddle anyhow.”{{sfn|Brown|1961|p=47}} What task will criticism perform, wavering between holy and unholy madness? What bootless task?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Criticism is no country for old men of any age. Criticism, which was born to behold literature, must still do so and look beyond itself. Tack and rigor may attend all our words, but our words, but our words will avail nothing if man prevails not. What lies beyond criticism? D.H. Lawrence knew. This is what he says in his &#039;&#039;Apocalypse&#039;&#039;: “O lovely green dragon of the new day, the undawned day, &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; in touch, and release us from the horrid grip of the evil-smelling old Logos! Come in silence, and say nothing. Come in touch, in soft new touch like a spring-time, and say nothing.”{{sfn|Lawrence|1931|pp. 233 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{Template:Aade-sm}}&lt;br /&gt;
==Notes==&lt;br /&gt;
{{notelist}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Citations==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Reflist|20em}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Works Cited==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Refbegin|40em}}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Adams |first=Robert Martin |date=1962 |title=Surface and Symbol: The Consistency of James Joyce&#039;s Ulysses |location=New York |publisher=Oxford University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Bachelard |first=Gaston |date=1963 |title=Lautréamont |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Barthes|first=Roland |date=1959 |title=Le Degré Zéro de L&#039;Ecriture  |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Blanchot |first=Maurice|date=1959 |title= Le Livre à Venir |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last=Brown |first=Norman O.|date=1961 |title=Apocalypse. |url= |journal=Harper&#039;s|volume= |issue= |pages= |doi= |access-date= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Buber|first=Martin |date=1955 | title=Between Man and Man |location=Boston |publisher=Harcourt, Brace, &amp;amp; World |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Camus|first=Albert |date=1961 |title=Resistance, Rebellion, and Death |location=New York |publisher=Knopf |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Durrell |first=Lawrence and Alfred Perles |date=1961 |title=Art and Outrage: A Correspondence about Henry Miller |location=New York|publisher=Dutton |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Frye|first=Northrop |date=1963 |title=The Well-Tempered Critic|location=Bloomington |publisher=Indiana University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger|first=Murray |date=1959 |title=The Myth of Sisyphus|location=New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger |first=Murray |date=1960 |title=The Tragic Vision: Variations on a Theme of Literary Interpretation |location=New York |publisher=Holt, Rinehart and Winston |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lawrence |first=D.H. |date=1931 |title= Apocalypse |location=Florence |publisher=G. Orioli |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lewis|first=R.W.B. |date=1959 |title=The Picaresque Saint|location=Philadelphia and New York|publisher=Lippincott |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Mauriac|first=Claude |date=1959 |title=The New Literature |publisher=G. Braziller|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Meyer|first=Leonard B. |date=1963 |title=The End of the Renaissance |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=Henry |date=1939 |title=The Cosmological Eye |location=Norfork|publisher=New Directions|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=James E., Karl Shapiro and Bernice Slote|date=1960 |title=Start With the Sun|location=Lincoln |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Ong|first=Walter J. |date=1962 |title=The Barbarian Within, and Other Fugitive Essays and Studies |publisher=Macmillan |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Rowley |first= H.H.|title= The Relevance of Apocalyptic&#039;&#039; |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Sartre|first=Jean-Paul |date=1948 |title=Situations II |location=Paris |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last1=Trilling |first1=Lionel |date=1962 |title=On the Modern Element in Modern Literature |journal=The Partisan Review Anthology |volume= |issue= |pages= | ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Wellek |first=René |date=1963 |title=Concepts of Criticism |url= |location=New Haven|page=|isbn= |author-link= |ref=harv }}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
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		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: added publisher&lt;/p&gt;
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&lt;div&gt;&#039;&#039;COMPARATIVE LITERATURE STUDIES&#039;&#039; Vol. I, No. 4, 1964&lt;br /&gt;
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Beyond a Theory of Literature: Intimations of Apocalypse?&lt;br /&gt;
{{byline|last=Hassan|first=Ihab}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Begin with an assumption: that literature defines our concepts of criticism or else it defies them, and that life constantly challenges the pieties of both art and thought. What I shall attempt here, then, could not be considered an authoritative review of postwar criticism. It should be understood, rather, as a partial statement on the gathering mood of American criticism, an intimation of a trend which the facts of literary history in the past two decades (colored inevitably by my own sense of fact) may help to clarify.&lt;br /&gt;
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The admission that I neither hold nor accept a definitive view of criticism should not be too shocking. In England, where the empiric temper prevails in the name of common sense or urbanity, and even in France, where questions of methodology yield to a lively concern with new writing, such an admission would seem fairly innocuous. It is otherwise in America. Among us, the notion that criticism must become a rigorous, quasi-scientific activity in order to justify its name still finds wide support. Not long ago —or is it really ages past?— most students of literature, myself included, recognized the elegance of René Wellek’s formulation of the destiny of criticism: “the interpretation of literature as distinct from other activities of man.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=343}} Coming from Professor Wellek, the emphasis on interpretation rather than on literary theory seemed unduly self-effacing. Be that as it may, the formula appealed then to the common rage for order, and seemed also to aver the dignity of the humanities on terms that the age demanded. With the years, however, the formula seems, to me at least, to have lost in elegance as it has gained in naïveté. The breed of technicians it has unwittingly sanctioned may have found a truer consummation of their hopes in the laboratories of Oak Ridge. Literature as a distinct activity of man? Criticism as a distinct response to a distinct activity of man? What is man that we should be so little mindful of him, so arbitrary with the complexities of his mind? From Surrealism to Absurdism, literature itself suggests that a distinct aesthetic response may be defined only at the risk of deadly discrimination.&lt;br /&gt;
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Yet my object is not to engage in polemics. The point can be stated with some equanimity: a new breed of American critics are anxious to assert them selves against the rigors and pieties they have inherited. Their mood is restless, eclectic, speculative; sometimes, it is even apocalyptic. Those who feel out of sympathy with them may wish to apply different epithets: romantic, primitivist, existential, amateurish, or plain anti-intellectual. (The usefulness of these tags, dispensed usually with contumely, is as doubtful as their accuracy.) Others, however, may recognize the creative possibilities of this new mood, troubled, vague, or disruptive as it may seem.&lt;br /&gt;
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Evidence of the new mood is various though one senses behind it the enduring search for wholeness and vitality in the literary response. One senses, too, the paradoxical desire to appropriate literature to the dream life of men, and then again to implicate it in the widest sphere of their daily actions. Is not the secret task, for poet and critic alike, to participate in that magic process whereby the word is turned into flesh?&lt;br /&gt;
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The critic therefore feels the need for commitment; he wants to testify. And what is to prevent him? The encounter with an authentic work of art is a bruising experience, full of strange knowledge and hidden pleasure, of the kind we usually spend a life-time resisting. The critic knows that he himself is on trial, and that the act of literary criticism is above all an act of self-judgement. Since his business is to speak of literature, speech in his case must ultimately take the form of self-revelation. But the need for self-revelation is not only a private or existential need. It is also a social function of the critic. “Is art always an outrage - must it by its very nature be an outrage?&amp;quot; Durrell asks.{{sfn|Durrell|Perles|1961|p=9}} The question haunts the critic even more than it does the oafish censors of our time. For should the critic insist on his dubious right to privacy or detachment, his deepest knowledge of literature would remain locked, a private outrage, an inner wound. Yet literature, we know, acts through language; it is a communal call, there where words and experience are one, as it is solitary subversion, where words begin to fail. In the act of testimony, therefore, the critic admits the &#039;&#039;relevance&#039;&#039; of the buried power of literature; he offers himself to the harsh task of mediating between society and vision, culture and anarchy. Only thus can he give to outrage wider reference, give it a meaning beyond itself. There is the risk of course, that such mediation may rob both culture and outrage of their particular force. Yet from that loss a new life in history may be gained, a new consciousness of self and society may be born. This is precisely the gain, implicit in the discomforts of critical commitment, which Lionel Trilling, in his otherwise subtle essay, “On the Modern Element in Modern Literature,” seems to ignore.{{sfn|Trilling|1962|p=267 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Commitment, however, is but a single impulse of the new critical attitude; it simply prepares the ground for dialogue. Another impulse may be defined as the refusal wholly to objectify the work of literature. The art work, of course, has been long considered as an &#039;&#039;object&#039;&#039;, an object for dissection or knowledge, idolatry or classification. Yet the encounter between critic and work is neither entirely objective nor purely aesthetic; it may be a “dialogue” of the kind Martin Buber has proposed. In Buber&#039;s sense, the work of art resists identification with insensible It; for the work demands answer and response, and it requires a meeting. Is it then so perverse to ask the critic, whether he subscribes to Buber’s theology or not, that he “turn toward” the work and confess with Buber, “in each instance a word demanding an answer has happened to me” ?{{sfn|Buber|1955|p=10}} Nothing is mystical in this statement, nothing inimical to the spirit of poetry. The statement, in fact, points to some rather mundane questions which Walter J. Ong, theologian of another faith, happily raises. In his original essay, “The Jinnee in the Well-Wrought Urn,” Father Ong states: “Creative activity is often...powered by the drive to accomplish, in terms of the production of an object of art, an adjustment or readjustment in certain obscure relationships with other persons.&amp;quot; What does this mean? Quite obviously, it means that behind every work of art lurks and strains a human being; less obviously, perhaps, it means that the voice of the human creator, raging heart and feet of clay, is not entirely silenced in his art. The jinnee cannot be exorcised from the urn it inhabits, however shapely the latter may prove; the artifact still comes to life with voices unknown. And indeed this is what we, as readers, require. Once again, Father Ong sees the point clearly: “as a matter of full, serious, protracted contemplation and love, it is unbearable for a man or woman to be faced with anything less than a person. . . .”{{sfn|Ong|1962|p=19, 25}} This is precisely what critics, compelled by the difficult reciprocities of love, may now want to face: not an object but a presence mediated cunningly, incomprehensibly, by language. Such a presence is not simply human. It is the presence, moving and participating in reality, which Owen Barfield, in &#039;&#039;Saving the Appearances&#039;&#039;, has shown us to lie at the heart of the symbolic process. In facing such a presence, critics may hope to recover the primal connection with a universe mediated increasingly by abstractions. But they may also hope to recover something more modest: a spontaneity of judgment which reaches outward, reaches beyond itself. Holden Caulfield, we recall, was moved to call on an author whose work he had much enjoyed. In such naïveté there may be a parable for critics as well as an occasion for derision.&lt;br /&gt;
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If some postwar critics are loth to consider the literary work merely as an object, they are equally reluctant to believe that contemplation is the sole reaction to it. Beyond testimony, beyond participation or dialogue, the critic now wishes to entertain in the possibility that &#039;&#039;action&#039;&#039; maybe a legitimate response to art. By this, of course, I do not mean that he rushes to the barricades after reading &#039;&#039;The Conquerors&#039;&#039;, or that he develops tuberculosis after reading &#039;&#039;The Magic Mountain&#039;&#039;. I mean that the experience of a literary work does not leave him unchanged. To the extent that he is altered in the recesses of his imagination, indeed of his being, to that extent he must act differently in daily life. For if literature is both cognitive and experiential, as we have been so often told, then how can new knowledge but prompt new action? We may have accepted the Thomist notion of &#039;&#039;stasis&#039;&#039; in art much too uncritically. The counter-statement is boldly presented in Sartre&#039;s essay, “ Qu’est Ce Que la Littérature? ” “Parler c’est agir:” Sartre claims, “tout chose qu&#039;on nomme n’est déjà plus tout à fait la même, elle a perdu son innocence.” Sartre continues: “L&#039;œuvre d’art est valeur parce qu’elle est appel.”{{sfn|Sartre|1948|p=72, 98}} The appeal, above all, is to that act of self-definition which the work persuades its reader to perform, an act of definition and also of freedom. For in a sense, the work itself is “created” by the freedom of the reader to give it a concrete and, ultimately, personal meaning. The work, that is, finally enters the total existence of a man, not simply his dream life or aesthetic consciousness, and in doing so, it becomes subject to the total judgment of human passions. This is precisely what an existential writer of a different breed, Camus, meant when he wrote, “To create today is to create dangerously. Any publication is an act, and that act exposes one to the passions of an age that forgives nothing...”{{sfn|Camus|1961|p=251}} But if the writer must create dangerously these days, the critic cannot afford to criticize timorously. Dangerous criticism assumes that final and somewhat frightening responsibility which some critics naturally resist; namely, the willing suspension of aesthetic judgment in the interests of right action.&lt;br /&gt;
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I quite realize the enormity of this assertion. For one thing, it brings the critic dangerously close to the posture of the censor— the commissar, the propaganda helot, the prurient chief of police—who requires that every work of art display its social credentials or else stand convicted. No doubt, the redemption of man is a more momentous task than the creation of beauty, and virtue and goodness are not to be scoffed at. Yet redemption, one suspects, does not lie in the grasp of regulators; nor does virtue depend on the degradation of art by power. How, then, can the critic hope to transcend the aesthetic domain of literature without seeming to capitulate to dogma or authority, without seeming to endorse a vulgar or repressive utilitarianism?&lt;br /&gt;
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There are many answers to this question, though all are equally provisional, for in this as in other literary matters, tact not theory comes to our aid. We can begin, however, by making two observations. First, serious literature offers great resistance to political expediency; other forms of propaganda are far more effective. The basic affinity of modern literature particularly is with vision and outrage. By vision, I mean neither doctrine nor even revelation, but simply a concrete projection of the imagination into the conduct of life. Henry Miller has such an idea in mind when he says: “The role which the artist plays in society is to revive the primitive, anarchic instincts which have been sacrificed for the illusion of living in comfort”; or when he says again: “I do not call poets those who make verses, rhymed or unrhymed. I call that man poet who is capable of profoundly altering the world.”{{sfn|Miller|1939|p=156, 38 ff}} Both these statements reveal the artist’s conception of himself as visionary actor; both attest to his hope that prophecy may find its incarnation, beyond language, in action. Emboldened by such statements—and they are by no means restricted to Miller—the critic may feel justified in participating in the action that the work initiates. This is to say that the critic becomes himself part of the devious process by which a writer’s vision penetrates culture. The character of this devious process is closer to the character of pedagogy than of social reform. This leads me to the second observation. Since the process is indeed devious, subject to all the ambiguities of modern culture, the critic cannot really maintain a purely pragmatic, a purely political view of literature. This is salutary for the activist critic who finds in the visionary or subversive power of literature an inner check on his propensity for dogma, his penchant for expediency. This critical ideal is not nearly as pretentious as it may sound, nor does it always require the critic to make his home in the midst of chaos. It may require him, however, to heed certain &#039;&#039;thematic&#039;&#039; questions which were once considered beneath notice. A number of critical works of the last decade reflect this emergent concern. In &#039;&#039;The Tragic Vision&#039;&#039;, for instance, Murray Krieger pertinently asks, “But how, if we limit ourselves to technical literary definitions, can we find for the tragic any meaning beyond that of Aristotle? The answer is, by moving from formalistic aesthetics to what I would term &#039;thematics.&#039;” Krieger’s analysis of that term cannot be summarized easily, but the implications of his method are stated succinctly enough. He concludes thus: “All of which is perhaps to say only that a literary theory must be adequate to the literary experiences for which it is to account and that we trust our way of experiencing literature only as it is adequate to the life out there, which cries for a way of being organized literarily that will yet leave it preserved intact.”{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=2, 244}}  If the insistence on “the life out there” does not necessarily force the critic into a study of “thematics,” it does persuade him to dwell on precisely those formal matters that invoke the larger aspects of reality and may even engage religious thought. Thus the essays of James E. Miller, Jr., Karl Shapiro, and Bernice Slote, in &#039;&#039;Start With the Sun&#039;&#039;, explore the relation of Dionysian poetry to cosmic consciousness, mystery, and apocalypse. Miss Slote ends taking her cue from a noble phrase of Lawrence, “Perhaps then we may be absolved from the poetry of mirrors.{{sfn|Miller|Shapiro|Slote|1960|p=238}}  Parallel explorations of fiction lead R.W.B. Lewis, in his fine study, &#039;&#039;The Picaresque Saint&#039;&#039;, to distinguish between the generation of Proust, Joyce, and Mann, in whose world the aesthetic experience was supreme, and the generation of Silone, Faulkner, Camus, and Greene, in whose world “the chief experience has been the discovery of what it means to be a human being and to be alive.” Lewis continues: “Criticism, examining this world, is drawn to the more radically human considerations of life and death, and of the aspiring, sinful nature of man.”{{sfn|Lewis|1959|p=9}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Perhaps I have spoken long enough of certain interests of postwar criticism, though I feel I have spoken of them only tangentially. If one were to search for the theoretical basis of these interests—a task which I must leave to more philosophical critics one might be inclined to develop a view of literature that does not put the idea of form as its center. By this I do not simply mean a redefinition of the concept of form so that it may account, say, for the plays of Beckett or the novels of Burroughs. I would plead for a more radical view. From Kant to Cassirer, from Coleridge to Croce and down to the New Critics, the idea of organic form has been a touchstone of value and a cornerstone of theory in literary study. We assume, and indeed we believe, that the imagination incarnates itself only as an aesthetic order, and that such an order is available to the analytic mind. We believe more: that aesthetic order defines the deepest pleasures of literature and conveys its enduring attractions. I am not at all secure in these beliefs. Indeed, I am willing to take the devil&#039;s part and entertain the notion that “structure” is not always present or explicable in literary works; and that where it reveals itself, it is not always worth the attention we give it. Such works as &#039;&#039;Hamlet&#039;&#039; and &#039;&#039;Don Quixote&#039;&#039; not diminished by the discovery that their form, whatever it may be, is less organic than we expect the form of great works to be. Even that supreme artifact of our century, that total structure of symbols, puns, and cross-references, that city of words full of secret alleys and connecting catacombs, even Joyce&#039;s &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039;, may prove to the keen, fresh eye of a critic more of a labyrinth, dead ends and ways without issue, than Dublin itself which encloses the nightmare of history. This is precisely what Robert Martin Adams concludes in his fascinating study, &#039;&#039;Surface and Symbol&#039;&#039;. Adams inspects minutely the wealth of details in the novel, and finds that many of them serve to blur or confuse rather than to sustain patterns: &amp;quot;The close reading of &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039; thus reveals that the meaningless is deeply interwoven with the meaningful in the texture of the novel...It is a book and an antibook, a work of art particularly receptive to accident. It builds to acute and poignant states of consciousness, yet its larger ambition seems to be to put aside consciousness as a painful burden.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Adams|1962|p=245, 253}}Nothing catastrophic to the future of criticism is presaged by this statement. Quite the contrary: criticism may derive new vitality from some attention to the unstructured and even random element in literature. For is not form, after all, best conceived as a mode of awareness, a function of cognition, a question, that is, of epistemology rather than ontology? Its objective reality is qualified by the overpowering reality of human &#039;&#039;need&#039;&#039;. In the end, we perceive what we need to perceive, and our sense of pattern as of relation is conditioned by our deeper sense of relevance. This is why the aesthetic of the future will have to reckon with Freud, Nietzsche, and even Kierkegaard, who have given us, more than Marx himself, compelling economies of human needs.{{efn|In recent criticism, certain works have already begun to reflect this particular concern. Besides the works by R. W. B. Lewis and Murray Krieger already cited, one might mention Geoffrey Hartman, &#039;&#039;The Unmediated Vision&#039;&#039; (New Haven, 1954), Ihab Hassan, &#039;&#039;Radical Innocence&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1961), Frederick J. Hoffman, &#039;&#039;The Mortal No&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1964), and Arturo B. Fallico, &#039;&#039;Art and Existentialism&#039;&#039; (Englewood Cliffs, N. J., 1962).}} &lt;br /&gt;
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I could not persist in suggesting the theoretical implications of postwar criticism without falling into the trap which I have myself described. We do not always need a theoretical argument to bring forth a new critical attitude; we only need good critics. But perhaps we need, more than anything else, to regard literature in a more oblique fashion, regard it even in the slanting light of its own absurdity. We might then see that the theoretical solemnity of modern criticism ignore the self-destructive element of literature, its need for self-annulment. What Camus said of his own work applies, in various ways, to all literature: the act of creation is akin to chance and disorder, to which it comes through diversity, and it constantly meets with futility. &amp;quot;Creating or not creating changes nothing, &amp;quot; Camus writes. &amp;quot;The absurd creator does not prize his work. He could repudiate it.&amp;quot; And again: &amp;quot;The absurd work illustrates the intelligence that works up appearances and covers with images what has no reason. If the world were clear, art would not exist.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Camus|1959|p=72 ff}} Perhaps the function of literature, after all, is not to clarify that world but to help create a world in which literature becomes superfluous. And perhaps the function of criticism, as I shall argue later, is to attain to the difficult wisdom of perceiving how literature is finally, and &#039;&#039;only&#039;&#039; finally, inconsequential.{{efn|These heretical statements are developed more fully in my essay &amp;quot;The Dismemberment of Orpheus,&amp;quot; &#039;&#039;American Scholar&#039;&#039;, XXXII.}}{{sfn|Hassan|1963|p=463-484}}                                                                       &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The foregoing remarks limn certain trends in postwar criticism; they are not intended to define a school or movement. Still, I feel it wise to anticipate some objections before concluding this mock survey.&lt;br /&gt;
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It may be argued, for instance, that many of the attitudes I have described are not so novel as I make them out to be. Richards&#039; emotive theories, Burke&#039;s concept of action, Leavis’ cultural vitalism, Trilling’s depth-view of manners and imagination, Blackmur’s metaphors of silence in literature, and above all, Herbert Read’s sympathy for the anarchic spirit, certainly open the way to the speculations of younger critics. The latter, however, still distinguish themselves by a certain quality of passion, a generosity toward the perversities of spirit, and a sense of crisis in man’s fate. Two recent books of criticism, R. W. B. Lewis’ &#039;&#039;The American Adam&#039;&#039; and Leslie Fiedler&#039;s &#039;&#039;Love and Death at the American Novel&#039;&#039;, seem quite disparate in tone and method; yet both, I think, stand in this respect closer to Lawrence’s seminal work, &#039;&#039;Studies in Classic American Literature&#039;&#039;, than to Matthiessen’s &#039;&#039;American Renaissance&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then again, it might be argued that my use of the terms, “form” and “theory,&amp;quot; appears tendentious; that, ideally speaking, neither of these terms excludes larger commitments; and that, in any case, there are so many concepts of “form” and “structure” in modern criticism as to make a general condemnation of them irresponsible. I should like to think that there are more wicked uses of irresponsibility than in the criticism of criticism. What an ideal formalist theory may contribute to our appreciation of literature is not in dispute; what it has contributed in the past by way of practical criticism is also very considerable. Still, do we not all sense the growing inertness of the Spirit of criticism beneath the weight of the Letter? One sometimes feels that in another decade or two, the task or criticism may be safely performed by some lively computing machine which, blessed with total recall, would never misquote as some critics are reputed to do.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I speak, of course, hyperbolically. Perhaps I can make the point clearer, and sharpen thereby the distinction between two generations of critics, by referring to two eminent theoreticians of literature. Both René Wellek and Northrop Frye are men of vast erudition; both have shaped the course of literary studies in America. This, I think, is entirely as it should be; the timely authority of such works as Wellek and Warren’s &#039;&#039;Theory of Literature&#039;&#039; or Frye’s &#039;&#039;Anatomy of Criticism&#039;&#039; deserves nothing less. Yet at the risk of seeming ungracious, it is to their later, and perhaps lesser, works that I wish to refer. After all, the question still remains: what lies beyond formalist theory?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In &#039;&#039;Concepts of Criticism&#039;&#039;, Professor Wellek shows himself to be somewhat out of love with the directions of contemporary criticism. “It seems to me that in spite of the basic truth of the insight of organicism, the unity of content and form, we have arrived today at something like a deadend,” he states.{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=65}} His dissatisfaction, however, is of short duration. Professor Wellek sees the way out in the doctrine of “structuralism,&amp;quot; evolved by the Prague Linguistic Circle - alas, now defunct! “Such a concept of the literary work of art avoids two pitfalls,” Professor Wellek hopes, “the extreme of organicism which leads to a lumpish totality in which discrimination becomes impossible, and the opposite danger of atomistic fragmentation.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=68}} The way out, as it turns out, comes very close to the ancient ideal of the golden mean. This is judicious. But is it really judiciousness which prompts him in two later chapters, “Philosophy and Post- war American Criticism” and “Main Trends of Twentieth-Century Criticism,” to deride all recent criticism? The brilliant and inventive concern with American literature in the last two decades is deplored as an example of “romantic historicism,” and mythic and existential criticism are condemned as an instance of “the irrationalistic philosophies of Europe” adapted to the pragmatic temper of the United States.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=333 ff}} Professor Wellek sadly concludes: “Only those who adhere to either the German idealist tradition, in the Kantian or Coleridgean version, or those who rediscover Aristotle, still keep a grasp on the nature of art and recognize the necessity of an aesthetic and the ideal of a study of literature as literature.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=342}} Having defined literature in formalist terms, it is no wonder that Professor Wellek &#039;&#039;still&#039;&#039; believes formalist theory to be the most rewarding view of literature. Thus is the rigor of tautology achieved.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&#039;&#039;The Well-Tempered Critic&#039;&#039;, which is not wrought in the massive architectural manner of Professor Frye’s earlier work, is too urbane to be tautological. Its urbanity expresses a fine subtlety of mind in the final chapter of the book, and the subtlety itself disguises a somewhat chilly view of literature. Professor Frye acknowledges the distinction between the classic and romantic tempers in criticism, and proceeds to discover the correlatives of each. The classic temper, he informs us, is aesthetic, the romantic is psychological; the former views art as artifact, the latter as expression; the one derives from Aristotle, the other from Longinus. I do not quarrel with these distinctions, particularly when categorical distinctions make the very basis of the geometric edifices Professor Frye likes to erect. “The first step to take here,&amp;quot; he argues, “is to realize that just as a poem implies a distinction between the poet as man and the poet as verbal craftsman, so the response to a poem implies a corresponding distinction in the critic.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=123}} For both Northrop Frye and René Wellek, we see, the critical act rests on the &#039;&#039;separation&#039;&#039; of certain human faculties from the continuum of felt life. There are few critics willing to speak professionally for the ancient female principle, acceptance and fusion, and the enveloping wholeness of things, few willing to speak for the fourfold vision of Blake. Yet carried far enough, distinctions become the source of the mind’s alienation, the Cartesian madness of the West. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Again, Professor Frye views criticism not as the experience of literature but, more discretely, as an area of knowledge. This leads him to the hard-boiled conclusion, so repugnant to visionary educators, that “the values we want the student to acquire from us cannot be taught: only knowledge of literature can be taught.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=136}} Can knowledge be dissociated from value, and criticism forego its aspiration to wisdom? Apparently so. “The fundamental act of criticism is a disinterested response to a work of literature in which all one’s beliefs, engagements, commitments, prejudices, stampedings of pity and terror, are ordered to be quiet,” he continues.{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=140}} Ordered to be quiet! Who listens, then, and who speaks instead? The imagination never demanded such frozen void, nor do the supreme fictions of the mind reject the earth they transmute. We have seen criticism gaze long enough on the world with the quiet eyes of Apollo. Shall we ever see it partake again of the sacred flesh of Dionysus?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I do not wish to suggest that the Dionysiac vision is bound to penetrate literary criticism the world over. I do sense, however, a movement in contemporary letters which must force us to revise our tenets or else accept the charge of theoretical isolationism in America. It is doubtful, for instance, that the plays of Beckett or Genet or Artaud, the novels of William Burroughs, Maurice Blanchot, or Alain Robbe-Grillet, the later stories of Salinger, the poetry of Charles Olson, Blaise Cendrars, or Dylan Thomas—and I cite these names quite at random—can be illuminated brightly by the critical terms of Professors Wellek and Frye. Nathalie Sarraute&#039;s latest book, &#039;&#039;The Golden Fruits&#039;&#039;, and Marc Saporta’s “shuffle novel,” &#039;&#039;Number 1&#039;&#039;, deny the conventional idea of structure. The first is a novel about a novel which cancels itself in the very act of reading; the second is a stratagem which accepts the principle of chance as an integral part of the literary experience. As for Burroughs’ &#039;&#039;The Soft Machine&#039;&#039;, it applies— to what extent, no one will know— the “cut up method of Brion Gysin,” a method which combines collage and montage. If these works possess a form, it is probably a “non-telic&amp;quot; form of the kind recently reflected in painting and music.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Meyer|1963|p=169-186}} Must we then dismiss such works as faddish freaks, of more interest to literary gossip than literary history?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In France, where criticism has been long associated with the spirit of lucidity, critics take a different stand. A quick look at some of their statements may persuade us that their view of literature is not too far from the view I have proposed. The common theme of Claude Mauriac’s &#039;&#039;The New Literature&#039;&#039; is stated thus: “After the silence of Rimbaud, the blank page of Mallarmé, the inarticulate cry of Artaud, a literature finally dissolves in alliteration with Joyce. The author of &#039;&#039;Finnegans Wake&#039;&#039; in fact creates out of whole cloth words full of so many diverse overtones that they are eclipsed by them. For Beckett, on the contrary, words all say the same thing.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Mauriac|1959|p=12}} The theme of Roland Barthes&#039; &#039;&#039;Le Degré Zéro de L‘Ecriture&#039;&#039; is similar: the avatar of the new literature is absence. Barthes writes: “dans ces écritures neutres, appelées ici ‘le degré zéro de l’écriture,&#039; on peut facilement discerner le mouvement même d’une négation, comme si la Littérature, tendant depuis un siècle à transmuer sa surface dans une forme sans hérédité, ne trouvait plus de pureté que dans l’absence de tout signe, proposant en fin l’accomplissement de ce rêve orphéen: un écrivain sans Littérature.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Barthes|1959|p=12}} Likewise, for Maurice Blanchot literature is moving toward “l’ère saris parole.” This movement may lead to a form of writing that is incessant sound; or it may lead, as Blanchot states in Le Livre à Venir, quite in the other direction: “la littérature va vers elle-même, vers son essence qui est la disparition.”{{sfn|Blanchot|1959|p=237}} Both directions, we can surmise, end in the dissolution of significant form, the abdication of language. Is this silence at the heart of modern literature the definition of outrage, a subjective correlative of our terror? Or is the monstrous language of action, which Bachelard {{sfn|Bachelard|1963|p=154}} believes to be pointing, beyond Lautréamontism, toward “une réintegration de l&#039;humain dans la vie ardente...,” a closer correlative of that terror? We can only observe that from Sade and Lautréamont to Kafka and Beckett, the twin dark streams of poetry, the poetry of action and the poetry of silence, have been flowing toward some unknown sea wherein some figure of apocalypse, man or beast, still lies submerged.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Critics, however, are of many ilks, and for some the mantic role is as foreign as Elijah&#039;s. I wish to force no prophecies in the mouths of students of literature. Still, it is not unreasonable to ask that criticism evolve a method which takes deeper cognizance of the evolving character of life as of literature. The point is almost too obvious: contemporary letters can be judged as little by the standards of pure formalism as, let us say, Romantic poetry can we evaluated by the strict conventions of neo-Classicism.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The problem of criticism, however, must not be left to the indolent spirit of literary relativism. Indeed, the problems may not prove to be one of literary method at all. The problem of criticism is always the challenge of awareness, full awareness of human existence in time and in place, but also outside of both, in the dream world which antecedes all responsibilities. In the end, perhaps, the problem of critics and poets alike is one of human destiny. To say less is to confuse cowardice with modesty.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If there is underlying theme in recent American criticism, it is the implicit theme of crisis, a crisis not merely of literary method but of literature itself, which means of culture and consciousness. The crisis, as Nicolas Berdyaev knew, is not the crisis of humanism but of humanity itself. In the past, periods of crisis have often bred visions of apocalypse.{{sfn|Rowley|nd|p=150-178}} Such visions may come our way again. They may even lurk in a critic&#039;s perplexity. Here is how Krieger put the question: “Or is it, perhaps, that the Kierkegaardian version is right and that our world has itself become the tragic visionary in its unbelief using self-destructive crises to force itself finally to confront the absurdities of earthly reality...? Which is to ask fearfully and even unwillingly, whether we have not been beguiled by aesthetic satisfactions and whether the utterly striped tragic vision may not after all be less illusory than the fullness which shines through tragedy.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=12}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is no time to sit in judgment on the world or to interpret its modern tragedy. From the Revelation of St. John the Divine to Norman O. Brown’s extraordinary PBK address, entitled &amp;quot;Apocalypse,” men have envisioned the destruction of the world and foreseen its resurrection. “Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection: on such the second death has no power...,” St. John says.{{sfn|Revelation|nd|p=xx.6}} But we are not at the first resurrection yet; we are not even beyond madness. Thus from Norman O. Brown: “The alternative to mind is certainly madness... Our real choice is between holy and unholy madness: open your eyes and look around you—madness is in the saddle anyhow.”{{sfn|Brown|1961|p=47}} What task will criticism perform, wavering between holy and unholy madness? What bootless task?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Criticism is no country for old men of any age. Criticism, which was born to behold literature, must still do so and look beyond itself. Tack and rigor may attend all our words, but our words, but our words will avail nothing if man prevails not. What lies beyond criticism? D.H. Lawrence knew. This is what he says in his &#039;&#039;Apocalypse&#039;&#039;: “O lovely green dragon of the new day, the undawned day, &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; in touch, and release us from the horrid grip of the evil-smelling old Logos! Come in silence, and say nothing. Come in touch, in soft new touch like a spring-time, and say nothing.”{{sfn|Lawrence|1931|pp. 233 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{Template:Aade-sm}}&lt;br /&gt;
==Notes==&lt;br /&gt;
{{notelist}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Citations==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Reflist|20em}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Works Cited==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Refbegin|40em}}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Adams |first=Robert Martin |date=1962 |title=Surface and Symbol: The Consistency of James Joyce&#039;s Ulysses |location=New York |publisher=Oxford University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Bachelard |first=Gaston |date=1963 |title=Lautréamont |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Barthes|first=Roland |date=1959 |title=Le Degré Zéro de L&#039;Ecriture  |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Blanchot |first=Maurice|date=1959 |title= Le Livre à Venir |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last=Brown |first=Norman O.|date=1961 |title=Apocalypse. |url= |journal=Harper&#039;s|volume= |issue= |pages= |doi= |access-date= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Buber|first=Martin |date=1955 | title=Between Man and Man |location=Boston |publisher=Harcourt, Brace, &amp;amp; World |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Camus|first=Albert |date=1961 |title=Resistance, Rebellion, and Death |location=New York |publisher=Knopf |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Durrell |first=Lawrence and Alfred Perles |date=1961 |title=Art and Outrage: A Correspondence about Henry Miller |location=New York|publisher=Dutton |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Frye|first=Northrop |date=1963 |title=The Well-Tempered Critic|location=Bloomington |publisher=Indiana University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger|first=Murray |date=1959 |title=The Myth of Sisyphus|location=New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger |first=Murray |date=1960 |title=The Tragic Vision: Variations on a Theme of Literary Interpretation |location=New York |publisher=Holt, Rinehart and Winston |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lawrence |first=D.H. |date=1931 |title= Apocalypse |location=Florence |publisher=G. Orioli |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lewis|first=R.W.B. |date=1959 |title=The Picaresque Saint|location=Philadelphia and New York|publisher=Lippincott |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Mauriac|first=Claude |date=1959 |title=The New Literature |publisher=G. Braziller|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Meyer|first=Leonard B. |date=1963 |title=The End of the Renaissance |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=Henry |date=1939 |title=The Cosmological Eye |location=Norfork|publisher=New Directions|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=James E., Karl Shapiro and Bernice Slote|date=1960 |title=Start With the Sun|location=Lincoln |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Ong|first=Walter J. |date=1962 |title=The Barbarian Within |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Rowley |first= H.H.|title= The Relevance of Apocalyptic&#039;&#039; |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Sartre|first=Jean-Paul |date=1948 |title=Situations II |location=Paris |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last1=Trilling |first1=Lionel |date=1962 |title=On the Modern Element in Modern Literature |journal=The Partisan Review Anthology |volume= |issue= |pages= | ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Wellek |first=René |date=1963 |title=Concepts of Criticism |url= |location=New Haven|page=|isbn= |author-link= |ref=harv }}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
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&lt;div&gt;&#039;&#039;COMPARATIVE LITERATURE STUDIES&#039;&#039; Vol. I, No. 4, 1964&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Beyond a Theory of Literature: Intimations of Apocalypse?&lt;br /&gt;
{{byline|last=Hassan|first=Ihab}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Begin with an assumption: that literature defines our concepts of criticism or else it defies them, and that life constantly challenges the pieties of both art and thought. What I shall attempt here, then, could not be considered an authoritative review of postwar criticism. It should be understood, rather, as a partial statement on the gathering mood of American criticism, an intimation of a trend which the facts of literary history in the past two decades (colored inevitably by my own sense of fact) may help to clarify.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The admission that I neither hold nor accept a definitive view of criticism should not be too shocking. In England, where the empiric temper prevails in the name of common sense or urbanity, and even in France, where questions of methodology yield to a lively concern with new writing, such an admission would seem fairly innocuous. It is otherwise in America. Among us, the notion that criticism must become a rigorous, quasi-scientific activity in order to justify its name still finds wide support. Not long ago —or is it really ages past?— most students of literature, myself included, recognized the elegance of René Wellek’s formulation of the destiny of criticism: “the interpretation of literature as distinct from other activities of man.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=343}} Coming from Professor Wellek, the emphasis on interpretation rather than on literary theory seemed unduly self-effacing. Be that as it may, the formula appealed then to the common rage for order, and seemed also to aver the dignity of the humanities on terms that the age demanded. With the years, however, the formula seems, to me at least, to have lost in elegance as it has gained in naïveté. The breed of technicians it has unwittingly sanctioned may have found a truer consummation of their hopes in the laboratories of Oak Ridge. Literature as a distinct activity of man? Criticism as a distinct response to a distinct activity of man? What is man that we should be so little mindful of him, so arbitrary with the complexities of his mind? From Surrealism to Absurdism, literature itself suggests that a distinct aesthetic response may be defined only at the risk of deadly discrimination.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yet my object is not to engage in polemics. The point can be stated with some equanimity: a new breed of American critics are anxious to assert them selves against the rigors and pieties they have inherited. Their mood is restless, eclectic, speculative; sometimes, it is even apocalyptic. Those who feel out of sympathy with them may wish to apply different epithets: romantic, primitivist, existential, amateurish, or plain anti-intellectual. (The usefulness of these tags, dispensed usually with contumely, is as doubtful as their accuracy.) Others, however, may recognize the creative possibilities of this new mood, troubled, vague, or disruptive as it may seem.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Evidence of the new mood is various though one senses behind it the enduring search for wholeness and vitality in the literary response. One senses, too, the paradoxical desire to appropriate literature to the dream life of men, and then again to implicate it in the widest sphere of their daily actions. Is not the secret task, for poet and critic alike, to participate in that magic process whereby the word is turned into flesh?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The critic therefore feels the need for commitment; he wants to testify. And what is to prevent him? The encounter with an authentic work of art is a bruising experience, full of strange knowledge and hidden pleasure, of the kind we usually spend a life-time resisting. The critic knows that he himself is on trial, and that the act of literary criticism is above all an act of self-judgement. Since his business is to speak of literature, speech in his case must ultimately take the form of self-revelation. But the need for self-revelation is not only a private or existential need. It is also a social function of the critic. “Is art always an outrage - must it by its very nature be an outrage?&amp;quot; Durrell asks.{{sfn|Durrell|Perles|1961|p=9}} The question haunts the critic even more than it does the oafish censors of our time. For should the critic insist on his dubious right to privacy or detachment, his deepest knowledge of literature would remain locked, a private outrage, an inner wound. Yet literature, we know, acts through language; it is a communal call, there where words and experience are one, as it is solitary subversion, where words begin to fail. In the act of testimony, therefore, the critic admits the &#039;&#039;relevance&#039;&#039; of the buried power of literature; he offers himself to the harsh task of mediating between society and vision, culture and anarchy. Only thus can he give to outrage wider reference, give it a meaning beyond itself. There is the risk of course, that such mediation may rob both culture and outrage of their particular force. Yet from that loss a new life in history may be gained, a new consciousness of self and society may be born. This is precisely the gain, implicit in the discomforts of critical commitment, which Lionel Trilling, in his otherwise subtle essay, “On the Modern Element in Modern Literature,” seems to ignore.{{sfn|Trilling|1962|p=267 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Commitment, however, is but a single impulse of the new critical attitude; it simply prepares the ground for dialogue. Another impulse may be defined as the refusal wholly to objectify the work of literature. The art work, of course, has been long considered as an &#039;&#039;object&#039;&#039;, an object for dissection or knowledge, idolatry or classification. Yet the encounter between critic and work is neither entirely objective nor purely aesthetic; it may be a “dialogue” of the kind Martin Buber has proposed. In Buber&#039;s sense, the work of art resists identification with insensible It; for the work demands answer and response, and it requires a meeting. Is it then so perverse to ask the critic, whether he subscribes to Buber’s theology or not, that he “turn toward” the work and confess with Buber, “in each instance a word demanding an answer has happened to me” ?{{sfn|Buber|1955|p=10}} Nothing is mystical in this statement, nothing inimical to the spirit of poetry. The statement, in fact, points to some rather mundane questions which Walter J. Ong, theologian of another faith, happily raises. In his original essay, “The Jinnee in the Well-Wrought Urn,” Father Ong states: “Creative activity is often...powered by the drive to accomplish, in terms of the production of an object of art, an adjustment or readjustment in certain obscure relationships with other persons.&amp;quot; What does this mean? Quite obviously, it means that behind every work of art lurks and strains a human being; less obviously, perhaps, it means that the voice of the human creator, raging heart and feet of clay, is not entirely silenced in his art. The jinnee cannot be exorcised from the urn it inhabits, however shapely the latter may prove; the artifact still comes to life with voices unknown. And indeed this is what we, as readers, require. Once again, Father Ong sees the point clearly: “as a matter of full, serious, protracted contemplation and love, it is unbearable for a man or woman to be faced with anything less than a person. . . .”{{sfn|Ong|1962|p=19, 25}} This is precisely what critics, compelled by the difficult reciprocities of love, may now want to face: not an object but a presence mediated cunningly, incomprehensibly, by language. Such a presence is not simply human. It is the presence, moving and participating in reality, which Owen Barfield, in &#039;&#039;Saving the Appearances&#039;&#039;, has shown us to lie at the heart of the symbolic process. In facing such a presence, critics may hope to recover the primal connection with a universe mediated increasingly by abstractions. But they may also hope to recover something more modest: a spontaneity of judgment which reaches outward, reaches beyond itself. Holden Caulfield, we recall, was moved to call on an author whose work he had much enjoyed. In such naïveté there may be a parable for critics as well as an occasion for derision.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If some postwar critics are loth to consider the literary work merely as an object, they are equally reluctant to believe that contemplation is the sole reaction to it. Beyond testimony, beyond participation or dialogue, the critic now wishes to entertain in the possibility that &#039;&#039;action&#039;&#039; maybe a legitimate response to art. By this, of course, I do not mean that he rushes to the barricades after reading &#039;&#039;The Conquerors&#039;&#039;, or that he develops tuberculosis after reading &#039;&#039;The Magic Mountain&#039;&#039;. I mean that the experience of a literary work does not leave him unchanged. To the extent that he is altered in the recesses of his imagination, indeed of his being, to that extent he must act differently in daily life. For if literature is both cognitive and experiential, as we have been so often told, then how can new knowledge but prompt new action? We may have accepted the Thomist notion of &#039;&#039;stasis&#039;&#039; in art much too uncritically. The counter-statement is boldly presented in Sartre&#039;s essay, “ Qu’est Ce Que la Littérature? ” “Parler c’est agir:” Sartre claims, “tout chose qu&#039;on nomme n’est déjà plus tout à fait la même, elle a perdu son innocence.” Sartre continues: “L&#039;œuvre d’art est valeur parce qu’elle est appel.”{{sfn|Sartre|1948|p=72, 98}} The appeal, above all, is to that act of self-definition which the work persuades its reader to perform, an act of definition and also of freedom. For in a sense, the work itself is “created” by the freedom of the reader to give it a concrete and, ultimately, personal meaning. The work, that is, finally enters the total existence of a man, not simply his dream life or aesthetic consciousness, and in doing so, it becomes subject to the total judgment of human passions. This is precisely what an existential writer of a different breed, Camus, meant when he wrote, “To create today is to create dangerously. Any publication is an act, and that act exposes one to the passions of an age that forgives nothing...”{{sfn|Camus|1961|p=251}} But if the writer must create dangerously these days, the critic cannot afford to criticize timorously. Dangerous criticism assumes that final and somewhat frightening responsibility which some critics naturally resist; namely, the willing suspension of aesthetic judgment in the interests of right action.&lt;br /&gt;
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I quite realize the enormity of this assertion. For one thing, it brings the critic dangerously close to the posture of the censor— the commissar, the propaganda helot, the prurient chief of police—who requires that every work of art display its social credentials or else stand convicted. No doubt, the redemption of man is a more momentous task than the creation of beauty, and virtue and goodness are not to be scoffed at. Yet redemption, one suspects, does not lie in the grasp of regulators; nor does virtue depend on the degradation of art by power. How, then, can the critic hope to transcend the aesthetic domain of literature without seeming to capitulate to dogma or authority, without seeming to endorse a vulgar or repressive utilitarianism?&lt;br /&gt;
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There are many answers to this question, though all are equally provisional, for in this as in other literary matters, tact not theory comes to our aid. We can begin, however, by making two observations. First, serious literature offers great resistance to political expediency; other forms of propaganda are far more effective. The basic affinity of modern literature particularly is with vision and outrage. By vision, I mean neither doctrine nor even revelation, but simply a concrete projection of the imagination into the conduct of life. Henry Miller has such an idea in mind when he says: “The role which the artist plays in society is to revive the primitive, anarchic instincts which have been sacrificed for the illusion of living in comfort”; or when he says again: “I do not call poets those who make verses, rhymed or unrhymed. I call that man poet who is capable of profoundly altering the world.”{{sfn|Miller|1939|p=156, 38 ff}} Both these statements reveal the artist’s conception of himself as visionary actor; both attest to his hope that prophecy may find its incarnation, beyond language, in action. Emboldened by such statements—and they are by no means restricted to Miller—the critic may feel justified in participating in the action that the work initiates. This is to say that the critic becomes himself part of the devious process by which a writer’s vision penetrates culture. The character of this devious process is closer to the character of pedagogy than of social reform. This leads me to the second observation. Since the process is indeed devious, subject to all the ambiguities of modern culture, the critic cannot really maintain a purely pragmatic, a purely political view of literature. This is salutary for the activist critic who finds in the visionary or subversive power of literature an inner check on his propensity for dogma, his penchant for expediency. This critical ideal is not nearly as pretentious as it may sound, nor does it always require the critic to make his home in the midst of chaos. It may require him, however, to heed certain &#039;&#039;thematic&#039;&#039; questions which were once considered beneath notice. A number of critical works of the last decade reflect this emergent concern. In &#039;&#039;The Tragic Vision&#039;&#039;, for instance, Murray Krieger pertinently asks, “But how, if we limit ourselves to technical literary definitions, can we find for the tragic any meaning beyond that of Aristotle? The answer is, by moving from formalistic aesthetics to what I would term &#039;thematics.&#039;” Krieger’s analysis of that term cannot be summarized easily, but the implications of his method are stated succinctly enough. He concludes thus: “All of which is perhaps to say only that a literary theory must be adequate to the literary experiences for which it is to account and that we trust our way of experiencing literature only as it is adequate to the life out there, which cries for a way of being organized literarily that will yet leave it preserved intact.”{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=2, 244}}  If the insistence on “the life out there” does not necessarily force the critic into a study of “thematics,” it does persuade him to dwell on precisely those formal matters that invoke the larger aspects of reality and may even engage religious thought. Thus the essays of James E. Miller, Jr., Karl Shapiro, and Bernice Slote, in &#039;&#039;Start With the Sun&#039;&#039;, explore the relation of Dionysian poetry to cosmic consciousness, mystery, and apocalypse. Miss Slote ends taking her cue from a noble phrase of Lawrence, “Perhaps then we may be absolved from the poetry of mirrors.{{sfn|Miller|Shapiro|Slote|1960|p=238}}  Parallel explorations of fiction lead R.W.B. Lewis, in his fine study, &#039;&#039;The Picaresque Saint&#039;&#039;, to distinguish between the generation of Proust, Joyce, and Mann, in whose world the aesthetic experience was supreme, and the generation of Silone, Faulkner, Camus, and Greene, in whose world “the chief experience has been the discovery of what it means to be a human being and to be alive.” Lewis continues: “Criticism, examining this world, is drawn to the more radically human considerations of life and death, and of the aspiring, sinful nature of man.”{{sfn|Lewis|1959|p=9}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Perhaps I have spoken long enough of certain interests of postwar criticism, though I feel I have spoken of them only tangentially. If one were to search for the theoretical basis of these interests—a task which I must leave to more philosophical critics one might be inclined to develop a view of literature that does not put the idea of form as its center. By this I do not simply mean a redefinition of the concept of form so that it may account, say, for the plays of Beckett or the novels of Burroughs. I would plead for a more radical view. From Kant to Cassirer, from Coleridge to Croce and down to the New Critics, the idea of organic form has been a touchstone of value and a cornerstone of theory in literary study. We assume, and indeed we believe, that the imagination incarnates itself only as an aesthetic order, and that such an order is available to the analytic mind. We believe more: that aesthetic order defines the deepest pleasures of literature and conveys its enduring attractions. I am not at all secure in these beliefs. Indeed, I am willing to take the devil&#039;s part and entertain the notion that “structure” is not always present or explicable in literary works; and that where it reveals itself, it is not always worth the attention we give it. Such works as &#039;&#039;Hamlet&#039;&#039; and &#039;&#039;Don Quixote&#039;&#039; not diminished by the discovery that their form, whatever it may be, is less organic than we expect the form of great works to be. Even that supreme artifact of our century, that total structure of symbols, puns, and cross-references, that city of words full of secret alleys and connecting catacombs, even Joyce&#039;s &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039;, may prove to the keen, fresh eye of a critic more of a labyrinth, dead ends and ways without issue, than Dublin itself which encloses the nightmare of history. This is precisely what Robert Martin Adams concludes in his fascinating study, &#039;&#039;Surface and Symbol&#039;&#039;. Adams inspects minutely the wealth of details in the novel, and finds that many of them serve to blur or confuse rather than to sustain patterns: &amp;quot;The close reading of &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039; thus reveals that the meaningless is deeply interwoven with the meaningful in the texture of the novel...It is a book and an antibook, a work of art particularly receptive to accident. It builds to acute and poignant states of consciousness, yet its larger ambition seems to be to put aside consciousness as a painful burden.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Adams|1962|p=245, 253}}Nothing catastrophic to the future of criticism is presaged by this statement. Quite the contrary: criticism may derive new vitality from some attention to the unstructured and even random element in literature. For is not form, after all, best conceived as a mode of awareness, a function of cognition, a question, that is, of epistemology rather than ontology? Its objective reality is qualified by the overpowering reality of human &#039;&#039;need&#039;&#039;. In the end, we perceive what we need to perceive, and our sense of pattern as of relation is conditioned by our deeper sense of relevance. This is why the aesthetic of the future will have to reckon with Freud, Nietzsche, and even Kierkegaard, who have given us, more than Marx himself, compelling economies of human needs.{{efn|In recent criticism, certain works have already begun to reflect this particular concern. Besides the works by R. W. B. Lewis and Murray Krieger already cited, one might mention Geoffrey Hartman, &#039;&#039;The Unmediated Vision&#039;&#039; (New Haven, 1954), Ihab Hassan, &#039;&#039;Radical Innocence&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1961), Frederick J. Hoffman, &#039;&#039;The Mortal No&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1964), and Arturo B. Fallico, &#039;&#039;Art and Existentialism&#039;&#039; (Englewood Cliffs, N. J., 1962).}} &lt;br /&gt;
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I could not persist in suggesting the theoretical implications of postwar criticism without falling into the trap which I have myself described. We do not always need a theoretical argument to bring forth a new critical attitude; we only need good critics. But perhaps we need, more than anything else, to regard literature in a more oblique fashion, regard it even in the slanting light of its own absurdity. We might then see that the theoretical solemnity of modern criticism ignore the self-destructive element of literature, its need for self-annulment. What Camus said of his own work applies, in various ways, to all literature: the act of creation is akin to chance and disorder, to which it comes through diversity, and it constantly meets with futility. &amp;quot;Creating or not creating changes nothing, &amp;quot; Camus writes. &amp;quot;The absurd creator does not prize his work. He could repudiate it.&amp;quot; And again: &amp;quot;The absurd work illustrates the intelligence that works up appearances and covers with images what has no reason. If the world were clear, art would not exist.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Camus|1959|p=72 ff}} Perhaps the function of literature, after all, is not to clarify that world but to help create a world in which literature becomes superfluous. And perhaps the function of criticism, as I shall argue later, is to attain to the difficult wisdom of perceiving how literature is finally, and &#039;&#039;only&#039;&#039; finally, inconsequential.{{efn|These heretical statements are developed more fully in my essay &amp;quot;The Dismemberment of Orpheus,&amp;quot; &#039;&#039;American Scholar&#039;&#039;, XXXII.}}{{sfn|Hassan|1963|p=463-484}}                                                                       &lt;br /&gt;
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The foregoing remarks limn certain trends in postwar criticism; they are not intended to define a school or movement. Still, I feel it wise to anticipate some objections before concluding this mock survey.&lt;br /&gt;
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It may be argued, for instance, that many of the attitudes I have described are not so novel as I make them out to be. Richards&#039; emotive theories, Burke&#039;s concept of action, Leavis’ cultural vitalism, Trilling’s depth-view of manners and imagination, Blackmur’s metaphors of silence in literature, and above all, Herbert Read’s sympathy for the anarchic spirit, certainly open the way to the speculations of younger critics. The latter, however, still distinguish themselves by a certain quality of passion, a generosity toward the perversities of spirit, and a sense of crisis in man’s fate. Two recent books of criticism, R. W. B. Lewis’ &#039;&#039;The American Adam&#039;&#039; and Leslie Fiedler&#039;s &#039;&#039;Love and Death at the American Novel&#039;&#039;, seem quite disparate in tone and method; yet both, I think, stand in this respect closer to Lawrence’s seminal work, &#039;&#039;Studies in Classic American Literature&#039;&#039;, than to Matthiessen’s &#039;&#039;American Renaissance&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
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Then again, it might be argued that my use of the terms, “form” and “theory,&amp;quot; appears tendentious; that, ideally speaking, neither of these terms excludes larger commitments; and that, in any case, there are so many concepts of “form” and “structure” in modern criticism as to make a general condemnation of them irresponsible. I should like to think that there are more wicked uses of irresponsibility than in the criticism of criticism. What an ideal formalist theory may contribute to our appreciation of literature is not in dispute; what it has contributed in the past by way of practical criticism is also very considerable. Still, do we not all sense the growing inertness of the Spirit of criticism beneath the weight of the Letter? One sometimes feels that in another decade or two, the task or criticism may be safely performed by some lively computing machine which, blessed with total recall, would never misquote as some critics are reputed to do.&lt;br /&gt;
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I speak, of course, hyperbolically. Perhaps I can make the point clearer, and sharpen thereby the distinction between two generations of critics, by referring to two eminent theoreticians of literature. Both René Wellek and Northrop Frye are men of vast erudition; both have shaped the course of literary studies in America. This, I think, is entirely as it should be; the timely authority of such works as Wellek and Warren’s &#039;&#039;Theory of Literature&#039;&#039; or Frye’s &#039;&#039;Anatomy of Criticism&#039;&#039; deserves nothing less. Yet at the risk of seeming ungracious, it is to their later, and perhaps lesser, works that I wish to refer. After all, the question still remains: what lies beyond formalist theory?&lt;br /&gt;
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In &#039;&#039;Concepts of Criticism&#039;&#039;, Professor Wellek shows himself to be somewhat out of love with the directions of contemporary criticism. “It seems to me that in spite of the basic truth of the insight of organicism, the unity of content and form, we have arrived today at something like a deadend,” he states.{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=65}} His dissatisfaction, however, is of short duration. Professor Wellek sees the way out in the doctrine of “structuralism,&amp;quot; evolved by the Prague Linguistic Circle - alas, now defunct! “Such a concept of the literary work of art avoids two pitfalls,” Professor Wellek hopes, “the extreme of organicism which leads to a lumpish totality in which discrimination becomes impossible, and the opposite danger of atomistic fragmentation.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=68}} The way out, as it turns out, comes very close to the ancient ideal of the golden mean. This is judicious. But is it really judiciousness which prompts him in two later chapters, “Philosophy and Post- war American Criticism” and “Main Trends of Twentieth-Century Criticism,” to deride all recent criticism? The brilliant and inventive concern with American literature in the last two decades is deplored as an example of “romantic historicism,” and mythic and existential criticism are condemned as an instance of “the irrationalistic philosophies of Europe” adapted to the pragmatic temper of the United States.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=333 ff}} Professor Wellek sadly concludes: “Only those who adhere to either the German idealist tradition, in the Kantian or Coleridgean version, or those who rediscover Aristotle, still keep a grasp on the nature of art and recognize the necessity of an aesthetic and the ideal of a study of literature as literature.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=342}} Having defined literature in formalist terms, it is no wonder that Professor Wellek &#039;&#039;still&#039;&#039; believes formalist theory to be the most rewarding view of literature. Thus is the rigor of tautology achieved.&lt;br /&gt;
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&#039;&#039;The Well-Tempered Critic&#039;&#039;, which is not wrought in the massive architectural manner of Professor Frye’s earlier work, is too urbane to be tautological. Its urbanity expresses a fine subtlety of mind in the final chapter of the book, and the subtlety itself disguises a somewhat chilly view of literature. Professor Frye acknowledges the distinction between the classic and romantic tempers in criticism, and proceeds to discover the correlatives of each. The classic temper, he informs us, is aesthetic, the romantic is psychological; the former views art as artifact, the latter as expression; the one derives from Aristotle, the other from Longinus. I do not quarrel with these distinctions, particularly when categorical distinctions make the very basis of the geometric edifices Professor Frye likes to erect. “The first step to take here,&amp;quot; he argues, “is to realize that just as a poem implies a distinction between the poet as man and the poet as verbal craftsman, so the response to a poem implies a corresponding distinction in the critic.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=123}} For both Northrop Frye and René Wellek, we see, the critical act rests on the &#039;&#039;separation&#039;&#039; of certain human faculties from the continuum of felt life. There are few critics willing to speak professionally for the ancient female principle, acceptance and fusion, and the enveloping wholeness of things, few willing to speak for the fourfold vision of Blake. Yet carried far enough, distinctions become the source of the mind’s alienation, the Cartesian madness of the West. &lt;br /&gt;
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Again, Professor Frye views criticism not as the experience of literature but, more discretely, as an area of knowledge. This leads him to the hard-boiled conclusion, so repugnant to visionary educators, that “the values we want the student to acquire from us cannot be taught: only knowledge of literature can be taught.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=136}} Can knowledge be dissociated from value, and criticism forego its aspiration to wisdom? Apparently so. “The fundamental act of criticism is a disinterested response to a work of literature in which all one’s beliefs, engagements, commitments, prejudices, stampedings of pity and terror, are ordered to be quiet,” he continues.{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=140}} Ordered to be quiet! Who listens, then, and who speaks instead? The imagination never demanded such frozen void, nor do the supreme fictions of the mind reject the earth they transmute. We have seen criticism gaze long enough on the world with the quiet eyes of Apollo. Shall we ever see it partake again of the sacred flesh of Dionysus?&lt;br /&gt;
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I do not wish to suggest that the Dionysiac vision is bound to penetrate literary criticism the world over. I do sense, however, a movement in contemporary letters which must force us to revise our tenets or else accept the charge of theoretical isolationism in America. It is doubtful, for instance, that the plays of Beckett or Genet or Artaud, the novels of William Burroughs, Maurice Blanchot, or Alain Robbe-Grillet, the later stories of Salinger, the poetry of Charles Olson, Blaise Cendrars, or Dylan Thomas—and I cite these names quite at random—can be illuminated brightly by the critical terms of Professors Wellek and Frye. Nathalie Sarraute&#039;s latest book, &#039;&#039;The Golden Fruits&#039;&#039;, and Marc Saporta’s “shuffle novel,” &#039;&#039;Number 1&#039;&#039;, deny the conventional idea of structure. The first is a novel about a novel which cancels itself in the very act of reading; the second is a stratagem which accepts the principle of chance as an integral part of the literary experience. As for Burroughs’ &#039;&#039;The Soft Machine&#039;&#039;, it applies— to what extent, no one will know— the “cut up method of Brion Gysin,” a method which combines collage and montage. If these works possess a form, it is probably a “non-telic&amp;quot; form of the kind recently reflected in painting and music.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Meyer|1963|p=169-186}} Must we then dismiss such works as faddish freaks, of more interest to literary gossip than literary history?&lt;br /&gt;
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In France, where criticism has been long associated with the spirit of lucidity, critics take a different stand. A quick look at some of their statements may persuade us that their view of literature is not too far from the view I have proposed. The common theme of Claude Mauriac’s &#039;&#039;The New Literature&#039;&#039; is stated thus: “After the silence of Rimbaud, the blank page of Mallarmé, the inarticulate cry of Artaud, a literature finally dissolves in alliteration with Joyce. The author of &#039;&#039;Finnegans Wake&#039;&#039; in fact creates out of whole cloth words full of so many diverse overtones that they are eclipsed by them. For Beckett, on the contrary, words all say the same thing.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Mauriac|1959|p=12}} The theme of Roland Barthes&#039; &#039;&#039;Le Degré Zéro de L‘Ecriture&#039;&#039; is similar: the avatar of the new literature is absence. Barthes writes: “dans ces écritures neutres, appelées ici ‘le degré zéro de l’écriture,&#039; on peut facilement discerner le mouvement même d’une négation, comme si la Littérature, tendant depuis un siècle à transmuer sa surface dans une forme sans hérédité, ne trouvait plus de pureté que dans l’absence de tout signe, proposant en fin l’accomplissement de ce rêve orphéen: un écrivain sans Littérature.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Barthes|1959|p=12}} Likewise, for Maurice Blanchot literature is moving toward “l’ère saris parole.” This movement may lead to a form of writing that is incessant sound; or it may lead, as Blanchot states in Le Livre à Venir, quite in the other direction: “la littérature va vers elle-même, vers son essence qui est la disparition.”{{sfn|Blanchot|1959|p=237}} Both directions, we can surmise, end in the dissolution of significant form, the abdication of language. Is this silence at the heart of modern literature the definition of outrage, a subjective correlative of our terror? Or is the monstrous language of action, which Bachelard {{sfn|Bachelard|1963|p=154}} believes to be pointing, beyond Lautréamontism, toward “une réintegration de l&#039;humain dans la vie ardente...,” a closer correlative of that terror? We can only observe that from Sade and Lautréamont to Kafka and Beckett, the twin dark streams of poetry, the poetry of action and the poetry of silence, have been flowing toward some unknown sea wherein some figure of apocalypse, man or beast, still lies submerged.&lt;br /&gt;
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Critics, however, are of many ilks, and for some the mantic role is as foreign as Elijah&#039;s. I wish to force no prophecies in the mouths of students of literature. Still, it is not unreasonable to ask that criticism evolve a method which takes deeper cognizance of the evolving character of life as of literature. The point is almost too obvious: contemporary letters can be judged as little by the standards of pure formalism as, let us say, Romantic poetry can we evaluated by the strict conventions of neo-Classicism.&lt;br /&gt;
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The problem of criticism, however, must not be left to the indolent spirit of literary relativism. Indeed, the problems may not prove to be one of literary method at all. The problem of criticism is always the challenge of awareness, full awareness of human existence in time and in place, but also outside of both, in the dream world which antecedes all responsibilities. In the end, perhaps, the problem of critics and poets alike is one of human destiny. To say less is to confuse cowardice with modesty.&lt;br /&gt;
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If there is underlying theme in recent American criticism, it is the implicit theme of crisis, a crisis not merely of literary method but of literature itself, which means of culture and consciousness. The crisis, as Nicolas Berdyaev knew, is not the crisis of humanism but of humanity itself. In the past, periods of crisis have often bred visions of apocalypse.{{sfn|Rowley|nd|p=150-178}} Such visions may come our way again. They may even lurk in a critic&#039;s perplexity. Here is how Krieger put the question: “Or is it, perhaps, that the Kierkegaardian version is right and that our world has itself become the tragic visionary in its unbelief using self-destructive crises to force itself finally to confront the absurdities of earthly reality...? Which is to ask fearfully and even unwillingly, whether we have not been beguiled by aesthetic satisfactions and whether the utterly striped tragic vision may not after all be less illusory than the fullness which shines through tragedy.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=12}}&lt;br /&gt;
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This is no time to sit in judgment on the world or to interpret its modern tragedy. From the Revelation of St. John the Divine to Norman O. Brown’s extraordinary PBK address, entitled &amp;quot;Apocalypse,” men have envisioned the destruction of the world and foreseen its resurrection. “Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection: on such the second death has no power...,” St. John says.{{sfn|Revelation|nd|p=xx.6}} But we are not at the first resurrection yet; we are not even beyond madness. Thus from Norman O. Brown: “The alternative to mind is certainly madness... Our real choice is between holy and unholy madness: open your eyes and look around you—madness is in the saddle anyhow.”{{sfn|Brown|1961|p=47}} What task will criticism perform, wavering between holy and unholy madness? What bootless task?&lt;br /&gt;
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Criticism is no country for old men of any age. Criticism, which was born to behold literature, must still do so and look beyond itself. Tack and rigor may attend all our words, but our words, but our words will avail nothing if man prevails not. What lies beyond criticism? D.H. Lawrence knew. This is what he says in his &#039;&#039;Apocalypse&#039;&#039;: “O lovely green dragon of the new day, the undawned day, &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; in touch, and release us from the horrid grip of the evil-smelling old Logos! Come in silence, and say nothing. Come in touch, in soft new touch like a spring-time, and say nothing.”{{sfn|Lawrence|1931|pp. 233 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
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==Notes==&lt;br /&gt;
{{notelist}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Citations==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Reflist|20em}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Works Cited==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Refbegin|40em}}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Adams |first=Robert Martin |date=1962 |title=Surface and Symbol: The Consistency of James Joyce&#039;s Ulysses |location=New York |publisher=Oxford University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Bachelard |first=Gaston |date=1963 |title=Lautréamont |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Barthes|first=Roland |date=1959 |title=Le Degré Zéro de L&#039;Ecriture  |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Blanchot |first=Maurice|date=1959 |title= Le Livre à Venir |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last=Brown |first=Norman O.|date=1961 |title=Apocalypse. |url= |journal=Harper&#039;s|volume= |issue= |pages= |doi= |access-date= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Buber|first=Martin |date=1955 | title=Between Man and Man |location=Boston |publisher=Harcourt, Brace, &amp;amp; World |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Camus|first=Albert |date=1961 |title=Resistance, Rebellion, and Death |location=New York |publisher=Knopf |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Durrell |first=Lawrence and Alfred Perles |date=1961 |title=Art and Outrage: A Correspondence about Henry Miller |location=New York|publisher=Dutton |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Frye|first=Northrop |date=1963 |title=The Well-Tempered Critic|location=Bloomington |publisher=Indiana University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger|first=Murray |date=1959 |title=The Myth of Sisyphus|location=New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger |first=Murray |date=1960 |title=The Tragic Vision: Variations on a Theme of Literary Interpretation |location=New York |publisher=Holt, Rinehart and Winston |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lawrence |first=D.H. |date=1931 |title= Apocalypse |location=Florence |publisher=G. Orioli |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lewis|first=R.W.B. |date=1959 |title=The Picaresque Saint|location=Philadelphia and New York|publisher=Lippincott |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Mauriac|first=Claude |date=1959 |title=The New Literature |publisher=G. Braziller|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Meyer|first=Leonard B. |date=1963 |title=The End of the Renaissance |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=Henry |date=1939 |title=The Cosmological Eye |location=Norfork |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=James E., Karl Shapiro and Bernice Slote|date=1960 |title=Start With the Sun|location=Lincoln |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Ong|first=Walter J. |date=1962 |title=The Barbarian Within |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Rowley |first= H.H.|title= The Relevance of Apocalyptic&#039;&#039; |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Sartre|first=Jean-Paul |date=1948 |title=Situations II |location=Paris |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last1=Trilling |first1=Lionel |date=1962 |title=On the Modern Element in Modern Literature |journal=The Partisan Review Anthology |volume= |issue= |pages= | ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Wellek |first=René |date=1963 |title=Concepts of Criticism |url= |location=New Haven|page=|isbn= |author-link= |ref=harv }}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
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&lt;div&gt;&#039;&#039;COMPARATIVE LITERATURE STUDIES&#039;&#039; Vol. I, No. 4, 1964&lt;br /&gt;
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Beyond a Theory of Literature: Intimations of Apocalypse?&lt;br /&gt;
{{byline|last=Hassan|first=Ihab}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Begin with an assumption: that literature defines our concepts of criticism or else it defies them, and that life constantly challenges the pieties of both art and thought. What I shall attempt here, then, could not be considered an authoritative review of postwar criticism. It should be understood, rather, as a partial statement on the gathering mood of American criticism, an intimation of a trend which the facts of literary history in the past two decades (colored inevitably by my own sense of fact) may help to clarify.&lt;br /&gt;
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The admission that I neither hold nor accept a definitive view of criticism should not be too shocking. In England, where the empiric temper prevails in the name of common sense or urbanity, and even in France, where questions of methodology yield to a lively concern with new writing, such an admission would seem fairly innocuous. It is otherwise in America. Among us, the notion that criticism must become a rigorous, quasi-scientific activity in order to justify its name still finds wide support. Not long ago —or is it really ages past?— most students of literature, myself included, recognized the elegance of René Wellek’s formulation of the destiny of criticism: “the interpretation of literature as distinct from other activities of man.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=343}} Coming from Professor Wellek, the emphasis on interpretation rather than on literary theory seemed unduly self-effacing. Be that as it may, the formula appealed then to the common rage for order, and seemed also to aver the dignity of the humanities on terms that the age demanded. With the years, however, the formula seems, to me at least, to have lost in elegance as it has gained in naïveté. The breed of technicians it has unwittingly sanctioned may have found a truer consummation of their hopes in the laboratories of Oak Ridge. Literature as a distinct activity of man? Criticism as a distinct response to a distinct activity of man? What is man that we should be so little mindful of him, so arbitrary with the complexities of his mind? From Surrealism to Absurdism, literature itself suggests that a distinct aesthetic response may be defined only at the risk of deadly discrimination.&lt;br /&gt;
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Yet my object is not to engage in polemics. The point can be stated with some equanimity: a new breed of American critics are anxious to assert them selves against the rigors and pieties they have inherited. Their mood is restless, eclectic, speculative; sometimes, it is even apocalyptic. Those who feel out of sympathy with them may wish to apply different epithets: romantic, primitivist, existential, amateurish, or plain anti-intellectual. (The usefulness of these tags, dispensed usually with contumely, is as doubtful as their accuracy.) Others, however, may recognize the creative possibilities of this new mood, troubled, vague, or disruptive as it may seem.&lt;br /&gt;
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Evidence of the new mood is various though one senses behind it the enduring search for wholeness and vitality in the literary response. One senses, too, the paradoxical desire to appropriate literature to the dream life of men, and then again to implicate it in the widest sphere of their daily actions. Is not the secret task, for poet and critic alike, to participate in that magic process whereby the word is turned into flesh?&lt;br /&gt;
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The critic therefore feels the need for commitment; he wants to testify. And what is to prevent him? The encounter with an authentic work of art is a bruising experience, full of strange knowledge and hidden pleasure, of the kind we usually spend a life-time resisting. The critic knows that he himself is on trial, and that the act of literary criticism is above all an act of self-judgement. Since his business is to speak of literature, speech in his case must ultimately take the form of self-revelation. But the need for self-revelation is not only a private or existential need. It is also a social function of the critic. “Is art always an outrage - must it by its very nature be an outrage?&amp;quot; Durrell asks.{{sfn|Durrell|Perles|1961|p=9}} The question haunts the critic even more than it does the oafish censors of our time. For should the critic insist on his dubious right to privacy or detachment, his deepest knowledge of literature would remain locked, a private outrage, an inner wound. Yet literature, we know, acts through language; it is a communal call, there where words and experience are one, as it is solitary subversion, where words begin to fail. In the act of testimony, therefore, the critic admits the &#039;&#039;relevance&#039;&#039; of the buried power of literature; he offers himself to the harsh task of mediating between society and vision, culture and anarchy. Only thus can he give to outrage wider reference, give it a meaning beyond itself. There is the risk of course, that such mediation may rob both culture and outrage of their particular force. Yet from that loss a new life in history may be gained, a new consciousness of self and society may be born. This is precisely the gain, implicit in the discomforts of critical commitment, which Lionel Trilling, in his otherwise subtle essay, “On the Modern Element in Modern Literature,” seems to ignore.{{sfn|Trilling|1962|p=267 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Commitment, however, is but a single impulse of the new critical attitude; it simply prepares the ground for dialogue. Another impulse may be defined as the refusal wholly to objectify the work of literature. The art work, of course, has been long considered as an &#039;&#039;object&#039;&#039;, an object for dissection or knowledge, idolatry or classification. Yet the encounter between critic and work is neither entirely objective nor purely aesthetic; it may be a “dialogue” of the kind Martin Buber has proposed. In Buber&#039;s sense, the work of art resists identification with insensible It; for the work demands answer and response, and it requires a meeting. Is it then so perverse to ask the critic, whether he subscribes to Buber’s theology or not, that he “turn toward” the work and confess with Buber, “in each instance a word demanding an answer has happened to me” ?{{sfn|Buber|1955|p=10}} Nothing is mystical in this statement, nothing inimical to the spirit of poetry. The statement, in fact, points to some rather mundane questions which Walter J. Ong, theologian of another faith, happily raises. In his original essay, “The Jinnee in the Well-Wrought Urn,” Father Ong states: “Creative activity is often...powered by the drive to accomplish, in terms of the production of an object of art, an adjustment or readjustment in certain obscure relationships with other persons.&amp;quot; What does this mean? Quite obviously, it means that behind every work of art lurks and strains a human being; less obviously, perhaps, it means that the voice of the human creator, raging heart and feet of clay, is not entirely silenced in his art. The jinnee cannot be exorcised from the urn it inhabits, however shapely the latter may prove; the artifact still comes to life with voices unknown. And indeed this is what we, as readers, require. Once again, Father Ong sees the point clearly: “as a matter of full, serious, protracted contemplation and love, it is unbearable for a man or woman to be faced with anything less than a person. . . .”{{sfn|Ong|1962|p=19, 25}} This is precisely what critics, compelled by the difficult reciprocities of love, may now want to face: not an object but a presence mediated cunningly, incomprehensibly, by language. Such a presence is not simply human. It is the presence, moving and participating in reality, which Owen Barfield, in &#039;&#039;Saving the Appearances&#039;&#039;, has shown us to lie at the heart of the symbolic process. In facing such a presence, critics may hope to recover the primal connection with a universe mediated increasingly by abstractions. But they may also hope to recover something more modest: a spontaneity of judgment which reaches outward, reaches beyond itself. Holden Caulfield, we recall, was moved to call on an author whose work he had much enjoyed. In such naïveté there may be a parable for critics as well as an occasion for derision.&lt;br /&gt;
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If some postwar critics are loth to consider the literary work merely as an object, they are equally reluctant to believe that contemplation is the sole reaction to it. Beyond testimony, beyond participation or dialogue, the critic now wishes to entertain in the possibility that &#039;&#039;action&#039;&#039; maybe a legitimate response to art. By this, of course, I do not mean that he rushes to the barricades after reading &#039;&#039;The Conquerors&#039;&#039;, or that he develops tuberculosis after reading &#039;&#039;The Magic Mountain&#039;&#039;. I mean that the experience of a literary work does not leave him unchanged. To the extent that he is altered in the recesses of his imagination, indeed of his being, to that extent he must act differently in daily life. For if literature is both cognitive and experiential, as we have been so often told, then how can new knowledge but prompt new action? We may have accepted the Thomist notion of &#039;&#039;stasis&#039;&#039; in art much too uncritically. The counter-statement is boldly presented in Sartre&#039;s essay, “ Qu’est Ce Que la Littérature? ” “Parler c’est agir:” Sartre claims, “tout chose qu&#039;on nomme n’est déjà plus tout à fait la même, elle a perdu son innocence.” Sartre continues: “L&#039;œuvre d’art est valeur parce qu’elle est appel.”{{sfn|Sartre|1948|p=72, 98}} The appeal, above all, is to that act of self-definition which the work persuades its reader to perform, an act of definition and also of freedom. For in a sense, the work itself is “created” by the freedom of the reader to give it a concrete and, ultimately, personal meaning. The work, that is, finally enters the total existence of a man, not simply his dream life or aesthetic consciousness, and in doing so, it becomes subject to the total judgment of human passions. This is precisely what an existential writer of a different breed, Camus, meant when he wrote, “To create today is to create dangerously. Any publication is an act, and that act exposes one to the passions of an age that forgives nothing...”{{sfn|Camus|1961|p=251}} But if the writer must create dangerously these days, the critic cannot afford to criticize timorously. Dangerous criticism assumes that final and somewhat frightening responsibility which some critics naturally resist; namely, the willing suspension of aesthetic judgment in the interests of right action.&lt;br /&gt;
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I quite realize the enormity of this assertion. For one thing, it brings the critic dangerously close to the posture of the censor— the commissar, the propaganda helot, the prurient chief of police—who requires that every work of art display its social credentials or else stand convicted. No doubt, the redemption of man is a more momentous task than the creation of beauty, and virtue and goodness are not to be scoffed at. Yet redemption, one suspects, does not lie in the grasp of regulators; nor does virtue depend on the degradation of art by power. How, then, can the critic hope to transcend the aesthetic domain of literature without seeming to capitulate to dogma or authority, without seeming to endorse a vulgar or repressive utilitarianism?&lt;br /&gt;
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There are many answers to this question, though all are equally provisional, for in this as in other literary matters, tact not theory comes to our aid. We can begin, however, by making two observations. First, serious literature offers great resistance to political expediency; other forms of propaganda are far more effective. The basic affinity of modern literature particularly is with vision and outrage. By vision, I mean neither doctrine nor even revelation, but simply a concrete projection of the imagination into the conduct of life. Henry Miller has such an idea in mind when he says: “The role which the artist plays in society is to revive the primitive, anarchic instincts which have been sacrificed for the illusion of living in comfort”; or when he says again: “I do not call poets those who make verses, rhymed or unrhymed. I call that man poet who is capable of profoundly altering the world.”{{sfn|Miller|1939|p=156, 38 ff}} Both these statements reveal the artist’s conception of himself as visionary actor; both attest to his hope that prophecy may find its incarnation, beyond language, in action. Emboldened by such statements—and they are by no means restricted to Miller—the critic may feel justified in participating in the action that the work initiates. This is to say that the critic becomes himself part of the devious process by which a writer’s vision penetrates culture. The character of this devious process is closer to the character of pedagogy than of social reform. This leads me to the second observation. Since the process is indeed devious, subject to all the ambiguities of modern culture, the critic cannot really maintain a purely pragmatic, a purely political view of literature. This is salutary for the activist critic who finds in the visionary or subversive power of literature an inner check on his propensity for dogma, his penchant for expediency. This critical ideal is not nearly as pretentious as it may sound, nor does it always require the critic to make his home in the midst of chaos. It may require him, however, to heed certain &#039;&#039;thematic&#039;&#039; questions which were once considered beneath notice. A number of critical works of the last decade reflect this emergent concern. In &#039;&#039;The Tragic Vision&#039;&#039;, for instance, Murray Krieger pertinently asks, “But how, if we limit ourselves to technical literary definitions, can we find for the tragic any meaning beyond that of Aristotle? The answer is, by moving from formalistic aesthetics to what I would term &#039;thematics.&#039;” Krieger’s analysis of that term cannot be summarized easily, but the implications of his method are stated succinctly enough. He concludes thus: “All of which is perhaps to say only that a literary theory must be adequate to the literary experiences for which it is to account and that we trust our way of experiencing literature only as it is adequate to the life out there, which cries for a way of being organized literarily that will yet leave it preserved intact.”{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=2, 244}}  If the insistence on “the life out there” does not necessarily force the critic into a study of “thematics,” it does persuade him to dwell on precisely those formal matters that invoke the larger aspects of reality and may even engage religious thought. Thus the essays of James E. Miller, Jr., Karl Shapiro, and Bernice Slote, in &#039;&#039;Start With the Sun&#039;&#039;, explore the relation of Dionysian poetry to cosmic consciousness, mystery, and apocalypse. Miss Slote ends taking her cue from a noble phrase of Lawrence, “Perhaps then we may be absolved from the poetry of mirrors.{{sfn|Miller|Shapiro|Slote|1960|p=238}}  Parallel explorations of fiction lead R.W.B. Lewis, in his fine study, &#039;&#039;The Picaresque Saint&#039;&#039;, to distinguish between the generation of Proust, Joyce, and Mann, in whose world the aesthetic experience was supreme, and the generation of Silone, Faulkner, Camus, and Greene, in whose world “the chief experience has been the discovery of what it means to be a human being and to be alive.” Lewis continues: “Criticism, examining this world, is drawn to the more radically human considerations of life and death, and of the aspiring, sinful nature of man.”{{sfn|Lewis|1959|p=9}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Perhaps I have spoken long enough of certain interests of postwar criticism, though I feel I have spoken of them only tangentially. If one were to search for the theoretical basis of these interests—a task which I must leave to more philosophical critics one might be inclined to develop a view of literature that does not put the idea of form as its center. By this I do not simply mean a redefinition of the concept of form so that it may account, say, for the plays of Beckett or the novels of Burroughs. I would plead for a more radical view. From Kant to Cassirer, from Coleridge to Croce and down to the New Critics, the idea of organic form has been a touchstone of value and a cornerstone of theory in literary study. We assume, and indeed we believe, that the imagination incarnates itself only as an aesthetic order, and that such an order is available to the analytic mind. We believe more: that aesthetic order defines the deepest pleasures of literature and conveys its enduring attractions. I am not at all secure in these beliefs. Indeed, I am willing to take the devil&#039;s part and entertain the notion that “structure” is not always present or explicable in literary works; and that where it reveals itself, it is not always worth the attention we give it. Such works as &#039;&#039;Hamlet&#039;&#039; and &#039;&#039;Don Quixote&#039;&#039; not diminished by the discovery that their form, whatever it may be, is less organic than we expect the form of great works to be. Even that supreme artifact of our century, that total structure of symbols, puns, and cross-references, that city of words full of secret alleys and connecting catacombs, even Joyce&#039;s &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039;, may prove to the keen, fresh eye of a critic more of a labyrinth, dead ends and ways without issue, than Dublin itself which encloses the nightmare of history. This is precisely what Robert Martin Adams concludes in his fascinating study, &#039;&#039;Surface and Symbol&#039;&#039;. Adams inspects minutely the wealth of details in the novel, and finds that many of them serve to blur or confuse rather than to sustain patterns: &amp;quot;The close reading of &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039; thus reveals that the meaningless is deeply interwoven with the meaningful in the texture of the novel...It is a book and an antibook, a work of art particularly receptive to accident. It builds to acute and poignant states of consciousness, yet its larger ambition seems to be to put aside consciousness as a painful burden.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Adams|1962|p=245, 253}}Nothing catastrophic to the future of criticism is presaged by this statement. Quite the contrary: criticism may derive new vitality from some attention to the unstructured and even random element in literature. For is not form, after all, best conceived as a mode of awareness, a function of cognition, a question, that is, of epistemology rather than ontology? Its objective reality is qualified by the overpowering reality of human &#039;&#039;need&#039;&#039;. In the end, we perceive what we need to perceive, and our sense of pattern as of relation is conditioned by our deeper sense of relevance. This is why the aesthetic of the future will have to reckon with Freud, Nietzsche, and even Kierkegaard, who have given us, more than Marx himself, compelling economies of human needs.{{efn|In recent criticism, certain works have already begun to reflect this particular concern. Besides the works by R. W. B. Lewis and Murray Krieger already cited, one might mention Geoffrey Hartman, &#039;&#039;The Unmediated Vision&#039;&#039; (New Haven, 1954), Ihab Hassan, &#039;&#039;Radical Innocence&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1961), Frederick J. Hoffman, &#039;&#039;The Mortal No&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1964), and Arturo B. Fallico, &#039;&#039;Art and Existentialism&#039;&#039; (Englewood Cliffs, N. J., 1962).}} &lt;br /&gt;
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I could not persist in suggesting the theoretical implications of postwar criticism without falling into the trap which I have myself described. We do not always need a theoretical argument to bring forth a new critical attitude; we only need good critics. But perhaps we need, more than anything else, to regard literature in a more oblique fashion, regard it even in the slanting light of its own absurdity. We might then see that the theoretical solemnity of modern criticism ignore the self-destructive element of literature, its need for self-annulment. What Camus said of his own work applies, in various ways, to all literature: the act of creation is akin to chance and disorder, to which it comes through diversity, and it constantly meets with futility. &amp;quot;Creating or not creating changes nothing, &amp;quot; Camus writes. &amp;quot;The absurd creator does not prize his work. He could repudiate it.&amp;quot; And again: &amp;quot;The absurd work illustrates the intelligence that works up appearances and covers with images what has no reason. If the world were clear, art would not exist.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Camus|1959|p=72 ff}} Perhaps the function of literature, after all, is not to clarify that world but to help create a world in which literature becomes superfluous. And perhaps the function of criticism, as I shall argue later, is to attain to the difficult wisdom of perceiving how literature is finally, and &#039;&#039;only&#039;&#039; finally, inconsequential.{{efn|These heretical statements are developed more fully in my essay &amp;quot;The Dismemberment of Orpheus,&amp;quot; &#039;&#039;American Scholar&#039;&#039;, XXXII.}}{{sfn|Hassan|1963|p=463-484}}                                                                       &lt;br /&gt;
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The foregoing remarks limn certain trends in postwar criticism; they are not intended to define a school or movement. Still, I feel it wise to anticipate some objections before concluding this mock survey.&lt;br /&gt;
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It may be argued, for instance, that many of the attitudes I have described are not so novel as I make them out to be. Richards&#039; emotive theories, Burke&#039;s concept of action, Leavis’ cultural vitalism, Trilling’s depth-view of manners and imagination, Blackmur’s metaphors of silence in literature, and above all, Herbert Read’s sympathy for the anarchic spirit, certainly open the way to the speculations of younger critics. The latter, however, still distinguish themselves by a certain quality of passion, a generosity toward the perversities of spirit, and a sense of crisis in man’s fate. Two recent books of criticism, R. W. B. Lewis’ &#039;&#039;The American Adam&#039;&#039; and Leslie Fiedler&#039;s &#039;&#039;Love and Death at the American Novel&#039;&#039;, seem quite disparate in tone and method; yet both, I think, stand in this respect closer to Lawrence’s seminal work, &#039;&#039;Studies in Classic American Literature&#039;&#039;, than to Matthiessen’s &#039;&#039;American Renaissance&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
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Then again, it might be argued that my use of the terms, “form” and “theory,&amp;quot; appears tendentious; that, ideally speaking, neither of these terms excludes larger commitments; and that, in any case, there are so many concepts of “form” and “structure” in modern criticism as to make a general condemnation of them irresponsible. I should like to think that there are more wicked uses of irresponsibility than in the criticism of criticism. What an ideal formalist theory may contribute to our appreciation of literature is not in dispute; what it has contributed in the past by way of practical criticism is also very considerable. Still, do we not all sense the growing inertness of the Spirit of criticism beneath the weight of the Letter? One sometimes feels that in another decade or two, the task or criticism may be safely performed by some lively computing machine which, blessed with total recall, would never misquote as some critics are reputed to do.&lt;br /&gt;
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I speak, of course, hyperbolically. Perhaps I can make the point clearer, and sharpen thereby the distinction between two generations of critics, by referring to two eminent theoreticians of literature. Both René Wellek and Northrop Frye are men of vast erudition; both have shaped the course of literary studies in America. This, I think, is entirely as it should be; the timely authority of such works as Wellek and Warren’s &#039;&#039;Theory of Literature&#039;&#039; or Frye’s &#039;&#039;Anatomy of Criticism&#039;&#039; deserves nothing less. Yet at the risk of seeming ungracious, it is to their later, and perhaps lesser, works that I wish to refer. After all, the question still remains: what lies beyond formalist theory?&lt;br /&gt;
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In &#039;&#039;Concepts of Criticism&#039;&#039;, Professor Wellek shows himself to be somewhat out of love with the directions of contemporary criticism. “It seems to me that in spite of the basic truth of the insight of organicism, the unity of content and form, we have arrived today at something like a deadend,” he states.{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=65}} His dissatisfaction, however, is of short duration. Professor Wellek sees the way out in the doctrine of “structuralism,&amp;quot; evolved by the Prague Linguistic Circle - alas, now defunct! “Such a concept of the literary work of art avoids two pitfalls,” Professor Wellek hopes, “the extreme of organicism which leads to a lumpish totality in which discrimination becomes impossible, and the opposite danger of atomistic fragmentation.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=68}} The way out, as it turns out, comes very close to the ancient ideal of the golden mean. This is judicious. But is it really judiciousness which prompts him in two later chapters, “Philosophy and Post- war American Criticism” and “Main Trends of Twentieth-Century Criticism,” to deride all recent criticism? The brilliant and inventive concern with American literature in the last two decades is deplored as an example of “romantic historicism,” and mythic and existential criticism are condemned as an instance of “the irrationalistic philosophies of Europe” adapted to the pragmatic temper of the United States.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=333 ff}} Professor Wellek sadly concludes: “Only those who adhere to either the German idealist tradition, in the Kantian or Coleridgean version, or those who rediscover Aristotle, still keep a grasp on the nature of art and recognize the necessity of an aesthetic and the ideal of a study of literature as literature.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=342}} Having defined literature in formalist terms, it is no wonder that Professor Wellek &#039;&#039;still&#039;&#039; believes formalist theory to be the most rewarding view of literature. Thus is the rigor of tautology achieved.&lt;br /&gt;
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&#039;&#039;The Well-Tempered Critic&#039;&#039;, which is not wrought in the massive architectural manner of Professor Frye’s earlier work, is too urbane to be tautological. Its urbanity expresses a fine subtlety of mind in the final chapter of the book, and the subtlety itself disguises a somewhat chilly view of literature. Professor Frye acknowledges the distinction between the classic and romantic tempers in criticism, and proceeds to discover the correlatives of each. The classic temper, he informs us, is aesthetic, the romantic is psychological; the former views art as artifact, the latter as expression; the one derives from Aristotle, the other from Longinus. I do not quarrel with these distinctions, particularly when categorical distinctions make the very basis of the geometric edifices Professor Frye likes to erect. “The first step to take here,&amp;quot; he argues, “is to realize that just as a poem implies a distinction between the poet as man and the poet as verbal craftsman, so the response to a poem implies a corresponding distinction in the critic.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=123}} For both Northrop Frye and René Wellek, we see, the critical act rests on the &#039;&#039;separation&#039;&#039; of certain human faculties from the continuum of felt life. There are few critics willing to speak professionally for the ancient female principle, acceptance and fusion, and the enveloping wholeness of things, few willing to speak for the fourfold vision of Blake. Yet carried far enough, distinctions become the source of the mind’s alienation, the Cartesian madness of the West. &lt;br /&gt;
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Again, Professor Frye views criticism not as the experience of literature but, more discretely, as an area of knowledge. This leads him to the hard-boiled conclusion, so repugnant to visionary educators, that “the values we want the student to acquire from us cannot be taught: only knowledge of literature can be taught.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=136}} Can knowledge be dissociated from value, and criticism forego its aspiration to wisdom? Apparently so. “The fundamental act of criticism is a disinterested response to a work of literature in which all one’s beliefs, engagements, commitments, prejudices, stampedings of pity and terror, are ordered to be quiet,” he continues.{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=140}} Ordered to be quiet! Who listens, then, and who speaks instead? The imagination never demanded such frozen void, nor do the supreme fictions of the mind reject the earth they transmute. We have seen criticism gaze long enough on the world with the quiet eyes of Apollo. Shall we ever see it partake again of the sacred flesh of Dionysus?&lt;br /&gt;
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I do not wish to suggest that the Dionysiac vision is bound to penetrate literary criticism the world over. I do sense, however, a movement in contemporary letters which must force us to revise our tenets or else accept the charge of theoretical isolationism in America. It is doubtful, for instance, that the plays of Beckett or Genet or Artaud, the novels of William Burroughs, Maurice Blanchot, or Alain Robbe-Grillet, the later stories of Salinger, the poetry of Charles Olson, Blaise Cendrars, or Dylan Thomas—and I cite these names quite at random—can be illuminated brightly by the critical terms of Professors Wellek and Frye. Nathalie Sarraute&#039;s latest book, &#039;&#039;The Golden Fruits&#039;&#039;, and Marc Saporta’s “shuffle novel,” &#039;&#039;Number 1&#039;&#039;, deny the conventional idea of structure. The first is a novel about a novel which cancels itself in the very act of reading; the second is a stratagem which accepts the principle of chance as an integral part of the literary experience. As for Burroughs’ &#039;&#039;The Soft Machine&#039;&#039;, it applies— to what extent, no one will know— the “cut up method of Brion Gysin,” a method which combines collage and montage. If these works possess a form, it is probably a “non-telic&amp;quot; form of the kind recently reflected in painting and music.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Meyer|1963|p=169-186}} Must we then dismiss such works as faddish freaks, of more interest to literary gossip than literary history?&lt;br /&gt;
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In France, where criticism has been long associated with the spirit of lucidity, critics take a different stand. A quick look at some of their statements may persuade us that their view of literature is not too far from the view I have proposed. The common theme of Claude Mauriac’s &#039;&#039;The New Literature&#039;&#039; is stated thus: “After the silence of Rimbaud, the blank page of Mallarmé, the inarticulate cry of Artaud, a literature finally dissolves in alliteration with Joyce. The author of &#039;&#039;Finnegans Wake&#039;&#039; in fact creates out of whole cloth words full of so many diverse overtones that they are eclipsed by them. For Beckett, on the contrary, words all say the same thing.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Mauriac|1959|p=12}} The theme of Roland Barthes&#039; &#039;&#039;Le Degré Zéro de L‘Ecriture&#039;&#039; is similar: the avatar of the new literature is absence. Barthes writes: “dans ces écritures neutres, appelées ici ‘le degré zéro de l’écriture,&#039; on peut facilement discerner le mouvement même d’une négation, comme si la Littérature, tendant depuis un siècle à transmuer sa surface dans une forme sans hérédité, ne trouvait plus de pureté que dans l’absence de tout signe, proposant en fin l’accomplissement de ce rêve orphéen: un écrivain sans Littérature.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Barthes|1959|p=12}} Likewise, for Maurice Blanchot literature is moving toward “l’ère saris parole.” This movement may lead to a form of writing that is incessant sound; or it may lead, as Blanchot states in Le Livre à Venir, quite in the other direction: “la littérature va vers elle-même, vers son essence qui est la disparition.”{{sfn|Blanchot|1959|p=237}} Both directions, we can surmise, end in the dissolution of significant form, the abdication of language. Is this silence at the heart of modern literature the definition of outrage, a subjective correlative of our terror? Or is the monstrous language of action, which Bachelard {{sfn|Bachelard|1963|p=154}} believes to be pointing, beyond Lautréamontism, toward “une réintegration de l&#039;humain dans la vie ardente...,” a closer correlative of that terror? We can only observe that from Sade and Lautréamont to Kafka and Beckett, the twin dark streams of poetry, the poetry of action and the poetry of silence, have been flowing toward some unknown sea wherein some figure of apocalypse, man or beast, still lies submerged.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Critics, however, are of many ilks, and for some the mantic role is as foreign as Elijah&#039;s. I wish to force no prophecies in the mouths of students of literature. Still, it is not unreasonable to ask that criticism evolve a method which takes deeper cognizance of the evolving character of life as of literature. The point is almost too obvious: contemporary letters can be judged as little by the standards of pure formalism as, let us say, Romantic poetry can we evaluated by the strict conventions of neo-Classicism.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The problem of criticism, however, must not be left to the indolent spirit of literary relativism. Indeed, the problems may not prove to be one of literary method at all. The problem of criticism is always the challenge of awareness, full awareness of human existence in time and in place, but also outside of both, in the dream world which antecedes all responsibilities. In the end, perhaps, the problem of critics and poets alike is one of human destiny. To say less is to confuse cowardice with modesty.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If there is underlying theme in recent American criticism, it is the implicit theme of crisis, a crisis not merely of literary method but of literature itself, which means of culture and consciousness. The crisis, as Nicolas Berdyaev knew, is not the crisis of humanism but of humanity itself. In the past, periods of crisis have often bred visions of apocalypse.{{sfn|Rowley|nd|p=150-178}} Such visions may come our way again. They may even lurk in a critic&#039;s perplexity. Here is how Krieger put the question: “Or is it, perhaps, that the Kierkegaardian version is right and that our world has itself become the tragic visionary in its unbelief using self-destructive crises to force itself finally to confront the absurdities of earthly reality...? Which is to ask fearfully and even unwillingly, whether we have not been beguiled by aesthetic satisfactions and whether the utterly striped tragic vision may not after all be less illusory than the fullness which shines through tragedy.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=12}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is no time to sit in judgment on the world or to interpret its modern tragedy. From the Revelation of St. John the Divine to Norman O. Brown’s extraordinary PBK address, entitled &amp;quot;Apocalypse,” men have envisioned the destruction of the world and foreseen its resurrection. “Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection: on such the second death has no power...,” St. John says.{{sfn|Revelation|nd|p=xx.6}} But we are not at the first resurrection yet; we are not even beyond madness. Thus from Norman O. Brown: “The alternative to mind is certainly madness... Our real choice is between holy and unholy madness: open your eyes and look around you—madness is in the saddle anyhow.”{{sfn|Brown|1961|p=47}} What task will criticism perform, wavering between holy and unholy madness? What bootless task?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Criticism is no country for old men of any age. Criticism, which was born to behold literature, must still do so and look beyond itself. Tack and rigor may attend all our words, but our words, but our words will avail nothing if man prevails not. What lies beyond criticism? D.H. Lawrence knew. This is what he says in his &#039;&#039;Apocalypse&#039;&#039;: “O lovely green dragon of the new day, the undawned day, &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; in touch, and release us from the horrid grip of the evil-smelling old Logos! Come in silence, and say nothing. Come in touch, in soft new touch like a spring-time, and say nothing.”{{sfn|Lawrence|1931|pp. 233 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{Template:Aade-sm}}&lt;br /&gt;
==Notes==&lt;br /&gt;
{{notelist}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Citations==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Reflist|20em}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Works Cited==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Refbegin|40em}}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Adams |first=Robert Martin |date=1962 |title=Surface and Symbol: The Consistency of James Joyce&#039;s Ulysses |location=New York |publisher=Oxford University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Bachelard |first=Gaston |date=1963 |title=Lautréamont |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Barthes|first=Roland |date=1959 |title=Le Degré Zéro de L&#039;Ecriture  |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Blanchot |first=Maurice|date=1959 |title= Le Livre à Venir |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last=Brown |first=Norman O.|date=1961 |title=Apocalypse. |url= |journal=Harper&#039;s|volume= |issue= |pages= |doi= |access-date= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Buber|first=Martin |date=1955 | title=Between Man and Man |location=Boston |publisher=Harcourt, Brace, &amp;amp; World |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Camus|first=Albert |date=1961 |title=Resistance, Rebellion, and Death |location=New York |publisher=Knopf |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Durrell |first=Lawrence and Alfred Perles |date=1961 |title=Art and Outrage: A Correspondence about Henry Miller |location=New York|publisher=Dutton |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Frye|first=Northrop |date=1963 |title=The Well-Tempered Critic|location=Bloomington |publisher=Indiana University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger|first=Murray |date=1959 |title=The Myth of Sisyphus|location=New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger |first=Murray |date=1960 |title=The Tragic Vision: Variations on a Theme of Literary Interpretation |location=New York |publisher=Holt, Rinehart and Winston |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lawrence |first=D.H. |date=1931 |title= Apocalypse |location=Florence |publisher=G. Orioli |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lewis|first=R.W.B. |date=1959 |title=The Picaresque Saint|location=Philadelphia and New York|publisher=Lippincott |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Mauriac|first=Claude |date=1959 |title=The New Literature |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Meyer|first=Leonard B. |date=1963 |title=The End of the Renaissance |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=Henry |date=1939 |title=The Cosmological Eye |location=Norfork |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=James E., Karl Shapiro and Bernice Slote|date=1960 |title=Start With the Sun|location=Lincoln |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Ong|first=Walter J. |date=1962 |title=The Barbarian Within |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Rowley |first= H.H.|title= The Relevance of Apocalyptic&#039;&#039; |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Sartre|first=Jean-Paul |date=1948 |title=Situations II |location=Paris |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last1=Trilling |first1=Lionel |date=1962 |title=On the Modern Element in Modern Literature |journal=The Partisan Review Anthology |volume= |issue= |pages= | ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Wellek |first=René |date=1963 |title=Concepts of Criticism |url= |location=New Haven|page=|isbn= |author-link= |ref=harv }}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
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		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: added publisher&lt;/p&gt;
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&lt;div&gt;&#039;&#039;COMPARATIVE LITERATURE STUDIES&#039;&#039; Vol. I, No. 4, 1964&lt;br /&gt;
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Beyond a Theory of Literature: Intimations of Apocalypse?&lt;br /&gt;
{{byline|last=Hassan|first=Ihab}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Begin with an assumption: that literature defines our concepts of criticism or else it defies them, and that life constantly challenges the pieties of both art and thought. What I shall attempt here, then, could not be considered an authoritative review of postwar criticism. It should be understood, rather, as a partial statement on the gathering mood of American criticism, an intimation of a trend which the facts of literary history in the past two decades (colored inevitably by my own sense of fact) may help to clarify.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The admission that I neither hold nor accept a definitive view of criticism should not be too shocking. In England, where the empiric temper prevails in the name of common sense or urbanity, and even in France, where questions of methodology yield to a lively concern with new writing, such an admission would seem fairly innocuous. It is otherwise in America. Among us, the notion that criticism must become a rigorous, quasi-scientific activity in order to justify its name still finds wide support. Not long ago —or is it really ages past?— most students of literature, myself included, recognized the elegance of René Wellek’s formulation of the destiny of criticism: “the interpretation of literature as distinct from other activities of man.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=343}} Coming from Professor Wellek, the emphasis on interpretation rather than on literary theory seemed unduly self-effacing. Be that as it may, the formula appealed then to the common rage for order, and seemed also to aver the dignity of the humanities on terms that the age demanded. With the years, however, the formula seems, to me at least, to have lost in elegance as it has gained in naïveté. The breed of technicians it has unwittingly sanctioned may have found a truer consummation of their hopes in the laboratories of Oak Ridge. Literature as a distinct activity of man? Criticism as a distinct response to a distinct activity of man? What is man that we should be so little mindful of him, so arbitrary with the complexities of his mind? From Surrealism to Absurdism, literature itself suggests that a distinct aesthetic response may be defined only at the risk of deadly discrimination.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yet my object is not to engage in polemics. The point can be stated with some equanimity: a new breed of American critics are anxious to assert them selves against the rigors and pieties they have inherited. Their mood is restless, eclectic, speculative; sometimes, it is even apocalyptic. Those who feel out of sympathy with them may wish to apply different epithets: romantic, primitivist, existential, amateurish, or plain anti-intellectual. (The usefulness of these tags, dispensed usually with contumely, is as doubtful as their accuracy.) Others, however, may recognize the creative possibilities of this new mood, troubled, vague, or disruptive as it may seem.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Evidence of the new mood is various though one senses behind it the enduring search for wholeness and vitality in the literary response. One senses, too, the paradoxical desire to appropriate literature to the dream life of men, and then again to implicate it in the widest sphere of their daily actions. Is not the secret task, for poet and critic alike, to participate in that magic process whereby the word is turned into flesh?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The critic therefore feels the need for commitment; he wants to testify. And what is to prevent him? The encounter with an authentic work of art is a bruising experience, full of strange knowledge and hidden pleasure, of the kind we usually spend a life-time resisting. The critic knows that he himself is on trial, and that the act of literary criticism is above all an act of self-judgement. Since his business is to speak of literature, speech in his case must ultimately take the form of self-revelation. But the need for self-revelation is not only a private or existential need. It is also a social function of the critic. “Is art always an outrage - must it by its very nature be an outrage?&amp;quot; Durrell asks.{{sfn|Durrell|Perles|1961|p=9}} The question haunts the critic even more than it does the oafish censors of our time. For should the critic insist on his dubious right to privacy or detachment, his deepest knowledge of literature would remain locked, a private outrage, an inner wound. Yet literature, we know, acts through language; it is a communal call, there where words and experience are one, as it is solitary subversion, where words begin to fail. In the act of testimony, therefore, the critic admits the &#039;&#039;relevance&#039;&#039; of the buried power of literature; he offers himself to the harsh task of mediating between society and vision, culture and anarchy. Only thus can he give to outrage wider reference, give it a meaning beyond itself. There is the risk of course, that such mediation may rob both culture and outrage of their particular force. Yet from that loss a new life in history may be gained, a new consciousness of self and society may be born. This is precisely the gain, implicit in the discomforts of critical commitment, which Lionel Trilling, in his otherwise subtle essay, “On the Modern Element in Modern Literature,” seems to ignore.{{sfn|Trilling|1962|p=267 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Commitment, however, is but a single impulse of the new critical attitude; it simply prepares the ground for dialogue. Another impulse may be defined as the refusal wholly to objectify the work of literature. The art work, of course, has been long considered as an &#039;&#039;object&#039;&#039;, an object for dissection or knowledge, idolatry or classification. Yet the encounter between critic and work is neither entirely objective nor purely aesthetic; it may be a “dialogue” of the kind Martin Buber has proposed. In Buber&#039;s sense, the work of art resists identification with insensible It; for the work demands answer and response, and it requires a meeting. Is it then so perverse to ask the critic, whether he subscribes to Buber’s theology or not, that he “turn toward” the work and confess with Buber, “in each instance a word demanding an answer has happened to me” ?{{sfn|Buber|1955|p=10}} Nothing is mystical in this statement, nothing inimical to the spirit of poetry. The statement, in fact, points to some rather mundane questions which Walter J. Ong, theologian of another faith, happily raises. In his original essay, “The Jinnee in the Well-Wrought Urn,” Father Ong states: “Creative activity is often...powered by the drive to accomplish, in terms of the production of an object of art, an adjustment or readjustment in certain obscure relationships with other persons.&amp;quot; What does this mean? Quite obviously, it means that behind every work of art lurks and strains a human being; less obviously, perhaps, it means that the voice of the human creator, raging heart and feet of clay, is not entirely silenced in his art. The jinnee cannot be exorcised from the urn it inhabits, however shapely the latter may prove; the artifact still comes to life with voices unknown. And indeed this is what we, as readers, require. Once again, Father Ong sees the point clearly: “as a matter of full, serious, protracted contemplation and love, it is unbearable for a man or woman to be faced with anything less than a person. . . .”{{sfn|Ong|1962|p=19, 25}} This is precisely what critics, compelled by the difficult reciprocities of love, may now want to face: not an object but a presence mediated cunningly, incomprehensibly, by language. Such a presence is not simply human. It is the presence, moving and participating in reality, which Owen Barfield, in &#039;&#039;Saving the Appearances&#039;&#039;, has shown us to lie at the heart of the symbolic process. In facing such a presence, critics may hope to recover the primal connection with a universe mediated increasingly by abstractions. But they may also hope to recover something more modest: a spontaneity of judgment which reaches outward, reaches beyond itself. Holden Caulfield, we recall, was moved to call on an author whose work he had much enjoyed. In such naïveté there may be a parable for critics as well as an occasion for derision.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If some postwar critics are loth to consider the literary work merely as an object, they are equally reluctant to believe that contemplation is the sole reaction to it. Beyond testimony, beyond participation or dialogue, the critic now wishes to entertain in the possibility that &#039;&#039;action&#039;&#039; maybe a legitimate response to art. By this, of course, I do not mean that he rushes to the barricades after reading &#039;&#039;The Conquerors&#039;&#039;, or that he develops tuberculosis after reading &#039;&#039;The Magic Mountain&#039;&#039;. I mean that the experience of a literary work does not leave him unchanged. To the extent that he is altered in the recesses of his imagination, indeed of his being, to that extent he must act differently in daily life. For if literature is both cognitive and experiential, as we have been so often told, then how can new knowledge but prompt new action? We may have accepted the Thomist notion of &#039;&#039;stasis&#039;&#039; in art much too uncritically. The counter-statement is boldly presented in Sartre&#039;s essay, “ Qu’est Ce Que la Littérature? ” “Parler c’est agir:” Sartre claims, “tout chose qu&#039;on nomme n’est déjà plus tout à fait la même, elle a perdu son innocence.” Sartre continues: “L&#039;œuvre d’art est valeur parce qu’elle est appel.”{{sfn|Sartre|1948|p=72, 98}} The appeal, above all, is to that act of self-definition which the work persuades its reader to perform, an act of definition and also of freedom. For in a sense, the work itself is “created” by the freedom of the reader to give it a concrete and, ultimately, personal meaning. The work, that is, finally enters the total existence of a man, not simply his dream life or aesthetic consciousness, and in doing so, it becomes subject to the total judgment of human passions. This is precisely what an existential writer of a different breed, Camus, meant when he wrote, “To create today is to create dangerously. Any publication is an act, and that act exposes one to the passions of an age that forgives nothing...”{{sfn|Camus|1961|p=251}} But if the writer must create dangerously these days, the critic cannot afford to criticize timorously. Dangerous criticism assumes that final and somewhat frightening responsibility which some critics naturally resist; namely, the willing suspension of aesthetic judgment in the interests of right action.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I quite realize the enormity of this assertion. For one thing, it brings the critic dangerously close to the posture of the censor— the commissar, the propaganda helot, the prurient chief of police—who requires that every work of art display its social credentials or else stand convicted. No doubt, the redemption of man is a more momentous task than the creation of beauty, and virtue and goodness are not to be scoffed at. Yet redemption, one suspects, does not lie in the grasp of regulators; nor does virtue depend on the degradation of art by power. How, then, can the critic hope to transcend the aesthetic domain of literature without seeming to capitulate to dogma or authority, without seeming to endorse a vulgar or repressive utilitarianism?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There are many answers to this question, though all are equally provisional, for in this as in other literary matters, tact not theory comes to our aid. We can begin, however, by making two observations. First, serious literature offers great resistance to political expediency; other forms of propaganda are far more effective. The basic affinity of modern literature particularly is with vision and outrage. By vision, I mean neither doctrine nor even revelation, but simply a concrete projection of the imagination into the conduct of life. Henry Miller has such an idea in mind when he says: “The role which the artist plays in society is to revive the primitive, anarchic instincts which have been sacrificed for the illusion of living in comfort”; or when he says again: “I do not call poets those who make verses, rhymed or unrhymed. I call that man poet who is capable of profoundly altering the world.”{{sfn|Miller|1939|p=156, 38 ff}} Both these statements reveal the artist’s conception of himself as visionary actor; both attest to his hope that prophecy may find its incarnation, beyond language, in action. Emboldened by such statements—and they are by no means restricted to Miller—the critic may feel justified in participating in the action that the work initiates. This is to say that the critic becomes himself part of the devious process by which a writer’s vision penetrates culture. The character of this devious process is closer to the character of pedagogy than of social reform. This leads me to the second observation. Since the process is indeed devious, subject to all the ambiguities of modern culture, the critic cannot really maintain a purely pragmatic, a purely political view of literature. This is salutary for the activist critic who finds in the visionary or subversive power of literature an inner check on his propensity for dogma, his penchant for expediency. This critical ideal is not nearly as pretentious as it may sound, nor does it always require the critic to make his home in the midst of chaos. It may require him, however, to heed certain &#039;&#039;thematic&#039;&#039; questions which were once considered beneath notice. A number of critical works of the last decade reflect this emergent concern. In &#039;&#039;The Tragic Vision&#039;&#039;, for instance, Murray Krieger pertinently asks, “But how, if we limit ourselves to technical literary definitions, can we find for the tragic any meaning beyond that of Aristotle? The answer is, by moving from formalistic aesthetics to what I would term &#039;thematics.&#039;” Krieger’s analysis of that term cannot be summarized easily, but the implications of his method are stated succinctly enough. He concludes thus: “All of which is perhaps to say only that a literary theory must be adequate to the literary experiences for which it is to account and that we trust our way of experiencing literature only as it is adequate to the life out there, which cries for a way of being organized literarily that will yet leave it preserved intact.”{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=2, 244}}  If the insistence on “the life out there” does not necessarily force the critic into a study of “thematics,” it does persuade him to dwell on precisely those formal matters that invoke the larger aspects of reality and may even engage religious thought. Thus the essays of James E. Miller, Jr., Karl Shapiro, and Bernice Slote, in &#039;&#039;Start With the Sun&#039;&#039;, explore the relation of Dionysian poetry to cosmic consciousness, mystery, and apocalypse. Miss Slote ends taking her cue from a noble phrase of Lawrence, “Perhaps then we may be absolved from the poetry of mirrors.{{sfn|Miller|Shapiro|Slote|1960|p=238}}  Parallel explorations of fiction lead R.W.B. Lewis, in his fine study, &#039;&#039;The Picaresque Saint&#039;&#039;, to distinguish between the generation of Proust, Joyce, and Mann, in whose world the aesthetic experience was supreme, and the generation of Silone, Faulkner, Camus, and Greene, in whose world “the chief experience has been the discovery of what it means to be a human being and to be alive.” Lewis continues: “Criticism, examining this world, is drawn to the more radically human considerations of life and death, and of the aspiring, sinful nature of man.”{{sfn|Lewis|1959|p=9}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Perhaps I have spoken long enough of certain interests of postwar criticism, though I feel I have spoken of them only tangentially. If one were to search for the theoretical basis of these interests—a task which I must leave to more philosophical critics one might be inclined to develop a view of literature that does not put the idea of form as its center. By this I do not simply mean a redefinition of the concept of form so that it may account, say, for the plays of Beckett or the novels of Burroughs. I would plead for a more radical view. From Kant to Cassirer, from Coleridge to Croce and down to the New Critics, the idea of organic form has been a touchstone of value and a cornerstone of theory in literary study. We assume, and indeed we believe, that the imagination incarnates itself only as an aesthetic order, and that such an order is available to the analytic mind. We believe more: that aesthetic order defines the deepest pleasures of literature and conveys its enduring attractions. I am not at all secure in these beliefs. Indeed, I am willing to take the devil&#039;s part and entertain the notion that “structure” is not always present or explicable in literary works; and that where it reveals itself, it is not always worth the attention we give it. Such works as &#039;&#039;Hamlet&#039;&#039; and &#039;&#039;Don Quixote&#039;&#039; not diminished by the discovery that their form, whatever it may be, is less organic than we expect the form of great works to be. Even that supreme artifact of our century, that total structure of symbols, puns, and cross-references, that city of words full of secret alleys and connecting catacombs, even Joyce&#039;s &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039;, may prove to the keen, fresh eye of a critic more of a labyrinth, dead ends and ways without issue, than Dublin itself which encloses the nightmare of history. This is precisely what Robert Martin Adams concludes in his fascinating study, &#039;&#039;Surface and Symbol&#039;&#039;. Adams inspects minutely the wealth of details in the novel, and finds that many of them serve to blur or confuse rather than to sustain patterns: &amp;quot;The close reading of &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039; thus reveals that the meaningless is deeply interwoven with the meaningful in the texture of the novel...It is a book and an antibook, a work of art particularly receptive to accident. It builds to acute and poignant states of consciousness, yet its larger ambition seems to be to put aside consciousness as a painful burden.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Adams|1962|p=245, 253}}Nothing catastrophic to the future of criticism is presaged by this statement. Quite the contrary: criticism may derive new vitality from some attention to the unstructured and even random element in literature. For is not form, after all, best conceived as a mode of awareness, a function of cognition, a question, that is, of epistemology rather than ontology? Its objective reality is qualified by the overpowering reality of human &#039;&#039;need&#039;&#039;. In the end, we perceive what we need to perceive, and our sense of pattern as of relation is conditioned by our deeper sense of relevance. This is why the aesthetic of the future will have to reckon with Freud, Nietzsche, and even Kierkegaard, who have given us, more than Marx himself, compelling economies of human needs.{{efn|In recent criticism, certain works have already begun to reflect this particular concern. Besides the works by R. W. B. Lewis and Murray Krieger already cited, one might mention Geoffrey Hartman, &#039;&#039;The Unmediated Vision&#039;&#039; (New Haven, 1954), Ihab Hassan, &#039;&#039;Radical Innocence&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1961), Frederick J. Hoffman, &#039;&#039;The Mortal No&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1964), and Arturo B. Fallico, &#039;&#039;Art and Existentialism&#039;&#039; (Englewood Cliffs, N. J., 1962).}} &lt;br /&gt;
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I could not persist in suggesting the theoretical implications of postwar criticism without falling into the trap which I have myself described. We do not always need a theoretical argument to bring forth a new critical attitude; we only need good critics. But perhaps we need, more than anything else, to regard literature in a more oblique fashion, regard it even in the slanting light of its own absurdity. We might then see that the theoretical solemnity of modern criticism ignore the self-destructive element of literature, its need for self-annulment. What Camus said of his own work applies, in various ways, to all literature: the act of creation is akin to chance and disorder, to which it comes through diversity, and it constantly meets with futility. &amp;quot;Creating or not creating changes nothing, &amp;quot; Camus writes. &amp;quot;The absurd creator does not prize his work. He could repudiate it.&amp;quot; And again: &amp;quot;The absurd work illustrates the intelligence that works up appearances and covers with images what has no reason. If the world were clear, art would not exist.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Camus|1959|p=72 ff}} Perhaps the function of literature, after all, is not to clarify that world but to help create a world in which literature becomes superfluous. And perhaps the function of criticism, as I shall argue later, is to attain to the difficult wisdom of perceiving how literature is finally, and &#039;&#039;only&#039;&#039; finally, inconsequential.{{efn|These heretical statements are developed more fully in my essay &amp;quot;The Dismemberment of Orpheus,&amp;quot; &#039;&#039;American Scholar&#039;&#039;, XXXII.}}{{sfn|Hassan|1963|p=463-484}}                                                                       &lt;br /&gt;
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The foregoing remarks limn certain trends in postwar criticism; they are not intended to define a school or movement. Still, I feel it wise to anticipate some objections before concluding this mock survey.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It may be argued, for instance, that many of the attitudes I have described are not so novel as I make them out to be. Richards&#039; emotive theories, Burke&#039;s concept of action, Leavis’ cultural vitalism, Trilling’s depth-view of manners and imagination, Blackmur’s metaphors of silence in literature, and above all, Herbert Read’s sympathy for the anarchic spirit, certainly open the way to the speculations of younger critics. The latter, however, still distinguish themselves by a certain quality of passion, a generosity toward the perversities of spirit, and a sense of crisis in man’s fate. Two recent books of criticism, R. W. B. Lewis’ &#039;&#039;The American Adam&#039;&#039; and Leslie Fiedler&#039;s &#039;&#039;Love and Death at the American Novel&#039;&#039;, seem quite disparate in tone and method; yet both, I think, stand in this respect closer to Lawrence’s seminal work, &#039;&#039;Studies in Classic American Literature&#039;&#039;, than to Matthiessen’s &#039;&#039;American Renaissance&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
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Then again, it might be argued that my use of the terms, “form” and “theory,&amp;quot; appears tendentious; that, ideally speaking, neither of these terms excludes larger commitments; and that, in any case, there are so many concepts of “form” and “structure” in modern criticism as to make a general condemnation of them irresponsible. I should like to think that there are more wicked uses of irresponsibility than in the criticism of criticism. What an ideal formalist theory may contribute to our appreciation of literature is not in dispute; what it has contributed in the past by way of practical criticism is also very considerable. Still, do we not all sense the growing inertness of the Spirit of criticism beneath the weight of the Letter? One sometimes feels that in another decade or two, the task or criticism may be safely performed by some lively computing machine which, blessed with total recall, would never misquote as some critics are reputed to do.&lt;br /&gt;
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I speak, of course, hyperbolically. Perhaps I can make the point clearer, and sharpen thereby the distinction between two generations of critics, by referring to two eminent theoreticians of literature. Both René Wellek and Northrop Frye are men of vast erudition; both have shaped the course of literary studies in America. This, I think, is entirely as it should be; the timely authority of such works as Wellek and Warren’s &#039;&#039;Theory of Literature&#039;&#039; or Frye’s &#039;&#039;Anatomy of Criticism&#039;&#039; deserves nothing less. Yet at the risk of seeming ungracious, it is to their later, and perhaps lesser, works that I wish to refer. After all, the question still remains: what lies beyond formalist theory?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In &#039;&#039;Concepts of Criticism&#039;&#039;, Professor Wellek shows himself to be somewhat out of love with the directions of contemporary criticism. “It seems to me that in spite of the basic truth of the insight of organicism, the unity of content and form, we have arrived today at something like a deadend,” he states.{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=65}} His dissatisfaction, however, is of short duration. Professor Wellek sees the way out in the doctrine of “structuralism,&amp;quot; evolved by the Prague Linguistic Circle - alas, now defunct! “Such a concept of the literary work of art avoids two pitfalls,” Professor Wellek hopes, “the extreme of organicism which leads to a lumpish totality in which discrimination becomes impossible, and the opposite danger of atomistic fragmentation.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=68}} The way out, as it turns out, comes very close to the ancient ideal of the golden mean. This is judicious. But is it really judiciousness which prompts him in two later chapters, “Philosophy and Post- war American Criticism” and “Main Trends of Twentieth-Century Criticism,” to deride all recent criticism? The brilliant and inventive concern with American literature in the last two decades is deplored as an example of “romantic historicism,” and mythic and existential criticism are condemned as an instance of “the irrationalistic philosophies of Europe” adapted to the pragmatic temper of the United States.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=333 ff}} Professor Wellek sadly concludes: “Only those who adhere to either the German idealist tradition, in the Kantian or Coleridgean version, or those who rediscover Aristotle, still keep a grasp on the nature of art and recognize the necessity of an aesthetic and the ideal of a study of literature as literature.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=342}} Having defined literature in formalist terms, it is no wonder that Professor Wellek &#039;&#039;still&#039;&#039; believes formalist theory to be the most rewarding view of literature. Thus is the rigor of tautology achieved.&lt;br /&gt;
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&#039;&#039;The Well-Tempered Critic&#039;&#039;, which is not wrought in the massive architectural manner of Professor Frye’s earlier work, is too urbane to be tautological. Its urbanity expresses a fine subtlety of mind in the final chapter of the book, and the subtlety itself disguises a somewhat chilly view of literature. Professor Frye acknowledges the distinction between the classic and romantic tempers in criticism, and proceeds to discover the correlatives of each. The classic temper, he informs us, is aesthetic, the romantic is psychological; the former views art as artifact, the latter as expression; the one derives from Aristotle, the other from Longinus. I do not quarrel with these distinctions, particularly when categorical distinctions make the very basis of the geometric edifices Professor Frye likes to erect. “The first step to take here,&amp;quot; he argues, “is to realize that just as a poem implies a distinction between the poet as man and the poet as verbal craftsman, so the response to a poem implies a corresponding distinction in the critic.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=123}} For both Northrop Frye and René Wellek, we see, the critical act rests on the &#039;&#039;separation&#039;&#039; of certain human faculties from the continuum of felt life. There are few critics willing to speak professionally for the ancient female principle, acceptance and fusion, and the enveloping wholeness of things, few willing to speak for the fourfold vision of Blake. Yet carried far enough, distinctions become the source of the mind’s alienation, the Cartesian madness of the West. &lt;br /&gt;
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Again, Professor Frye views criticism not as the experience of literature but, more discretely, as an area of knowledge. This leads him to the hard-boiled conclusion, so repugnant to visionary educators, that “the values we want the student to acquire from us cannot be taught: only knowledge of literature can be taught.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=136}} Can knowledge be dissociated from value, and criticism forego its aspiration to wisdom? Apparently so. “The fundamental act of criticism is a disinterested response to a work of literature in which all one’s beliefs, engagements, commitments, prejudices, stampedings of pity and terror, are ordered to be quiet,” he continues.{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=140}} Ordered to be quiet! Who listens, then, and who speaks instead? The imagination never demanded such frozen void, nor do the supreme fictions of the mind reject the earth they transmute. We have seen criticism gaze long enough on the world with the quiet eyes of Apollo. Shall we ever see it partake again of the sacred flesh of Dionysus?&lt;br /&gt;
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I do not wish to suggest that the Dionysiac vision is bound to penetrate literary criticism the world over. I do sense, however, a movement in contemporary letters which must force us to revise our tenets or else accept the charge of theoretical isolationism in America. It is doubtful, for instance, that the plays of Beckett or Genet or Artaud, the novels of William Burroughs, Maurice Blanchot, or Alain Robbe-Grillet, the later stories of Salinger, the poetry of Charles Olson, Blaise Cendrars, or Dylan Thomas—and I cite these names quite at random—can be illuminated brightly by the critical terms of Professors Wellek and Frye. Nathalie Sarraute&#039;s latest book, &#039;&#039;The Golden Fruits&#039;&#039;, and Marc Saporta’s “shuffle novel,” &#039;&#039;Number 1&#039;&#039;, deny the conventional idea of structure. The first is a novel about a novel which cancels itself in the very act of reading; the second is a stratagem which accepts the principle of chance as an integral part of the literary experience. As for Burroughs’ &#039;&#039;The Soft Machine&#039;&#039;, it applies— to what extent, no one will know— the “cut up method of Brion Gysin,” a method which combines collage and montage. If these works possess a form, it is probably a “non-telic&amp;quot; form of the kind recently reflected in painting and music.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Meyer|1963|p=169-186}} Must we then dismiss such works as faddish freaks, of more interest to literary gossip than literary history?&lt;br /&gt;
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In France, where criticism has been long associated with the spirit of lucidity, critics take a different stand. A quick look at some of their statements may persuade us that their view of literature is not too far from the view I have proposed. The common theme of Claude Mauriac’s &#039;&#039;The New Literature&#039;&#039; is stated thus: “After the silence of Rimbaud, the blank page of Mallarmé, the inarticulate cry of Artaud, a literature finally dissolves in alliteration with Joyce. The author of &#039;&#039;Finnegans Wake&#039;&#039; in fact creates out of whole cloth words full of so many diverse overtones that they are eclipsed by them. For Beckett, on the contrary, words all say the same thing.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Mauriac|1959|p=12}} The theme of Roland Barthes&#039; &#039;&#039;Le Degré Zéro de L‘Ecriture&#039;&#039; is similar: the avatar of the new literature is absence. Barthes writes: “dans ces écritures neutres, appelées ici ‘le degré zéro de l’écriture,&#039; on peut facilement discerner le mouvement même d’une négation, comme si la Littérature, tendant depuis un siècle à transmuer sa surface dans une forme sans hérédité, ne trouvait plus de pureté que dans l’absence de tout signe, proposant en fin l’accomplissement de ce rêve orphéen: un écrivain sans Littérature.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Barthes|1959|p=12}} Likewise, for Maurice Blanchot literature is moving toward “l’ère saris parole.” This movement may lead to a form of writing that is incessant sound; or it may lead, as Blanchot states in Le Livre à Venir, quite in the other direction: “la littérature va vers elle-même, vers son essence qui est la disparition.”{{sfn|Blanchot|1959|p=237}} Both directions, we can surmise, end in the dissolution of significant form, the abdication of language. Is this silence at the heart of modern literature the definition of outrage, a subjective correlative of our terror? Or is the monstrous language of action, which Bachelard {{sfn|Bachelard|1963|p=154}} believes to be pointing, beyond Lautréamontism, toward “une réintegration de l&#039;humain dans la vie ardente...,” a closer correlative of that terror? We can only observe that from Sade and Lautréamont to Kafka and Beckett, the twin dark streams of poetry, the poetry of action and the poetry of silence, have been flowing toward some unknown sea wherein some figure of apocalypse, man or beast, still lies submerged.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Critics, however, are of many ilks, and for some the mantic role is as foreign as Elijah&#039;s. I wish to force no prophecies in the mouths of students of literature. Still, it is not unreasonable to ask that criticism evolve a method which takes deeper cognizance of the evolving character of life as of literature. The point is almost too obvious: contemporary letters can be judged as little by the standards of pure formalism as, let us say, Romantic poetry can we evaluated by the strict conventions of neo-Classicism.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The problem of criticism, however, must not be left to the indolent spirit of literary relativism. Indeed, the problems may not prove to be one of literary method at all. The problem of criticism is always the challenge of awareness, full awareness of human existence in time and in place, but also outside of both, in the dream world which antecedes all responsibilities. In the end, perhaps, the problem of critics and poets alike is one of human destiny. To say less is to confuse cowardice with modesty.&lt;br /&gt;
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If there is underlying theme in recent American criticism, it is the implicit theme of crisis, a crisis not merely of literary method but of literature itself, which means of culture and consciousness. The crisis, as Nicolas Berdyaev knew, is not the crisis of humanism but of humanity itself. In the past, periods of crisis have often bred visions of apocalypse.{{sfn|Rowley|nd|p=150-178}} Such visions may come our way again. They may even lurk in a critic&#039;s perplexity. Here is how Krieger put the question: “Or is it, perhaps, that the Kierkegaardian version is right and that our world has itself become the tragic visionary in its unbelief using self-destructive crises to force itself finally to confront the absurdities of earthly reality...? Which is to ask fearfully and even unwillingly, whether we have not been beguiled by aesthetic satisfactions and whether the utterly striped tragic vision may not after all be less illusory than the fullness which shines through tragedy.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=12}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is no time to sit in judgment on the world or to interpret its modern tragedy. From the Revelation of St. John the Divine to Norman O. Brown’s extraordinary PBK address, entitled &amp;quot;Apocalypse,” men have envisioned the destruction of the world and foreseen its resurrection. “Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection: on such the second death has no power...,” St. John says.{{sfn|Revelation|nd|p=xx.6}} But we are not at the first resurrection yet; we are not even beyond madness. Thus from Norman O. Brown: “The alternative to mind is certainly madness... Our real choice is between holy and unholy madness: open your eyes and look around you—madness is in the saddle anyhow.”{{sfn|Brown|1961|p=47}} What task will criticism perform, wavering between holy and unholy madness? What bootless task?&lt;br /&gt;
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Criticism is no country for old men of any age. Criticism, which was born to behold literature, must still do so and look beyond itself. Tack and rigor may attend all our words, but our words, but our words will avail nothing if man prevails not. What lies beyond criticism? D.H. Lawrence knew. This is what he says in his &#039;&#039;Apocalypse&#039;&#039;: “O lovely green dragon of the new day, the undawned day, &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; in touch, and release us from the horrid grip of the evil-smelling old Logos! Come in silence, and say nothing. Come in touch, in soft new touch like a spring-time, and say nothing.”{{sfn|Lawrence|1931|pp. 233 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
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{{Template:Aade-sm}}&lt;br /&gt;
==Notes==&lt;br /&gt;
{{notelist}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Citations==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Reflist|20em}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Works Cited==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Refbegin|40em}}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Adams |first=Robert Martin |date=1962 |title=Surface and Symbol: The Consistency of James Joyce&#039;s Ulysses |location=New York |publisher=Oxford University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Bachelard |first=Gaston |date=1963 |title=Lautréamont |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Barthes|first=Roland |date=1959 |title=Le Degré Zéro de L&#039;Ecriture  |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Blanchot |first=Maurice|date=1959 |title= Le Livre à Venir |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last=Brown |first=Norman O.|date=1961 |title=Apocalypse. |url= |journal=Harper&#039;s|volume= |issue= |pages= |doi= |access-date= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Buber|first=Martin |date=1955 | title=Between Man and Man |location=Boston |publisher=Harcourt, Brace, &amp;amp; World |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Camus|first=Albert |date=1961 |title=Resistance, Rebellion, and Death |location=New York |publisher=Knopf |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Durrell |first=Lawrence and Alfred Perles |date=1961 |title=Art and Outrage: A Correspondence about Henry Miller |location=New York|publisher=Dutton |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Frye|first=Northrop |date=1963 |title=The Well-Tempered Critic|location=Bloomington |publisher=Indiana University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger|first=Murray |date=1959 |title=The Myth of Sisyphus|location=New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger |first=Murray |date=1960 |title=The Tragic Vision: Variations on a Theme of Literary Interpretation |location=New York |publisher=Holt, Rinehart and Winston |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lawrence |first=D.H. |date=1931 |title= Apocalypse |location=Florence |publisher=G. Orioli |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lewis|first=R.W.B. |date=1959 |title=The Picaresque Saint|location=Philadelphia and New York|publisher=Lippincott page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Mauriac|first=Claude |date=1959 |title=The New Literature |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Meyer|first=Leonard B. |date=1963 |title=The End of the Renaissance |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=Henry |date=1939 |title=The Cosmological Eye |location=Norfork |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=James E., Karl Shapiro and Bernice Slote|date=1960 |title=Start With the Sun|location=Lincoln |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Ong|first=Walter J. |date=1962 |title=The Barbarian Within |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Rowley |first= H.H.|title= The Relevance of Apocalyptic&#039;&#039; |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Sartre|first=Jean-Paul |date=1948 |title=Situations II |location=Paris |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last1=Trilling |first1=Lionel |date=1962 |title=On the Modern Element in Modern Literature |journal=The Partisan Review Anthology |volume= |issue= |pages= | ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Wellek |first=René |date=1963 |title=Concepts of Criticism |url= |location=New Haven|page=|isbn= |author-link= |ref=harv }}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
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&lt;div&gt;&#039;&#039;COMPARATIVE LITERATURE STUDIES&#039;&#039; Vol. I, No. 4, 1964&lt;br /&gt;
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Beyond a Theory of Literature: Intimations of Apocalypse?&lt;br /&gt;
{{byline|last=Hassan|first=Ihab}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Begin with an assumption: that literature defines our concepts of criticism or else it defies them, and that life constantly challenges the pieties of both art and thought. What I shall attempt here, then, could not be considered an authoritative review of postwar criticism. It should be understood, rather, as a partial statement on the gathering mood of American criticism, an intimation of a trend which the facts of literary history in the past two decades (colored inevitably by my own sense of fact) may help to clarify.&lt;br /&gt;
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The admission that I neither hold nor accept a definitive view of criticism should not be too shocking. In England, where the empiric temper prevails in the name of common sense or urbanity, and even in France, where questions of methodology yield to a lively concern with new writing, such an admission would seem fairly innocuous. It is otherwise in America. Among us, the notion that criticism must become a rigorous, quasi-scientific activity in order to justify its name still finds wide support. Not long ago —or is it really ages past?— most students of literature, myself included, recognized the elegance of René Wellek’s formulation of the destiny of criticism: “the interpretation of literature as distinct from other activities of man.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=343}} Coming from Professor Wellek, the emphasis on interpretation rather than on literary theory seemed unduly self-effacing. Be that as it may, the formula appealed then to the common rage for order, and seemed also to aver the dignity of the humanities on terms that the age demanded. With the years, however, the formula seems, to me at least, to have lost in elegance as it has gained in naïveté. The breed of technicians it has unwittingly sanctioned may have found a truer consummation of their hopes in the laboratories of Oak Ridge. Literature as a distinct activity of man? Criticism as a distinct response to a distinct activity of man? What is man that we should be so little mindful of him, so arbitrary with the complexities of his mind? From Surrealism to Absurdism, literature itself suggests that a distinct aesthetic response may be defined only at the risk of deadly discrimination.&lt;br /&gt;
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Yet my object is not to engage in polemics. The point can be stated with some equanimity: a new breed of American critics are anxious to assert them selves against the rigors and pieties they have inherited. Their mood is restless, eclectic, speculative; sometimes, it is even apocalyptic. Those who feel out of sympathy with them may wish to apply different epithets: romantic, primitivist, existential, amateurish, or plain anti-intellectual. (The usefulness of these tags, dispensed usually with contumely, is as doubtful as their accuracy.) Others, however, may recognize the creative possibilities of this new mood, troubled, vague, or disruptive as it may seem.&lt;br /&gt;
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Evidence of the new mood is various though one senses behind it the enduring search for wholeness and vitality in the literary response. One senses, too, the paradoxical desire to appropriate literature to the dream life of men, and then again to implicate it in the widest sphere of their daily actions. Is not the secret task, for poet and critic alike, to participate in that magic process whereby the word is turned into flesh?&lt;br /&gt;
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The critic therefore feels the need for commitment; he wants to testify. And what is to prevent him? The encounter with an authentic work of art is a bruising experience, full of strange knowledge and hidden pleasure, of the kind we usually spend a life-time resisting. The critic knows that he himself is on trial, and that the act of literary criticism is above all an act of self-judgement. Since his business is to speak of literature, speech in his case must ultimately take the form of self-revelation. But the need for self-revelation is not only a private or existential need. It is also a social function of the critic. “Is art always an outrage - must it by its very nature be an outrage?&amp;quot; Durrell asks.{{sfn|Durrell|Perles|1961|p=9}} The question haunts the critic even more than it does the oafish censors of our time. For should the critic insist on his dubious right to privacy or detachment, his deepest knowledge of literature would remain locked, a private outrage, an inner wound. Yet literature, we know, acts through language; it is a communal call, there where words and experience are one, as it is solitary subversion, where words begin to fail. In the act of testimony, therefore, the critic admits the &#039;&#039;relevance&#039;&#039; of the buried power of literature; he offers himself to the harsh task of mediating between society and vision, culture and anarchy. Only thus can he give to outrage wider reference, give it a meaning beyond itself. There is the risk of course, that such mediation may rob both culture and outrage of their particular force. Yet from that loss a new life in history may be gained, a new consciousness of self and society may be born. This is precisely the gain, implicit in the discomforts of critical commitment, which Lionel Trilling, in his otherwise subtle essay, “On the Modern Element in Modern Literature,” seems to ignore.{{sfn|Trilling|1962|p=267 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Commitment, however, is but a single impulse of the new critical attitude; it simply prepares the ground for dialogue. Another impulse may be defined as the refusal wholly to objectify the work of literature. The art work, of course, has been long considered as an &#039;&#039;object&#039;&#039;, an object for dissection or knowledge, idolatry or classification. Yet the encounter between critic and work is neither entirely objective nor purely aesthetic; it may be a “dialogue” of the kind Martin Buber has proposed. In Buber&#039;s sense, the work of art resists identification with insensible It; for the work demands answer and response, and it requires a meeting. Is it then so perverse to ask the critic, whether he subscribes to Buber’s theology or not, that he “turn toward” the work and confess with Buber, “in each instance a word demanding an answer has happened to me” ?{{sfn|Buber|1955|p=10}} Nothing is mystical in this statement, nothing inimical to the spirit of poetry. The statement, in fact, points to some rather mundane questions which Walter J. Ong, theologian of another faith, happily raises. In his original essay, “The Jinnee in the Well-Wrought Urn,” Father Ong states: “Creative activity is often...powered by the drive to accomplish, in terms of the production of an object of art, an adjustment or readjustment in certain obscure relationships with other persons.&amp;quot; What does this mean? Quite obviously, it means that behind every work of art lurks and strains a human being; less obviously, perhaps, it means that the voice of the human creator, raging heart and feet of clay, is not entirely silenced in his art. The jinnee cannot be exorcised from the urn it inhabits, however shapely the latter may prove; the artifact still comes to life with voices unknown. And indeed this is what we, as readers, require. Once again, Father Ong sees the point clearly: “as a matter of full, serious, protracted contemplation and love, it is unbearable for a man or woman to be faced with anything less than a person. . . .”{{sfn|Ong|1962|p=19, 25}} This is precisely what critics, compelled by the difficult reciprocities of love, may now want to face: not an object but a presence mediated cunningly, incomprehensibly, by language. Such a presence is not simply human. It is the presence, moving and participating in reality, which Owen Barfield, in &#039;&#039;Saving the Appearances&#039;&#039;, has shown us to lie at the heart of the symbolic process. In facing such a presence, critics may hope to recover the primal connection with a universe mediated increasingly by abstractions. But they may also hope to recover something more modest: a spontaneity of judgment which reaches outward, reaches beyond itself. Holden Caulfield, we recall, was moved to call on an author whose work he had much enjoyed. In such naïveté there may be a parable for critics as well as an occasion for derision.&lt;br /&gt;
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If some postwar critics are loth to consider the literary work merely as an object, they are equally reluctant to believe that contemplation is the sole reaction to it. Beyond testimony, beyond participation or dialogue, the critic now wishes to entertain in the possibility that &#039;&#039;action&#039;&#039; maybe a legitimate response to art. By this, of course, I do not mean that he rushes to the barricades after reading &#039;&#039;The Conquerors&#039;&#039;, or that he develops tuberculosis after reading &#039;&#039;The Magic Mountain&#039;&#039;. I mean that the experience of a literary work does not leave him unchanged. To the extent that he is altered in the recesses of his imagination, indeed of his being, to that extent he must act differently in daily life. For if literature is both cognitive and experiential, as we have been so often told, then how can new knowledge but prompt new action? We may have accepted the Thomist notion of &#039;&#039;stasis&#039;&#039; in art much too uncritically. The counter-statement is boldly presented in Sartre&#039;s essay, “ Qu’est Ce Que la Littérature? ” “Parler c’est agir:” Sartre claims, “tout chose qu&#039;on nomme n’est déjà plus tout à fait la même, elle a perdu son innocence.” Sartre continues: “L&#039;œuvre d’art est valeur parce qu’elle est appel.”{{sfn|Sartre|1948|p=72, 98}} The appeal, above all, is to that act of self-definition which the work persuades its reader to perform, an act of definition and also of freedom. For in a sense, the work itself is “created” by the freedom of the reader to give it a concrete and, ultimately, personal meaning. The work, that is, finally enters the total existence of a man, not simply his dream life or aesthetic consciousness, and in doing so, it becomes subject to the total judgment of human passions. This is precisely what an existential writer of a different breed, Camus, meant when he wrote, “To create today is to create dangerously. Any publication is an act, and that act exposes one to the passions of an age that forgives nothing...”{{sfn|Camus|1961|p=251}} But if the writer must create dangerously these days, the critic cannot afford to criticize timorously. Dangerous criticism assumes that final and somewhat frightening responsibility which some critics naturally resist; namely, the willing suspension of aesthetic judgment in the interests of right action.&lt;br /&gt;
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I quite realize the enormity of this assertion. For one thing, it brings the critic dangerously close to the posture of the censor— the commissar, the propaganda helot, the prurient chief of police—who requires that every work of art display its social credentials or else stand convicted. No doubt, the redemption of man is a more momentous task than the creation of beauty, and virtue and goodness are not to be scoffed at. Yet redemption, one suspects, does not lie in the grasp of regulators; nor does virtue depend on the degradation of art by power. How, then, can the critic hope to transcend the aesthetic domain of literature without seeming to capitulate to dogma or authority, without seeming to endorse a vulgar or repressive utilitarianism?&lt;br /&gt;
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There are many answers to this question, though all are equally provisional, for in this as in other literary matters, tact not theory comes to our aid. We can begin, however, by making two observations. First, serious literature offers great resistance to political expediency; other forms of propaganda are far more effective. The basic affinity of modern literature particularly is with vision and outrage. By vision, I mean neither doctrine nor even revelation, but simply a concrete projection of the imagination into the conduct of life. Henry Miller has such an idea in mind when he says: “The role which the artist plays in society is to revive the primitive, anarchic instincts which have been sacrificed for the illusion of living in comfort”; or when he says again: “I do not call poets those who make verses, rhymed or unrhymed. I call that man poet who is capable of profoundly altering the world.”{{sfn|Miller|1939|p=156, 38 ff}} Both these statements reveal the artist’s conception of himself as visionary actor; both attest to his hope that prophecy may find its incarnation, beyond language, in action. Emboldened by such statements—and they are by no means restricted to Miller—the critic may feel justified in participating in the action that the work initiates. This is to say that the critic becomes himself part of the devious process by which a writer’s vision penetrates culture. The character of this devious process is closer to the character of pedagogy than of social reform. This leads me to the second observation. Since the process is indeed devious, subject to all the ambiguities of modern culture, the critic cannot really maintain a purely pragmatic, a purely political view of literature. This is salutary for the activist critic who finds in the visionary or subversive power of literature an inner check on his propensity for dogma, his penchant for expediency. This critical ideal is not nearly as pretentious as it may sound, nor does it always require the critic to make his home in the midst of chaos. It may require him, however, to heed certain &#039;&#039;thematic&#039;&#039; questions which were once considered beneath notice. A number of critical works of the last decade reflect this emergent concern. In &#039;&#039;The Tragic Vision&#039;&#039;, for instance, Murray Krieger pertinently asks, “But how, if we limit ourselves to technical literary definitions, can we find for the tragic any meaning beyond that of Aristotle? The answer is, by moving from formalistic aesthetics to what I would term &#039;thematics.&#039;” Krieger’s analysis of that term cannot be summarized easily, but the implications of his method are stated succinctly enough. He concludes thus: “All of which is perhaps to say only that a literary theory must be adequate to the literary experiences for which it is to account and that we trust our way of experiencing literature only as it is adequate to the life out there, which cries for a way of being organized literarily that will yet leave it preserved intact.”{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=2, 244}}  If the insistence on “the life out there” does not necessarily force the critic into a study of “thematics,” it does persuade him to dwell on precisely those formal matters that invoke the larger aspects of reality and may even engage religious thought. Thus the essays of James E. Miller, Jr., Karl Shapiro, and Bernice Slote, in &#039;&#039;Start With the Sun&#039;&#039;, explore the relation of Dionysian poetry to cosmic consciousness, mystery, and apocalypse. Miss Slote ends taking her cue from a noble phrase of Lawrence, “Perhaps then we may be absolved from the poetry of mirrors.{{sfn|Miller|Shapiro|Slote|1960|p=238}}  Parallel explorations of fiction lead R.W.B. Lewis, in his fine study, &#039;&#039;The Picaresque Saint&#039;&#039;, to distinguish between the generation of Proust, Joyce, and Mann, in whose world the aesthetic experience was supreme, and the generation of Silone, Faulkner, Camus, and Greene, in whose world “the chief experience has been the discovery of what it means to be a human being and to be alive.” Lewis continues: “Criticism, examining this world, is drawn to the more radically human considerations of life and death, and of the aspiring, sinful nature of man.”{{sfn|Lewis|1959|p=9}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Perhaps I have spoken long enough of certain interests of postwar criticism, though I feel I have spoken of them only tangentially. If one were to search for the theoretical basis of these interests—a task which I must leave to more philosophical critics one might be inclined to develop a view of literature that does not put the idea of form as its center. By this I do not simply mean a redefinition of the concept of form so that it may account, say, for the plays of Beckett or the novels of Burroughs. I would plead for a more radical view. From Kant to Cassirer, from Coleridge to Croce and down to the New Critics, the idea of organic form has been a touchstone of value and a cornerstone of theory in literary study. We assume, and indeed we believe, that the imagination incarnates itself only as an aesthetic order, and that such an order is available to the analytic mind. We believe more: that aesthetic order defines the deepest pleasures of literature and conveys its enduring attractions. I am not at all secure in these beliefs. Indeed, I am willing to take the devil&#039;s part and entertain the notion that “structure” is not always present or explicable in literary works; and that where it reveals itself, it is not always worth the attention we give it. Such works as &#039;&#039;Hamlet&#039;&#039; and &#039;&#039;Don Quixote&#039;&#039; not diminished by the discovery that their form, whatever it may be, is less organic than we expect the form of great works to be. Even that supreme artifact of our century, that total structure of symbols, puns, and cross-references, that city of words full of secret alleys and connecting catacombs, even Joyce&#039;s &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039;, may prove to the keen, fresh eye of a critic more of a labyrinth, dead ends and ways without issue, than Dublin itself which encloses the nightmare of history. This is precisely what Robert Martin Adams concludes in his fascinating study, &#039;&#039;Surface and Symbol&#039;&#039;. Adams inspects minutely the wealth of details in the novel, and finds that many of them serve to blur or confuse rather than to sustain patterns: &amp;quot;The close reading of &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039; thus reveals that the meaningless is deeply interwoven with the meaningful in the texture of the novel...It is a book and an antibook, a work of art particularly receptive to accident. It builds to acute and poignant states of consciousness, yet its larger ambition seems to be to put aside consciousness as a painful burden.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Adams|1962|p=245, 253}}Nothing catastrophic to the future of criticism is presaged by this statement. Quite the contrary: criticism may derive new vitality from some attention to the unstructured and even random element in literature. For is not form, after all, best conceived as a mode of awareness, a function of cognition, a question, that is, of epistemology rather than ontology? Its objective reality is qualified by the overpowering reality of human &#039;&#039;need&#039;&#039;. In the end, we perceive what we need to perceive, and our sense of pattern as of relation is conditioned by our deeper sense of relevance. This is why the aesthetic of the future will have to reckon with Freud, Nietzsche, and even Kierkegaard, who have given us, more than Marx himself, compelling economies of human needs.{{efn|In recent criticism, certain works have already begun to reflect this particular concern. Besides the works by R. W. B. Lewis and Murray Krieger already cited, one might mention Geoffrey Hartman, &#039;&#039;The Unmediated Vision&#039;&#039; (New Haven, 1954), Ihab Hassan, &#039;&#039;Radical Innocence&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1961), Frederick J. Hoffman, &#039;&#039;The Mortal No&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1964), and Arturo B. Fallico, &#039;&#039;Art and Existentialism&#039;&#039; (Englewood Cliffs, N. J., 1962).}} &lt;br /&gt;
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I could not persist in suggesting the theoretical implications of postwar criticism without falling into the trap which I have myself described. We do not always need a theoretical argument to bring forth a new critical attitude; we only need good critics. But perhaps we need, more than anything else, to regard literature in a more oblique fashion, regard it even in the slanting light of its own absurdity. We might then see that the theoretical solemnity of modern criticism ignore the self-destructive element of literature, its need for self-annulment. What Camus said of his own work applies, in various ways, to all literature: the act of creation is akin to chance and disorder, to which it comes through diversity, and it constantly meets with futility. &amp;quot;Creating or not creating changes nothing, &amp;quot; Camus writes. &amp;quot;The absurd creator does not prize his work. He could repudiate it.&amp;quot; And again: &amp;quot;The absurd work illustrates the intelligence that works up appearances and covers with images what has no reason. If the world were clear, art would not exist.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Camus|1959|p=72 ff}} Perhaps the function of literature, after all, is not to clarify that world but to help create a world in which literature becomes superfluous. And perhaps the function of criticism, as I shall argue later, is to attain to the difficult wisdom of perceiving how literature is finally, and &#039;&#039;only&#039;&#039; finally, inconsequential.{{efn|These heretical statements are developed more fully in my essay &amp;quot;The Dismemberment of Orpheus,&amp;quot; &#039;&#039;American Scholar&#039;&#039;, XXXII.}}{{sfn|Hassan|1963|p=463-484}}                                                                       &lt;br /&gt;
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The foregoing remarks limn certain trends in postwar criticism; they are not intended to define a school or movement. Still, I feel it wise to anticipate some objections before concluding this mock survey.&lt;br /&gt;
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It may be argued, for instance, that many of the attitudes I have described are not so novel as I make them out to be. Richards&#039; emotive theories, Burke&#039;s concept of action, Leavis’ cultural vitalism, Trilling’s depth-view of manners and imagination, Blackmur’s metaphors of silence in literature, and above all, Herbert Read’s sympathy for the anarchic spirit, certainly open the way to the speculations of younger critics. The latter, however, still distinguish themselves by a certain quality of passion, a generosity toward the perversities of spirit, and a sense of crisis in man’s fate. Two recent books of criticism, R. W. B. Lewis’ &#039;&#039;The American Adam&#039;&#039; and Leslie Fiedler&#039;s &#039;&#039;Love and Death at the American Novel&#039;&#039;, seem quite disparate in tone and method; yet both, I think, stand in this respect closer to Lawrence’s seminal work, &#039;&#039;Studies in Classic American Literature&#039;&#039;, than to Matthiessen’s &#039;&#039;American Renaissance&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
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Then again, it might be argued that my use of the terms, “form” and “theory,&amp;quot; appears tendentious; that, ideally speaking, neither of these terms excludes larger commitments; and that, in any case, there are so many concepts of “form” and “structure” in modern criticism as to make a general condemnation of them irresponsible. I should like to think that there are more wicked uses of irresponsibility than in the criticism of criticism. What an ideal formalist theory may contribute to our appreciation of literature is not in dispute; what it has contributed in the past by way of practical criticism is also very considerable. Still, do we not all sense the growing inertness of the Spirit of criticism beneath the weight of the Letter? One sometimes feels that in another decade or two, the task or criticism may be safely performed by some lively computing machine which, blessed with total recall, would never misquote as some critics are reputed to do.&lt;br /&gt;
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I speak, of course, hyperbolically. Perhaps I can make the point clearer, and sharpen thereby the distinction between two generations of critics, by referring to two eminent theoreticians of literature. Both René Wellek and Northrop Frye are men of vast erudition; both have shaped the course of literary studies in America. This, I think, is entirely as it should be; the timely authority of such works as Wellek and Warren’s &#039;&#039;Theory of Literature&#039;&#039; or Frye’s &#039;&#039;Anatomy of Criticism&#039;&#039; deserves nothing less. Yet at the risk of seeming ungracious, it is to their later, and perhaps lesser, works that I wish to refer. After all, the question still remains: what lies beyond formalist theory?&lt;br /&gt;
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In &#039;&#039;Concepts of Criticism&#039;&#039;, Professor Wellek shows himself to be somewhat out of love with the directions of contemporary criticism. “It seems to me that in spite of the basic truth of the insight of organicism, the unity of content and form, we have arrived today at something like a deadend,” he states.{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=65}} His dissatisfaction, however, is of short duration. Professor Wellek sees the way out in the doctrine of “structuralism,&amp;quot; evolved by the Prague Linguistic Circle - alas, now defunct! “Such a concept of the literary work of art avoids two pitfalls,” Professor Wellek hopes, “the extreme of organicism which leads to a lumpish totality in which discrimination becomes impossible, and the opposite danger of atomistic fragmentation.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=68}} The way out, as it turns out, comes very close to the ancient ideal of the golden mean. This is judicious. But is it really judiciousness which prompts him in two later chapters, “Philosophy and Post- war American Criticism” and “Main Trends of Twentieth-Century Criticism,” to deride all recent criticism? The brilliant and inventive concern with American literature in the last two decades is deplored as an example of “romantic historicism,” and mythic and existential criticism are condemned as an instance of “the irrationalistic philosophies of Europe” adapted to the pragmatic temper of the United States.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=333 ff}} Professor Wellek sadly concludes: “Only those who adhere to either the German idealist tradition, in the Kantian or Coleridgean version, or those who rediscover Aristotle, still keep a grasp on the nature of art and recognize the necessity of an aesthetic and the ideal of a study of literature as literature.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=342}} Having defined literature in formalist terms, it is no wonder that Professor Wellek &#039;&#039;still&#039;&#039; believes formalist theory to be the most rewarding view of literature. Thus is the rigor of tautology achieved.&lt;br /&gt;
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&#039;&#039;The Well-Tempered Critic&#039;&#039;, which is not wrought in the massive architectural manner of Professor Frye’s earlier work, is too urbane to be tautological. Its urbanity expresses a fine subtlety of mind in the final chapter of the book, and the subtlety itself disguises a somewhat chilly view of literature. Professor Frye acknowledges the distinction between the classic and romantic tempers in criticism, and proceeds to discover the correlatives of each. The classic temper, he informs us, is aesthetic, the romantic is psychological; the former views art as artifact, the latter as expression; the one derives from Aristotle, the other from Longinus. I do not quarrel with these distinctions, particularly when categorical distinctions make the very basis of the geometric edifices Professor Frye likes to erect. “The first step to take here,&amp;quot; he argues, “is to realize that just as a poem implies a distinction between the poet as man and the poet as verbal craftsman, so the response to a poem implies a corresponding distinction in the critic.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=123}} For both Northrop Frye and René Wellek, we see, the critical act rests on the &#039;&#039;separation&#039;&#039; of certain human faculties from the continuum of felt life. There are few critics willing to speak professionally for the ancient female principle, acceptance and fusion, and the enveloping wholeness of things, few willing to speak for the fourfold vision of Blake. Yet carried far enough, distinctions become the source of the mind’s alienation, the Cartesian madness of the West. &lt;br /&gt;
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Again, Professor Frye views criticism not as the experience of literature but, more discretely, as an area of knowledge. This leads him to the hard-boiled conclusion, so repugnant to visionary educators, that “the values we want the student to acquire from us cannot be taught: only knowledge of literature can be taught.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=136}} Can knowledge be dissociated from value, and criticism forego its aspiration to wisdom? Apparently so. “The fundamental act of criticism is a disinterested response to a work of literature in which all one’s beliefs, engagements, commitments, prejudices, stampedings of pity and terror, are ordered to be quiet,” he continues.{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=140}} Ordered to be quiet! Who listens, then, and who speaks instead? The imagination never demanded such frozen void, nor do the supreme fictions of the mind reject the earth they transmute. We have seen criticism gaze long enough on the world with the quiet eyes of Apollo. Shall we ever see it partake again of the sacred flesh of Dionysus?&lt;br /&gt;
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I do not wish to suggest that the Dionysiac vision is bound to penetrate literary criticism the world over. I do sense, however, a movement in contemporary letters which must force us to revise our tenets or else accept the charge of theoretical isolationism in America. It is doubtful, for instance, that the plays of Beckett or Genet or Artaud, the novels of William Burroughs, Maurice Blanchot, or Alain Robbe-Grillet, the later stories of Salinger, the poetry of Charles Olson, Blaise Cendrars, or Dylan Thomas—and I cite these names quite at random—can be illuminated brightly by the critical terms of Professors Wellek and Frye. Nathalie Sarraute&#039;s latest book, &#039;&#039;The Golden Fruits&#039;&#039;, and Marc Saporta’s “shuffle novel,” &#039;&#039;Number 1&#039;&#039;, deny the conventional idea of structure. The first is a novel about a novel which cancels itself in the very act of reading; the second is a stratagem which accepts the principle of chance as an integral part of the literary experience. As for Burroughs’ &#039;&#039;The Soft Machine&#039;&#039;, it applies— to what extent, no one will know— the “cut up method of Brion Gysin,” a method which combines collage and montage. If these works possess a form, it is probably a “non-telic&amp;quot; form of the kind recently reflected in painting and music.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Meyer|1963|p=169-186}} Must we then dismiss such works as faddish freaks, of more interest to literary gossip than literary history?&lt;br /&gt;
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In France, where criticism has been long associated with the spirit of lucidity, critics take a different stand. A quick look at some of their statements may persuade us that their view of literature is not too far from the view I have proposed. The common theme of Claude Mauriac’s &#039;&#039;The New Literature&#039;&#039; is stated thus: “After the silence of Rimbaud, the blank page of Mallarmé, the inarticulate cry of Artaud, a literature finally dissolves in alliteration with Joyce. The author of &#039;&#039;Finnegans Wake&#039;&#039; in fact creates out of whole cloth words full of so many diverse overtones that they are eclipsed by them. For Beckett, on the contrary, words all say the same thing.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Mauriac|1959|p=12}} The theme of Roland Barthes&#039; &#039;&#039;Le Degré Zéro de L‘Ecriture&#039;&#039; is similar: the avatar of the new literature is absence. Barthes writes: “dans ces écritures neutres, appelées ici ‘le degré zéro de l’écriture,&#039; on peut facilement discerner le mouvement même d’une négation, comme si la Littérature, tendant depuis un siècle à transmuer sa surface dans une forme sans hérédité, ne trouvait plus de pureté que dans l’absence de tout signe, proposant en fin l’accomplissement de ce rêve orphéen: un écrivain sans Littérature.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Barthes|1959|p=12}} Likewise, for Maurice Blanchot literature is moving toward “l’ère saris parole.” This movement may lead to a form of writing that is incessant sound; or it may lead, as Blanchot states in Le Livre à Venir, quite in the other direction: “la littérature va vers elle-même, vers son essence qui est la disparition.”{{sfn|Blanchot|1959|p=237}} Both directions, we can surmise, end in the dissolution of significant form, the abdication of language. Is this silence at the heart of modern literature the definition of outrage, a subjective correlative of our terror? Or is the monstrous language of action, which Bachelard {{sfn|Bachelard|1963|p=154}} believes to be pointing, beyond Lautréamontism, toward “une réintegration de l&#039;humain dans la vie ardente...,” a closer correlative of that terror? We can only observe that from Sade and Lautréamont to Kafka and Beckett, the twin dark streams of poetry, the poetry of action and the poetry of silence, have been flowing toward some unknown sea wherein some figure of apocalypse, man or beast, still lies submerged.&lt;br /&gt;
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Critics, however, are of many ilks, and for some the mantic role is as foreign as Elijah&#039;s. I wish to force no prophecies in the mouths of students of literature. Still, it is not unreasonable to ask that criticism evolve a method which takes deeper cognizance of the evolving character of life as of literature. The point is almost too obvious: contemporary letters can be judged as little by the standards of pure formalism as, let us say, Romantic poetry can we evaluated by the strict conventions of neo-Classicism.&lt;br /&gt;
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The problem of criticism, however, must not be left to the indolent spirit of literary relativism. Indeed, the problems may not prove to be one of literary method at all. The problem of criticism is always the challenge of awareness, full awareness of human existence in time and in place, but also outside of both, in the dream world which antecedes all responsibilities. In the end, perhaps, the problem of critics and poets alike is one of human destiny. To say less is to confuse cowardice with modesty.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If there is underlying theme in recent American criticism, it is the implicit theme of crisis, a crisis not merely of literary method but of literature itself, which means of culture and consciousness. The crisis, as Nicolas Berdyaev knew, is not the crisis of humanism but of humanity itself. In the past, periods of crisis have often bred visions of apocalypse.{{sfn|Rowley|nd|p=150-178}} Such visions may come our way again. They may even lurk in a critic&#039;s perplexity. Here is how Krieger put the question: “Or is it, perhaps, that the Kierkegaardian version is right and that our world has itself become the tragic visionary in its unbelief using self-destructive crises to force itself finally to confront the absurdities of earthly reality...? Which is to ask fearfully and even unwillingly, whether we have not been beguiled by aesthetic satisfactions and whether the utterly striped tragic vision may not after all be less illusory than the fullness which shines through tragedy.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=12}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is no time to sit in judgment on the world or to interpret its modern tragedy. From the Revelation of St. John the Divine to Norman O. Brown’s extraordinary PBK address, entitled &amp;quot;Apocalypse,” men have envisioned the destruction of the world and foreseen its resurrection. “Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection: on such the second death has no power...,” St. John says.{{sfn|Revelation|nd|p=xx.6}} But we are not at the first resurrection yet; we are not even beyond madness. Thus from Norman O. Brown: “The alternative to mind is certainly madness... Our real choice is between holy and unholy madness: open your eyes and look around you—madness is in the saddle anyhow.”{{sfn|Brown|1961|p=47}} What task will criticism perform, wavering between holy and unholy madness? What bootless task?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Criticism is no country for old men of any age. Criticism, which was born to behold literature, must still do so and look beyond itself. Tack and rigor may attend all our words, but our words, but our words will avail nothing if man prevails not. What lies beyond criticism? D.H. Lawrence knew. This is what he says in his &#039;&#039;Apocalypse&#039;&#039;: “O lovely green dragon of the new day, the undawned day, &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; in touch, and release us from the horrid grip of the evil-smelling old Logos! Come in silence, and say nothing. Come in touch, in soft new touch like a spring-time, and say nothing.”{{sfn|Lawrence|1931|pp. 233 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{Template:Aade-sm}}&lt;br /&gt;
==Notes==&lt;br /&gt;
{{notelist}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Citations==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Reflist|20em}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Works Cited==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Refbegin|40em}}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Adams |first=Robert Martin |date=1962 |title=Surface and Symbol: The Consistency of James Joyce&#039;s Ulysses |location=New York |publisher=Oxford University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Bachelard |first=Gaston |date=1963 |title=Lautréamont |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Barthes|first=Roland |date=1959 |title=Le Degré Zéro de L&#039;Ecriture  |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Blanchot |first=Maurice|date=1959 |title= Le Livre à Venir |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last=Brown |first=Norman O.|date=1961 |title=Apocalypse. |url= |journal=Harper&#039;s|volume= |issue= |pages= |doi= |access-date= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Buber|first=Martin |date=1955 | title=Between Man and Man |location=Boston |publisher=Harcourt, Brace, &amp;amp; World |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Camus|first=Albert |date=1961 |title=Resistance, Rebellion, and Death |location=New York |publisher=Knopf |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Durrell |first=Lawrence and Alfred Perles |date=1961 |title=Art and Outrage: A Correspondence about Henry Miller |location=New York|publisher=Dutton |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Frye|first=Northrop |date=1963 |title=The Well-Tempered Critic|location=Bloomington |publisher=Indiana University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger|first=Murray |date=1959 |title=The Myth of Sisyphus|location=New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger |first=Murray |date=1960 |title=The Tragic Vision: Variations on a Theme of Literary Interpretation |location=New York |publisher=Holt, Rinehart and Winston |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lawrence |first=D.H. |date=1931 |title= Apocalypse |location=Florence |publisher=G. Orioli |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lewis|first=R.W.B. |date=1959 |title=The Picaresque Saint|location=Philadelphia and New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Mauriac|first=Claude |date=1959 |title=The New Literature |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Meyer|first=Leonard B. |date=1963 |title=The End of the Renaissance |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=Henry |date=1939 |title=The Cosmological Eye |location=Norfork |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=James E., Karl Shapiro and Bernice Slote|date=1960 |title=Start With the Sun|location=Lincoln |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Ong|first=Walter J. |date=1962 |title=The Barbarian Within |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Rowley |first= H.H.|title= The Relevance of Apocalyptic&#039;&#039; |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Sartre|first=Jean-Paul |date=1948 |title=Situations II |location=Paris |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last1=Trilling |first1=Lionel |date=1962 |title=On the Modern Element in Modern Literature |journal=The Partisan Review Anthology |volume= |issue= |pages= | ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Wellek |first=René |date=1963 |title=Concepts of Criticism |url= |location=New Haven|page=|isbn= |author-link= |ref=harv }}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
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		<title>User:Mango Masala/sandbox</title>
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		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: added publisher&lt;/p&gt;
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&lt;div&gt;&#039;&#039;COMPARATIVE LITERATURE STUDIES&#039;&#039; Vol. I, No. 4, 1964&lt;br /&gt;
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Beyond a Theory of Literature: Intimations of Apocalypse?&lt;br /&gt;
{{byline|last=Hassan|first=Ihab}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Begin with an assumption: that literature defines our concepts of criticism or else it defies them, and that life constantly challenges the pieties of both art and thought. What I shall attempt here, then, could not be considered an authoritative review of postwar criticism. It should be understood, rather, as a partial statement on the gathering mood of American criticism, an intimation of a trend which the facts of literary history in the past two decades (colored inevitably by my own sense of fact) may help to clarify.&lt;br /&gt;
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The admission that I neither hold nor accept a definitive view of criticism should not be too shocking. In England, where the empiric temper prevails in the name of common sense or urbanity, and even in France, where questions of methodology yield to a lively concern with new writing, such an admission would seem fairly innocuous. It is otherwise in America. Among us, the notion that criticism must become a rigorous, quasi-scientific activity in order to justify its name still finds wide support. Not long ago —or is it really ages past?— most students of literature, myself included, recognized the elegance of René Wellek’s formulation of the destiny of criticism: “the interpretation of literature as distinct from other activities of man.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=343}} Coming from Professor Wellek, the emphasis on interpretation rather than on literary theory seemed unduly self-effacing. Be that as it may, the formula appealed then to the common rage for order, and seemed also to aver the dignity of the humanities on terms that the age demanded. With the years, however, the formula seems, to me at least, to have lost in elegance as it has gained in naïveté. The breed of technicians it has unwittingly sanctioned may have found a truer consummation of their hopes in the laboratories of Oak Ridge. Literature as a distinct activity of man? Criticism as a distinct response to a distinct activity of man? What is man that we should be so little mindful of him, so arbitrary with the complexities of his mind? From Surrealism to Absurdism, literature itself suggests that a distinct aesthetic response may be defined only at the risk of deadly discrimination.&lt;br /&gt;
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Yet my object is not to engage in polemics. The point can be stated with some equanimity: a new breed of American critics are anxious to assert them selves against the rigors and pieties they have inherited. Their mood is restless, eclectic, speculative; sometimes, it is even apocalyptic. Those who feel out of sympathy with them may wish to apply different epithets: romantic, primitivist, existential, amateurish, or plain anti-intellectual. (The usefulness of these tags, dispensed usually with contumely, is as doubtful as their accuracy.) Others, however, may recognize the creative possibilities of this new mood, troubled, vague, or disruptive as it may seem.&lt;br /&gt;
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Evidence of the new mood is various though one senses behind it the enduring search for wholeness and vitality in the literary response. One senses, too, the paradoxical desire to appropriate literature to the dream life of men, and then again to implicate it in the widest sphere of their daily actions. Is not the secret task, for poet and critic alike, to participate in that magic process whereby the word is turned into flesh?&lt;br /&gt;
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The critic therefore feels the need for commitment; he wants to testify. And what is to prevent him? The encounter with an authentic work of art is a bruising experience, full of strange knowledge and hidden pleasure, of the kind we usually spend a life-time resisting. The critic knows that he himself is on trial, and that the act of literary criticism is above all an act of self-judgement. Since his business is to speak of literature, speech in his case must ultimately take the form of self-revelation. But the need for self-revelation is not only a private or existential need. It is also a social function of the critic. “Is art always an outrage - must it by its very nature be an outrage?&amp;quot; Durrell asks.{{sfn|Durrell|Perles|1961|p=9}} The question haunts the critic even more than it does the oafish censors of our time. For should the critic insist on his dubious right to privacy or detachment, his deepest knowledge of literature would remain locked, a private outrage, an inner wound. Yet literature, we know, acts through language; it is a communal call, there where words and experience are one, as it is solitary subversion, where words begin to fail. In the act of testimony, therefore, the critic admits the &#039;&#039;relevance&#039;&#039; of the buried power of literature; he offers himself to the harsh task of mediating between society and vision, culture and anarchy. Only thus can he give to outrage wider reference, give it a meaning beyond itself. There is the risk of course, that such mediation may rob both culture and outrage of their particular force. Yet from that loss a new life in history may be gained, a new consciousness of self and society may be born. This is precisely the gain, implicit in the discomforts of critical commitment, which Lionel Trilling, in his otherwise subtle essay, “On the Modern Element in Modern Literature,” seems to ignore.{{sfn|Trilling|1962|p=267 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Commitment, however, is but a single impulse of the new critical attitude; it simply prepares the ground for dialogue. Another impulse may be defined as the refusal wholly to objectify the work of literature. The art work, of course, has been long considered as an &#039;&#039;object&#039;&#039;, an object for dissection or knowledge, idolatry or classification. Yet the encounter between critic and work is neither entirely objective nor purely aesthetic; it may be a “dialogue” of the kind Martin Buber has proposed. In Buber&#039;s sense, the work of art resists identification with insensible It; for the work demands answer and response, and it requires a meeting. Is it then so perverse to ask the critic, whether he subscribes to Buber’s theology or not, that he “turn toward” the work and confess with Buber, “in each instance a word demanding an answer has happened to me” ?{{sfn|Buber|1955|p=10}} Nothing is mystical in this statement, nothing inimical to the spirit of poetry. The statement, in fact, points to some rather mundane questions which Walter J. Ong, theologian of another faith, happily raises. In his original essay, “The Jinnee in the Well-Wrought Urn,” Father Ong states: “Creative activity is often...powered by the drive to accomplish, in terms of the production of an object of art, an adjustment or readjustment in certain obscure relationships with other persons.&amp;quot; What does this mean? Quite obviously, it means that behind every work of art lurks and strains a human being; less obviously, perhaps, it means that the voice of the human creator, raging heart and feet of clay, is not entirely silenced in his art. The jinnee cannot be exorcised from the urn it inhabits, however shapely the latter may prove; the artifact still comes to life with voices unknown. And indeed this is what we, as readers, require. Once again, Father Ong sees the point clearly: “as a matter of full, serious, protracted contemplation and love, it is unbearable for a man or woman to be faced with anything less than a person. . . .”{{sfn|Ong|1962|p=19, 25}} This is precisely what critics, compelled by the difficult reciprocities of love, may now want to face: not an object but a presence mediated cunningly, incomprehensibly, by language. Such a presence is not simply human. It is the presence, moving and participating in reality, which Owen Barfield, in &#039;&#039;Saving the Appearances&#039;&#039;, has shown us to lie at the heart of the symbolic process. In facing such a presence, critics may hope to recover the primal connection with a universe mediated increasingly by abstractions. But they may also hope to recover something more modest: a spontaneity of judgment which reaches outward, reaches beyond itself. Holden Caulfield, we recall, was moved to call on an author whose work he had much enjoyed. In such naïveté there may be a parable for critics as well as an occasion for derision.&lt;br /&gt;
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If some postwar critics are loth to consider the literary work merely as an object, they are equally reluctant to believe that contemplation is the sole reaction to it. Beyond testimony, beyond participation or dialogue, the critic now wishes to entertain in the possibility that &#039;&#039;action&#039;&#039; maybe a legitimate response to art. By this, of course, I do not mean that he rushes to the barricades after reading &#039;&#039;The Conquerors&#039;&#039;, or that he develops tuberculosis after reading &#039;&#039;The Magic Mountain&#039;&#039;. I mean that the experience of a literary work does not leave him unchanged. To the extent that he is altered in the recesses of his imagination, indeed of his being, to that extent he must act differently in daily life. For if literature is both cognitive and experiential, as we have been so often told, then how can new knowledge but prompt new action? We may have accepted the Thomist notion of &#039;&#039;stasis&#039;&#039; in art much too uncritically. The counter-statement is boldly presented in Sartre&#039;s essay, “ Qu’est Ce Que la Littérature? ” “Parler c’est agir:” Sartre claims, “tout chose qu&#039;on nomme n’est déjà plus tout à fait la même, elle a perdu son innocence.” Sartre continues: “L&#039;œuvre d’art est valeur parce qu’elle est appel.”{{sfn|Sartre|1948|p=72, 98}} The appeal, above all, is to that act of self-definition which the work persuades its reader to perform, an act of definition and also of freedom. For in a sense, the work itself is “created” by the freedom of the reader to give it a concrete and, ultimately, personal meaning. The work, that is, finally enters the total existence of a man, not simply his dream life or aesthetic consciousness, and in doing so, it becomes subject to the total judgment of human passions. This is precisely what an existential writer of a different breed, Camus, meant when he wrote, “To create today is to create dangerously. Any publication is an act, and that act exposes one to the passions of an age that forgives nothing...”{{sfn|Camus|1961|p=251}} But if the writer must create dangerously these days, the critic cannot afford to criticize timorously. Dangerous criticism assumes that final and somewhat frightening responsibility which some critics naturally resist; namely, the willing suspension of aesthetic judgment in the interests of right action.&lt;br /&gt;
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I quite realize the enormity of this assertion. For one thing, it brings the critic dangerously close to the posture of the censor— the commissar, the propaganda helot, the prurient chief of police—who requires that every work of art display its social credentials or else stand convicted. No doubt, the redemption of man is a more momentous task than the creation of beauty, and virtue and goodness are not to be scoffed at. Yet redemption, one suspects, does not lie in the grasp of regulators; nor does virtue depend on the degradation of art by power. How, then, can the critic hope to transcend the aesthetic domain of literature without seeming to capitulate to dogma or authority, without seeming to endorse a vulgar or repressive utilitarianism?&lt;br /&gt;
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There are many answers to this question, though all are equally provisional, for in this as in other literary matters, tact not theory comes to our aid. We can begin, however, by making two observations. First, serious literature offers great resistance to political expediency; other forms of propaganda are far more effective. The basic affinity of modern literature particularly is with vision and outrage. By vision, I mean neither doctrine nor even revelation, but simply a concrete projection of the imagination into the conduct of life. Henry Miller has such an idea in mind when he says: “The role which the artist plays in society is to revive the primitive, anarchic instincts which have been sacrificed for the illusion of living in comfort”; or when he says again: “I do not call poets those who make verses, rhymed or unrhymed. I call that man poet who is capable of profoundly altering the world.”{{sfn|Miller|1939|p=156, 38 ff}} Both these statements reveal the artist’s conception of himself as visionary actor; both attest to his hope that prophecy may find its incarnation, beyond language, in action. Emboldened by such statements—and they are by no means restricted to Miller—the critic may feel justified in participating in the action that the work initiates. This is to say that the critic becomes himself part of the devious process by which a writer’s vision penetrates culture. The character of this devious process is closer to the character of pedagogy than of social reform. This leads me to the second observation. Since the process is indeed devious, subject to all the ambiguities of modern culture, the critic cannot really maintain a purely pragmatic, a purely political view of literature. This is salutary for the activist critic who finds in the visionary or subversive power of literature an inner check on his propensity for dogma, his penchant for expediency. This critical ideal is not nearly as pretentious as it may sound, nor does it always require the critic to make his home in the midst of chaos. It may require him, however, to heed certain &#039;&#039;thematic&#039;&#039; questions which were once considered beneath notice. A number of critical works of the last decade reflect this emergent concern. In &#039;&#039;The Tragic Vision&#039;&#039;, for instance, Murray Krieger pertinently asks, “But how, if we limit ourselves to technical literary definitions, can we find for the tragic any meaning beyond that of Aristotle? The answer is, by moving from formalistic aesthetics to what I would term &#039;thematics.&#039;” Krieger’s analysis of that term cannot be summarized easily, but the implications of his method are stated succinctly enough. He concludes thus: “All of which is perhaps to say only that a literary theory must be adequate to the literary experiences for which it is to account and that we trust our way of experiencing literature only as it is adequate to the life out there, which cries for a way of being organized literarily that will yet leave it preserved intact.”{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=2, 244}}  If the insistence on “the life out there” does not necessarily force the critic into a study of “thematics,” it does persuade him to dwell on precisely those formal matters that invoke the larger aspects of reality and may even engage religious thought. Thus the essays of James E. Miller, Jr., Karl Shapiro, and Bernice Slote, in &#039;&#039;Start With the Sun&#039;&#039;, explore the relation of Dionysian poetry to cosmic consciousness, mystery, and apocalypse. Miss Slote ends taking her cue from a noble phrase of Lawrence, “Perhaps then we may be absolved from the poetry of mirrors.{{sfn|Miller|Shapiro|Slote|1960|p=238}}  Parallel explorations of fiction lead R.W.B. Lewis, in his fine study, &#039;&#039;The Picaresque Saint&#039;&#039;, to distinguish between the generation of Proust, Joyce, and Mann, in whose world the aesthetic experience was supreme, and the generation of Silone, Faulkner, Camus, and Greene, in whose world “the chief experience has been the discovery of what it means to be a human being and to be alive.” Lewis continues: “Criticism, examining this world, is drawn to the more radically human considerations of life and death, and of the aspiring, sinful nature of man.”{{sfn|Lewis|1959|p=9}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Perhaps I have spoken long enough of certain interests of postwar criticism, though I feel I have spoken of them only tangentially. If one were to search for the theoretical basis of these interests—a task which I must leave to more philosophical critics one might be inclined to develop a view of literature that does not put the idea of form as its center. By this I do not simply mean a redefinition of the concept of form so that it may account, say, for the plays of Beckett or the novels of Burroughs. I would plead for a more radical view. From Kant to Cassirer, from Coleridge to Croce and down to the New Critics, the idea of organic form has been a touchstone of value and a cornerstone of theory in literary study. We assume, and indeed we believe, that the imagination incarnates itself only as an aesthetic order, and that such an order is available to the analytic mind. We believe more: that aesthetic order defines the deepest pleasures of literature and conveys its enduring attractions. I am not at all secure in these beliefs. Indeed, I am willing to take the devil&#039;s part and entertain the notion that “structure” is not always present or explicable in literary works; and that where it reveals itself, it is not always worth the attention we give it. Such works as &#039;&#039;Hamlet&#039;&#039; and &#039;&#039;Don Quixote&#039;&#039; not diminished by the discovery that their form, whatever it may be, is less organic than we expect the form of great works to be. Even that supreme artifact of our century, that total structure of symbols, puns, and cross-references, that city of words full of secret alleys and connecting catacombs, even Joyce&#039;s &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039;, may prove to the keen, fresh eye of a critic more of a labyrinth, dead ends and ways without issue, than Dublin itself which encloses the nightmare of history. This is precisely what Robert Martin Adams concludes in his fascinating study, &#039;&#039;Surface and Symbol&#039;&#039;. Adams inspects minutely the wealth of details in the novel, and finds that many of them serve to blur or confuse rather than to sustain patterns: &amp;quot;The close reading of &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039; thus reveals that the meaningless is deeply interwoven with the meaningful in the texture of the novel...It is a book and an antibook, a work of art particularly receptive to accident. It builds to acute and poignant states of consciousness, yet its larger ambition seems to be to put aside consciousness as a painful burden.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Adams|1962|p=245, 253}}Nothing catastrophic to the future of criticism is presaged by this statement. Quite the contrary: criticism may derive new vitality from some attention to the unstructured and even random element in literature. For is not form, after all, best conceived as a mode of awareness, a function of cognition, a question, that is, of epistemology rather than ontology? Its objective reality is qualified by the overpowering reality of human &#039;&#039;need&#039;&#039;. In the end, we perceive what we need to perceive, and our sense of pattern as of relation is conditioned by our deeper sense of relevance. This is why the aesthetic of the future will have to reckon with Freud, Nietzsche, and even Kierkegaard, who have given us, more than Marx himself, compelling economies of human needs.{{efn|In recent criticism, certain works have already begun to reflect this particular concern. Besides the works by R. W. B. Lewis and Murray Krieger already cited, one might mention Geoffrey Hartman, &#039;&#039;The Unmediated Vision&#039;&#039; (New Haven, 1954), Ihab Hassan, &#039;&#039;Radical Innocence&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1961), Frederick J. Hoffman, &#039;&#039;The Mortal No&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1964), and Arturo B. Fallico, &#039;&#039;Art and Existentialism&#039;&#039; (Englewood Cliffs, N. J., 1962).}} &lt;br /&gt;
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I could not persist in suggesting the theoretical implications of postwar criticism without falling into the trap which I have myself described. We do not always need a theoretical argument to bring forth a new critical attitude; we only need good critics. But perhaps we need, more than anything else, to regard literature in a more oblique fashion, regard it even in the slanting light of its own absurdity. We might then see that the theoretical solemnity of modern criticism ignore the self-destructive element of literature, its need for self-annulment. What Camus said of his own work applies, in various ways, to all literature: the act of creation is akin to chance and disorder, to which it comes through diversity, and it constantly meets with futility. &amp;quot;Creating or not creating changes nothing, &amp;quot; Camus writes. &amp;quot;The absurd creator does not prize his work. He could repudiate it.&amp;quot; And again: &amp;quot;The absurd work illustrates the intelligence that works up appearances and covers with images what has no reason. If the world were clear, art would not exist.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Camus|1959|p=72 ff}} Perhaps the function of literature, after all, is not to clarify that world but to help create a world in which literature becomes superfluous. And perhaps the function of criticism, as I shall argue later, is to attain to the difficult wisdom of perceiving how literature is finally, and &#039;&#039;only&#039;&#039; finally, inconsequential.{{efn|These heretical statements are developed more fully in my essay &amp;quot;The Dismemberment of Orpheus,&amp;quot; &#039;&#039;American Scholar&#039;&#039;, XXXII.}}{{sfn|Hassan|1963|p=463-484}}                                                                       &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The foregoing remarks limn certain trends in postwar criticism; they are not intended to define a school or movement. Still, I feel it wise to anticipate some objections before concluding this mock survey.&lt;br /&gt;
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It may be argued, for instance, that many of the attitudes I have described are not so novel as I make them out to be. Richards&#039; emotive theories, Burke&#039;s concept of action, Leavis’ cultural vitalism, Trilling’s depth-view of manners and imagination, Blackmur’s metaphors of silence in literature, and above all, Herbert Read’s sympathy for the anarchic spirit, certainly open the way to the speculations of younger critics. The latter, however, still distinguish themselves by a certain quality of passion, a generosity toward the perversities of spirit, and a sense of crisis in man’s fate. Two recent books of criticism, R. W. B. Lewis’ &#039;&#039;The American Adam&#039;&#039; and Leslie Fiedler&#039;s &#039;&#039;Love and Death at the American Novel&#039;&#039;, seem quite disparate in tone and method; yet both, I think, stand in this respect closer to Lawrence’s seminal work, &#039;&#039;Studies in Classic American Literature&#039;&#039;, than to Matthiessen’s &#039;&#039;American Renaissance&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then again, it might be argued that my use of the terms, “form” and “theory,&amp;quot; appears tendentious; that, ideally speaking, neither of these terms excludes larger commitments; and that, in any case, there are so many concepts of “form” and “structure” in modern criticism as to make a general condemnation of them irresponsible. I should like to think that there are more wicked uses of irresponsibility than in the criticism of criticism. What an ideal formalist theory may contribute to our appreciation of literature is not in dispute; what it has contributed in the past by way of practical criticism is also very considerable. Still, do we not all sense the growing inertness of the Spirit of criticism beneath the weight of the Letter? One sometimes feels that in another decade or two, the task or criticism may be safely performed by some lively computing machine which, blessed with total recall, would never misquote as some critics are reputed to do.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I speak, of course, hyperbolically. Perhaps I can make the point clearer, and sharpen thereby the distinction between two generations of critics, by referring to two eminent theoreticians of literature. Both René Wellek and Northrop Frye are men of vast erudition; both have shaped the course of literary studies in America. This, I think, is entirely as it should be; the timely authority of such works as Wellek and Warren’s &#039;&#039;Theory of Literature&#039;&#039; or Frye’s &#039;&#039;Anatomy of Criticism&#039;&#039; deserves nothing less. Yet at the risk of seeming ungracious, it is to their later, and perhaps lesser, works that I wish to refer. After all, the question still remains: what lies beyond formalist theory?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In &#039;&#039;Concepts of Criticism&#039;&#039;, Professor Wellek shows himself to be somewhat out of love with the directions of contemporary criticism. “It seems to me that in spite of the basic truth of the insight of organicism, the unity of content and form, we have arrived today at something like a deadend,” he states.{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=65}} His dissatisfaction, however, is of short duration. Professor Wellek sees the way out in the doctrine of “structuralism,&amp;quot; evolved by the Prague Linguistic Circle - alas, now defunct! “Such a concept of the literary work of art avoids two pitfalls,” Professor Wellek hopes, “the extreme of organicism which leads to a lumpish totality in which discrimination becomes impossible, and the opposite danger of atomistic fragmentation.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=68}} The way out, as it turns out, comes very close to the ancient ideal of the golden mean. This is judicious. But is it really judiciousness which prompts him in two later chapters, “Philosophy and Post- war American Criticism” and “Main Trends of Twentieth-Century Criticism,” to deride all recent criticism? The brilliant and inventive concern with American literature in the last two decades is deplored as an example of “romantic historicism,” and mythic and existential criticism are condemned as an instance of “the irrationalistic philosophies of Europe” adapted to the pragmatic temper of the United States.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=333 ff}} Professor Wellek sadly concludes: “Only those who adhere to either the German idealist tradition, in the Kantian or Coleridgean version, or those who rediscover Aristotle, still keep a grasp on the nature of art and recognize the necessity of an aesthetic and the ideal of a study of literature as literature.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=342}} Having defined literature in formalist terms, it is no wonder that Professor Wellek &#039;&#039;still&#039;&#039; believes formalist theory to be the most rewarding view of literature. Thus is the rigor of tautology achieved.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&#039;&#039;The Well-Tempered Critic&#039;&#039;, which is not wrought in the massive architectural manner of Professor Frye’s earlier work, is too urbane to be tautological. Its urbanity expresses a fine subtlety of mind in the final chapter of the book, and the subtlety itself disguises a somewhat chilly view of literature. Professor Frye acknowledges the distinction between the classic and romantic tempers in criticism, and proceeds to discover the correlatives of each. The classic temper, he informs us, is aesthetic, the romantic is psychological; the former views art as artifact, the latter as expression; the one derives from Aristotle, the other from Longinus. I do not quarrel with these distinctions, particularly when categorical distinctions make the very basis of the geometric edifices Professor Frye likes to erect. “The first step to take here,&amp;quot; he argues, “is to realize that just as a poem implies a distinction between the poet as man and the poet as verbal craftsman, so the response to a poem implies a corresponding distinction in the critic.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=123}} For both Northrop Frye and René Wellek, we see, the critical act rests on the &#039;&#039;separation&#039;&#039; of certain human faculties from the continuum of felt life. There are few critics willing to speak professionally for the ancient female principle, acceptance and fusion, and the enveloping wholeness of things, few willing to speak for the fourfold vision of Blake. Yet carried far enough, distinctions become the source of the mind’s alienation, the Cartesian madness of the West. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Again, Professor Frye views criticism not as the experience of literature but, more discretely, as an area of knowledge. This leads him to the hard-boiled conclusion, so repugnant to visionary educators, that “the values we want the student to acquire from us cannot be taught: only knowledge of literature can be taught.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=136}} Can knowledge be dissociated from value, and criticism forego its aspiration to wisdom? Apparently so. “The fundamental act of criticism is a disinterested response to a work of literature in which all one’s beliefs, engagements, commitments, prejudices, stampedings of pity and terror, are ordered to be quiet,” he continues.{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=140}} Ordered to be quiet! Who listens, then, and who speaks instead? The imagination never demanded such frozen void, nor do the supreme fictions of the mind reject the earth they transmute. We have seen criticism gaze long enough on the world with the quiet eyes of Apollo. Shall we ever see it partake again of the sacred flesh of Dionysus?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I do not wish to suggest that the Dionysiac vision is bound to penetrate literary criticism the world over. I do sense, however, a movement in contemporary letters which must force us to revise our tenets or else accept the charge of theoretical isolationism in America. It is doubtful, for instance, that the plays of Beckett or Genet or Artaud, the novels of William Burroughs, Maurice Blanchot, or Alain Robbe-Grillet, the later stories of Salinger, the poetry of Charles Olson, Blaise Cendrars, or Dylan Thomas—and I cite these names quite at random—can be illuminated brightly by the critical terms of Professors Wellek and Frye. Nathalie Sarraute&#039;s latest book, &#039;&#039;The Golden Fruits&#039;&#039;, and Marc Saporta’s “shuffle novel,” &#039;&#039;Number 1&#039;&#039;, deny the conventional idea of structure. The first is a novel about a novel which cancels itself in the very act of reading; the second is a stratagem which accepts the principle of chance as an integral part of the literary experience. As for Burroughs’ &#039;&#039;The Soft Machine&#039;&#039;, it applies— to what extent, no one will know— the “cut up method of Brion Gysin,” a method which combines collage and montage. If these works possess a form, it is probably a “non-telic&amp;quot; form of the kind recently reflected in painting and music.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Meyer|1963|p=169-186}} Must we then dismiss such works as faddish freaks, of more interest to literary gossip than literary history?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In France, where criticism has been long associated with the spirit of lucidity, critics take a different stand. A quick look at some of their statements may persuade us that their view of literature is not too far from the view I have proposed. The common theme of Claude Mauriac’s &#039;&#039;The New Literature&#039;&#039; is stated thus: “After the silence of Rimbaud, the blank page of Mallarmé, the inarticulate cry of Artaud, a literature finally dissolves in alliteration with Joyce. The author of &#039;&#039;Finnegans Wake&#039;&#039; in fact creates out of whole cloth words full of so many diverse overtones that they are eclipsed by them. For Beckett, on the contrary, words all say the same thing.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Mauriac|1959|p=12}} The theme of Roland Barthes&#039; &#039;&#039;Le Degré Zéro de L‘Ecriture&#039;&#039; is similar: the avatar of the new literature is absence. Barthes writes: “dans ces écritures neutres, appelées ici ‘le degré zéro de l’écriture,&#039; on peut facilement discerner le mouvement même d’une négation, comme si la Littérature, tendant depuis un siècle à transmuer sa surface dans une forme sans hérédité, ne trouvait plus de pureté que dans l’absence de tout signe, proposant en fin l’accomplissement de ce rêve orphéen: un écrivain sans Littérature.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Barthes|1959|p=12}} Likewise, for Maurice Blanchot literature is moving toward “l’ère saris parole.” This movement may lead to a form of writing that is incessant sound; or it may lead, as Blanchot states in Le Livre à Venir, quite in the other direction: “la littérature va vers elle-même, vers son essence qui est la disparition.”{{sfn|Blanchot|1959|p=237}} Both directions, we can surmise, end in the dissolution of significant form, the abdication of language. Is this silence at the heart of modern literature the definition of outrage, a subjective correlative of our terror? Or is the monstrous language of action, which Bachelard {{sfn|Bachelard|1963|p=154}} believes to be pointing, beyond Lautréamontism, toward “une réintegration de l&#039;humain dans la vie ardente...,” a closer correlative of that terror? We can only observe that from Sade and Lautréamont to Kafka and Beckett, the twin dark streams of poetry, the poetry of action and the poetry of silence, have been flowing toward some unknown sea wherein some figure of apocalypse, man or beast, still lies submerged.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Critics, however, are of many ilks, and for some the mantic role is as foreign as Elijah&#039;s. I wish to force no prophecies in the mouths of students of literature. Still, it is not unreasonable to ask that criticism evolve a method which takes deeper cognizance of the evolving character of life as of literature. The point is almost too obvious: contemporary letters can be judged as little by the standards of pure formalism as, let us say, Romantic poetry can we evaluated by the strict conventions of neo-Classicism.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The problem of criticism, however, must not be left to the indolent spirit of literary relativism. Indeed, the problems may not prove to be one of literary method at all. The problem of criticism is always the challenge of awareness, full awareness of human existence in time and in place, but also outside of both, in the dream world which antecedes all responsibilities. In the end, perhaps, the problem of critics and poets alike is one of human destiny. To say less is to confuse cowardice with modesty.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If there is underlying theme in recent American criticism, it is the implicit theme of crisis, a crisis not merely of literary method but of literature itself, which means of culture and consciousness. The crisis, as Nicolas Berdyaev knew, is not the crisis of humanism but of humanity itself. In the past, periods of crisis have often bred visions of apocalypse.{{sfn|Rowley|nd|p=150-178}} Such visions may come our way again. They may even lurk in a critic&#039;s perplexity. Here is how Krieger put the question: “Or is it, perhaps, that the Kierkegaardian version is right and that our world has itself become the tragic visionary in its unbelief using self-destructive crises to force itself finally to confront the absurdities of earthly reality...? Which is to ask fearfully and even unwillingly, whether we have not been beguiled by aesthetic satisfactions and whether the utterly striped tragic vision may not after all be less illusory than the fullness which shines through tragedy.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=12}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is no time to sit in judgment on the world or to interpret its modern tragedy. From the Revelation of St. John the Divine to Norman O. Brown’s extraordinary PBK address, entitled &amp;quot;Apocalypse,” men have envisioned the destruction of the world and foreseen its resurrection. “Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection: on such the second death has no power...,” St. John says.{{sfn|Revelation|nd|p=xx.6}} But we are not at the first resurrection yet; we are not even beyond madness. Thus from Norman O. Brown: “The alternative to mind is certainly madness... Our real choice is between holy and unholy madness: open your eyes and look around you—madness is in the saddle anyhow.”{{sfn|Brown|1961|p=47}} What task will criticism perform, wavering between holy and unholy madness? What bootless task?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Criticism is no country for old men of any age. Criticism, which was born to behold literature, must still do so and look beyond itself. Tack and rigor may attend all our words, but our words, but our words will avail nothing if man prevails not. What lies beyond criticism? D.H. Lawrence knew. This is what he says in his &#039;&#039;Apocalypse&#039;&#039;: “O lovely green dragon of the new day, the undawned day, &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; in touch, and release us from the horrid grip of the evil-smelling old Logos! Come in silence, and say nothing. Come in touch, in soft new touch like a spring-time, and say nothing.”{{sfn|Lawrence|1931|pp. 233 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{Template:Aade-sm}}&lt;br /&gt;
==Notes==&lt;br /&gt;
{{notelist}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Citations==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Reflist|20em}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Works Cited==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Refbegin|40em}}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Adams |first=Robert Martin |date=1962 |title=Surface and Symbol: The Consistency of James Joyce&#039;s Ulysses |location=New York |publisher=Oxford University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Bachelard |first=Gaston |date=1963 |title=Lautréamont |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Barthes|first=Roland |date=1959 |title=Le Degré Zéro de L&#039;Ecriture  |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Blanchot |first=Maurice|date=1959 |title= Le Livre à Venir |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last=Brown |first=Norman O.|date=1961 |title=Apocalypse. |url= |journal=Harper&#039;s|volume= |issue= |pages= |doi= |access-date= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Buber|first=Martin |date=1955 | title=Between Man and Man |location=Boston |publisher=Harcourt, Brace, &amp;amp; World |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Camus|first=Albert |date=1961 |title=Resistance, Rebellion, and Death |location=New York |publisher=Knopf |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Durrell |first=Lawrence and Alfred Perles |date=1961 |title=Art and Outrage: A Correspondence about Henry Miller |location=New York|publisher=Dutton |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Frye|first=Northrop |date=1963 |title=The Well-Tempered Critic|location=Bloomington |publisher=Indiana University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger|first=Murray |date=1959 |title=The Myth of Sisyphus|location=New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger |first=Murray |date=1960 |title=The Tragic Vision: Variations on a Theme of Literary Interpretation |location=New York |publisher=Holt, Rinehart and Winston |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lawrence |first=D.H. |date=1931 |title= Apocalypse |location=Florence |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lewis|first=R.W.B. |date=1959 |title=The Picaresque Saint|location=Philadelphia and New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Mauriac|first=Claude |date=1959 |title=The New Literature |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Meyer|first=Leonard B. |date=1963 |title=The End of the Renaissance |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=Henry |date=1939 |title=The Cosmological Eye |location=Norfork |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=James E., Karl Shapiro and Bernice Slote|date=1960 |title=Start With the Sun|location=Lincoln |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Ong|first=Walter J. |date=1962 |title=The Barbarian Within |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Rowley |first= H.H.|title= The Relevance of Apocalyptic&#039;&#039; |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Sartre|first=Jean-Paul |date=1948 |title=Situations II |location=Paris |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last1=Trilling |first1=Lionel |date=1962 |title=On the Modern Element in Modern Literature |journal=The Partisan Review Anthology |volume= |issue= |pages= | ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Wellek |first=René |date=1963 |title=Concepts of Criticism |url= |location=New Haven|page=|isbn= |author-link= |ref=harv }}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
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&lt;div&gt;&#039;&#039;COMPARATIVE LITERATURE STUDIES&#039;&#039; Vol. I, No. 4, 1964&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Beyond a Theory of Literature: Intimations of Apocalypse?&lt;br /&gt;
{{byline|last=Hassan|first=Ihab}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Begin with an assumption: that literature defines our concepts of criticism or else it defies them, and that life constantly challenges the pieties of both art and thought. What I shall attempt here, then, could not be considered an authoritative review of postwar criticism. It should be understood, rather, as a partial statement on the gathering mood of American criticism, an intimation of a trend which the facts of literary history in the past two decades (colored inevitably by my own sense of fact) may help to clarify.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The admission that I neither hold nor accept a definitive view of criticism should not be too shocking. In England, where the empiric temper prevails in the name of common sense or urbanity, and even in France, where questions of methodology yield to a lively concern with new writing, such an admission would seem fairly innocuous. It is otherwise in America. Among us, the notion that criticism must become a rigorous, quasi-scientific activity in order to justify its name still finds wide support. Not long ago —or is it really ages past?— most students of literature, myself included, recognized the elegance of René Wellek’s formulation of the destiny of criticism: “the interpretation of literature as distinct from other activities of man.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=343}} Coming from Professor Wellek, the emphasis on interpretation rather than on literary theory seemed unduly self-effacing. Be that as it may, the formula appealed then to the common rage for order, and seemed also to aver the dignity of the humanities on terms that the age demanded. With the years, however, the formula seems, to me at least, to have lost in elegance as it has gained in naïveté. The breed of technicians it has unwittingly sanctioned may have found a truer consummation of their hopes in the laboratories of Oak Ridge. Literature as a distinct activity of man? Criticism as a distinct response to a distinct activity of man? What is man that we should be so little mindful of him, so arbitrary with the complexities of his mind? From Surrealism to Absurdism, literature itself suggests that a distinct aesthetic response may be defined only at the risk of deadly discrimination.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yet my object is not to engage in polemics. The point can be stated with some equanimity: a new breed of American critics are anxious to assert them selves against the rigors and pieties they have inherited. Their mood is restless, eclectic, speculative; sometimes, it is even apocalyptic. Those who feel out of sympathy with them may wish to apply different epithets: romantic, primitivist, existential, amateurish, or plain anti-intellectual. (The usefulness of these tags, dispensed usually with contumely, is as doubtful as their accuracy.) Others, however, may recognize the creative possibilities of this new mood, troubled, vague, or disruptive as it may seem.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Evidence of the new mood is various though one senses behind it the enduring search for wholeness and vitality in the literary response. One senses, too, the paradoxical desire to appropriate literature to the dream life of men, and then again to implicate it in the widest sphere of their daily actions. Is not the secret task, for poet and critic alike, to participate in that magic process whereby the word is turned into flesh?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The critic therefore feels the need for commitment; he wants to testify. And what is to prevent him? The encounter with an authentic work of art is a bruising experience, full of strange knowledge and hidden pleasure, of the kind we usually spend a life-time resisting. The critic knows that he himself is on trial, and that the act of literary criticism is above all an act of self-judgement. Since his business is to speak of literature, speech in his case must ultimately take the form of self-revelation. But the need for self-revelation is not only a private or existential need. It is also a social function of the critic. “Is art always an outrage - must it by its very nature be an outrage?&amp;quot; Durrell asks.{{sfn|Durrell|Perles|1961|p=9}} The question haunts the critic even more than it does the oafish censors of our time. For should the critic insist on his dubious right to privacy or detachment, his deepest knowledge of literature would remain locked, a private outrage, an inner wound. Yet literature, we know, acts through language; it is a communal call, there where words and experience are one, as it is solitary subversion, where words begin to fail. In the act of testimony, therefore, the critic admits the &#039;&#039;relevance&#039;&#039; of the buried power of literature; he offers himself to the harsh task of mediating between society and vision, culture and anarchy. Only thus can he give to outrage wider reference, give it a meaning beyond itself. There is the risk of course, that such mediation may rob both culture and outrage of their particular force. Yet from that loss a new life in history may be gained, a new consciousness of self and society may be born. This is precisely the gain, implicit in the discomforts of critical commitment, which Lionel Trilling, in his otherwise subtle essay, “On the Modern Element in Modern Literature,” seems to ignore.{{sfn|Trilling|1962|p=267 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Commitment, however, is but a single impulse of the new critical attitude; it simply prepares the ground for dialogue. Another impulse may be defined as the refusal wholly to objectify the work of literature. The art work, of course, has been long considered as an &#039;&#039;object&#039;&#039;, an object for dissection or knowledge, idolatry or classification. Yet the encounter between critic and work is neither entirely objective nor purely aesthetic; it may be a “dialogue” of the kind Martin Buber has proposed. In Buber&#039;s sense, the work of art resists identification with insensible It; for the work demands answer and response, and it requires a meeting. Is it then so perverse to ask the critic, whether he subscribes to Buber’s theology or not, that he “turn toward” the work and confess with Buber, “in each instance a word demanding an answer has happened to me” ?{{sfn|Buber|1955|p=10}} Nothing is mystical in this statement, nothing inimical to the spirit of poetry. The statement, in fact, points to some rather mundane questions which Walter J. Ong, theologian of another faith, happily raises. In his original essay, “The Jinnee in the Well-Wrought Urn,” Father Ong states: “Creative activity is often...powered by the drive to accomplish, in terms of the production of an object of art, an adjustment or readjustment in certain obscure relationships with other persons.&amp;quot; What does this mean? Quite obviously, it means that behind every work of art lurks and strains a human being; less obviously, perhaps, it means that the voice of the human creator, raging heart and feet of clay, is not entirely silenced in his art. The jinnee cannot be exorcised from the urn it inhabits, however shapely the latter may prove; the artifact still comes to life with voices unknown. And indeed this is what we, as readers, require. Once again, Father Ong sees the point clearly: “as a matter of full, serious, protracted contemplation and love, it is unbearable for a man or woman to be faced with anything less than a person. . . .”{{sfn|Ong|1962|p=19, 25}} This is precisely what critics, compelled by the difficult reciprocities of love, may now want to face: not an object but a presence mediated cunningly, incomprehensibly, by language. Such a presence is not simply human. It is the presence, moving and participating in reality, which Owen Barfield, in &#039;&#039;Saving the Appearances&#039;&#039;, has shown us to lie at the heart of the symbolic process. In facing such a presence, critics may hope to recover the primal connection with a universe mediated increasingly by abstractions. But they may also hope to recover something more modest: a spontaneity of judgment which reaches outward, reaches beyond itself. Holden Caulfield, we recall, was moved to call on an author whose work he had much enjoyed. In such naïveté there may be a parable for critics as well as an occasion for derision.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If some postwar critics are loth to consider the literary work merely as an object, they are equally reluctant to believe that contemplation is the sole reaction to it. Beyond testimony, beyond participation or dialogue, the critic now wishes to entertain in the possibility that &#039;&#039;action&#039;&#039; maybe a legitimate response to art. By this, of course, I do not mean that he rushes to the barricades after reading &#039;&#039;The Conquerors&#039;&#039;, or that he develops tuberculosis after reading &#039;&#039;The Magic Mountain&#039;&#039;. I mean that the experience of a literary work does not leave him unchanged. To the extent that he is altered in the recesses of his imagination, indeed of his being, to that extent he must act differently in daily life. For if literature is both cognitive and experiential, as we have been so often told, then how can new knowledge but prompt new action? We may have accepted the Thomist notion of &#039;&#039;stasis&#039;&#039; in art much too uncritically. The counter-statement is boldly presented in Sartre&#039;s essay, “ Qu’est Ce Que la Littérature? ” “Parler c’est agir:” Sartre claims, “tout chose qu&#039;on nomme n’est déjà plus tout à fait la même, elle a perdu son innocence.” Sartre continues: “L&#039;œuvre d’art est valeur parce qu’elle est appel.”{{sfn|Sartre|1948|p=72, 98}} The appeal, above all, is to that act of self-definition which the work persuades its reader to perform, an act of definition and also of freedom. For in a sense, the work itself is “created” by the freedom of the reader to give it a concrete and, ultimately, personal meaning. The work, that is, finally enters the total existence of a man, not simply his dream life or aesthetic consciousness, and in doing so, it becomes subject to the total judgment of human passions. This is precisely what an existential writer of a different breed, Camus, meant when he wrote, “To create today is to create dangerously. Any publication is an act, and that act exposes one to the passions of an age that forgives nothing...”{{sfn|Camus|1961|p=251}} But if the writer must create dangerously these days, the critic cannot afford to criticize timorously. Dangerous criticism assumes that final and somewhat frightening responsibility which some critics naturally resist; namely, the willing suspension of aesthetic judgment in the interests of right action.&lt;br /&gt;
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I quite realize the enormity of this assertion. For one thing, it brings the critic dangerously close to the posture of the censor— the commissar, the propaganda helot, the prurient chief of police—who requires that every work of art display its social credentials or else stand convicted. No doubt, the redemption of man is a more momentous task than the creation of beauty, and virtue and goodness are not to be scoffed at. Yet redemption, one suspects, does not lie in the grasp of regulators; nor does virtue depend on the degradation of art by power. How, then, can the critic hope to transcend the aesthetic domain of literature without seeming to capitulate to dogma or authority, without seeming to endorse a vulgar or repressive utilitarianism?&lt;br /&gt;
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There are many answers to this question, though all are equally provisional, for in this as in other literary matters, tact not theory comes to our aid. We can begin, however, by making two observations. First, serious literature offers great resistance to political expediency; other forms of propaganda are far more effective. The basic affinity of modern literature particularly is with vision and outrage. By vision, I mean neither doctrine nor even revelation, but simply a concrete projection of the imagination into the conduct of life. Henry Miller has such an idea in mind when he says: “The role which the artist plays in society is to revive the primitive, anarchic instincts which have been sacrificed for the illusion of living in comfort”; or when he says again: “I do not call poets those who make verses, rhymed or unrhymed. I call that man poet who is capable of profoundly altering the world.”{{sfn|Miller|1939|p=156, 38 ff}} Both these statements reveal the artist’s conception of himself as visionary actor; both attest to his hope that prophecy may find its incarnation, beyond language, in action. Emboldened by such statements—and they are by no means restricted to Miller—the critic may feel justified in participating in the action that the work initiates. This is to say that the critic becomes himself part of the devious process by which a writer’s vision penetrates culture. The character of this devious process is closer to the character of pedagogy than of social reform. This leads me to the second observation. Since the process is indeed devious, subject to all the ambiguities of modern culture, the critic cannot really maintain a purely pragmatic, a purely political view of literature. This is salutary for the activist critic who finds in the visionary or subversive power of literature an inner check on his propensity for dogma, his penchant for expediency. This critical ideal is not nearly as pretentious as it may sound, nor does it always require the critic to make his home in the midst of chaos. It may require him, however, to heed certain &#039;&#039;thematic&#039;&#039; questions which were once considered beneath notice. A number of critical works of the last decade reflect this emergent concern. In &#039;&#039;The Tragic Vision&#039;&#039;, for instance, Murray Krieger pertinently asks, “But how, if we limit ourselves to technical literary definitions, can we find for the tragic any meaning beyond that of Aristotle? The answer is, by moving from formalistic aesthetics to what I would term &#039;thematics.&#039;” Krieger’s analysis of that term cannot be summarized easily, but the implications of his method are stated succinctly enough. He concludes thus: “All of which is perhaps to say only that a literary theory must be adequate to the literary experiences for which it is to account and that we trust our way of experiencing literature only as it is adequate to the life out there, which cries for a way of being organized literarily that will yet leave it preserved intact.”{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=2, 244}}  If the insistence on “the life out there” does not necessarily force the critic into a study of “thematics,” it does persuade him to dwell on precisely those formal matters that invoke the larger aspects of reality and may even engage religious thought. Thus the essays of James E. Miller, Jr., Karl Shapiro, and Bernice Slote, in &#039;&#039;Start With the Sun&#039;&#039;, explore the relation of Dionysian poetry to cosmic consciousness, mystery, and apocalypse. Miss Slote ends taking her cue from a noble phrase of Lawrence, “Perhaps then we may be absolved from the poetry of mirrors.{{sfn|Miller|Shapiro|Slote|1960|p=238}}  Parallel explorations of fiction lead R.W.B. Lewis, in his fine study, &#039;&#039;The Picaresque Saint&#039;&#039;, to distinguish between the generation of Proust, Joyce, and Mann, in whose world the aesthetic experience was supreme, and the generation of Silone, Faulkner, Camus, and Greene, in whose world “the chief experience has been the discovery of what it means to be a human being and to be alive.” Lewis continues: “Criticism, examining this world, is drawn to the more radically human considerations of life and death, and of the aspiring, sinful nature of man.”{{sfn|Lewis|1959|p=9}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Perhaps I have spoken long enough of certain interests of postwar criticism, though I feel I have spoken of them only tangentially. If one were to search for the theoretical basis of these interests—a task which I must leave to more philosophical critics one might be inclined to develop a view of literature that does not put the idea of form as its center. By this I do not simply mean a redefinition of the concept of form so that it may account, say, for the plays of Beckett or the novels of Burroughs. I would plead for a more radical view. From Kant to Cassirer, from Coleridge to Croce and down to the New Critics, the idea of organic form has been a touchstone of value and a cornerstone of theory in literary study. We assume, and indeed we believe, that the imagination incarnates itself only as an aesthetic order, and that such an order is available to the analytic mind. We believe more: that aesthetic order defines the deepest pleasures of literature and conveys its enduring attractions. I am not at all secure in these beliefs. Indeed, I am willing to take the devil&#039;s part and entertain the notion that “structure” is not always present or explicable in literary works; and that where it reveals itself, it is not always worth the attention we give it. Such works as &#039;&#039;Hamlet&#039;&#039; and &#039;&#039;Don Quixote&#039;&#039; not diminished by the discovery that their form, whatever it may be, is less organic than we expect the form of great works to be. Even that supreme artifact of our century, that total structure of symbols, puns, and cross-references, that city of words full of secret alleys and connecting catacombs, even Joyce&#039;s &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039;, may prove to the keen, fresh eye of a critic more of a labyrinth, dead ends and ways without issue, than Dublin itself which encloses the nightmare of history. This is precisely what Robert Martin Adams concludes in his fascinating study, &#039;&#039;Surface and Symbol&#039;&#039;. Adams inspects minutely the wealth of details in the novel, and finds that many of them serve to blur or confuse rather than to sustain patterns: &amp;quot;The close reading of &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039; thus reveals that the meaningless is deeply interwoven with the meaningful in the texture of the novel...It is a book and an antibook, a work of art particularly receptive to accident. It builds to acute and poignant states of consciousness, yet its larger ambition seems to be to put aside consciousness as a painful burden.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Adams|1962|p=245, 253}}Nothing catastrophic to the future of criticism is presaged by this statement. Quite the contrary: criticism may derive new vitality from some attention to the unstructured and even random element in literature. For is not form, after all, best conceived as a mode of awareness, a function of cognition, a question, that is, of epistemology rather than ontology? Its objective reality is qualified by the overpowering reality of human &#039;&#039;need&#039;&#039;. In the end, we perceive what we need to perceive, and our sense of pattern as of relation is conditioned by our deeper sense of relevance. This is why the aesthetic of the future will have to reckon with Freud, Nietzsche, and even Kierkegaard, who have given us, more than Marx himself, compelling economies of human needs.{{efn|In recent criticism, certain works have already begun to reflect this particular concern. Besides the works by R. W. B. Lewis and Murray Krieger already cited, one might mention Geoffrey Hartman, &#039;&#039;The Unmediated Vision&#039;&#039; (New Haven, 1954), Ihab Hassan, &#039;&#039;Radical Innocence&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1961), Frederick J. Hoffman, &#039;&#039;The Mortal No&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1964), and Arturo B. Fallico, &#039;&#039;Art and Existentialism&#039;&#039; (Englewood Cliffs, N. J., 1962).}} &lt;br /&gt;
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I could not persist in suggesting the theoretical implications of postwar criticism without falling into the trap which I have myself described. We do not always need a theoretical argument to bring forth a new critical attitude; we only need good critics. But perhaps we need, more than anything else, to regard literature in a more oblique fashion, regard it even in the slanting light of its own absurdity. We might then see that the theoretical solemnity of modern criticism ignore the self-destructive element of literature, its need for self-annulment. What Camus said of his own work applies, in various ways, to all literature: the act of creation is akin to chance and disorder, to which it comes through diversity, and it constantly meets with futility. &amp;quot;Creating or not creating changes nothing, &amp;quot; Camus writes. &amp;quot;The absurd creator does not prize his work. He could repudiate it.&amp;quot; And again: &amp;quot;The absurd work illustrates the intelligence that works up appearances and covers with images what has no reason. If the world were clear, art would not exist.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Camus|1959|p=72 ff}} Perhaps the function of literature, after all, is not to clarify that world but to help create a world in which literature becomes superfluous. And perhaps the function of criticism, as I shall argue later, is to attain to the difficult wisdom of perceiving how literature is finally, and &#039;&#039;only&#039;&#039; finally, inconsequential.{{efn|These heretical statements are developed more fully in my essay &amp;quot;The Dismemberment of Orpheus,&amp;quot; &#039;&#039;American Scholar&#039;&#039;, XXXII.}}{{sfn|Hassan|1963|p=463-484}}                                                                       &lt;br /&gt;
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The foregoing remarks limn certain trends in postwar criticism; they are not intended to define a school or movement. Still, I feel it wise to anticipate some objections before concluding this mock survey.&lt;br /&gt;
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It may be argued, for instance, that many of the attitudes I have described are not so novel as I make them out to be. Richards&#039; emotive theories, Burke&#039;s concept of action, Leavis’ cultural vitalism, Trilling’s depth-view of manners and imagination, Blackmur’s metaphors of silence in literature, and above all, Herbert Read’s sympathy for the anarchic spirit, certainly open the way to the speculations of younger critics. The latter, however, still distinguish themselves by a certain quality of passion, a generosity toward the perversities of spirit, and a sense of crisis in man’s fate. Two recent books of criticism, R. W. B. Lewis’ &#039;&#039;The American Adam&#039;&#039; and Leslie Fiedler&#039;s &#039;&#039;Love and Death at the American Novel&#039;&#039;, seem quite disparate in tone and method; yet both, I think, stand in this respect closer to Lawrence’s seminal work, &#039;&#039;Studies in Classic American Literature&#039;&#039;, than to Matthiessen’s &#039;&#039;American Renaissance&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
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Then again, it might be argued that my use of the terms, “form” and “theory,&amp;quot; appears tendentious; that, ideally speaking, neither of these terms excludes larger commitments; and that, in any case, there are so many concepts of “form” and “structure” in modern criticism as to make a general condemnation of them irresponsible. I should like to think that there are more wicked uses of irresponsibility than in the criticism of criticism. What an ideal formalist theory may contribute to our appreciation of literature is not in dispute; what it has contributed in the past by way of practical criticism is also very considerable. Still, do we not all sense the growing inertness of the Spirit of criticism beneath the weight of the Letter? One sometimes feels that in another decade or two, the task or criticism may be safely performed by some lively computing machine which, blessed with total recall, would never misquote as some critics are reputed to do.&lt;br /&gt;
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I speak, of course, hyperbolically. Perhaps I can make the point clearer, and sharpen thereby the distinction between two generations of critics, by referring to two eminent theoreticians of literature. Both René Wellek and Northrop Frye are men of vast erudition; both have shaped the course of literary studies in America. This, I think, is entirely as it should be; the timely authority of such works as Wellek and Warren’s &#039;&#039;Theory of Literature&#039;&#039; or Frye’s &#039;&#039;Anatomy of Criticism&#039;&#039; deserves nothing less. Yet at the risk of seeming ungracious, it is to their later, and perhaps lesser, works that I wish to refer. After all, the question still remains: what lies beyond formalist theory?&lt;br /&gt;
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In &#039;&#039;Concepts of Criticism&#039;&#039;, Professor Wellek shows himself to be somewhat out of love with the directions of contemporary criticism. “It seems to me that in spite of the basic truth of the insight of organicism, the unity of content and form, we have arrived today at something like a deadend,” he states.{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=65}} His dissatisfaction, however, is of short duration. Professor Wellek sees the way out in the doctrine of “structuralism,&amp;quot; evolved by the Prague Linguistic Circle - alas, now defunct! “Such a concept of the literary work of art avoids two pitfalls,” Professor Wellek hopes, “the extreme of organicism which leads to a lumpish totality in which discrimination becomes impossible, and the opposite danger of atomistic fragmentation.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=68}} The way out, as it turns out, comes very close to the ancient ideal of the golden mean. This is judicious. But is it really judiciousness which prompts him in two later chapters, “Philosophy and Post- war American Criticism” and “Main Trends of Twentieth-Century Criticism,” to deride all recent criticism? The brilliant and inventive concern with American literature in the last two decades is deplored as an example of “romantic historicism,” and mythic and existential criticism are condemned as an instance of “the irrationalistic philosophies of Europe” adapted to the pragmatic temper of the United States.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=333 ff}} Professor Wellek sadly concludes: “Only those who adhere to either the German idealist tradition, in the Kantian or Coleridgean version, or those who rediscover Aristotle, still keep a grasp on the nature of art and recognize the necessity of an aesthetic and the ideal of a study of literature as literature.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=342}} Having defined literature in formalist terms, it is no wonder that Professor Wellek &#039;&#039;still&#039;&#039; believes formalist theory to be the most rewarding view of literature. Thus is the rigor of tautology achieved.&lt;br /&gt;
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&#039;&#039;The Well-Tempered Critic&#039;&#039;, which is not wrought in the massive architectural manner of Professor Frye’s earlier work, is too urbane to be tautological. Its urbanity expresses a fine subtlety of mind in the final chapter of the book, and the subtlety itself disguises a somewhat chilly view of literature. Professor Frye acknowledges the distinction between the classic and romantic tempers in criticism, and proceeds to discover the correlatives of each. The classic temper, he informs us, is aesthetic, the romantic is psychological; the former views art as artifact, the latter as expression; the one derives from Aristotle, the other from Longinus. I do not quarrel with these distinctions, particularly when categorical distinctions make the very basis of the geometric edifices Professor Frye likes to erect. “The first step to take here,&amp;quot; he argues, “is to realize that just as a poem implies a distinction between the poet as man and the poet as verbal craftsman, so the response to a poem implies a corresponding distinction in the critic.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=123}} For both Northrop Frye and René Wellek, we see, the critical act rests on the &#039;&#039;separation&#039;&#039; of certain human faculties from the continuum of felt life. There are few critics willing to speak professionally for the ancient female principle, acceptance and fusion, and the enveloping wholeness of things, few willing to speak for the fourfold vision of Blake. Yet carried far enough, distinctions become the source of the mind’s alienation, the Cartesian madness of the West. &lt;br /&gt;
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Again, Professor Frye views criticism not as the experience of literature but, more discretely, as an area of knowledge. This leads him to the hard-boiled conclusion, so repugnant to visionary educators, that “the values we want the student to acquire from us cannot be taught: only knowledge of literature can be taught.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=136}} Can knowledge be dissociated from value, and criticism forego its aspiration to wisdom? Apparently so. “The fundamental act of criticism is a disinterested response to a work of literature in which all one’s beliefs, engagements, commitments, prejudices, stampedings of pity and terror, are ordered to be quiet,” he continues.{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=140}} Ordered to be quiet! Who listens, then, and who speaks instead? The imagination never demanded such frozen void, nor do the supreme fictions of the mind reject the earth they transmute. We have seen criticism gaze long enough on the world with the quiet eyes of Apollo. Shall we ever see it partake again of the sacred flesh of Dionysus?&lt;br /&gt;
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I do not wish to suggest that the Dionysiac vision is bound to penetrate literary criticism the world over. I do sense, however, a movement in contemporary letters which must force us to revise our tenets or else accept the charge of theoretical isolationism in America. It is doubtful, for instance, that the plays of Beckett or Genet or Artaud, the novels of William Burroughs, Maurice Blanchot, or Alain Robbe-Grillet, the later stories of Salinger, the poetry of Charles Olson, Blaise Cendrars, or Dylan Thomas—and I cite these names quite at random—can be illuminated brightly by the critical terms of Professors Wellek and Frye. Nathalie Sarraute&#039;s latest book, &#039;&#039;The Golden Fruits&#039;&#039;, and Marc Saporta’s “shuffle novel,” &#039;&#039;Number 1&#039;&#039;, deny the conventional idea of structure. The first is a novel about a novel which cancels itself in the very act of reading; the second is a stratagem which accepts the principle of chance as an integral part of the literary experience. As for Burroughs’ &#039;&#039;The Soft Machine&#039;&#039;, it applies— to what extent, no one will know— the “cut up method of Brion Gysin,” a method which combines collage and montage. If these works possess a form, it is probably a “non-telic&amp;quot; form of the kind recently reflected in painting and music.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Meyer|1963|p=169-186}} Must we then dismiss such works as faddish freaks, of more interest to literary gossip than literary history?&lt;br /&gt;
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In France, where criticism has been long associated with the spirit of lucidity, critics take a different stand. A quick look at some of their statements may persuade us that their view of literature is not too far from the view I have proposed. The common theme of Claude Mauriac’s &#039;&#039;The New Literature&#039;&#039; is stated thus: “After the silence of Rimbaud, the blank page of Mallarmé, the inarticulate cry of Artaud, a literature finally dissolves in alliteration with Joyce. The author of &#039;&#039;Finnegans Wake&#039;&#039; in fact creates out of whole cloth words full of so many diverse overtones that they are eclipsed by them. For Beckett, on the contrary, words all say the same thing.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Mauriac|1959|p=12}} The theme of Roland Barthes&#039; &#039;&#039;Le Degré Zéro de L‘Ecriture&#039;&#039; is similar: the avatar of the new literature is absence. Barthes writes: “dans ces écritures neutres, appelées ici ‘le degré zéro de l’écriture,&#039; on peut facilement discerner le mouvement même d’une négation, comme si la Littérature, tendant depuis un siècle à transmuer sa surface dans une forme sans hérédité, ne trouvait plus de pureté que dans l’absence de tout signe, proposant en fin l’accomplissement de ce rêve orphéen: un écrivain sans Littérature.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Barthes|1959|p=12}} Likewise, for Maurice Blanchot literature is moving toward “l’ère saris parole.” This movement may lead to a form of writing that is incessant sound; or it may lead, as Blanchot states in Le Livre à Venir, quite in the other direction: “la littérature va vers elle-même, vers son essence qui est la disparition.”{{sfn|Blanchot|1959|p=237}} Both directions, we can surmise, end in the dissolution of significant form, the abdication of language. Is this silence at the heart of modern literature the definition of outrage, a subjective correlative of our terror? Or is the monstrous language of action, which Bachelard {{sfn|Bachelard|1963|p=154}} believes to be pointing, beyond Lautréamontism, toward “une réintegration de l&#039;humain dans la vie ardente...,” a closer correlative of that terror? We can only observe that from Sade and Lautréamont to Kafka and Beckett, the twin dark streams of poetry, the poetry of action and the poetry of silence, have been flowing toward some unknown sea wherein some figure of apocalypse, man or beast, still lies submerged.&lt;br /&gt;
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Critics, however, are of many ilks, and for some the mantic role is as foreign as Elijah&#039;s. I wish to force no prophecies in the mouths of students of literature. Still, it is not unreasonable to ask that criticism evolve a method which takes deeper cognizance of the evolving character of life as of literature. The point is almost too obvious: contemporary letters can be judged as little by the standards of pure formalism as, let us say, Romantic poetry can we evaluated by the strict conventions of neo-Classicism.&lt;br /&gt;
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The problem of criticism, however, must not be left to the indolent spirit of literary relativism. Indeed, the problems may not prove to be one of literary method at all. The problem of criticism is always the challenge of awareness, full awareness of human existence in time and in place, but also outside of both, in the dream world which antecedes all responsibilities. In the end, perhaps, the problem of critics and poets alike is one of human destiny. To say less is to confuse cowardice with modesty.&lt;br /&gt;
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If there is underlying theme in recent American criticism, it is the implicit theme of crisis, a crisis not merely of literary method but of literature itself, which means of culture and consciousness. The crisis, as Nicolas Berdyaev knew, is not the crisis of humanism but of humanity itself. In the past, periods of crisis have often bred visions of apocalypse.{{sfn|Rowley|nd|p=150-178}} Such visions may come our way again. They may even lurk in a critic&#039;s perplexity. Here is how Krieger put the question: “Or is it, perhaps, that the Kierkegaardian version is right and that our world has itself become the tragic visionary in its unbelief using self-destructive crises to force itself finally to confront the absurdities of earthly reality...? Which is to ask fearfully and even unwillingly, whether we have not been beguiled by aesthetic satisfactions and whether the utterly striped tragic vision may not after all be less illusory than the fullness which shines through tragedy.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=12}}&lt;br /&gt;
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This is no time to sit in judgment on the world or to interpret its modern tragedy. From the Revelation of St. John the Divine to Norman O. Brown’s extraordinary PBK address, entitled &amp;quot;Apocalypse,” men have envisioned the destruction of the world and foreseen its resurrection. “Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection: on such the second death has no power...,” St. John says.{{sfn|Revelation|nd|p=xx.6}} But we are not at the first resurrection yet; we are not even beyond madness. Thus from Norman O. Brown: “The alternative to mind is certainly madness... Our real choice is between holy and unholy madness: open your eyes and look around you—madness is in the saddle anyhow.”{{sfn|Brown|1961|p=47}} What task will criticism perform, wavering between holy and unholy madness? What bootless task?&lt;br /&gt;
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Criticism is no country for old men of any age. Criticism, which was born to behold literature, must still do so and look beyond itself. Tack and rigor may attend all our words, but our words, but our words will avail nothing if man prevails not. What lies beyond criticism? D.H. Lawrence knew. This is what he says in his &#039;&#039;Apocalypse&#039;&#039;: “O lovely green dragon of the new day, the undawned day, &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; in touch, and release us from the horrid grip of the evil-smelling old Logos! Come in silence, and say nothing. Come in touch, in soft new touch like a spring-time, and say nothing.”{{sfn|Lawrence|1931|pp. 233 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
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{{Template:Aade-sm}}&lt;br /&gt;
==Notes==&lt;br /&gt;
{{notelist}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Citations==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Reflist|20em}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Works Cited==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Refbegin|40em}}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Adams |first=Robert Martin |date=1962 |title=Surface and Symbol: The Consistency of James Joyce&#039;s Ulysses |location=New York |publisher=Oxford University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Bachelard |first=Gaston |date=1963 |title=Lautréamont |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Barthes|first=Roland |date=1959 |title=Le Degré Zéro de L&#039;Ecriture  |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Blanchot |first=Maurice|date=1959 |title= Le Livre à Venir |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last=Brown |first=Norman O.|date=1961 |title=Apocalypse. |url= |journal=Harper&#039;s|volume= |issue= |pages= |doi= |access-date= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Buber|first=Martin |date=1955 | title=Between Man and Man |location=Boston |publisher=Harcourt, Brace, &amp;amp; World |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Camus|first=Albert |date=1961 |title=Resistance, Rebellion, and Death |location=New York |publisher=Knopf |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Durrell |first=Lawrence and Alfred Perles |date=1961 |title=Art and Outrage: A Correspondence about Henry Miller |location=New York|publisher=Dutton |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Frye|first=Northrop |date=1963 |title=The Well-Tempered Critic|location=Bloomington |publisher=Indiana University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger|first=Murray |date=1959 |title=The Myth of Sisyphus|location=New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger |first=Murray |date=1960 |title=The Tragic Vision |location=New York |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lawrence |first=D.H. |date=1931 |title= Apocalypse |location=Florence |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lewis|first=R.W.B. |date=1959 |title=The Picaresque Saint|location=Philadelphia and New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Mauriac|first=Claude |date=1959 |title=The New Literature |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Meyer|first=Leonard B. |date=1963 |title=The End of the Renaissance |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=Henry |date=1939 |title=The Cosmological Eye |location=Norfork |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=James E., Karl Shapiro and Bernice Slote|date=1960 |title=Start With the Sun|location=Lincoln |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Ong|first=Walter J. |date=1962 |title=The Barbarian Within |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Rowley |first= H.H.|title= The Relevance of Apocalyptic&#039;&#039; |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Sartre|first=Jean-Paul |date=1948 |title=Situations II |location=Paris |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last1=Trilling |first1=Lionel |date=1962 |title=On the Modern Element in Modern Literature |journal=The Partisan Review Anthology |volume= |issue= |pages= | ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Wellek |first=René |date=1963 |title=Concepts of Criticism |url= |location=New Haven|page=|isbn= |author-link= |ref=harv }}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
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&lt;div&gt;&#039;&#039;COMPARATIVE LITERATURE STUDIES&#039;&#039; Vol. I, No. 4, 1964&lt;br /&gt;
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Beyond a Theory of Literature: Intimations of Apocalypse?&lt;br /&gt;
{{byline|last=Hassan|first=Ihab}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Begin with an assumption: that literature defines our concepts of criticism or else it defies them, and that life constantly challenges the pieties of both art and thought. What I shall attempt here, then, could not be considered an authoritative review of postwar criticism. It should be understood, rather, as a partial statement on the gathering mood of American criticism, an intimation of a trend which the facts of literary history in the past two decades (colored inevitably by my own sense of fact) may help to clarify.&lt;br /&gt;
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The admission that I neither hold nor accept a definitive view of criticism should not be too shocking. In England, where the empiric temper prevails in the name of common sense or urbanity, and even in France, where questions of methodology yield to a lively concern with new writing, such an admission would seem fairly innocuous. It is otherwise in America. Among us, the notion that criticism must become a rigorous, quasi-scientific activity in order to justify its name still finds wide support. Not long ago —or is it really ages past?— most students of literature, myself included, recognized the elegance of René Wellek’s formulation of the destiny of criticism: “the interpretation of literature as distinct from other activities of man.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=343}} Coming from Professor Wellek, the emphasis on interpretation rather than on literary theory seemed unduly self-effacing. Be that as it may, the formula appealed then to the common rage for order, and seemed also to aver the dignity of the humanities on terms that the age demanded. With the years, however, the formula seems, to me at least, to have lost in elegance as it has gained in naïveté. The breed of technicians it has unwittingly sanctioned may have found a truer consummation of their hopes in the laboratories of Oak Ridge. Literature as a distinct activity of man? Criticism as a distinct response to a distinct activity of man? What is man that we should be so little mindful of him, so arbitrary with the complexities of his mind? From Surrealism to Absurdism, literature itself suggests that a distinct aesthetic response may be defined only at the risk of deadly discrimination.&lt;br /&gt;
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Yet my object is not to engage in polemics. The point can be stated with some equanimity: a new breed of American critics are anxious to assert them selves against the rigors and pieties they have inherited. Their mood is restless, eclectic, speculative; sometimes, it is even apocalyptic. Those who feel out of sympathy with them may wish to apply different epithets: romantic, primitivist, existential, amateurish, or plain anti-intellectual. (The usefulness of these tags, dispensed usually with contumely, is as doubtful as their accuracy.) Others, however, may recognize the creative possibilities of this new mood, troubled, vague, or disruptive as it may seem.&lt;br /&gt;
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Evidence of the new mood is various though one senses behind it the enduring search for wholeness and vitality in the literary response. One senses, too, the paradoxical desire to appropriate literature to the dream life of men, and then again to implicate it in the widest sphere of their daily actions. Is not the secret task, for poet and critic alike, to participate in that magic process whereby the word is turned into flesh?&lt;br /&gt;
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The critic therefore feels the need for commitment; he wants to testify. And what is to prevent him? The encounter with an authentic work of art is a bruising experience, full of strange knowledge and hidden pleasure, of the kind we usually spend a life-time resisting. The critic knows that he himself is on trial, and that the act of literary criticism is above all an act of self-judgement. Since his business is to speak of literature, speech in his case must ultimately take the form of self-revelation. But the need for self-revelation is not only a private or existential need. It is also a social function of the critic. “Is art always an outrage - must it by its very nature be an outrage?&amp;quot; Durrell asks.{{sfn|Durrell|Perles|1961|p=9}} The question haunts the critic even more than it does the oafish censors of our time. For should the critic insist on his dubious right to privacy or detachment, his deepest knowledge of literature would remain locked, a private outrage, an inner wound. Yet literature, we know, acts through language; it is a communal call, there where words and experience are one, as it is solitary subversion, where words begin to fail. In the act of testimony, therefore, the critic admits the &#039;&#039;relevance&#039;&#039; of the buried power of literature; he offers himself to the harsh task of mediating between society and vision, culture and anarchy. Only thus can he give to outrage wider reference, give it a meaning beyond itself. There is the risk of course, that such mediation may rob both culture and outrage of their particular force. Yet from that loss a new life in history may be gained, a new consciousness of self and society may be born. This is precisely the gain, implicit in the discomforts of critical commitment, which Lionel Trilling, in his otherwise subtle essay, “On the Modern Element in Modern Literature,” seems to ignore.{{sfn|Trilling|1962|p=267 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Commitment, however, is but a single impulse of the new critical attitude; it simply prepares the ground for dialogue. Another impulse may be defined as the refusal wholly to objectify the work of literature. The art work, of course, has been long considered as an &#039;&#039;object&#039;&#039;, an object for dissection or knowledge, idolatry or classification. Yet the encounter between critic and work is neither entirely objective nor purely aesthetic; it may be a “dialogue” of the kind Martin Buber has proposed. In Buber&#039;s sense, the work of art resists identification with insensible It; for the work demands answer and response, and it requires a meeting. Is it then so perverse to ask the critic, whether he subscribes to Buber’s theology or not, that he “turn toward” the work and confess with Buber, “in each instance a word demanding an answer has happened to me” ?{{sfn|Buber|1955|p=10}} Nothing is mystical in this statement, nothing inimical to the spirit of poetry. The statement, in fact, points to some rather mundane questions which Walter J. Ong, theologian of another faith, happily raises. In his original essay, “The Jinnee in the Well-Wrought Urn,” Father Ong states: “Creative activity is often...powered by the drive to accomplish, in terms of the production of an object of art, an adjustment or readjustment in certain obscure relationships with other persons.&amp;quot; What does this mean? Quite obviously, it means that behind every work of art lurks and strains a human being; less obviously, perhaps, it means that the voice of the human creator, raging heart and feet of clay, is not entirely silenced in his art. The jinnee cannot be exorcised from the urn it inhabits, however shapely the latter may prove; the artifact still comes to life with voices unknown. And indeed this is what we, as readers, require. Once again, Father Ong sees the point clearly: “as a matter of full, serious, protracted contemplation and love, it is unbearable for a man or woman to be faced with anything less than a person. . . .”{{sfn|Ong|1962|p=19, 25}} This is precisely what critics, compelled by the difficult reciprocities of love, may now want to face: not an object but a presence mediated cunningly, incomprehensibly, by language. Such a presence is not simply human. It is the presence, moving and participating in reality, which Owen Barfield, in &#039;&#039;Saving the Appearances&#039;&#039;, has shown us to lie at the heart of the symbolic process. In facing such a presence, critics may hope to recover the primal connection with a universe mediated increasingly by abstractions. But they may also hope to recover something more modest: a spontaneity of judgment which reaches outward, reaches beyond itself. Holden Caulfield, we recall, was moved to call on an author whose work he had much enjoyed. In such naïveté there may be a parable for critics as well as an occasion for derision.&lt;br /&gt;
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If some postwar critics are loth to consider the literary work merely as an object, they are equally reluctant to believe that contemplation is the sole reaction to it. Beyond testimony, beyond participation or dialogue, the critic now wishes to entertain in the possibility that &#039;&#039;action&#039;&#039; maybe a legitimate response to art. By this, of course, I do not mean that he rushes to the barricades after reading &#039;&#039;The Conquerors&#039;&#039;, or that he develops tuberculosis after reading &#039;&#039;The Magic Mountain&#039;&#039;. I mean that the experience of a literary work does not leave him unchanged. To the extent that he is altered in the recesses of his imagination, indeed of his being, to that extent he must act differently in daily life. For if literature is both cognitive and experiential, as we have been so often told, then how can new knowledge but prompt new action? We may have accepted the Thomist notion of &#039;&#039;stasis&#039;&#039; in art much too uncritically. The counter-statement is boldly presented in Sartre&#039;s essay, “ Qu’est Ce Que la Littérature? ” “Parler c’est agir:” Sartre claims, “tout chose qu&#039;on nomme n’est déjà plus tout à fait la même, elle a perdu son innocence.” Sartre continues: “L&#039;œuvre d’art est valeur parce qu’elle est appel.”{{sfn|Sartre|1948|p=72, 98}} The appeal, above all, is to that act of self-definition which the work persuades its reader to perform, an act of definition and also of freedom. For in a sense, the work itself is “created” by the freedom of the reader to give it a concrete and, ultimately, personal meaning. The work, that is, finally enters the total existence of a man, not simply his dream life or aesthetic consciousness, and in doing so, it becomes subject to the total judgment of human passions. This is precisely what an existential writer of a different breed, Camus, meant when he wrote, “To create today is to create dangerously. Any publication is an act, and that act exposes one to the passions of an age that forgives nothing...”{{sfn|Camus|1961|p=251}} But if the writer must create dangerously these days, the critic cannot afford to criticize timorously. Dangerous criticism assumes that final and somewhat frightening responsibility which some critics naturally resist; namely, the willing suspension of aesthetic judgment in the interests of right action.&lt;br /&gt;
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I quite realize the enormity of this assertion. For one thing, it brings the critic dangerously close to the posture of the censor— the commissar, the propaganda helot, the prurient chief of police—who requires that every work of art display its social credentials or else stand convicted. No doubt, the redemption of man is a more momentous task than the creation of beauty, and virtue and goodness are not to be scoffed at. Yet redemption, one suspects, does not lie in the grasp of regulators; nor does virtue depend on the degradation of art by power. How, then, can the critic hope to transcend the aesthetic domain of literature without seeming to capitulate to dogma or authority, without seeming to endorse a vulgar or repressive utilitarianism?&lt;br /&gt;
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There are many answers to this question, though all are equally provisional, for in this as in other literary matters, tact not theory comes to our aid. We can begin, however, by making two observations. First, serious literature offers great resistance to political expediency; other forms of propaganda are far more effective. The basic affinity of modern literature particularly is with vision and outrage. By vision, I mean neither doctrine nor even revelation, but simply a concrete projection of the imagination into the conduct of life. Henry Miller has such an idea in mind when he says: “The role which the artist plays in society is to revive the primitive, anarchic instincts which have been sacrificed for the illusion of living in comfort”; or when he says again: “I do not call poets those who make verses, rhymed or unrhymed. I call that man poet who is capable of profoundly altering the world.”{{sfn|Miller|1939|p=156, 38 ff}} Both these statements reveal the artist’s conception of himself as visionary actor; both attest to his hope that prophecy may find its incarnation, beyond language, in action. Emboldened by such statements—and they are by no means restricted to Miller—the critic may feel justified in participating in the action that the work initiates. This is to say that the critic becomes himself part of the devious process by which a writer’s vision penetrates culture. The character of this devious process is closer to the character of pedagogy than of social reform. This leads me to the second observation. Since the process is indeed devious, subject to all the ambiguities of modern culture, the critic cannot really maintain a purely pragmatic, a purely political view of literature. This is salutary for the activist critic who finds in the visionary or subversive power of literature an inner check on his propensity for dogma, his penchant for expediency. This critical ideal is not nearly as pretentious as it may sound, nor does it always require the critic to make his home in the midst of chaos. It may require him, however, to heed certain &#039;&#039;thematic&#039;&#039; questions which were once considered beneath notice. A number of critical works of the last decade reflect this emergent concern. In &#039;&#039;The Tragic Vision&#039;&#039;, for instance, Murray Krieger pertinently asks, “But how, if we limit ourselves to technical literary definitions, can we find for the tragic any meaning beyond that of Aristotle? The answer is, by moving from formalistic aesthetics to what I would term &#039;thematics.&#039;” Krieger’s analysis of that term cannot be summarized easily, but the implications of his method are stated succinctly enough. He concludes thus: “All of which is perhaps to say only that a literary theory must be adequate to the literary experiences for which it is to account and that we trust our way of experiencing literature only as it is adequate to the life out there, which cries for a way of being organized literarily that will yet leave it preserved intact.”{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=2, 244}}  If the insistence on “the life out there” does not necessarily force the critic into a study of “thematics,” it does persuade him to dwell on precisely those formal matters that invoke the larger aspects of reality and may even engage religious thought. Thus the essays of James E. Miller, Jr., Karl Shapiro, and Bernice Slote, in &#039;&#039;Start With the Sun&#039;&#039;, explore the relation of Dionysian poetry to cosmic consciousness, mystery, and apocalypse. Miss Slote ends taking her cue from a noble phrase of Lawrence, “Perhaps then we may be absolved from the poetry of mirrors.{{sfn|Miller|Shapiro|Slote|1960|p=238}}  Parallel explorations of fiction lead R.W.B. Lewis, in his fine study, &#039;&#039;The Picaresque Saint&#039;&#039;, to distinguish between the generation of Proust, Joyce, and Mann, in whose world the aesthetic experience was supreme, and the generation of Silone, Faulkner, Camus, and Greene, in whose world “the chief experience has been the discovery of what it means to be a human being and to be alive.” Lewis continues: “Criticism, examining this world, is drawn to the more radically human considerations of life and death, and of the aspiring, sinful nature of man.”{{sfn|Lewis|1959|p=9}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Perhaps I have spoken long enough of certain interests of postwar criticism, though I feel I have spoken of them only tangentially. If one were to search for the theoretical basis of these interests—a task which I must leave to more philosophical critics one might be inclined to develop a view of literature that does not put the idea of form as its center. By this I do not simply mean a redefinition of the concept of form so that it may account, say, for the plays of Beckett or the novels of Burroughs. I would plead for a more radical view. From Kant to Cassirer, from Coleridge to Croce and down to the New Critics, the idea of organic form has been a touchstone of value and a cornerstone of theory in literary study. We assume, and indeed we believe, that the imagination incarnates itself only as an aesthetic order, and that such an order is available to the analytic mind. We believe more: that aesthetic order defines the deepest pleasures of literature and conveys its enduring attractions. I am not at all secure in these beliefs. Indeed, I am willing to take the devil&#039;s part and entertain the notion that “structure” is not always present or explicable in literary works; and that where it reveals itself, it is not always worth the attention we give it. Such works as &#039;&#039;Hamlet&#039;&#039; and &#039;&#039;Don Quixote&#039;&#039; not diminished by the discovery that their form, whatever it may be, is less organic than we expect the form of great works to be. Even that supreme artifact of our century, that total structure of symbols, puns, and cross-references, that city of words full of secret alleys and connecting catacombs, even Joyce&#039;s &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039;, may prove to the keen, fresh eye of a critic more of a labyrinth, dead ends and ways without issue, than Dublin itself which encloses the nightmare of history. This is precisely what Robert Martin Adams concludes in his fascinating study, &#039;&#039;Surface and Symbol&#039;&#039;. Adams inspects minutely the wealth of details in the novel, and finds that many of them serve to blur or confuse rather than to sustain patterns: &amp;quot;The close reading of &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039; thus reveals that the meaningless is deeply interwoven with the meaningful in the texture of the novel...It is a book and an antibook, a work of art particularly receptive to accident. It builds to acute and poignant states of consciousness, yet its larger ambition seems to be to put aside consciousness as a painful burden.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Adams|1962|p=245, 253}}Nothing catastrophic to the future of criticism is presaged by this statement. Quite the contrary: criticism may derive new vitality from some attention to the unstructured and even random element in literature. For is not form, after all, best conceived as a mode of awareness, a function of cognition, a question, that is, of epistemology rather than ontology? Its objective reality is qualified by the overpowering reality of human &#039;&#039;need&#039;&#039;. In the end, we perceive what we need to perceive, and our sense of pattern as of relation is conditioned by our deeper sense of relevance. This is why the aesthetic of the future will have to reckon with Freud, Nietzsche, and even Kierkegaard, who have given us, more than Marx himself, compelling economies of human needs.{{efn|In recent criticism, certain works have already begun to reflect this particular concern. Besides the works by R. W. B. Lewis and Murray Krieger already cited, one might mention Geoffrey Hartman, &#039;&#039;The Unmediated Vision&#039;&#039; (New Haven, 1954), Ihab Hassan, &#039;&#039;Radical Innocence&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1961), Frederick J. Hoffman, &#039;&#039;The Mortal No&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1964), and Arturo B. Fallico, &#039;&#039;Art and Existentialism&#039;&#039; (Englewood Cliffs, N. J., 1962).}} &lt;br /&gt;
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I could not persist in suggesting the theoretical implications of postwar criticism without falling into the trap which I have myself described. We do not always need a theoretical argument to bring forth a new critical attitude; we only need good critics. But perhaps we need, more than anything else, to regard literature in a more oblique fashion, regard it even in the slanting light of its own absurdity. We might then see that the theoretical solemnity of modern criticism ignore the self-destructive element of literature, its need for self-annulment. What Camus said of his own work applies, in various ways, to all literature: the act of creation is akin to chance and disorder, to which it comes through diversity, and it constantly meets with futility. &amp;quot;Creating or not creating changes nothing, &amp;quot; Camus writes. &amp;quot;The absurd creator does not prize his work. He could repudiate it.&amp;quot; And again: &amp;quot;The absurd work illustrates the intelligence that works up appearances and covers with images what has no reason. If the world were clear, art would not exist.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Camus|1959|p=72 ff}} Perhaps the function of literature, after all, is not to clarify that world but to help create a world in which literature becomes superfluous. And perhaps the function of criticism, as I shall argue later, is to attain to the difficult wisdom of perceiving how literature is finally, and &#039;&#039;only&#039;&#039; finally, inconsequential.{{efn|These heretical statements are developed more fully in my essay &amp;quot;The Dismemberment of Orpheus,&amp;quot; &#039;&#039;American Scholar&#039;&#039;, XXXII.}}{{sfn|Hassan|1963|p=463-484}}                                                                       &lt;br /&gt;
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The foregoing remarks limn certain trends in postwar criticism; they are not intended to define a school or movement. Still, I feel it wise to anticipate some objections before concluding this mock survey.&lt;br /&gt;
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It may be argued, for instance, that many of the attitudes I have described are not so novel as I make them out to be. Richards&#039; emotive theories, Burke&#039;s concept of action, Leavis’ cultural vitalism, Trilling’s depth-view of manners and imagination, Blackmur’s metaphors of silence in literature, and above all, Herbert Read’s sympathy for the anarchic spirit, certainly open the way to the speculations of younger critics. The latter, however, still distinguish themselves by a certain quality of passion, a generosity toward the perversities of spirit, and a sense of crisis in man’s fate. Two recent books of criticism, R. W. B. Lewis’ &#039;&#039;The American Adam&#039;&#039; and Leslie Fiedler&#039;s &#039;&#039;Love and Death at the American Novel&#039;&#039;, seem quite disparate in tone and method; yet both, I think, stand in this respect closer to Lawrence’s seminal work, &#039;&#039;Studies in Classic American Literature&#039;&#039;, than to Matthiessen’s &#039;&#039;American Renaissance&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
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Then again, it might be argued that my use of the terms, “form” and “theory,&amp;quot; appears tendentious; that, ideally speaking, neither of these terms excludes larger commitments; and that, in any case, there are so many concepts of “form” and “structure” in modern criticism as to make a general condemnation of them irresponsible. I should like to think that there are more wicked uses of irresponsibility than in the criticism of criticism. What an ideal formalist theory may contribute to our appreciation of literature is not in dispute; what it has contributed in the past by way of practical criticism is also very considerable. Still, do we not all sense the growing inertness of the Spirit of criticism beneath the weight of the Letter? One sometimes feels that in another decade or two, the task or criticism may be safely performed by some lively computing machine which, blessed with total recall, would never misquote as some critics are reputed to do.&lt;br /&gt;
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I speak, of course, hyperbolically. Perhaps I can make the point clearer, and sharpen thereby the distinction between two generations of critics, by referring to two eminent theoreticians of literature. Both René Wellek and Northrop Frye are men of vast erudition; both have shaped the course of literary studies in America. This, I think, is entirely as it should be; the timely authority of such works as Wellek and Warren’s &#039;&#039;Theory of Literature&#039;&#039; or Frye’s &#039;&#039;Anatomy of Criticism&#039;&#039; deserves nothing less. Yet at the risk of seeming ungracious, it is to their later, and perhaps lesser, works that I wish to refer. After all, the question still remains: what lies beyond formalist theory?&lt;br /&gt;
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In &#039;&#039;Concepts of Criticism&#039;&#039;, Professor Wellek shows himself to be somewhat out of love with the directions of contemporary criticism. “It seems to me that in spite of the basic truth of the insight of organicism, the unity of content and form, we have arrived today at something like a deadend,” he states.{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=65}} His dissatisfaction, however, is of short duration. Professor Wellek sees the way out in the doctrine of “structuralism,&amp;quot; evolved by the Prague Linguistic Circle - alas, now defunct! “Such a concept of the literary work of art avoids two pitfalls,” Professor Wellek hopes, “the extreme of organicism which leads to a lumpish totality in which discrimination becomes impossible, and the opposite danger of atomistic fragmentation.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=68}} The way out, as it turns out, comes very close to the ancient ideal of the golden mean. This is judicious. But is it really judiciousness which prompts him in two later chapters, “Philosophy and Post- war American Criticism” and “Main Trends of Twentieth-Century Criticism,” to deride all recent criticism? The brilliant and inventive concern with American literature in the last two decades is deplored as an example of “romantic historicism,” and mythic and existential criticism are condemned as an instance of “the irrationalistic philosophies of Europe” adapted to the pragmatic temper of the United States.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=333 ff}} Professor Wellek sadly concludes: “Only those who adhere to either the German idealist tradition, in the Kantian or Coleridgean version, or those who rediscover Aristotle, still keep a grasp on the nature of art and recognize the necessity of an aesthetic and the ideal of a study of literature as literature.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=342}} Having defined literature in formalist terms, it is no wonder that Professor Wellek &#039;&#039;still&#039;&#039; believes formalist theory to be the most rewarding view of literature. Thus is the rigor of tautology achieved.&lt;br /&gt;
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&#039;&#039;The Well-Tempered Critic&#039;&#039;, which is not wrought in the massive architectural manner of Professor Frye’s earlier work, is too urbane to be tautological. Its urbanity expresses a fine subtlety of mind in the final chapter of the book, and the subtlety itself disguises a somewhat chilly view of literature. Professor Frye acknowledges the distinction between the classic and romantic tempers in criticism, and proceeds to discover the correlatives of each. The classic temper, he informs us, is aesthetic, the romantic is psychological; the former views art as artifact, the latter as expression; the one derives from Aristotle, the other from Longinus. I do not quarrel with these distinctions, particularly when categorical distinctions make the very basis of the geometric edifices Professor Frye likes to erect. “The first step to take here,&amp;quot; he argues, “is to realize that just as a poem implies a distinction between the poet as man and the poet as verbal craftsman, so the response to a poem implies a corresponding distinction in the critic.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=123}} For both Northrop Frye and René Wellek, we see, the critical act rests on the &#039;&#039;separation&#039;&#039; of certain human faculties from the continuum of felt life. There are few critics willing to speak professionally for the ancient female principle, acceptance and fusion, and the enveloping wholeness of things, few willing to speak for the fourfold vision of Blake. Yet carried far enough, distinctions become the source of the mind’s alienation, the Cartesian madness of the West. &lt;br /&gt;
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Again, Professor Frye views criticism not as the experience of literature but, more discretely, as an area of knowledge. This leads him to the hard-boiled conclusion, so repugnant to visionary educators, that “the values we want the student to acquire from us cannot be taught: only knowledge of literature can be taught.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=136}} Can knowledge be dissociated from value, and criticism forego its aspiration to wisdom? Apparently so. “The fundamental act of criticism is a disinterested response to a work of literature in which all one’s beliefs, engagements, commitments, prejudices, stampedings of pity and terror, are ordered to be quiet,” he continues.{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=140}} Ordered to be quiet! Who listens, then, and who speaks instead? The imagination never demanded such frozen void, nor do the supreme fictions of the mind reject the earth they transmute. We have seen criticism gaze long enough on the world with the quiet eyes of Apollo. Shall we ever see it partake again of the sacred flesh of Dionysus?&lt;br /&gt;
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I do not wish to suggest that the Dionysiac vision is bound to penetrate literary criticism the world over. I do sense, however, a movement in contemporary letters which must force us to revise our tenets or else accept the charge of theoretical isolationism in America. It is doubtful, for instance, that the plays of Beckett or Genet or Artaud, the novels of William Burroughs, Maurice Blanchot, or Alain Robbe-Grillet, the later stories of Salinger, the poetry of Charles Olson, Blaise Cendrars, or Dylan Thomas—and I cite these names quite at random—can be illuminated brightly by the critical terms of Professors Wellek and Frye. Nathalie Sarraute&#039;s latest book, &#039;&#039;The Golden Fruits&#039;&#039;, and Marc Saporta’s “shuffle novel,” &#039;&#039;Number 1&#039;&#039;, deny the conventional idea of structure. The first is a novel about a novel which cancels itself in the very act of reading; the second is a stratagem which accepts the principle of chance as an integral part of the literary experience. As for Burroughs’ &#039;&#039;The Soft Machine&#039;&#039;, it applies— to what extent, no one will know— the “cut up method of Brion Gysin,” a method which combines collage and montage. If these works possess a form, it is probably a “non-telic&amp;quot; form of the kind recently reflected in painting and music.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Meyer|1963|p=169-186}} Must we then dismiss such works as faddish freaks, of more interest to literary gossip than literary history?&lt;br /&gt;
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In France, where criticism has been long associated with the spirit of lucidity, critics take a different stand. A quick look at some of their statements may persuade us that their view of literature is not too far from the view I have proposed. The common theme of Claude Mauriac’s &#039;&#039;The New Literature&#039;&#039; is stated thus: “After the silence of Rimbaud, the blank page of Mallarmé, the inarticulate cry of Artaud, a literature finally dissolves in alliteration with Joyce. The author of &#039;&#039;Finnegans Wake&#039;&#039; in fact creates out of whole cloth words full of so many diverse overtones that they are eclipsed by them. For Beckett, on the contrary, words all say the same thing.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Mauriac|1959|p=12}} The theme of Roland Barthes&#039; &#039;&#039;Le Degré Zéro de L‘Ecriture&#039;&#039; is similar: the avatar of the new literature is absence. Barthes writes: “dans ces écritures neutres, appelées ici ‘le degré zéro de l’écriture,&#039; on peut facilement discerner le mouvement même d’une négation, comme si la Littérature, tendant depuis un siècle à transmuer sa surface dans une forme sans hérédité, ne trouvait plus de pureté que dans l’absence de tout signe, proposant en fin l’accomplissement de ce rêve orphéen: un écrivain sans Littérature.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Barthes|1959|p=12}} Likewise, for Maurice Blanchot literature is moving toward “l’ère saris parole.” This movement may lead to a form of writing that is incessant sound; or it may lead, as Blanchot states in Le Livre à Venir, quite in the other direction: “la littérature va vers elle-même, vers son essence qui est la disparition.”{{sfn|Blanchot|1959|p=237}} Both directions, we can surmise, end in the dissolution of significant form, the abdication of language. Is this silence at the heart of modern literature the definition of outrage, a subjective correlative of our terror? Or is the monstrous language of action, which Bachelard {{sfn|Bachelard|1963|p=154}} believes to be pointing, beyond Lautréamontism, toward “une réintegration de l&#039;humain dans la vie ardente...,” a closer correlative of that terror? We can only observe that from Sade and Lautréamont to Kafka and Beckett, the twin dark streams of poetry, the poetry of action and the poetry of silence, have been flowing toward some unknown sea wherein some figure of apocalypse, man or beast, still lies submerged.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Critics, however, are of many ilks, and for some the mantic role is as foreign as Elijah&#039;s. I wish to force no prophecies in the mouths of students of literature. Still, it is not unreasonable to ask that criticism evolve a method which takes deeper cognizance of the evolving character of life as of literature. The point is almost too obvious: contemporary letters can be judged as little by the standards of pure formalism as, let us say, Romantic poetry can we evaluated by the strict conventions of neo-Classicism.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The problem of criticism, however, must not be left to the indolent spirit of literary relativism. Indeed, the problems may not prove to be one of literary method at all. The problem of criticism is always the challenge of awareness, full awareness of human existence in time and in place, but also outside of both, in the dream world which antecedes all responsibilities. In the end, perhaps, the problem of critics and poets alike is one of human destiny. To say less is to confuse cowardice with modesty.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If there is underlying theme in recent American criticism, it is the implicit theme of crisis, a crisis not merely of literary method but of literature itself, which means of culture and consciousness. The crisis, as Nicolas Berdyaev knew, is not the crisis of humanism but of humanity itself. In the past, periods of crisis have often bred visions of apocalypse.{{sfn|Rowley|nd|p=150-178}} Such visions may come our way again. They may even lurk in a critic&#039;s perplexity. Here is how Krieger put the question: “Or is it, perhaps, that the Kierkegaardian version is right and that our world has itself become the tragic visionary in its unbelief using self-destructive crises to force itself finally to confront the absurdities of earthly reality...? Which is to ask fearfully and even unwillingly, whether we have not been beguiled by aesthetic satisfactions and whether the utterly striped tragic vision may not after all be less illusory than the fullness which shines through tragedy.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=12}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is no time to sit in judgment on the world or to interpret its modern tragedy. From the Revelation of St. John the Divine to Norman O. Brown’s extraordinary PBK address, entitled &amp;quot;Apocalypse,” men have envisioned the destruction of the world and foreseen its resurrection. “Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection: on such the second death has no power...,” St. John says.{{sfn|Revelation|nd|p=xx.6}} But we are not at the first resurrection yet; we are not even beyond madness. Thus from Norman O. Brown: “The alternative to mind is certainly madness... Our real choice is between holy and unholy madness: open your eyes and look around you—madness is in the saddle anyhow.”{{sfn|Brown|1961|p=47}} What task will criticism perform, wavering between holy and unholy madness? What bootless task?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Criticism is no country for old men of any age. Criticism, which was born to behold literature, must still do so and look beyond itself. Tack and rigor may attend all our words, but our words, but our words will avail nothing if man prevails not. What lies beyond criticism? D.H. Lawrence knew. This is what he says in his &#039;&#039;Apocalypse&#039;&#039;: “O lovely green dragon of the new day, the undawned day, &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; in touch, and release us from the horrid grip of the evil-smelling old Logos! Come in silence, and say nothing. Come in touch, in soft new touch like a spring-time, and say nothing.”{{sfn|Lawrence|1931|pp. 233 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{Template:Aade-sm}}&lt;br /&gt;
==Notes==&lt;br /&gt;
{{notelist}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Citations==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Reflist|20em}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Works Cited==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Refbegin|40em}}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Adams |first=Robert Martin |date=1962 |title=Surface and Symbol: The Consistency of James Joyce&#039;s Ulysses |location=New York |publisher=Oxford University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Bachelard |first=Gaston |date=1963 |title=Lautréamont |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Barthes|first=Roland |date=1959 |title=Le Degré Zéro de L&#039;Ecriture  |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Blanchot |first=Maurice|date=1959 |title= Le Livre à Venir |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last=Brown |first=Norman O.|date=1961 |title=Apocalypse. |url= |journal=Harper&#039;s|volume= |issue= |pages= |doi= |access-date= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Buber|first=Martin |date=1955 | title=Between Man and Man |location=Boston |publisher=Harcourt, Brace, &amp;amp; World |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Camus|first=Albert |date=1961 |title=Resistance, Rebellion, and Death |location=New York |publisher=Knopf |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Durrell |first=Lawrence and Alfred Perles |date=1961 |title=Art and Outrage: A Correspondence about Henry Miller |location=New York |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Frye|first=Northrop |date=1963 |title=The Well-Tempered Critic|location=Bloomington |publisher=Indiana University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger|first=Murray |date=1959 |title=The Myth of Sisyphus|location=New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger |first=Murray |date=1960 |title=The Tragic Vision |location=New York |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lawrence |first=D.H. |date=1931 |title= Apocalypse |location=Florence |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lewis|first=R.W.B. |date=1959 |title=The Picaresque Saint|location=Philadelphia and New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Mauriac|first=Claude |date=1959 |title=The New Literature |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Meyer|first=Leonard B. |date=1963 |title=The End of the Renaissance |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=Henry |date=1939 |title=The Cosmological Eye |location=Norfork |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=James E., Karl Shapiro and Bernice Slote|date=1960 |title=Start With the Sun|location=Lincoln |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Ong|first=Walter J. |date=1962 |title=The Barbarian Within |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Rowley |first= H.H.|title= The Relevance of Apocalyptic&#039;&#039; |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Sartre|first=Jean-Paul |date=1948 |title=Situations II |location=Paris |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last1=Trilling |first1=Lionel |date=1962 |title=On the Modern Element in Modern Literature |journal=The Partisan Review Anthology |volume= |issue= |pages= | ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Wellek |first=René |date=1963 |title=Concepts of Criticism |url= |location=New Haven|page=|isbn= |author-link= |ref=harv }}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
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		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: added publisher&lt;/p&gt;
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&lt;div&gt;&#039;&#039;COMPARATIVE LITERATURE STUDIES&#039;&#039; Vol. I, No. 4, 1964&lt;br /&gt;
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Beyond a Theory of Literature: Intimations of Apocalypse?&lt;br /&gt;
{{byline|last=Hassan|first=Ihab}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Begin with an assumption: that literature defines our concepts of criticism or else it defies them, and that life constantly challenges the pieties of both art and thought. What I shall attempt here, then, could not be considered an authoritative review of postwar criticism. It should be understood, rather, as a partial statement on the gathering mood of American criticism, an intimation of a trend which the facts of literary history in the past two decades (colored inevitably by my own sense of fact) may help to clarify.&lt;br /&gt;
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The admission that I neither hold nor accept a definitive view of criticism should not be too shocking. In England, where the empiric temper prevails in the name of common sense or urbanity, and even in France, where questions of methodology yield to a lively concern with new writing, such an admission would seem fairly innocuous. It is otherwise in America. Among us, the notion that criticism must become a rigorous, quasi-scientific activity in order to justify its name still finds wide support. Not long ago —or is it really ages past?— most students of literature, myself included, recognized the elegance of René Wellek’s formulation of the destiny of criticism: “the interpretation of literature as distinct from other activities of man.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=343}} Coming from Professor Wellek, the emphasis on interpretation rather than on literary theory seemed unduly self-effacing. Be that as it may, the formula appealed then to the common rage for order, and seemed also to aver the dignity of the humanities on terms that the age demanded. With the years, however, the formula seems, to me at least, to have lost in elegance as it has gained in naïveté. The breed of technicians it has unwittingly sanctioned may have found a truer consummation of their hopes in the laboratories of Oak Ridge. Literature as a distinct activity of man? Criticism as a distinct response to a distinct activity of man? What is man that we should be so little mindful of him, so arbitrary with the complexities of his mind? From Surrealism to Absurdism, literature itself suggests that a distinct aesthetic response may be defined only at the risk of deadly discrimination.&lt;br /&gt;
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Yet my object is not to engage in polemics. The point can be stated with some equanimity: a new breed of American critics are anxious to assert them selves against the rigors and pieties they have inherited. Their mood is restless, eclectic, speculative; sometimes, it is even apocalyptic. Those who feel out of sympathy with them may wish to apply different epithets: romantic, primitivist, existential, amateurish, or plain anti-intellectual. (The usefulness of these tags, dispensed usually with contumely, is as doubtful as their accuracy.) Others, however, may recognize the creative possibilities of this new mood, troubled, vague, or disruptive as it may seem.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Evidence of the new mood is various though one senses behind it the enduring search for wholeness and vitality in the literary response. One senses, too, the paradoxical desire to appropriate literature to the dream life of men, and then again to implicate it in the widest sphere of their daily actions. Is not the secret task, for poet and critic alike, to participate in that magic process whereby the word is turned into flesh?&lt;br /&gt;
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The critic therefore feels the need for commitment; he wants to testify. And what is to prevent him? The encounter with an authentic work of art is a bruising experience, full of strange knowledge and hidden pleasure, of the kind we usually spend a life-time resisting. The critic knows that he himself is on trial, and that the act of literary criticism is above all an act of self-judgement. Since his business is to speak of literature, speech in his case must ultimately take the form of self-revelation. But the need for self-revelation is not only a private or existential need. It is also a social function of the critic. “Is art always an outrage - must it by its very nature be an outrage?&amp;quot; Durrell asks.{{sfn|Durrell|Perles|1961|p=9}} The question haunts the critic even more than it does the oafish censors of our time. For should the critic insist on his dubious right to privacy or detachment, his deepest knowledge of literature would remain locked, a private outrage, an inner wound. Yet literature, we know, acts through language; it is a communal call, there where words and experience are one, as it is solitary subversion, where words begin to fail. In the act of testimony, therefore, the critic admits the &#039;&#039;relevance&#039;&#039; of the buried power of literature; he offers himself to the harsh task of mediating between society and vision, culture and anarchy. Only thus can he give to outrage wider reference, give it a meaning beyond itself. There is the risk of course, that such mediation may rob both culture and outrage of their particular force. Yet from that loss a new life in history may be gained, a new consciousness of self and society may be born. This is precisely the gain, implicit in the discomforts of critical commitment, which Lionel Trilling, in his otherwise subtle essay, “On the Modern Element in Modern Literature,” seems to ignore.{{sfn|Trilling|1962|p=267 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Commitment, however, is but a single impulse of the new critical attitude; it simply prepares the ground for dialogue. Another impulse may be defined as the refusal wholly to objectify the work of literature. The art work, of course, has been long considered as an &#039;&#039;object&#039;&#039;, an object for dissection or knowledge, idolatry or classification. Yet the encounter between critic and work is neither entirely objective nor purely aesthetic; it may be a “dialogue” of the kind Martin Buber has proposed. In Buber&#039;s sense, the work of art resists identification with insensible It; for the work demands answer and response, and it requires a meeting. Is it then so perverse to ask the critic, whether he subscribes to Buber’s theology or not, that he “turn toward” the work and confess with Buber, “in each instance a word demanding an answer has happened to me” ?{{sfn|Buber|1955|p=10}} Nothing is mystical in this statement, nothing inimical to the spirit of poetry. The statement, in fact, points to some rather mundane questions which Walter J. Ong, theologian of another faith, happily raises. In his original essay, “The Jinnee in the Well-Wrought Urn,” Father Ong states: “Creative activity is often...powered by the drive to accomplish, in terms of the production of an object of art, an adjustment or readjustment in certain obscure relationships with other persons.&amp;quot; What does this mean? Quite obviously, it means that behind every work of art lurks and strains a human being; less obviously, perhaps, it means that the voice of the human creator, raging heart and feet of clay, is not entirely silenced in his art. The jinnee cannot be exorcised from the urn it inhabits, however shapely the latter may prove; the artifact still comes to life with voices unknown. And indeed this is what we, as readers, require. Once again, Father Ong sees the point clearly: “as a matter of full, serious, protracted contemplation and love, it is unbearable for a man or woman to be faced with anything less than a person. . . .”{{sfn|Ong|1962|p=19, 25}} This is precisely what critics, compelled by the difficult reciprocities of love, may now want to face: not an object but a presence mediated cunningly, incomprehensibly, by language. Such a presence is not simply human. It is the presence, moving and participating in reality, which Owen Barfield, in &#039;&#039;Saving the Appearances&#039;&#039;, has shown us to lie at the heart of the symbolic process. In facing such a presence, critics may hope to recover the primal connection with a universe mediated increasingly by abstractions. But they may also hope to recover something more modest: a spontaneity of judgment which reaches outward, reaches beyond itself. Holden Caulfield, we recall, was moved to call on an author whose work he had much enjoyed. In such naïveté there may be a parable for critics as well as an occasion for derision.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If some postwar critics are loth to consider the literary work merely as an object, they are equally reluctant to believe that contemplation is the sole reaction to it. Beyond testimony, beyond participation or dialogue, the critic now wishes to entertain in the possibility that &#039;&#039;action&#039;&#039; maybe a legitimate response to art. By this, of course, I do not mean that he rushes to the barricades after reading &#039;&#039;The Conquerors&#039;&#039;, or that he develops tuberculosis after reading &#039;&#039;The Magic Mountain&#039;&#039;. I mean that the experience of a literary work does not leave him unchanged. To the extent that he is altered in the recesses of his imagination, indeed of his being, to that extent he must act differently in daily life. For if literature is both cognitive and experiential, as we have been so often told, then how can new knowledge but prompt new action? We may have accepted the Thomist notion of &#039;&#039;stasis&#039;&#039; in art much too uncritically. The counter-statement is boldly presented in Sartre&#039;s essay, “ Qu’est Ce Que la Littérature? ” “Parler c’est agir:” Sartre claims, “tout chose qu&#039;on nomme n’est déjà plus tout à fait la même, elle a perdu son innocence.” Sartre continues: “L&#039;œuvre d’art est valeur parce qu’elle est appel.”{{sfn|Sartre|1948|p=72, 98}} The appeal, above all, is to that act of self-definition which the work persuades its reader to perform, an act of definition and also of freedom. For in a sense, the work itself is “created” by the freedom of the reader to give it a concrete and, ultimately, personal meaning. The work, that is, finally enters the total existence of a man, not simply his dream life or aesthetic consciousness, and in doing so, it becomes subject to the total judgment of human passions. This is precisely what an existential writer of a different breed, Camus, meant when he wrote, “To create today is to create dangerously. Any publication is an act, and that act exposes one to the passions of an age that forgives nothing...”{{sfn|Camus|1961|p=251}} But if the writer must create dangerously these days, the critic cannot afford to criticize timorously. Dangerous criticism assumes that final and somewhat frightening responsibility which some critics naturally resist; namely, the willing suspension of aesthetic judgment in the interests of right action.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I quite realize the enormity of this assertion. For one thing, it brings the critic dangerously close to the posture of the censor— the commissar, the propaganda helot, the prurient chief of police—who requires that every work of art display its social credentials or else stand convicted. No doubt, the redemption of man is a more momentous task than the creation of beauty, and virtue and goodness are not to be scoffed at. Yet redemption, one suspects, does not lie in the grasp of regulators; nor does virtue depend on the degradation of art by power. How, then, can the critic hope to transcend the aesthetic domain of literature without seeming to capitulate to dogma or authority, without seeming to endorse a vulgar or repressive utilitarianism?&lt;br /&gt;
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There are many answers to this question, though all are equally provisional, for in this as in other literary matters, tact not theory comes to our aid. We can begin, however, by making two observations. First, serious literature offers great resistance to political expediency; other forms of propaganda are far more effective. The basic affinity of modern literature particularly is with vision and outrage. By vision, I mean neither doctrine nor even revelation, but simply a concrete projection of the imagination into the conduct of life. Henry Miller has such an idea in mind when he says: “The role which the artist plays in society is to revive the primitive, anarchic instincts which have been sacrificed for the illusion of living in comfort”; or when he says again: “I do not call poets those who make verses, rhymed or unrhymed. I call that man poet who is capable of profoundly altering the world.”{{sfn|Miller|1939|p=156, 38 ff}} Both these statements reveal the artist’s conception of himself as visionary actor; both attest to his hope that prophecy may find its incarnation, beyond language, in action. Emboldened by such statements—and they are by no means restricted to Miller—the critic may feel justified in participating in the action that the work initiates. This is to say that the critic becomes himself part of the devious process by which a writer’s vision penetrates culture. The character of this devious process is closer to the character of pedagogy than of social reform. This leads me to the second observation. Since the process is indeed devious, subject to all the ambiguities of modern culture, the critic cannot really maintain a purely pragmatic, a purely political view of literature. This is salutary for the activist critic who finds in the visionary or subversive power of literature an inner check on his propensity for dogma, his penchant for expediency. This critical ideal is not nearly as pretentious as it may sound, nor does it always require the critic to make his home in the midst of chaos. It may require him, however, to heed certain &#039;&#039;thematic&#039;&#039; questions which were once considered beneath notice. A number of critical works of the last decade reflect this emergent concern. In &#039;&#039;The Tragic Vision&#039;&#039;, for instance, Murray Krieger pertinently asks, “But how, if we limit ourselves to technical literary definitions, can we find for the tragic any meaning beyond that of Aristotle? The answer is, by moving from formalistic aesthetics to what I would term &#039;thematics.&#039;” Krieger’s analysis of that term cannot be summarized easily, but the implications of his method are stated succinctly enough. He concludes thus: “All of which is perhaps to say only that a literary theory must be adequate to the literary experiences for which it is to account and that we trust our way of experiencing literature only as it is adequate to the life out there, which cries for a way of being organized literarily that will yet leave it preserved intact.”{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=2, 244}}  If the insistence on “the life out there” does not necessarily force the critic into a study of “thematics,” it does persuade him to dwell on precisely those formal matters that invoke the larger aspects of reality and may even engage religious thought. Thus the essays of James E. Miller, Jr., Karl Shapiro, and Bernice Slote, in &#039;&#039;Start With the Sun&#039;&#039;, explore the relation of Dionysian poetry to cosmic consciousness, mystery, and apocalypse. Miss Slote ends taking her cue from a noble phrase of Lawrence, “Perhaps then we may be absolved from the poetry of mirrors.{{sfn|Miller|Shapiro|Slote|1960|p=238}}  Parallel explorations of fiction lead R.W.B. Lewis, in his fine study, &#039;&#039;The Picaresque Saint&#039;&#039;, to distinguish between the generation of Proust, Joyce, and Mann, in whose world the aesthetic experience was supreme, and the generation of Silone, Faulkner, Camus, and Greene, in whose world “the chief experience has been the discovery of what it means to be a human being and to be alive.” Lewis continues: “Criticism, examining this world, is drawn to the more radically human considerations of life and death, and of the aspiring, sinful nature of man.”{{sfn|Lewis|1959|p=9}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Perhaps I have spoken long enough of certain interests of postwar criticism, though I feel I have spoken of them only tangentially. If one were to search for the theoretical basis of these interests—a task which I must leave to more philosophical critics one might be inclined to develop a view of literature that does not put the idea of form as its center. By this I do not simply mean a redefinition of the concept of form so that it may account, say, for the plays of Beckett or the novels of Burroughs. I would plead for a more radical view. From Kant to Cassirer, from Coleridge to Croce and down to the New Critics, the idea of organic form has been a touchstone of value and a cornerstone of theory in literary study. We assume, and indeed we believe, that the imagination incarnates itself only as an aesthetic order, and that such an order is available to the analytic mind. We believe more: that aesthetic order defines the deepest pleasures of literature and conveys its enduring attractions. I am not at all secure in these beliefs. Indeed, I am willing to take the devil&#039;s part and entertain the notion that “structure” is not always present or explicable in literary works; and that where it reveals itself, it is not always worth the attention we give it. Such works as &#039;&#039;Hamlet&#039;&#039; and &#039;&#039;Don Quixote&#039;&#039; not diminished by the discovery that their form, whatever it may be, is less organic than we expect the form of great works to be. Even that supreme artifact of our century, that total structure of symbols, puns, and cross-references, that city of words full of secret alleys and connecting catacombs, even Joyce&#039;s &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039;, may prove to the keen, fresh eye of a critic more of a labyrinth, dead ends and ways without issue, than Dublin itself which encloses the nightmare of history. This is precisely what Robert Martin Adams concludes in his fascinating study, &#039;&#039;Surface and Symbol&#039;&#039;. Adams inspects minutely the wealth of details in the novel, and finds that many of them serve to blur or confuse rather than to sustain patterns: &amp;quot;The close reading of &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039; thus reveals that the meaningless is deeply interwoven with the meaningful in the texture of the novel...It is a book and an antibook, a work of art particularly receptive to accident. It builds to acute and poignant states of consciousness, yet its larger ambition seems to be to put aside consciousness as a painful burden.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Adams|1962|p=245, 253}}Nothing catastrophic to the future of criticism is presaged by this statement. Quite the contrary: criticism may derive new vitality from some attention to the unstructured and even random element in literature. For is not form, after all, best conceived as a mode of awareness, a function of cognition, a question, that is, of epistemology rather than ontology? Its objective reality is qualified by the overpowering reality of human &#039;&#039;need&#039;&#039;. In the end, we perceive what we need to perceive, and our sense of pattern as of relation is conditioned by our deeper sense of relevance. This is why the aesthetic of the future will have to reckon with Freud, Nietzsche, and even Kierkegaard, who have given us, more than Marx himself, compelling economies of human needs.{{efn|In recent criticism, certain works have already begun to reflect this particular concern. Besides the works by R. W. B. Lewis and Murray Krieger already cited, one might mention Geoffrey Hartman, &#039;&#039;The Unmediated Vision&#039;&#039; (New Haven, 1954), Ihab Hassan, &#039;&#039;Radical Innocence&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1961), Frederick J. Hoffman, &#039;&#039;The Mortal No&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1964), and Arturo B. Fallico, &#039;&#039;Art and Existentialism&#039;&#039; (Englewood Cliffs, N. J., 1962).}} &lt;br /&gt;
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I could not persist in suggesting the theoretical implications of postwar criticism without falling into the trap which I have myself described. We do not always need a theoretical argument to bring forth a new critical attitude; we only need good critics. But perhaps we need, more than anything else, to regard literature in a more oblique fashion, regard it even in the slanting light of its own absurdity. We might then see that the theoretical solemnity of modern criticism ignore the self-destructive element of literature, its need for self-annulment. What Camus said of his own work applies, in various ways, to all literature: the act of creation is akin to chance and disorder, to which it comes through diversity, and it constantly meets with futility. &amp;quot;Creating or not creating changes nothing, &amp;quot; Camus writes. &amp;quot;The absurd creator does not prize his work. He could repudiate it.&amp;quot; And again: &amp;quot;The absurd work illustrates the intelligence that works up appearances and covers with images what has no reason. If the world were clear, art would not exist.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Camus|1959|p=72 ff}} Perhaps the function of literature, after all, is not to clarify that world but to help create a world in which literature becomes superfluous. And perhaps the function of criticism, as I shall argue later, is to attain to the difficult wisdom of perceiving how literature is finally, and &#039;&#039;only&#039;&#039; finally, inconsequential.{{efn|These heretical statements are developed more fully in my essay &amp;quot;The Dismemberment of Orpheus,&amp;quot; &#039;&#039;American Scholar&#039;&#039;, XXXII.}}{{sfn|Hassan|1963|p=463-484}}                                                                       &lt;br /&gt;
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The foregoing remarks limn certain trends in postwar criticism; they are not intended to define a school or movement. Still, I feel it wise to anticipate some objections before concluding this mock survey.&lt;br /&gt;
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It may be argued, for instance, that many of the attitudes I have described are not so novel as I make them out to be. Richards&#039; emotive theories, Burke&#039;s concept of action, Leavis’ cultural vitalism, Trilling’s depth-view of manners and imagination, Blackmur’s metaphors of silence in literature, and above all, Herbert Read’s sympathy for the anarchic spirit, certainly open the way to the speculations of younger critics. The latter, however, still distinguish themselves by a certain quality of passion, a generosity toward the perversities of spirit, and a sense of crisis in man’s fate. Two recent books of criticism, R. W. B. Lewis’ &#039;&#039;The American Adam&#039;&#039; and Leslie Fiedler&#039;s &#039;&#039;Love and Death at the American Novel&#039;&#039;, seem quite disparate in tone and method; yet both, I think, stand in this respect closer to Lawrence’s seminal work, &#039;&#039;Studies in Classic American Literature&#039;&#039;, than to Matthiessen’s &#039;&#039;American Renaissance&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
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Then again, it might be argued that my use of the terms, “form” and “theory,&amp;quot; appears tendentious; that, ideally speaking, neither of these terms excludes larger commitments; and that, in any case, there are so many concepts of “form” and “structure” in modern criticism as to make a general condemnation of them irresponsible. I should like to think that there are more wicked uses of irresponsibility than in the criticism of criticism. What an ideal formalist theory may contribute to our appreciation of literature is not in dispute; what it has contributed in the past by way of practical criticism is also very considerable. Still, do we not all sense the growing inertness of the Spirit of criticism beneath the weight of the Letter? One sometimes feels that in another decade or two, the task or criticism may be safely performed by some lively computing machine which, blessed with total recall, would never misquote as some critics are reputed to do.&lt;br /&gt;
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I speak, of course, hyperbolically. Perhaps I can make the point clearer, and sharpen thereby the distinction between two generations of critics, by referring to two eminent theoreticians of literature. Both René Wellek and Northrop Frye are men of vast erudition; both have shaped the course of literary studies in America. This, I think, is entirely as it should be; the timely authority of such works as Wellek and Warren’s &#039;&#039;Theory of Literature&#039;&#039; or Frye’s &#039;&#039;Anatomy of Criticism&#039;&#039; deserves nothing less. Yet at the risk of seeming ungracious, it is to their later, and perhaps lesser, works that I wish to refer. After all, the question still remains: what lies beyond formalist theory?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In &#039;&#039;Concepts of Criticism&#039;&#039;, Professor Wellek shows himself to be somewhat out of love with the directions of contemporary criticism. “It seems to me that in spite of the basic truth of the insight of organicism, the unity of content and form, we have arrived today at something like a deadend,” he states.{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=65}} His dissatisfaction, however, is of short duration. Professor Wellek sees the way out in the doctrine of “structuralism,&amp;quot; evolved by the Prague Linguistic Circle - alas, now defunct! “Such a concept of the literary work of art avoids two pitfalls,” Professor Wellek hopes, “the extreme of organicism which leads to a lumpish totality in which discrimination becomes impossible, and the opposite danger of atomistic fragmentation.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=68}} The way out, as it turns out, comes very close to the ancient ideal of the golden mean. This is judicious. But is it really judiciousness which prompts him in two later chapters, “Philosophy and Post- war American Criticism” and “Main Trends of Twentieth-Century Criticism,” to deride all recent criticism? The brilliant and inventive concern with American literature in the last two decades is deplored as an example of “romantic historicism,” and mythic and existential criticism are condemned as an instance of “the irrationalistic philosophies of Europe” adapted to the pragmatic temper of the United States.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=333 ff}} Professor Wellek sadly concludes: “Only those who adhere to either the German idealist tradition, in the Kantian or Coleridgean version, or those who rediscover Aristotle, still keep a grasp on the nature of art and recognize the necessity of an aesthetic and the ideal of a study of literature as literature.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=342}} Having defined literature in formalist terms, it is no wonder that Professor Wellek &#039;&#039;still&#039;&#039; believes formalist theory to be the most rewarding view of literature. Thus is the rigor of tautology achieved.&lt;br /&gt;
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&#039;&#039;The Well-Tempered Critic&#039;&#039;, which is not wrought in the massive architectural manner of Professor Frye’s earlier work, is too urbane to be tautological. Its urbanity expresses a fine subtlety of mind in the final chapter of the book, and the subtlety itself disguises a somewhat chilly view of literature. Professor Frye acknowledges the distinction between the classic and romantic tempers in criticism, and proceeds to discover the correlatives of each. The classic temper, he informs us, is aesthetic, the romantic is psychological; the former views art as artifact, the latter as expression; the one derives from Aristotle, the other from Longinus. I do not quarrel with these distinctions, particularly when categorical distinctions make the very basis of the geometric edifices Professor Frye likes to erect. “The first step to take here,&amp;quot; he argues, “is to realize that just as a poem implies a distinction between the poet as man and the poet as verbal craftsman, so the response to a poem implies a corresponding distinction in the critic.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=123}} For both Northrop Frye and René Wellek, we see, the critical act rests on the &#039;&#039;separation&#039;&#039; of certain human faculties from the continuum of felt life. There are few critics willing to speak professionally for the ancient female principle, acceptance and fusion, and the enveloping wholeness of things, few willing to speak for the fourfold vision of Blake. Yet carried far enough, distinctions become the source of the mind’s alienation, the Cartesian madness of the West. &lt;br /&gt;
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Again, Professor Frye views criticism not as the experience of literature but, more discretely, as an area of knowledge. This leads him to the hard-boiled conclusion, so repugnant to visionary educators, that “the values we want the student to acquire from us cannot be taught: only knowledge of literature can be taught.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=136}} Can knowledge be dissociated from value, and criticism forego its aspiration to wisdom? Apparently so. “The fundamental act of criticism is a disinterested response to a work of literature in which all one’s beliefs, engagements, commitments, prejudices, stampedings of pity and terror, are ordered to be quiet,” he continues.{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=140}} Ordered to be quiet! Who listens, then, and who speaks instead? The imagination never demanded such frozen void, nor do the supreme fictions of the mind reject the earth they transmute. We have seen criticism gaze long enough on the world with the quiet eyes of Apollo. Shall we ever see it partake again of the sacred flesh of Dionysus?&lt;br /&gt;
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I do not wish to suggest that the Dionysiac vision is bound to penetrate literary criticism the world over. I do sense, however, a movement in contemporary letters which must force us to revise our tenets or else accept the charge of theoretical isolationism in America. It is doubtful, for instance, that the plays of Beckett or Genet or Artaud, the novels of William Burroughs, Maurice Blanchot, or Alain Robbe-Grillet, the later stories of Salinger, the poetry of Charles Olson, Blaise Cendrars, or Dylan Thomas—and I cite these names quite at random—can be illuminated brightly by the critical terms of Professors Wellek and Frye. Nathalie Sarraute&#039;s latest book, &#039;&#039;The Golden Fruits&#039;&#039;, and Marc Saporta’s “shuffle novel,” &#039;&#039;Number 1&#039;&#039;, deny the conventional idea of structure. The first is a novel about a novel which cancels itself in the very act of reading; the second is a stratagem which accepts the principle of chance as an integral part of the literary experience. As for Burroughs’ &#039;&#039;The Soft Machine&#039;&#039;, it applies— to what extent, no one will know— the “cut up method of Brion Gysin,” a method which combines collage and montage. If these works possess a form, it is probably a “non-telic&amp;quot; form of the kind recently reflected in painting and music.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Meyer|1963|p=169-186}} Must we then dismiss such works as faddish freaks, of more interest to literary gossip than literary history?&lt;br /&gt;
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In France, where criticism has been long associated with the spirit of lucidity, critics take a different stand. A quick look at some of their statements may persuade us that their view of literature is not too far from the view I have proposed. The common theme of Claude Mauriac’s &#039;&#039;The New Literature&#039;&#039; is stated thus: “After the silence of Rimbaud, the blank page of Mallarmé, the inarticulate cry of Artaud, a literature finally dissolves in alliteration with Joyce. The author of &#039;&#039;Finnegans Wake&#039;&#039; in fact creates out of whole cloth words full of so many diverse overtones that they are eclipsed by them. For Beckett, on the contrary, words all say the same thing.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Mauriac|1959|p=12}} The theme of Roland Barthes&#039; &#039;&#039;Le Degré Zéro de L‘Ecriture&#039;&#039; is similar: the avatar of the new literature is absence. Barthes writes: “dans ces écritures neutres, appelées ici ‘le degré zéro de l’écriture,&#039; on peut facilement discerner le mouvement même d’une négation, comme si la Littérature, tendant depuis un siècle à transmuer sa surface dans une forme sans hérédité, ne trouvait plus de pureté que dans l’absence de tout signe, proposant en fin l’accomplissement de ce rêve orphéen: un écrivain sans Littérature.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Barthes|1959|p=12}} Likewise, for Maurice Blanchot literature is moving toward “l’ère saris parole.” This movement may lead to a form of writing that is incessant sound; or it may lead, as Blanchot states in Le Livre à Venir, quite in the other direction: “la littérature va vers elle-même, vers son essence qui est la disparition.”{{sfn|Blanchot|1959|p=237}} Both directions, we can surmise, end in the dissolution of significant form, the abdication of language. Is this silence at the heart of modern literature the definition of outrage, a subjective correlative of our terror? Or is the monstrous language of action, which Bachelard {{sfn|Bachelard|1963|p=154}} believes to be pointing, beyond Lautréamontism, toward “une réintegration de l&#039;humain dans la vie ardente...,” a closer correlative of that terror? We can only observe that from Sade and Lautréamont to Kafka and Beckett, the twin dark streams of poetry, the poetry of action and the poetry of silence, have been flowing toward some unknown sea wherein some figure of apocalypse, man or beast, still lies submerged.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Critics, however, are of many ilks, and for some the mantic role is as foreign as Elijah&#039;s. I wish to force no prophecies in the mouths of students of literature. Still, it is not unreasonable to ask that criticism evolve a method which takes deeper cognizance of the evolving character of life as of literature. The point is almost too obvious: contemporary letters can be judged as little by the standards of pure formalism as, let us say, Romantic poetry can we evaluated by the strict conventions of neo-Classicism.&lt;br /&gt;
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The problem of criticism, however, must not be left to the indolent spirit of literary relativism. Indeed, the problems may not prove to be one of literary method at all. The problem of criticism is always the challenge of awareness, full awareness of human existence in time and in place, but also outside of both, in the dream world which antecedes all responsibilities. In the end, perhaps, the problem of critics and poets alike is one of human destiny. To say less is to confuse cowardice with modesty.&lt;br /&gt;
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If there is underlying theme in recent American criticism, it is the implicit theme of crisis, a crisis not merely of literary method but of literature itself, which means of culture and consciousness. The crisis, as Nicolas Berdyaev knew, is not the crisis of humanism but of humanity itself. In the past, periods of crisis have often bred visions of apocalypse.{{sfn|Rowley|nd|p=150-178}} Such visions may come our way again. They may even lurk in a critic&#039;s perplexity. Here is how Krieger put the question: “Or is it, perhaps, that the Kierkegaardian version is right and that our world has itself become the tragic visionary in its unbelief using self-destructive crises to force itself finally to confront the absurdities of earthly reality...? Which is to ask fearfully and even unwillingly, whether we have not been beguiled by aesthetic satisfactions and whether the utterly striped tragic vision may not after all be less illusory than the fullness which shines through tragedy.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=12}}&lt;br /&gt;
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This is no time to sit in judgment on the world or to interpret its modern tragedy. From the Revelation of St. John the Divine to Norman O. Brown’s extraordinary PBK address, entitled &amp;quot;Apocalypse,” men have envisioned the destruction of the world and foreseen its resurrection. “Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection: on such the second death has no power...,” St. John says.{{sfn|Revelation|nd|p=xx.6}} But we are not at the first resurrection yet; we are not even beyond madness. Thus from Norman O. Brown: “The alternative to mind is certainly madness... Our real choice is between holy and unholy madness: open your eyes and look around you—madness is in the saddle anyhow.”{{sfn|Brown|1961|p=47}} What task will criticism perform, wavering between holy and unholy madness? What bootless task?&lt;br /&gt;
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Criticism is no country for old men of any age. Criticism, which was born to behold literature, must still do so and look beyond itself. Tack and rigor may attend all our words, but our words, but our words will avail nothing if man prevails not. What lies beyond criticism? D.H. Lawrence knew. This is what he says in his &#039;&#039;Apocalypse&#039;&#039;: “O lovely green dragon of the new day, the undawned day, &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; in touch, and release us from the horrid grip of the evil-smelling old Logos! Come in silence, and say nothing. Come in touch, in soft new touch like a spring-time, and say nothing.”{{sfn|Lawrence|1931|pp. 233 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
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{{Template:Aade-sm}}&lt;br /&gt;
==Notes==&lt;br /&gt;
{{notelist}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Citations==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Reflist|20em}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Works Cited==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Refbegin|40em}}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Adams |first=Robert Martin |date=1962 |title=Surface and Symbol: The Consistency of James Joyce&#039;s Ulysses |location=New York |publisher=Oxford University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Bachelard |first=Gaston |date=1963 |title=Lautréamont |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Barthes|first=Roland |date=1959 |title=Le Degré Zéro de L&#039;Ecriture  |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Blanchot |first=Maurice|date=1959 |title= Le Livre à Venir |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last=Brown |first=Norman O.|date=1961 |title=Apocalypse. |url= |journal=Harper&#039;s|volume= |issue= |pages= |doi= |access-date= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Buber|first=Martin |date=1955 | title=Between Man and Man |location=Boston |publisher=Harcourt, Brace, &amp;amp; World |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Camus|first=Albert |date=1961 |title=Resistance, Rebellion, and Death |location=New York |publisher=Knopf |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Durrell |first=Lawrence and Alfred Perles |date=1961 |title=Art and Outrage: A Correspondence about Henry Miller |location=New York |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Frye|first=Northrop |date=1963 |title=The Well-Tempered Critic|location=Bloomington |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger|first=Murray |date=1959 |title=The Myth of Sisyphus|location=New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger |first=Murray |date=1960 |title=The Tragic Vision |location=New York |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lawrence |first=D.H. |date=1931 |title= Apocalypse |location=Florence |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lewis|first=R.W.B. |date=1959 |title=The Picaresque Saint|location=Philadelphia and New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Mauriac|first=Claude |date=1959 |title=The New Literature |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Meyer|first=Leonard B. |date=1963 |title=The End of the Renaissance |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=Henry |date=1939 |title=The Cosmological Eye |location=Norfork |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=James E., Karl Shapiro and Bernice Slote|date=1960 |title=Start With the Sun|location=Lincoln |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Ong|first=Walter J. |date=1962 |title=The Barbarian Within |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Rowley |first= H.H.|title= The Relevance of Apocalyptic&#039;&#039; |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Sartre|first=Jean-Paul |date=1948 |title=Situations II |location=Paris |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last1=Trilling |first1=Lionel |date=1962 |title=On the Modern Element in Modern Literature |journal=The Partisan Review Anthology |volume= |issue= |pages= | ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Wellek |first=René |date=1963 |title=Concepts of Criticism |url= |location=New Haven|page=|isbn= |author-link= |ref=harv }}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
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&lt;div&gt;&#039;&#039;COMPARATIVE LITERATURE STUDIES&#039;&#039; Vol. I, No. 4, 1964&lt;br /&gt;
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Beyond a Theory of Literature: Intimations of Apocalypse?&lt;br /&gt;
{{byline|last=Hassan|first=Ihab}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Begin with an assumption: that literature defines our concepts of criticism or else it defies them, and that life constantly challenges the pieties of both art and thought. What I shall attempt here, then, could not be considered an authoritative review of postwar criticism. It should be understood, rather, as a partial statement on the gathering mood of American criticism, an intimation of a trend which the facts of literary history in the past two decades (colored inevitably by my own sense of fact) may help to clarify.&lt;br /&gt;
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The admission that I neither hold nor accept a definitive view of criticism should not be too shocking. In England, where the empiric temper prevails in the name of common sense or urbanity, and even in France, where questions of methodology yield to a lively concern with new writing, such an admission would seem fairly innocuous. It is otherwise in America. Among us, the notion that criticism must become a rigorous, quasi-scientific activity in order to justify its name still finds wide support. Not long ago —or is it really ages past?— most students of literature, myself included, recognized the elegance of René Wellek’s formulation of the destiny of criticism: “the interpretation of literature as distinct from other activities of man.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=343}} Coming from Professor Wellek, the emphasis on interpretation rather than on literary theory seemed unduly self-effacing. Be that as it may, the formula appealed then to the common rage for order, and seemed also to aver the dignity of the humanities on terms that the age demanded. With the years, however, the formula seems, to me at least, to have lost in elegance as it has gained in naïveté. The breed of technicians it has unwittingly sanctioned may have found a truer consummation of their hopes in the laboratories of Oak Ridge. Literature as a distinct activity of man? Criticism as a distinct response to a distinct activity of man? What is man that we should be so little mindful of him, so arbitrary with the complexities of his mind? From Surrealism to Absurdism, literature itself suggests that a distinct aesthetic response may be defined only at the risk of deadly discrimination.&lt;br /&gt;
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Yet my object is not to engage in polemics. The point can be stated with some equanimity: a new breed of American critics are anxious to assert them selves against the rigors and pieties they have inherited. Their mood is restless, eclectic, speculative; sometimes, it is even apocalyptic. Those who feel out of sympathy with them may wish to apply different epithets: romantic, primitivist, existential, amateurish, or plain anti-intellectual. (The usefulness of these tags, dispensed usually with contumely, is as doubtful as their accuracy.) Others, however, may recognize the creative possibilities of this new mood, troubled, vague, or disruptive as it may seem.&lt;br /&gt;
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Evidence of the new mood is various though one senses behind it the enduring search for wholeness and vitality in the literary response. One senses, too, the paradoxical desire to appropriate literature to the dream life of men, and then again to implicate it in the widest sphere of their daily actions. Is not the secret task, for poet and critic alike, to participate in that magic process whereby the word is turned into flesh?&lt;br /&gt;
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The critic therefore feels the need for commitment; he wants to testify. And what is to prevent him? The encounter with an authentic work of art is a bruising experience, full of strange knowledge and hidden pleasure, of the kind we usually spend a life-time resisting. The critic knows that he himself is on trial, and that the act of literary criticism is above all an act of self-judgement. Since his business is to speak of literature, speech in his case must ultimately take the form of self-revelation. But the need for self-revelation is not only a private or existential need. It is also a social function of the critic. “Is art always an outrage - must it by its very nature be an outrage?&amp;quot; Durrell asks.{{sfn|Durrell|Perles|1961|p=9}} The question haunts the critic even more than it does the oafish censors of our time. For should the critic insist on his dubious right to privacy or detachment, his deepest knowledge of literature would remain locked, a private outrage, an inner wound. Yet literature, we know, acts through language; it is a communal call, there where words and experience are one, as it is solitary subversion, where words begin to fail. In the act of testimony, therefore, the critic admits the &#039;&#039;relevance&#039;&#039; of the buried power of literature; he offers himself to the harsh task of mediating between society and vision, culture and anarchy. Only thus can he give to outrage wider reference, give it a meaning beyond itself. There is the risk of course, that such mediation may rob both culture and outrage of their particular force. Yet from that loss a new life in history may be gained, a new consciousness of self and society may be born. This is precisely the gain, implicit in the discomforts of critical commitment, which Lionel Trilling, in his otherwise subtle essay, “On the Modern Element in Modern Literature,” seems to ignore.{{sfn|Trilling|1962|p=267 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Commitment, however, is but a single impulse of the new critical attitude; it simply prepares the ground for dialogue. Another impulse may be defined as the refusal wholly to objectify the work of literature. The art work, of course, has been long considered as an &#039;&#039;object&#039;&#039;, an object for dissection or knowledge, idolatry or classification. Yet the encounter between critic and work is neither entirely objective nor purely aesthetic; it may be a “dialogue” of the kind Martin Buber has proposed. In Buber&#039;s sense, the work of art resists identification with insensible It; for the work demands answer and response, and it requires a meeting. Is it then so perverse to ask the critic, whether he subscribes to Buber’s theology or not, that he “turn toward” the work and confess with Buber, “in each instance a word demanding an answer has happened to me” ?{{sfn|Buber|1955|p=10}} Nothing is mystical in this statement, nothing inimical to the spirit of poetry. The statement, in fact, points to some rather mundane questions which Walter J. Ong, theologian of another faith, happily raises. In his original essay, “The Jinnee in the Well-Wrought Urn,” Father Ong states: “Creative activity is often...powered by the drive to accomplish, in terms of the production of an object of art, an adjustment or readjustment in certain obscure relationships with other persons.&amp;quot; What does this mean? Quite obviously, it means that behind every work of art lurks and strains a human being; less obviously, perhaps, it means that the voice of the human creator, raging heart and feet of clay, is not entirely silenced in his art. The jinnee cannot be exorcised from the urn it inhabits, however shapely the latter may prove; the artifact still comes to life with voices unknown. And indeed this is what we, as readers, require. Once again, Father Ong sees the point clearly: “as a matter of full, serious, protracted contemplation and love, it is unbearable for a man or woman to be faced with anything less than a person. . . .”{{sfn|Ong|1962|p=19, 25}} This is precisely what critics, compelled by the difficult reciprocities of love, may now want to face: not an object but a presence mediated cunningly, incomprehensibly, by language. Such a presence is not simply human. It is the presence, moving and participating in reality, which Owen Barfield, in &#039;&#039;Saving the Appearances&#039;&#039;, has shown us to lie at the heart of the symbolic process. In facing such a presence, critics may hope to recover the primal connection with a universe mediated increasingly by abstractions. But they may also hope to recover something more modest: a spontaneity of judgment which reaches outward, reaches beyond itself. Holden Caulfield, we recall, was moved to call on an author whose work he had much enjoyed. In such naïveté there may be a parable for critics as well as an occasion for derision.&lt;br /&gt;
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If some postwar critics are loth to consider the literary work merely as an object, they are equally reluctant to believe that contemplation is the sole reaction to it. Beyond testimony, beyond participation or dialogue, the critic now wishes to entertain in the possibility that &#039;&#039;action&#039;&#039; maybe a legitimate response to art. By this, of course, I do not mean that he rushes to the barricades after reading &#039;&#039;The Conquerors&#039;&#039;, or that he develops tuberculosis after reading &#039;&#039;The Magic Mountain&#039;&#039;. I mean that the experience of a literary work does not leave him unchanged. To the extent that he is altered in the recesses of his imagination, indeed of his being, to that extent he must act differently in daily life. For if literature is both cognitive and experiential, as we have been so often told, then how can new knowledge but prompt new action? We may have accepted the Thomist notion of &#039;&#039;stasis&#039;&#039; in art much too uncritically. The counter-statement is boldly presented in Sartre&#039;s essay, “ Qu’est Ce Que la Littérature? ” “Parler c’est agir:” Sartre claims, “tout chose qu&#039;on nomme n’est déjà plus tout à fait la même, elle a perdu son innocence.” Sartre continues: “L&#039;œuvre d’art est valeur parce qu’elle est appel.”{{sfn|Sartre|1948|p=72, 98}} The appeal, above all, is to that act of self-definition which the work persuades its reader to perform, an act of definition and also of freedom. For in a sense, the work itself is “created” by the freedom of the reader to give it a concrete and, ultimately, personal meaning. The work, that is, finally enters the total existence of a man, not simply his dream life or aesthetic consciousness, and in doing so, it becomes subject to the total judgment of human passions. This is precisely what an existential writer of a different breed, Camus, meant when he wrote, “To create today is to create dangerously. Any publication is an act, and that act exposes one to the passions of an age that forgives nothing...”{{sfn|Camus|1961|p=251}} But if the writer must create dangerously these days, the critic cannot afford to criticize timorously. Dangerous criticism assumes that final and somewhat frightening responsibility which some critics naturally resist; namely, the willing suspension of aesthetic judgment in the interests of right action.&lt;br /&gt;
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I quite realize the enormity of this assertion. For one thing, it brings the critic dangerously close to the posture of the censor— the commissar, the propaganda helot, the prurient chief of police—who requires that every work of art display its social credentials or else stand convicted. No doubt, the redemption of man is a more momentous task than the creation of beauty, and virtue and goodness are not to be scoffed at. Yet redemption, one suspects, does not lie in the grasp of regulators; nor does virtue depend on the degradation of art by power. How, then, can the critic hope to transcend the aesthetic domain of literature without seeming to capitulate to dogma or authority, without seeming to endorse a vulgar or repressive utilitarianism?&lt;br /&gt;
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There are many answers to this question, though all are equally provisional, for in this as in other literary matters, tact not theory comes to our aid. We can begin, however, by making two observations. First, serious literature offers great resistance to political expediency; other forms of propaganda are far more effective. The basic affinity of modern literature particularly is with vision and outrage. By vision, I mean neither doctrine nor even revelation, but simply a concrete projection of the imagination into the conduct of life. Henry Miller has such an idea in mind when he says: “The role which the artist plays in society is to revive the primitive, anarchic instincts which have been sacrificed for the illusion of living in comfort”; or when he says again: “I do not call poets those who make verses, rhymed or unrhymed. I call that man poet who is capable of profoundly altering the world.”{{sfn|Miller|1939|p=156, 38 ff}} Both these statements reveal the artist’s conception of himself as visionary actor; both attest to his hope that prophecy may find its incarnation, beyond language, in action. Emboldened by such statements—and they are by no means restricted to Miller—the critic may feel justified in participating in the action that the work initiates. This is to say that the critic becomes himself part of the devious process by which a writer’s vision penetrates culture. The character of this devious process is closer to the character of pedagogy than of social reform. This leads me to the second observation. Since the process is indeed devious, subject to all the ambiguities of modern culture, the critic cannot really maintain a purely pragmatic, a purely political view of literature. This is salutary for the activist critic who finds in the visionary or subversive power of literature an inner check on his propensity for dogma, his penchant for expediency. This critical ideal is not nearly as pretentious as it may sound, nor does it always require the critic to make his home in the midst of chaos. It may require him, however, to heed certain &#039;&#039;thematic&#039;&#039; questions which were once considered beneath notice. A number of critical works of the last decade reflect this emergent concern. In &#039;&#039;The Tragic Vision&#039;&#039;, for instance, Murray Krieger pertinently asks, “But how, if we limit ourselves to technical literary definitions, can we find for the tragic any meaning beyond that of Aristotle? The answer is, by moving from formalistic aesthetics to what I would term &#039;thematics.&#039;” Krieger’s analysis of that term cannot be summarized easily, but the implications of his method are stated succinctly enough. He concludes thus: “All of which is perhaps to say only that a literary theory must be adequate to the literary experiences for which it is to account and that we trust our way of experiencing literature only as it is adequate to the life out there, which cries for a way of being organized literarily that will yet leave it preserved intact.”{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=2, 244}}  If the insistence on “the life out there” does not necessarily force the critic into a study of “thematics,” it does persuade him to dwell on precisely those formal matters that invoke the larger aspects of reality and may even engage religious thought. Thus the essays of James E. Miller, Jr., Karl Shapiro, and Bernice Slote, in &#039;&#039;Start With the Sun&#039;&#039;, explore the relation of Dionysian poetry to cosmic consciousness, mystery, and apocalypse. Miss Slote ends taking her cue from a noble phrase of Lawrence, “Perhaps then we may be absolved from the poetry of mirrors.{{sfn|Miller|Shapiro|Slote|1960|p=238}}  Parallel explorations of fiction lead R.W.B. Lewis, in his fine study, &#039;&#039;The Picaresque Saint&#039;&#039;, to distinguish between the generation of Proust, Joyce, and Mann, in whose world the aesthetic experience was supreme, and the generation of Silone, Faulkner, Camus, and Greene, in whose world “the chief experience has been the discovery of what it means to be a human being and to be alive.” Lewis continues: “Criticism, examining this world, is drawn to the more radically human considerations of life and death, and of the aspiring, sinful nature of man.”{{sfn|Lewis|1959|p=9}}&lt;br /&gt;
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Perhaps I have spoken long enough of certain interests of postwar criticism, though I feel I have spoken of them only tangentially. If one were to search for the theoretical basis of these interests—a task which I must leave to more philosophical critics one might be inclined to develop a view of literature that does not put the idea of form as its center. By this I do not simply mean a redefinition of the concept of form so that it may account, say, for the plays of Beckett or the novels of Burroughs. I would plead for a more radical view. From Kant to Cassirer, from Coleridge to Croce and down to the New Critics, the idea of organic form has been a touchstone of value and a cornerstone of theory in literary study. We assume, and indeed we believe, that the imagination incarnates itself only as an aesthetic order, and that such an order is available to the analytic mind. We believe more: that aesthetic order defines the deepest pleasures of literature and conveys its enduring attractions. I am not at all secure in these beliefs. Indeed, I am willing to take the devil&#039;s part and entertain the notion that “structure” is not always present or explicable in literary works; and that where it reveals itself, it is not always worth the attention we give it. Such works as &#039;&#039;Hamlet&#039;&#039; and &#039;&#039;Don Quixote&#039;&#039; not diminished by the discovery that their form, whatever it may be, is less organic than we expect the form of great works to be. Even that supreme artifact of our century, that total structure of symbols, puns, and cross-references, that city of words full of secret alleys and connecting catacombs, even Joyce&#039;s &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039;, may prove to the keen, fresh eye of a critic more of a labyrinth, dead ends and ways without issue, than Dublin itself which encloses the nightmare of history. This is precisely what Robert Martin Adams concludes in his fascinating study, &#039;&#039;Surface and Symbol&#039;&#039;. Adams inspects minutely the wealth of details in the novel, and finds that many of them serve to blur or confuse rather than to sustain patterns: &amp;quot;The close reading of &#039;&#039;Ulysses&#039;&#039; thus reveals that the meaningless is deeply interwoven with the meaningful in the texture of the novel...It is a book and an antibook, a work of art particularly receptive to accident. It builds to acute and poignant states of consciousness, yet its larger ambition seems to be to put aside consciousness as a painful burden.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Adams|1962|p=245, 253}}Nothing catastrophic to the future of criticism is presaged by this statement. Quite the contrary: criticism may derive new vitality from some attention to the unstructured and even random element in literature. For is not form, after all, best conceived as a mode of awareness, a function of cognition, a question, that is, of epistemology rather than ontology? Its objective reality is qualified by the overpowering reality of human &#039;&#039;need&#039;&#039;. In the end, we perceive what we need to perceive, and our sense of pattern as of relation is conditioned by our deeper sense of relevance. This is why the aesthetic of the future will have to reckon with Freud, Nietzsche, and even Kierkegaard, who have given us, more than Marx himself, compelling economies of human needs.{{efn|In recent criticism, certain works have already begun to reflect this particular concern. Besides the works by R. W. B. Lewis and Murray Krieger already cited, one might mention Geoffrey Hartman, &#039;&#039;The Unmediated Vision&#039;&#039; (New Haven, 1954), Ihab Hassan, &#039;&#039;Radical Innocence&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1961), Frederick J. Hoffman, &#039;&#039;The Mortal No&#039;&#039; (Princeton, 1964), and Arturo B. Fallico, &#039;&#039;Art and Existentialism&#039;&#039; (Englewood Cliffs, N. J., 1962).}} &lt;br /&gt;
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I could not persist in suggesting the theoretical implications of postwar criticism without falling into the trap which I have myself described. We do not always need a theoretical argument to bring forth a new critical attitude; we only need good critics. But perhaps we need, more than anything else, to regard literature in a more oblique fashion, regard it even in the slanting light of its own absurdity. We might then see that the theoretical solemnity of modern criticism ignore the self-destructive element of literature, its need for self-annulment. What Camus said of his own work applies, in various ways, to all literature: the act of creation is akin to chance and disorder, to which it comes through diversity, and it constantly meets with futility. &amp;quot;Creating or not creating changes nothing, &amp;quot; Camus writes. &amp;quot;The absurd creator does not prize his work. He could repudiate it.&amp;quot; And again: &amp;quot;The absurd work illustrates the intelligence that works up appearances and covers with images what has no reason. If the world were clear, art would not exist.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Camus|1959|p=72 ff}} Perhaps the function of literature, after all, is not to clarify that world but to help create a world in which literature becomes superfluous. And perhaps the function of criticism, as I shall argue later, is to attain to the difficult wisdom of perceiving how literature is finally, and &#039;&#039;only&#039;&#039; finally, inconsequential.{{efn|These heretical statements are developed more fully in my essay &amp;quot;The Dismemberment of Orpheus,&amp;quot; &#039;&#039;American Scholar&#039;&#039;, XXXII.}}{{sfn|Hassan|1963|p=463-484}}                                                                       &lt;br /&gt;
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The foregoing remarks limn certain trends in postwar criticism; they are not intended to define a school or movement. Still, I feel it wise to anticipate some objections before concluding this mock survey.&lt;br /&gt;
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It may be argued, for instance, that many of the attitudes I have described are not so novel as I make them out to be. Richards&#039; emotive theories, Burke&#039;s concept of action, Leavis’ cultural vitalism, Trilling’s depth-view of manners and imagination, Blackmur’s metaphors of silence in literature, and above all, Herbert Read’s sympathy for the anarchic spirit, certainly open the way to the speculations of younger critics. The latter, however, still distinguish themselves by a certain quality of passion, a generosity toward the perversities of spirit, and a sense of crisis in man’s fate. Two recent books of criticism, R. W. B. Lewis’ &#039;&#039;The American Adam&#039;&#039; and Leslie Fiedler&#039;s &#039;&#039;Love and Death at the American Novel&#039;&#039;, seem quite disparate in tone and method; yet both, I think, stand in this respect closer to Lawrence’s seminal work, &#039;&#039;Studies in Classic American Literature&#039;&#039;, than to Matthiessen’s &#039;&#039;American Renaissance&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
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Then again, it might be argued that my use of the terms, “form” and “theory,&amp;quot; appears tendentious; that, ideally speaking, neither of these terms excludes larger commitments; and that, in any case, there are so many concepts of “form” and “structure” in modern criticism as to make a general condemnation of them irresponsible. I should like to think that there are more wicked uses of irresponsibility than in the criticism of criticism. What an ideal formalist theory may contribute to our appreciation of literature is not in dispute; what it has contributed in the past by way of practical criticism is also very considerable. Still, do we not all sense the growing inertness of the Spirit of criticism beneath the weight of the Letter? One sometimes feels that in another decade or two, the task or criticism may be safely performed by some lively computing machine which, blessed with total recall, would never misquote as some critics are reputed to do.&lt;br /&gt;
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I speak, of course, hyperbolically. Perhaps I can make the point clearer, and sharpen thereby the distinction between two generations of critics, by referring to two eminent theoreticians of literature. Both René Wellek and Northrop Frye are men of vast erudition; both have shaped the course of literary studies in America. This, I think, is entirely as it should be; the timely authority of such works as Wellek and Warren’s &#039;&#039;Theory of Literature&#039;&#039; or Frye’s &#039;&#039;Anatomy of Criticism&#039;&#039; deserves nothing less. Yet at the risk of seeming ungracious, it is to their later, and perhaps lesser, works that I wish to refer. After all, the question still remains: what lies beyond formalist theory?&lt;br /&gt;
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In &#039;&#039;Concepts of Criticism&#039;&#039;, Professor Wellek shows himself to be somewhat out of love with the directions of contemporary criticism. “It seems to me that in spite of the basic truth of the insight of organicism, the unity of content and form, we have arrived today at something like a deadend,” he states.{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=65}} His dissatisfaction, however, is of short duration. Professor Wellek sees the way out in the doctrine of “structuralism,&amp;quot; evolved by the Prague Linguistic Circle - alas, now defunct! “Such a concept of the literary work of art avoids two pitfalls,” Professor Wellek hopes, “the extreme of organicism which leads to a lumpish totality in which discrimination becomes impossible, and the opposite danger of atomistic fragmentation.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=68}} The way out, as it turns out, comes very close to the ancient ideal of the golden mean. This is judicious. But is it really judiciousness which prompts him in two later chapters, “Philosophy and Post- war American Criticism” and “Main Trends of Twentieth-Century Criticism,” to deride all recent criticism? The brilliant and inventive concern with American literature in the last two decades is deplored as an example of “romantic historicism,” and mythic and existential criticism are condemned as an instance of “the irrationalistic philosophies of Europe” adapted to the pragmatic temper of the United States.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=333 ff}} Professor Wellek sadly concludes: “Only those who adhere to either the German idealist tradition, in the Kantian or Coleridgean version, or those who rediscover Aristotle, still keep a grasp on the nature of art and recognize the necessity of an aesthetic and the ideal of a study of literature as literature.”{{sfn|Wellek|1963|p=342}} Having defined literature in formalist terms, it is no wonder that Professor Wellek &#039;&#039;still&#039;&#039; believes formalist theory to be the most rewarding view of literature. Thus is the rigor of tautology achieved.&lt;br /&gt;
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&#039;&#039;The Well-Tempered Critic&#039;&#039;, which is not wrought in the massive architectural manner of Professor Frye’s earlier work, is too urbane to be tautological. Its urbanity expresses a fine subtlety of mind in the final chapter of the book, and the subtlety itself disguises a somewhat chilly view of literature. Professor Frye acknowledges the distinction between the classic and romantic tempers in criticism, and proceeds to discover the correlatives of each. The classic temper, he informs us, is aesthetic, the romantic is psychological; the former views art as artifact, the latter as expression; the one derives from Aristotle, the other from Longinus. I do not quarrel with these distinctions, particularly when categorical distinctions make the very basis of the geometric edifices Professor Frye likes to erect. “The first step to take here,&amp;quot; he argues, “is to realize that just as a poem implies a distinction between the poet as man and the poet as verbal craftsman, so the response to a poem implies a corresponding distinction in the critic.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=123}} For both Northrop Frye and René Wellek, we see, the critical act rests on the &#039;&#039;separation&#039;&#039; of certain human faculties from the continuum of felt life. There are few critics willing to speak professionally for the ancient female principle, acceptance and fusion, and the enveloping wholeness of things, few willing to speak for the fourfold vision of Blake. Yet carried far enough, distinctions become the source of the mind’s alienation, the Cartesian madness of the West. &lt;br /&gt;
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Again, Professor Frye views criticism not as the experience of literature but, more discretely, as an area of knowledge. This leads him to the hard-boiled conclusion, so repugnant to visionary educators, that “the values we want the student to acquire from us cannot be taught: only knowledge of literature can be taught.”{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=136}} Can knowledge be dissociated from value, and criticism forego its aspiration to wisdom? Apparently so. “The fundamental act of criticism is a disinterested response to a work of literature in which all one’s beliefs, engagements, commitments, prejudices, stampedings of pity and terror, are ordered to be quiet,” he continues.{{sfn|Frye|1963|p=140}} Ordered to be quiet! Who listens, then, and who speaks instead? The imagination never demanded such frozen void, nor do the supreme fictions of the mind reject the earth they transmute. We have seen criticism gaze long enough on the world with the quiet eyes of Apollo. Shall we ever see it partake again of the sacred flesh of Dionysus?&lt;br /&gt;
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I do not wish to suggest that the Dionysiac vision is bound to penetrate literary criticism the world over. I do sense, however, a movement in contemporary letters which must force us to revise our tenets or else accept the charge of theoretical isolationism in America. It is doubtful, for instance, that the plays of Beckett or Genet or Artaud, the novels of William Burroughs, Maurice Blanchot, or Alain Robbe-Grillet, the later stories of Salinger, the poetry of Charles Olson, Blaise Cendrars, or Dylan Thomas—and I cite these names quite at random—can be illuminated brightly by the critical terms of Professors Wellek and Frye. Nathalie Sarraute&#039;s latest book, &#039;&#039;The Golden Fruits&#039;&#039;, and Marc Saporta’s “shuffle novel,” &#039;&#039;Number 1&#039;&#039;, deny the conventional idea of structure. The first is a novel about a novel which cancels itself in the very act of reading; the second is a stratagem which accepts the principle of chance as an integral part of the literary experience. As for Burroughs’ &#039;&#039;The Soft Machine&#039;&#039;, it applies— to what extent, no one will know— the “cut up method of Brion Gysin,” a method which combines collage and montage. If these works possess a form, it is probably a “non-telic&amp;quot; form of the kind recently reflected in painting and music.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Meyer|1963|p=169-186}} Must we then dismiss such works as faddish freaks, of more interest to literary gossip than literary history?&lt;br /&gt;
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In France, where criticism has been long associated with the spirit of lucidity, critics take a different stand. A quick look at some of their statements may persuade us that their view of literature is not too far from the view I have proposed. The common theme of Claude Mauriac’s &#039;&#039;The New Literature&#039;&#039; is stated thus: “After the silence of Rimbaud, the blank page of Mallarmé, the inarticulate cry of Artaud, a literature finally dissolves in alliteration with Joyce. The author of &#039;&#039;Finnegans Wake&#039;&#039; in fact creates out of whole cloth words full of so many diverse overtones that they are eclipsed by them. For Beckett, on the contrary, words all say the same thing.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Mauriac|1959|p=12}} The theme of Roland Barthes&#039; &#039;&#039;Le Degré Zéro de L‘Ecriture&#039;&#039; is similar: the avatar of the new literature is absence. Barthes writes: “dans ces écritures neutres, appelées ici ‘le degré zéro de l’écriture,&#039; on peut facilement discerner le mouvement même d’une négation, comme si la Littérature, tendant depuis un siècle à transmuer sa surface dans une forme sans hérédité, ne trouvait plus de pureté que dans l’absence de tout signe, proposant en fin l’accomplissement de ce rêve orphéen: un écrivain sans Littérature.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Barthes|1959|p=12}} Likewise, for Maurice Blanchot literature is moving toward “l’ère saris parole.” This movement may lead to a form of writing that is incessant sound; or it may lead, as Blanchot states in Le Livre à Venir, quite in the other direction: “la littérature va vers elle-même, vers son essence qui est la disparition.”{{sfn|Blanchot|1959|p=237}} Both directions, we can surmise, end in the dissolution of significant form, the abdication of language. Is this silence at the heart of modern literature the definition of outrage, a subjective correlative of our terror? Or is the monstrous language of action, which Bachelard {{sfn|Bachelard|1963|p=154}} believes to be pointing, beyond Lautréamontism, toward “une réintegration de l&#039;humain dans la vie ardente...,” a closer correlative of that terror? We can only observe that from Sade and Lautréamont to Kafka and Beckett, the twin dark streams of poetry, the poetry of action and the poetry of silence, have been flowing toward some unknown sea wherein some figure of apocalypse, man or beast, still lies submerged.&lt;br /&gt;
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Critics, however, are of many ilks, and for some the mantic role is as foreign as Elijah&#039;s. I wish to force no prophecies in the mouths of students of literature. Still, it is not unreasonable to ask that criticism evolve a method which takes deeper cognizance of the evolving character of life as of literature. The point is almost too obvious: contemporary letters can be judged as little by the standards of pure formalism as, let us say, Romantic poetry can we evaluated by the strict conventions of neo-Classicism.&lt;br /&gt;
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The problem of criticism, however, must not be left to the indolent spirit of literary relativism. Indeed, the problems may not prove to be one of literary method at all. The problem of criticism is always the challenge of awareness, full awareness of human existence in time and in place, but also outside of both, in the dream world which antecedes all responsibilities. In the end, perhaps, the problem of critics and poets alike is one of human destiny. To say less is to confuse cowardice with modesty.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If there is underlying theme in recent American criticism, it is the implicit theme of crisis, a crisis not merely of literary method but of literature itself, which means of culture and consciousness. The crisis, as Nicolas Berdyaev knew, is not the crisis of humanism but of humanity itself. In the past, periods of crisis have often bred visions of apocalypse.{{sfn|Rowley|nd|p=150-178}} Such visions may come our way again. They may even lurk in a critic&#039;s perplexity. Here is how Krieger put the question: “Or is it, perhaps, that the Kierkegaardian version is right and that our world has itself become the tragic visionary in its unbelief using self-destructive crises to force itself finally to confront the absurdities of earthly reality...? Which is to ask fearfully and even unwillingly, whether we have not been beguiled by aesthetic satisfactions and whether the utterly striped tragic vision may not after all be less illusory than the fullness which shines through tragedy.&amp;quot;{{sfn|Krieger|1960|p=12}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is no time to sit in judgment on the world or to interpret its modern tragedy. From the Revelation of St. John the Divine to Norman O. Brown’s extraordinary PBK address, entitled &amp;quot;Apocalypse,” men have envisioned the destruction of the world and foreseen its resurrection. “Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection: on such the second death has no power...,” St. John says.{{sfn|Revelation|nd|p=xx.6}} But we are not at the first resurrection yet; we are not even beyond madness. Thus from Norman O. Brown: “The alternative to mind is certainly madness... Our real choice is between holy and unholy madness: open your eyes and look around you—madness is in the saddle anyhow.”{{sfn|Brown|1961|p=47}} What task will criticism perform, wavering between holy and unholy madness? What bootless task?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Criticism is no country for old men of any age. Criticism, which was born to behold literature, must still do so and look beyond itself. Tack and rigor may attend all our words, but our words, but our words will avail nothing if man prevails not. What lies beyond criticism? D.H. Lawrence knew. This is what he says in his &#039;&#039;Apocalypse&#039;&#039;: “O lovely green dragon of the new day, the undawned day, &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; &#039;&#039;come&#039;&#039; in touch, and release us from the horrid grip of the evil-smelling old Logos! Come in silence, and say nothing. Come in touch, in soft new touch like a spring-time, and say nothing.”{{sfn|Lawrence|1931|pp. 233 ff}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{Template:Aade-sm}}&lt;br /&gt;
==Notes==&lt;br /&gt;
{{notelist}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Citations==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Reflist|20em}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Works Cited==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Refbegin|40em}}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Adams |first=Robert Martin |date=1962 |title=Surface and Symbol: The Consistency of James Joyce&#039;s Ulysses |location=New York |publisher=Oxford University Press |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Bachelard |first=Gaston |date=1963 |title=Lautréamont |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Barthes|first=Roland |date=1959 |title=Le Degré Zéro de L&#039;Ecriture  |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Blanchot |first=Maurice|date=1959 |title= Le Livre à Venir |location=Paris |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last=Brown |first=Norman O.|date=1961 |title=Apocalypse. |url= |journal=Harper&#039;s|volume= |issue= |pages= |doi= |access-date= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Buber|first=Martin |date=1955 | title=Between Man and Man |location=Boston |publisher=Harcourt, Brace, &amp;amp; World |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Camus|first=Albert |date=1961 |title=Resistance, Rebellion, and Death |location=New York |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Durrell |first=Lawrence and Alfred Perles |date=1961 |title=Art and Outrage: A Correspondence about Henry Miller |location=New York |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Frye|first=Northrop |date=1963 |title=The Well-Tempered Critic|location=Bloomington |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger|first=Murray |date=1959 |title=The Myth of Sisyphus|location=New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Krieger |first=Murray |date=1960 |title=The Tragic Vision |location=New York |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lawrence |first=D.H. |date=1931 |title= Apocalypse |location=Florence |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Lewis|first=R.W.B. |date=1959 |title=The Picaresque Saint|location=Philadelphia and New York|page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Mauriac|first=Claude |date=1959 |title=The New Literature |page=|ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Meyer|first=Leonard B. |date=1963 |title=The End of the Renaissance |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=Henry |date=1939 |title=The Cosmological Eye |location=Norfork |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Miller |first=James E., Karl Shapiro and Bernice Slote|date=1960 |title=Start With the Sun|location=Lincoln |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Ong|first=Walter J. |date=1962 |title=The Barbarian Within |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last= Rowley |first= H.H.|title= The Relevance of Apocalyptic&#039;&#039; |location=New York |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Sartre|first=Jean-Paul |date=1948 |title=Situations II |location=Paris |page= |ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite journal |last1=Trilling |first1=Lionel |date=1962 |title=On the Modern Element in Modern Literature |journal=The Partisan Review Anthology |volume= |issue= |pages= | ref=harv }}&lt;br /&gt;
* {{cite book |last=Wellek |first=René |date=1963 |title=Concepts of Criticism |url= |location=New Haven|page=|isbn= |author-link= |ref=harv }}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7902</id>
		<title>Talk:An American Dream Expanded</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7902"/>
		<updated>2019-04-24T14:52:35Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: /* Discussion */&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Welcome to the digital Humanities project, &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded. This page will facilitate the discussion on the development of this project, beginning in the spring of 2019.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Purview==&lt;br /&gt;
This project aims to create a critical and cultural context around the composition and subsequent reaction to [[Norman Mailer]]’s novel &#039;&#039;[[An American Dream]]&#039;&#039;. It will begin with [[J. Michael Lennon]]’s 2004 &#039;&#039;Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969&#039;&#039;. Additional interviews, reviews, essays, and miscellany will be added as they are collected, permissions cleared, and digitized.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Access==&lt;br /&gt;
Participation requires:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;An account on Project Mailer&#039;&#039;&#039;. This cannot be created by users, but must be done by the editor, [[Gerald R. Lucas]]. [[grl:Contact|Send him an email]] requesting an account (please include the username you would like).&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;Access to original documents&#039;&#039;&#039;. Original documents are stored on [https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1GGktIf5f9wvHRjf-uKi2oCQkWAP1S5d0?usp=sharing Google Drive]. Please request access using your Google account. There will be numerous source documents we will be working with on this project.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==To Do==&lt;br /&gt;
See the to-do list on the talk page for &#039;&#039;[[AAD:Letters|Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969]]&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{to do|2}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Discussion==&lt;br /&gt;
. . .&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|grlucas}} Link to my PM Sandbox. Please give feedback when you can and let me know if I have linked this to the wrong location. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox|Dmcgonagill/sandbox for PM]]([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:43, 30 March 2019 (UTC))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} My article is ready to be moved from my sandbox to PM. Am I supposed to move it or are you supposed to review it and then move it?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 17:53, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dillbug}} OK, looking good, but it&#039;s not quite ready. All citations should be formatted correctly using the citation templates for whatever it is you&#039;re citing, like a [[Template:Cite_book|book]] or [[w:Template:Cite_journal|journal article]]. Simply cut and paste the template and fill in the info for each reference (many can already be found on the site&#039;s [[Criticism|crit bibliography]]). Use [[Existentialism, Violent Liberation, and Racialized Masculinities: Norman Mailer’s “The White Negro” and An American Dream|McKinley&#039;s article]] as a guide. The notice up top does not really make sense, either. Next, you need to convert all parenthetical citations to [[Template:Sfn|shortened footnotes]]. Again, use the McKinley article for your reference. I&#039;ll do one or two for you as an example. Finally, I see some typos. Be sure you proof it well. Thanks. (I fixed the beginning for you and gave you some examples to work with.) —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 21:25, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I tried to add two articles from the Misc. drive and am having issues with getting the image. I am going to continue to try and add the images.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:28, 10 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have attempted to post a review, an article to the Gallery, and a Snippet. Please advise if I have done so correctly. I would like to do more but do not want to until I am sure I am on the right track.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 16:57, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Looking good. I cleaned up the language a bit. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Please take a look at the news paper review by William F. Buckley, Jr. at [[User:Dillbug/sandbox.review#Sort_of_Conservative]] and see if the review is ready to be moved to the main page. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:22, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Check spelling of his name. Mailer should only be linked once — usually the first time he is mentioned. Otherwise, proofread and it looks good. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have made the necessary corrections. I do believe, the article is now ready to be moved. Do you want me to try to move it, or will you?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 11:59, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to |grlucas}} Feeling ready to post this review or edit with further direction or model from you on desired formatting. Please take a look and advise. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox/review]] ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:01, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to |grlucas}} I uploaded envelope from misc folder but due to lack of access to a pdf convertor, it stays in that form and appears to be of little value on Wiki. Searched internet for work arounds but found nothing. I&#039;m leaving upload but not adding it to gallery. Please advise. Thanks! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 14:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Yes, that&#039;s right. I would have to install the PDF viewer here. Do you think I should? —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 19:52, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} Yes, please. Increased group contribution would result. Thank you! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:07, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} OK, but give me a bit of time. I&#039;ll get to is ASAP. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:42, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I edited the advertising copy for the gallery. Please take a look at the link and let me know if I am supposed to add the reviews that have been crossed out. I did not know how to cross through them once posted. [[An_American_Dream_Expanded/Advertising_Copy]] Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:20, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Nice work. I took out the third image, since it was only of a blank page. You needn&#039;t worry about the x-out items, unless you want. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:38, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I transcribed the letter in my Trotter sandbox. Please review and advise on what to do for the illegible words. Thank you. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 12:32, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Mango Masala}} Could you give me a link, please? Thanks. —07:38, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} Thank you for reviewing. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 10:52, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== &#039;&#039;MR&#039;&#039; Articles for this Project ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
These are available in the shared Google drive under &#039;&#039;Mailer Review&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 3: Laist: “&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;: American Existentialism”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 5: Sermeus: “Norman Mailer’s Mythmaking in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; and ‘The White’”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 6: McKinley: “Mailer’s Modern Myth: Reexamining Violence and Masculinity in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 7: Batchelor: “Visions of the American Dream: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Bob Dylan, and Norman Mailer Probe at the Heart of the National Idea”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Press ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} We might be getting some press about our recent contributions to this project. As you know, Project Mailer is an official site of the Norman Mailer Society, so what we do here is important. Mailer’s biographer [[JML|Mike Lennon]] has expressed his appreciation for our efforts and others have shown interest in writing about our project! I just wanted to let you know. I’m putting together a press release about what we’ve accomplished this semester, so be sure we’re finishing up with our best, most conscientious work. Your efforts, as always, are very much appreciated. Thanks for all the hard work and congratulations for a great showing! Let me know below if there&#039;s anything you think I should add to the press release. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 20:45, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent news!  -[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] (User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 09:53, 18 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|grlucas}} Sweet! Mention of quick turn around from beginner to able to contribute to project would be cool. It&#039;s pretty amazing the progress.~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:10, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Indeed, I had planned to mention just that. I’m going to write something for the credits page, too. They may be the same thing. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:33, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}}Wow! I did not realize others would be able to view our work, or even appreciate it. I have so enjoyed these past two weeks, now that I have a better understanding of how to edit in Wikipedia. I am truly going to miss editing Norman Mailer!(I would have never thought I would say such a thing a couple of weeks ago.) This class is so different from any class I have taken in the past and the best part, is your assignments are real world work, where what you do makes a difference. I feel a very real sense of accomplishment. Thank you Dr. Lucas for allowing me to be a part of PM.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:08, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dillbug}} Awesome! You all should feel a sense of accomplishment. Everyone has grown so much in just a few short weeks. I&#039;m proud of all the work we&#039;ve accomplished. You all should be proud of yourselves, too. And who says you have to stop when the semester ends? I hope you all keep editing, especially on Wikipedia. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:00, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent News. Happy to see our work is real world experience. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 12:54, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Cool beans. Congrats, all. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 18:41, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} That&#039;s very exciting. Everyone should be well chuffed. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 13:19, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Additions ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, longer gallery additions should probably have their own pages — like the Buckley review; the long ad that lists excerpts from reviews would also be a good candidate for its own page. We could mostly just make them subpages of [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]]. Thanks. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:51, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} OK, all these text-heavy additions &#039;&#039;&#039;should&#039;&#039;&#039; have their own pages. Here&#039;s an example: [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews]]. I appreciate Dillbug’s enthusiasm here. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 17:48, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have rewritten Book Week article 19650130. It is in my [[User:Dillbug/sandbox_BookWeek|sandbox]]. Please review to see if ready to repost. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:38, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug}} You probably should just concentrate on the part of the page that has to do with Mailer. It&#039;s only a small section. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 13:26, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{Reply to|Jules Carry}}Thank you for the feedback. I edited the picture under the gallery to reflect the changes.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:02, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== PDFs ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, I have tried to install the PDF handler extension for MediaWiki, but my hosting service is missing a crucial piece of software. I&#039;m going to see if they can help, but I would suggest we continue as if we will &#039;&#039;&#039;not be able to get PDFs to embed&#039;&#039;&#039;. Sorry about that. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:23, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas|waebo|Dmcgonagill|Mango Masala}} I am back online, finally, after the storms, and am able to convert one page PDFs to JPGs. Is there a trick to dealing with a multi-page PDF? Every time I try to convert to a JPG, I get separate files instead of one scrolling picture, like the PDF has. Any ideas, anyone? I&#039;m going to try more tomorrow and work on editing as well-[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 19:16, 20 April 2019  (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} I know little about it - sorry. I&#039;m trying to sort out why the left side of the letter I added is missing. It appears correctly when you click the image, but not when viewing on main page. It appeared correctly in my sandbox. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 19:33, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} Isn&#039;t that frustrating! I know things like that leave me scratching my head and make me just want to hit some chocolate and do some stress eating! [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 09:56, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} You did not follow the formatting for the gallery. I fixed it. 😁 —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:57, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I see. Thank you for correcting.[[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 11:46, 22 April 2019 (EDT) &lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Clean-Up ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} OK, all, the gallery is starting to look a bit crowded. Let&#039;s clean it up by:&lt;br /&gt;
# getting rid of multi-page images. Link to another page where you can display all the images and a transcript.&lt;br /&gt;
# transcribing all longer pieces on their own subpages. (For a guide: see how the Buckley review is done.)&lt;br /&gt;
# filing images in their correct sections.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thanks! —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 11:02, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Will do. Working on editing letters right now and then will move over to the gallery... [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 10:11:14, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I will begin cleaning my submissions up next week and transcribe the longer pieces on their own subpages. I am unclear on what you mean by &amp;quot;filing images in their correct sections&amp;quot;.  Which ones are filed in the wrong place? Oh, hope you have a very Happy Easter!--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 16:25, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I noticed that there&#039;s already an early mock up of the cover, so is the Mock up that I posted a repeat of that mock up? It was on the to do list, but I&#039;ll take it off if it&#039;s just a repeat.  Going to have to work on the multi-page images. They&#039;re giving me trouble, but will figure them out... [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 16:49, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to| JVbird}} Yes, that mock up image has been posted already. As for multiple-page images: why not just post the first page in the gallery and others on the subpage? {{reply to| Dillbug}} I have already moved some items into other sections. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:31, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I&#039;ll take the mock up image down and then fix the multiple-page images. Will be later today, though. [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 07:57, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I&#039;m also working on figuring out how to update my multipage images.[[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 16:57, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to|Grlucas|Sherita Sims-Jones}} I also posted some JPGs with multipage images, so I&#039;m going to have to get mine corrected as well. That will have to be tomorrow, though, it looks like. = I have class tonight with my online students and it&#039;s been a long day. Sherita, if you figure it out, let me know. I thought I had had a breakthrough with the JPG files, but the multipage idea I had just isn&#039;t the solution! [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 17:45, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::::{{Reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, can you check that what I have done with the Saturday Review and North American Review posts is what you mean? I separated the images and posted both as individual pages. Thanks, Josef [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 13:54, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to |grlucas}} Example of your #2 request somewhere? &amp;amp; never heard back about my Didion work...Good? No? Suggestions? Thanks.~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:33, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} Friends, Part 1 of directive 1 above complete (Think I did it right!). Please check me. And, need help on adding corresponding transcripts. See links below for claiming &amp;amp; easy access if you are on board with what I started. (I used [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|&amp;quot;Major Reviews for a Major Novel&amp;quot;]]) as a model: ([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 14:42, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
#&amp;lt;s&amp;gt;[[An American Dream Expanded/Advertising Copy|Advertising Copy]]&amp;lt;/s&amp;gt; Dillbug will try to do&lt;br /&gt;
# &amp;lt;s&amp;gt;[[An American Dream Expanded/Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965|Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965]] &amp;lt;/s&amp;gt;JVbird will do&lt;br /&gt;
# &amp;lt;s&amp;gt;[[&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; Expanded/&#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 22, 1965|&#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 22, 1965]]&amp;lt;/s&amp;gt; I will do--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 13:28, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
# [[An American Dream Expanded/Mailer hosts party for Jose Torres, Herald Tribune April 1, 1965|Mailer hosts party for Jose Torres, Herald Tribune April 1, 1965]] - ([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 15:33, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
# [[An American Dream Expanded/Scene: Inside an Army Tent in Vietnam March 22, 1965|Scene: Inside an Army Tent in Vietnam March 22, 1965]] ssimsjones will do[[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 18:55, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dmcgonagill}} Hey, Dana. I&#039;ll take the Publishers Weekly Press Conference and will be glad to do anything else as well. Just let me know.  I&#039;ll go in and check what you did, but that won&#039;t happen until tonight. If you get a chance, can you check me on the way I&#039;ve done the multi-page  reviews? I&#039;m still not sure I&#039;m doing it right (North American Review, for example). [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 14:51, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Dmcgonagill}} Dana, the transcipt for the Publishers Weekly Press Conference is up but I&#039;m not sure about the format, since the original has columns. Are the columns necessary in the transcription? See what you think, please. --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 12:51, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|JVbird}} Where is your work at? Send me link and I&#039;ll definitely check it out! Thanks!([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 15:29, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Dmcgonagill}} Dana, the multi-pages look great. Thank You very much. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 18:57, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Clean-up 2 ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} All, thanks for all the work. Please use [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews for a Major Novel]] as a guide to posting your gallery stuff. Just posting images will not suffice; there should be a transcript on a separate subpage. They should be subpages, as I mentioned, of [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]], too: just look at the model above. Thanks. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 18:05, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} This is where I am stumped. I&#039;ve gone to the Wiki page for creating a subpage https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:User_pages#User_pages_and_user_space but I am just not getting how to create the subpage. I went to the Major Reviews for a Major Novel and I see what it is doing, that the image has a link to a separate page with the image and the transcript, and I want to be able to do that. I&#039;m missing the steps for doing it, though. Does that make sense? Josef --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 08:27, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} I sent you an email that should help you create it. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 09:07, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} Here&#039;s how I created the example above: &amp;lt;code&amp;gt;&amp;lt;nowiki&amp;gt;[[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews for a Major Novel]]&amp;lt;/nowiki&amp;gt;&amp;lt;/code&amp;gt; off the [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]] page. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 09:10, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas|Sherita Sims-Jones}}  Thanks, Dr. Lucas and Sherita, for the help. Working on these posts now and getting them set up correctly. --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 12:53, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, one more question so I make sure I am doing this correctly. I transcribed the North American (Robert Dana) Review and created a sub page [[TheNorthAmericanReview/RobertDana]]  My question is this. Should it stay as a subpage for now while I&#039;m cleaning it up before I link it to the PM page itself and can you look at it quickly to make sure it&#039;s actually what the subpage should look like? Thanks!  --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 13:27, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to| JVbird}} No, it should be a subpage of &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded, like my example above. I think this was fixed, and since it&#039;s a review, was moved to the bib — it&#039;s fun being a team, huh? 👍🏼 —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:42, 24 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|JVbird}} I hope you don&#039;t mind, I added links and italics where needed to your article.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 17:43, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded/Trotter_Letter,_March_14,_1965&amp;diff=7890</id>
		<title>Talk:An American Dream Expanded/Trotter Letter, March 14, 1965</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded/Trotter_Letter,_March_14,_1965&amp;diff=7890"/>
		<updated>2019-04-24T01:45:29Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: Trotter sub page&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{reply to|grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, this is my sub page for the Trotter letter. Does is look correct? Please advise how I should address the words I can&#039;t distinguish. Thank you. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 21:45, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=An_American_Dream_Expanded/Trotter_Letter,_March_14,_1965&amp;diff=7889</id>
		<title>An American Dream Expanded/Trotter Letter, March 14, 1965</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=An_American_Dream_Expanded/Trotter_Letter,_March_14,_1965&amp;diff=7889"/>
		<updated>2019-04-24T01:31:45Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{byline|last=Trotter |first=William R.}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 1847 Cassamia Place &lt;br /&gt;
 Charlotte&lt;br /&gt;
 March 14, 1965&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ahom, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It has become the fashion for conservative book reviewers, as well as those all-too-numerous people who prefer their culture in neat, easily digested packages, to teh-teh loudly over every new book by Norman Mailer and say, with solemn tones of ponderous righteousness, &amp;quot;Why doesn&#039;t the poor bastard give up? Everybody knows NAKED AND THE DEAD was the only good thing he&#039;ll ever write? And why must he go mucking-about trying to do messy things like existential political articles? They&#039;re so uncomfortable to read.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fortunately for America&#039;s artistic consciousness, Mailer has refused to allow himself to quietly expire after writing one fine novel which won the approbation of all sorts of people and critics, and continues to write as he damn well pleases without caring how many people he makes uncomfortable. The trouble with American culture is that too many people like Dan Wallace consume its products. His snotty and condescending review in this Sunday&#039;s Observer is a prime example of what happens in our society when the &amp;quot;respectable&amp;quot; people gang-up on the visionary outlaw and conspire to pole-axe him everytime he opens his mouth until he either becomes so rattled that he writes meaningless far-out drivel, or accepts their terms of surrender and writes neat, safe, impeccable little novels. Either way is artistic death for the artist, and cultural sedation for the timorous society that murders him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mailer is one of the few, incredibly few, writers or artists of any kind in our whole land who is willing to stake his reputation, his career, even his very sanity, on the once-revered principle that the artist is the standard-bearer, the vatic spokesman, the prophet...he is courageous enough to make an ass out of himself half the time, in order to say something important the other half. Mailer has more courage, more integrity, and more passion than any number of sweet, oh-so-precious writers like Salinger and Updike, who never show public concern over any issue. We live in a neurotic anti-emotional age, and our society prefers to hear truths or ideas whispered discreetly rather than shouted passionately. Anyone who commits himself publically with any degree of passion whatever, offends our sense of propriety. No, Mailer&#039;s style is not impeccable, nor are his ideas always profound- the ideas of Dostoyevsky, Faulkner, Freud, Sartre, were not always profound either. Genius has rough edges- that means, you&#039;re likely to get splinters in your mind from contemplating what it has to say. Aren&#039;t those splinters nasty, though? Don&#039;t they make you uncomfortable? Oh, that&#039;s tooooo bad, here&#039;s the least Updike story in the New Yorker- see the pretty metaphors? Aren&#039;t they glittery and spotless and impressive? See the new Salinger collection- aren&#039;t all those nice stories nice? Maybe they all do seem like an endless re-write of the same yearn, but they&#039;re all so cleverly literary!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Carp away, damn you all. Mailer will survive all the back-alley ambushes laid for him by people like Wallace and the reviewers of &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;????????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt;. In a literary world where most of the champions are featherweights with glass-jaws, it&#039;s a dangerous life being one of the few real pro heavyweights. Everything he publishes is important, and a novel with the daring and vigor of An American Dream cannot be dismissed with pathetic references to Ian Fleming (my Lord...) or accusations of pretension and bad taste. The bad taste lies not with a man like Mailer, but with the middle-brow public that consumes television and the books of Wouk, Michener and Harold Robbins. This nation has two choices, RIGHT NOW, (not twenty years from now): it can wake up and drop its frontiersman hatred of intellectual attainment and &amp;quot;kulcher&#039; and be willing to dare, to live more vividly, to stop being afraid of sex, life, death or hell&#039;s very passions; or it can muddle through on its own momentum for perhaps another half-century &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; the rot sets in for good. The neo-Renaissance could happen here, or we could miss our &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; utterly. It&#039;s a hard job waking up 200 million consciousnesses, but Mailer and a few others are throwing buckets of ice water into our faces as hard as they can. If the doom comes, we&#039;ll have only our own bad tastes to blame. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the beginning, Mister Wallace, Sartre&#039;s books were full of pretension, so.....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yours sincerely, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
William R. Trotter&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Archive]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Full Letters]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=An_American_Dream_Expanded/Trotter_Letter,_March_14,_1965&amp;diff=7883</id>
		<title>An American Dream Expanded/Trotter Letter, March 14, 1965</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=An_American_Dream_Expanded/Trotter_Letter,_March_14,_1965&amp;diff=7883"/>
		<updated>2019-04-23T22:41:41Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: Trotter Letter (sub page)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{byline|last=Trotter |first=William R.}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 1847 Cassamia Place &lt;br /&gt;
 Charlotte&lt;br /&gt;
 March 14, 1965&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ahom, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It has become the fashion for conservative book reviewers, as well as those all-too-numerous people who prefer their culture in neat, easily digested packages, to teh-teh loudly over every new book by Norman Mailer and say, with solemn tones of ponderous righteousness, &amp;quot;Why doesn&#039;t the poor bastard give up? Everybody knows NAKED AND THE DEAD was the only good thing he&#039;ll ever write? And why must he go mucking-about trying to do messy things like existential political articles? They&#039;re so uncomfortable to read.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fortunately for America&#039;s artistic consciousness, Mailer has refused to allow himself to quietly expire after writing one fine novel which won the approbation of all sorts of people and critics, and continues to write as he damn well pleases without caring how many people he makes uncomfortable. The trouble with American culture is that too many people like Dan Wallace consume its products. His snotty and condescending review in this Sunday&#039;s Observer is a prime example of what happens in our society when the &amp;quot;respectable&amp;quot; people gang-up on the visionary outlaw and conspire to pole-axe him everytime he opens his mouth until he either becomes so rattled that he writes meaningless far-out drivel, or accepts their terms of surrender and writes neat, safe, impeccable little novels. Either way is artistic death for the artist, and cultural sedation for the timorous society that murders him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mailer is one of the few, incredibly few, writers or artists of any kind in our whole land who is willing to stake his reputation, his career, even his very sanity, on the once-revered principle that the artist is the standard-bearer, the vatic spokesman, the prophet...he is courageous enough to make an ass out of himself half the time, in order to say something important the other half. Mailer has more courage, more integrity, and more passion than any number of sweet, oh-so-precious writers like Salinger and Updike, who never show public concern over any issue. We live in a neurotic anti-emotional age, and our society prefers to hear truths or ideas whispered discreetly rather than shouted passionately. Anyone who commits himself publically with any degree of passion whatever, offends our sense of propriety. No, Mailer&#039;s style is not impeccable, nor are his ideas always profound- the ideas of Dostoyevsky, Faulkner, Freud, Sartre, were not always profound either. Genius has rough edges- that means, you&#039;re likely to get splinters in your mind from contemplating what it has to say. Aren&#039;t those splinters nasty, though? Don&#039;t they make you uncomfortable? Oh, that&#039;s tooooo bad, here&#039;s the least Updike story in the New Yorker- see the pretty metaphors? Aren&#039;t they glittery and spotless and impressive? See the new Salinger collection- aren&#039;t all those nice stories nice? Maybe they all do seem like an endless re-write of the same yearn, but they&#039;re all so cleverly literary!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Carp away, damn you all. Mailer will survive all the back-alley ambushes laid for him by people like Wallace and the reviewers of &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;????????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt;. In a literary world where most of the champions are featherweights with glass-jaws, it&#039;s a dangerous life being one of the few real pro heavyweights. Everything he publishes is important, and a novel with the daring and vigor of An American Dream cannot be dismissed with pathetic references to Ian Fleming (my Lord...) or accusations of pretension and bad taste. The bad taste lies not with a man like Mailer, but with the middle-brow public that consumes television and the books of Wouk, Michener and Harold Robbins. This nation has two choices, RIGHT NOW, (not twenty years from now): it can wake up and drop its frontiersman hatred of intellectual attainment and &amp;quot;kulcher&#039; and be willing to dare, to live more vividly, to stop being afraid of sex, life, death or hell&#039;s very passions; or it can muddle through on its own momentum for perhaps another half-century &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; the rot sets in for good. The neo-Renaissance could happen here, or we could miss our &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; utterly. It&#039;s a hard job waking up 200 million consciousnesses, but Mailer and a few others are throwing buckets of ice water into our faces as hard as they can. If the doom comes, we&#039;ll have only our own bad tastes to blame. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the beginning, Mister Wallace, Sartre&#039;s books were full of pretension, so.....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yours sincerely, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
William R. Trotter&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Archive]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Full Letters]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User_talk:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7821</id>
		<title>User talk:Mango Masala/sandboxTrotter1965</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User_talk:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7821"/>
		<updated>2019-04-23T16:36:32Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{reply to|grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I added the letter from Trotter to AAD Expanded. Please review as I&#039;m uncertain why the left half is chopped until you click on image, then it appears correctly. I tested here and it looked as it should. Thank you. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 19:21, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Mango Masala}} The coding was incorrect; I fixed it. However, that letter should be transcribed on its own page, I think. Are you willing to do that? Thanks! —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 11:16, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} Thanks. Yes, I can transcribe the letter into my sandbox for your review. Once printed, it&#039;s much easier for me to read.[[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 10:56, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, as the text is faded, I can&#039;t discern some of the words. I&#039;ve marked them with question marks. Please let me know how I should proceed with this transcribed letter. Thank you. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 12:36, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7820</id>
		<title>Talk:An American Dream Expanded</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7820"/>
		<updated>2019-04-23T16:33:08Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: /* Discussion */&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Welcome to the digital Humanities project, &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded. This page will facilitate the discussion on the development of this project, beginning in the spring of 2019.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Purview==&lt;br /&gt;
This project aims to create a critical and cultural context around the composition and subsequent reaction to [[Norman Mailer]]’s novel &#039;&#039;[[An American Dream]]&#039;&#039;. It will begin with [[J. Michael Lennon]]’s 2004 &#039;&#039;Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969&#039;&#039;. Additional interviews, reviews, essays, and miscellany will be added as they are collected, permissions cleared, and digitized.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Access==&lt;br /&gt;
Participation requires:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;An account on Project Mailer&#039;&#039;&#039;. This cannot be created by users, but must be done by the editor, [[Gerald R. Lucas]]. [[grl:Contact|Send him an email]] requesting an account (please include the username you would like).&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;Access to original documents&#039;&#039;&#039;. Original documents are stored on [https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1GGktIf5f9wvHRjf-uKi2oCQkWAP1S5d0?usp=sharing Google Drive]. Please request access using your Google account. There will be numerous source documents we will be working with on this project.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==To Do==&lt;br /&gt;
See the to-do list on the talk page for &#039;&#039;[[AAD:Letters|Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969]]&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{to do|2}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Discussion==&lt;br /&gt;
. . .&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|grlucas}} Link to my PM Sandbox. Please give feedback when you can and let me know if I have linked this to the wrong location. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox|Dmcgonagill/sandbox for PM]]([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:43, 30 March 2019 (UTC))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} My article is ready to be moved from my sandbox to PM. Am I supposed to move it or are you supposed to review it and then move it?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 17:53, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dillbug}} OK, looking good, but it&#039;s not quite ready. All citations should be formatted correctly using the citation templates for whatever it is you&#039;re citing, like a [[Template:Cite_book|book]] or [[w:Template:Cite_journal|journal article]]. Simply cut and paste the template and fill in the info for each reference (many can already be found on the site&#039;s [[Criticism|crit bibliography]]). Use [[Existentialism, Violent Liberation, and Racialized Masculinities: Norman Mailer’s “The White Negro” and An American Dream|McKinley&#039;s article]] as a guide. The notice up top does not really make sense, either. Next, you need to convert all parenthetical citations to [[Template:Sfn|shortened footnotes]]. Again, use the McKinley article for your reference. I&#039;ll do one or two for you as an example. Finally, I see some typos. Be sure you proof it well. Thanks. (I fixed the beginning for you and gave you some examples to work with.) —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 21:25, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I tried to add two articles from the Misc. drive and am having issues with getting the image. I am going to continue to try and add the images.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:28, 10 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have attempted to post a review, an article to the Gallery, and a Snippet. Please advise if I have done so correctly. I would like to do more but do not want to until I am sure I am on the right track.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 16:57, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Looking good. I cleaned up the language a bit. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Please take a look at the news paper review by William F. Buckley, Jr. at [[User:Dillbug/sandbox.review#Sort_of_Conservative]] and see if the review is ready to be moved to the main page. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:22, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Check spelling of his name. Mailer should only be linked once — usually the first time he is mentioned. Otherwise, proofread and it looks good. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have made the necessary corrections. I do believe, the article is now ready to be moved. Do you want me to try to move it, or will you?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 11:59, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to |grlucas}} Feeling ready to post this review or edit with further direction or model from you on desired formatting. Please take a look and advise. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox/review]] ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:01, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to |grlucas}} I uploaded envelope from misc folder but due to lack of access to a pdf convertor, it stays in that form and appears to be of little value on Wiki. Searched internet for work arounds but found nothing. I&#039;m leaving upload but not adding it to gallery. Please advise. Thanks! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 14:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Yes, that&#039;s right. I would have to install the PDF viewer here. Do you think I should? —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 19:52, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} Yes, please. Increased group contribution would result. Thank you! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:07, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} OK, but give me a bit of time. I&#039;ll get to is ASAP. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:42, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I edited the advertising copy for the gallery. Please take a look at the link and let me know if I am supposed to add the reviews that have been crossed out. I did not know how to cross through them once posted. [[An_American_Dream_Expanded/Advertising_Copy]] Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:20, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I transcribed the letter in my Trotter sandbox. Please review and advise on what to do for the illegible words. Thank you. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 12:32, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== &#039;&#039;MR&#039;&#039; Articles for this Project ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
These are available in the shared Google drive under &#039;&#039;Mailer Review&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 3: Laist: “&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;: American Existentialism”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 5: Sermeus: “Norman Mailer’s Mythmaking in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; and ‘The White’”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 6: McKinley: “Mailer’s Modern Myth: Reexamining Violence and Masculinity in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 7: Batchelor: “Visions of the American Dream: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Bob Dylan, and Norman Mailer Probe at the Heart of the National Idea”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Press ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} We might be getting some press about our recent contributions to this project. As you know, Project Mailer is an official site of the Norman Mailer Society, so what we do here is important. Mailer’s biographer [[JML|Mike Lennon]] has expressed his appreciation for our efforts and others have shown interest in writing about our project! I just wanted to let you know. I’m putting together a press release about what we’ve accomplished this semester, so be sure we’re finishing up with our best, most conscientious work. Your efforts, as always, are very much appreciated. Thanks for all the hard work and congratulations for a great showing! Let me know below if there&#039;s anything you think I should add to the press release. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 20:45, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent news!  -[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] (User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 09:53, 18 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|grlucas}} Sweet! Mention of quick turn around from beginner to able to contribute to project would be cool. It&#039;s pretty amazing the progress.~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:10, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Indeed, I had planned to mention just that. I’m going to write something for the credits page, too. They may be the same thing. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:33, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}}Wow! I did not realize others would be able to view our work, or even appreciate it. I have so enjoyed these past two weeks, now that I have a better understanding of how to edit in Wikipedia. I am truly going to miss editing Norman Mailer!(I would have never thought I would say such a thing a couple of weeks ago.) This class is so different from any class I have taken in the past and the best part, is your assignments are real world work, where what you do makes a difference. I feel a very real sense of accomplishment. Thank you Dr. Lucas for allowing me to be a part of PM.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:08, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dillbug}} Awesome! You all should feel a sense of accomplishment. Everyone has grown so much in just a few short weeks. I&#039;m proud of all the work we&#039;ve accomplished. You all should be proud of yourselves, too. And who says you have to stop when the semester ends? I hope you all keep editing, especially on Wikipedia. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:00, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent News. Happy to see our work is real world experience. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 12:54, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Cool beans. Congrats, all. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 18:41, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} That&#039;s very exciting. Everyone should be well chuffed. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 13:19, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Additions ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, longer gallery additions should probably have their own pages — like the Buckley review; the long ad that lists excerpts from reviews would also be a good candidate for its own page. We could mostly just make them subpages of [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]]. Thanks. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:51, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} OK, all these text-heavy additions &#039;&#039;&#039;should&#039;&#039;&#039; have their own pages. Here&#039;s an example: [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews]]. I appreciate Dillbug’s enthusiasm here. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 17:48, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have rewritten Book Week article 19650130. It is in my [[User:Dillbug/sandbox_BookWeek|sandbox]]. Please review to see if ready to repost. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:38, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug}} You probably should just concentrate on the part of the page that has to do with Mailer. It&#039;s only a small section. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 13:26, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{Reply to|Jules Carry}}Thank you for the feedback. I edited the picture under the gallery to reflect the changes.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:02, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== PDFs ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, I have tried to install the PDF handler extension for MediaWiki, but my hosting service is missing a crucial piece of software. I&#039;m going to see if they can help, but I would suggest we continue as if we will &#039;&#039;&#039;not be able to get PDFs to embed&#039;&#039;&#039;. Sorry about that. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:23, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas|waebo|Dmcgonagill|Mango Masala}} I am back online, finally, after the storms, and am able to convert one page PDFs to JPGs. Is there a trick to dealing with a multi-page PDF? Every time I try to convert to a JPG, I get separate files instead of one scrolling picture, like the PDF has. Any ideas, anyone? I&#039;m going to try more tomorrow and work on editing as well-[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 19:16, 20 April 2019  (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} I know little about it - sorry. I&#039;m trying to sort out why the left side of the letter I added is missing. It appears correctly when you click the image, but not when viewing on main page. It appeared correctly in my sandbox. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 19:33, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} Isn&#039;t that frustrating! I know things like that leave me scratching my head and make me just want to hit some chocolate and do some stress eating! [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 09:56, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} You did not follow the formatting for the gallery. I fixed it. 😁 —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:57, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I see. Thank you for correcting.[[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 11:46, 22 April 2019 (EDT) &lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Clean-Up ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} OK, all, the gallery is starting to look a bit crowded. Let&#039;s clean it up by:&lt;br /&gt;
# getting rid of multi-page images. Link to another page where you can display all the images and a transcript.&lt;br /&gt;
# transcribing all longer pieces on their own subpages. (For a guide: see how the Buckley review is done.)&lt;br /&gt;
# filing images in their correct sections.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thanks! —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 11:02, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Will do. Working on editing letters right now and then will move over to the gallery... [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 10:11:14, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I will begin cleaning my submissions up next week and transcribe the longer pieces on their own subpages. I am unclear on what you mean by &amp;quot;filing images in their correct sections&amp;quot;.  Which ones are filed in the wrong place? Oh, hope you have a very Happy Easter!--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 16:25, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I noticed that there&#039;s already an early mock up of the cover, so is the Mock up that I posted a repeat of that mock up? It was on the to do list, but I&#039;ll take it off if it&#039;s just a repeat.  Going to have to work on the multi-page images. They&#039;re giving me trouble, but will figure them out... [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 16:49, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to| JVbird}} Yes, that mock up image has been posted already. As for multiple-page images: why not just post the first page in the gallery and others on the subpage? {{reply to| Dillbug}} I have already moved some items into other sections. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:31, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I&#039;ll take the mock up image down and then fix the multiple-page images. Will be later today, though. [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 07:57, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I&#039;m also working on figuring out how to update my multipage images.[[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 16:57, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to|Grlucas|Sherita Sims-Jones}} I also posted some JPGs with multipage images, so I&#039;m going to have to get mine corrected as well. That will have to be tomorrow, though, it looks like. = I have class tonight with my online students and it&#039;s been a long day. Sherita, if you figure it out, let me know. I thought I had had a breakthrough with the JPG files, but the multipage idea I had just isn&#039;t the solution! [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 17:45, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::::{{Reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, can you check that what I have done with the Saturday Review and North American Review posts is what you mean? I separated the images and posted both as individual pages. Thanks, Josef [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 13:54, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to |grlucas}} Example of your #2 request somewhere? &amp;amp; never heard back about my Didion work...Good? No? Suggestions? Thanks.~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:33, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} Friends, Part 1 of directive 1 above complete (Think I did it right!). Please check me. And, need help on adding corresponding transcripts. See links below for claiming &amp;amp; easy access if you are on board with what I started. (I used [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|&amp;quot;Major Reviews for a Major Novel&amp;quot;]]) as a model: ([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 14:42, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
#&amp;lt;s&amp;gt;[[Advertising Copy]]&amp;lt;/s&amp;gt; Dillbug will try to do&lt;br /&gt;
# [[Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965]] JVbird will do&lt;br /&gt;
# [[&#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 22, 1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
# [[Mailer hosts party for Jose Torres, &#039;&#039;Herald Tribune&#039;&#039; April 1, 1965]] - ([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 15:33, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
# [[Scene: Inside an Army Tent in Vietnam March 22, 1965]] ssimsjones will do[[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 18:55, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dmcgonagill}} Hey, Dana. I&#039;ll take the Publishers Weekly Press Conference and will be glad to do anything else as well. Just let me know.  I&#039;ll go in and check what you did, but that won&#039;t happen until tonight. If you get a chance, can you check me on the way I&#039;ve done the multi-page  reviews? I&#039;m still not sure I&#039;m doing it right (North American Review, for example). [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 14:51, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|JVbird}} Where is your work at? Send me link and I&#039;ll definitely check it out! Thanks!([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 15:29, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Dmcgonagill}} Dana, the multi-pages look great. Thank You very much. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 18:57, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Clean-up 2 ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} All, thanks for all the work. Please use [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews for a Major Novel]] as a guide to posting your gallery stuff. Just posting images will not suffice; there should be a transcript on a separate subpage. They should be subpages, as I mentioned, of [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]], too: just look at the model above. Thanks. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 18:05, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} This is where I am stumped. I&#039;ve gone to the Wiki page for creating a subpage https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:User_pages#User_pages_and_user_space but I am just not getting how to create the subpage. I went to the Major Reviews for a Major Novel and I see what it is doing, that the image has a link to a separate page with the image and the transcript, and I want to be able to do that. I&#039;m missing the steps for doing it, though. Does that make sense? Josef --[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 08:27, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} I sent you an email that should help you create it. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 09:07, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} Here&#039;s how I created the example above: &amp;lt;code&amp;gt;&amp;lt;nowiki&amp;gt;[[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews for a Major Novel]]&amp;lt;/nowiki&amp;gt;&amp;lt;/code&amp;gt; off the [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]] page. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 09:10, 23 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7819</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala/sandboxTrotter1965</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7819"/>
		<updated>2019-04-23T16:26:32Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{byline|last=Trotter |first=William R.}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 1847 Cassamia Place &lt;br /&gt;
 Charlotte&lt;br /&gt;
 March 14, 1965&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ahom, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It has become the fashion for conservative book reviewers, as well as those all-too-numerous people who prefer their culture in neat, easily digested packages, to teh-teh loudly over every new book by Norman Mailer and say, with solemn tones of ponderous righteousness, &amp;quot;Why doesn&#039;t the poor bastard give up? Everybody knows NAKED AND THE DEAD was the only good thing he&#039;ll ever write? And why must he go mucking-about trying to do messy things like existential political articles? They&#039;re so uncomfortable to read.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fortunately for America&#039;s artistic consciousness, Mailer has refused to allow himself to quietly expire after writing one fine novel which won the approbation of all sorts of people and critics, and continues to write as he damn well pleases without caring how many people he makes uncomfortable. The trouble with American culture is that too many people like Dan Wallace consume its products. His snotty and condescending review in this Sunday&#039;s Observer is a prime example of what happens in our society when the &amp;quot;respectable&amp;quot; people gang-up on the visionary outlaw and conspire to pole-axe him everytime he opens his mouth until he either becomes so rattled that he writes meaningless far-out drivel, or accepts their terms of surrender and writes neat, safe, impeccable little novels. Either way is artistic death for the artist, and cultural sedation for the timorous society that murders him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mailer is one of the few, incredibly few, writers or artists of any kind in our whole land who is willing to stake his reputation, his career, even his very sanity, on the once-revered principle that the artist is the standard-bearer, the vatic spokesman, the prophet...he is courageous enough to make an ass out of himself half the time, in order to say something important the other half. Mailer has more courage, more integrity, and more passion than any number of sweet, oh-so-precious writers like Salinger and Updike, who never show public concern over any issue. We live in a neurotic anti-emotional age, and our society prefers to hear truths or ideas whispered discreetly rather than shouted passionately. Anyone who commits himself publically with any degree of passion whatever, offends our sense of propriety. No, Mailer&#039;s style is not impeccable, nor are his ideas always profound- the ideas of Dostoyevsky, Faulkner, Freud, Sartre, were not always profound either. Genius has rough edges- that means, you&#039;re likely to get splinters in your mind from contemplating what it has to say. Aren&#039;t those splinters nasty, though? Don&#039;t they make you uncomfortable? Oh, that&#039;s tooooo bad, here&#039;s the least Updike story in the New Yorker- see the pretty metaphors? Aren&#039;t they glittery and spotless and impressive? See the new Salinger collection- aren&#039;t all those nice stories nice? Maybe they all do seem like an endless re-write of the same yearn, but they&#039;re all so cleverly literary!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Carp away, damn you all. Mailer will survive all the back-alley ambushes laid for him by people like Wallace and the reviewers of &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;????????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt;. In a literary world where most of the champions are featherweights with glass-jaws, it&#039;s a dangerous life being one of the few real pro heavyweights. Everything he publishes is important, and a novel with the daring and vigor of An American Dream cannot be dismissed with pathetic references to Ian Fleming (my Lord...) or accusations of pretension and bad taste. The bad taste lies not with a man like Mailer, but with the middle-brow public that consumes television and the books of Wouk, Michener and Harold Robbins. This nation has two choices, RIGHT NOW, (not twenty years from now): it can wake up and drop its frontiersman hatred of intellectual attainment and &amp;quot;kulcher&#039; and be willing to dare, to live more vividly, to stop being afraid of sex, life, death or hell&#039;s very passions; or it can muddle through on its own momentum for perhaps another half-century &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; the rot sets in for good. The neo-Renaissance could happen here, or we could miss our &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; utterly. It&#039;s a hard job waking up 200 million consciousnesses, but Mailer and a few others are throwing buckets of ice water into our faces as hard as they can. If the doom comes, we&#039;ll have only our own bad tastes to blame. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the beginning, Mister Wallace, Sartre&#039;s book were full of pretension, so.....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yours sincerely, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
William R. Trotter&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Archive]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Full Letters]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7818</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala/sandboxTrotter1965</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7818"/>
		<updated>2019-04-23T16:25:27Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{byline|last=Trotter |first=William R.}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 1847 Cassamia Place &lt;br /&gt;
 Charlotte&lt;br /&gt;
 March 14, 1965&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ahom, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It has become the fashion for conservative book reviewers, as well as those all-too-numerous people who prefer their culture in neat, easily digested packages, to teh-teh loudly over every new book by Norman Mailer and say, with solemn tones of ponderous righteousness, &amp;quot;Why doesn&#039;t the poor bastard give up? Everybody knows NAKED AND THE DEAD was the only good thing he&#039;ll ever write? And why must he go mucking-about trying to do messy things like existential political articles? They&#039;re so uncomfortable to read.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fortunately for America&#039;s artistic consciousness, Mailer has refused to allow himself to quietly expire after writing one fine novel which won the approbation of all sorts of people and critics, and continues to write as he damn well pleases without caring how many people he makes uncomfortable. The trouble with American culture is that too many people like Dan Wallace consume its products. His snotty and condescending review in this Sunday&#039;s Observer is a prime example of what happens in our society when the &amp;quot;respectable&amp;quot; people gang-up on the visionary outlaw and conspire to pole-axe him everytime he opens his mouth until he either becomes so rattled that he writes meaningless far-out drivel, or accepts their terms of surrender and writes neat, safe, impeccable little novels. Either way is artistic death for the artist, and cultural sedation for the timorous society that murders him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mailer is one of the few, incredibly few, writers or artists of any kind in our whole land who is willing to stake his reputation, his career, even his very sanity, on the once-revered principle that the artist is the standard-bearer, the vatic spokesman, the prophet...he is courageous enough to make an ass out of himself half the time, in order to say something important the other half. Mailer has more courage, more integrity, and more passion than any number of sweet, oh-so-precious writers like Salinger and Updike, who never show public concern over any issue. We live in a neurotic anti-emotional age, and our society prefers to hear truths or ideas whispered discreetly rather than shouted passionately. Anyone who commits himself publically with any degree of passion whatever, offends our sense of propriety. No, Mailer&#039;s style is not impeccable, nor are his ideas always profound- the ideas of Dostoyevsky, Faulkner, Freud, Sartre, were not always profound either. Genius has rough edges- that means, you&#039;re likely to get splinters in your mind from contemplating what it has to say. Aren&#039;t those splinters nasty, though? Don&#039;t they make you uncomfortable? Oh, that&#039;s tooooo bad, here&#039;s the least Updike story in the New Yorker- see the pretty metaphors? Aren&#039;t they glittery and spotless and impressive? See the new Salinger collection- aren&#039;t all those nice stories nice? Maybe they all do seem like an endless re-write of the same yearn, but they&#039;re all so cleverly literary!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Carp away, damn you all. Mailer will survive all the back-alley ambushes laid for him by people like Wallace and the reviewers of &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;????????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt;. In a literary world where most of the champions are featherweights with glass-jaws, it&#039;s a dangerous life being one of the few real pro heavyweights. Everything he publishes is important, and a novel with the daring and vigor of An American Dream cannot be dismissed with pathetic references to Ian Fleming (my Lord...) or accusations of pretension and bad taste. The bad taste lies not with a man like Mailer, but with the middle-brow public that consumes television and the books of Wouk, Michener and Harold Robbins. This nation has two choices, RIGHT NOW, (not twenty years from now): it can wake up and drop its frontiersman hatred of intellectual attainment and &amp;quot;kulcher&#039; and be willing to dare, to live more vividly, to stop being afraid of sex, life, death or hell&#039;s very passions; or it can muddle through on its own momentum for perhaps another half-century &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; the rot sets in for good. The neo-Renaissance could happen here, or we could miss our &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; utterly. It&#039;s a hard job waking up 200 million consciousnesses, but Mailer and a few others are throwing buckets of ice water into our faces as hard as they can. If the doom comes, we&#039;ll have only our own bad tastes to blame. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the beginning, Mister Wallace, Sartre&#039;s book were full of pretension, so.....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yours sincerely, &lt;br /&gt;
William R. Trotter&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Archive]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Full Letters]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7815</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala/sandboxTrotter1965</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7815"/>
		<updated>2019-04-23T16:23:23Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{byline|last=Trotter |first=William R.}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 1847 Cassamia Place &lt;br /&gt;
 Charlotte&lt;br /&gt;
 March 14, 1965&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ahom, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It has become the fashion for conservative book reviewers, as well as those all-too-numerous people who prefer their culture in neat, easily digested packages, to teh-teh loudly over every new book by Norman Mailer and say, with solemn tones of ponderous righteousness, &amp;quot;Why doesn&#039;t the poor bastard give up? Everybody knows NAKED AND THE DEAD was the only good thing he&#039;ll ever write? And why must he go mucking-about trying to do messy things like existential political articles? They&#039;re so uncomfortable to read.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fortunately for America&#039;s artistic consciousness, Mailer has refused to allow himself to quietly expire after writing one fine novel which won the approbation of all sorts of people and critics, and continues to write as he damn well pleases without caring how many people he makes uncomfortable. The trouble with American culture is that too many people like Dan Wallace consume its products. His snotty and condescending review in this Sunday&#039;s Observer is a prime example of what happens in our society when the &amp;quot;respectable&amp;quot; people gang-up on the visionary outlaw and conspire to pole-axe him everytime he opens his mouth until he either becomes so rattled that he writes meaningless far-out drivel, or accepts their terms of surrender and writes neat, safe, impeccable little novels. Either way is artistic death for the artist, and cultural sedation for the timorous society that murders him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mailer is one of the few, incredibly few, writers or artists of any kind in our whole land who is willing to stake his reputation, his career, even his very sanity, on the once-revered principle that the artist is the standard-bearer, the vatic spokesman, the prophet...he is courageous enough to make an ass out of himself half the time, in order to say something important the other half. Mailer has more courage, more integrity, and more passion than any number of sweet, oh-so-precious writers like Salinger and Updike, who never show public concern over any issue. We live in a neurotic anti-emotional age, and our society prefers to hear truths or ideas whispered discreetly rather than shouted passionately. Anyone who commits himself publically with any degree of passion whatever, offends our sense of propriety. No, Mailer&#039;s style is not impeccable, nor are his ideas always profound- the ideas of Dostoyevsky, Faulkner, Freud, Sartre, were not always profound either. Genius has rough edges- that means, you&#039;re likely to get splinters in your mind from contemplating what it has to say. Aren&#039;t those splinters nasty, though? Don&#039;t they make you uncomfortable? Oh, that&#039;s tooooo bad, here&#039;s the least Updike story in the New Yorker- see the pretty metaphors? Aren&#039;t they glittery and spotless and impressive? See the new Salinger collection- aren&#039;t all those nice stories nice? Maybe they all do seem like an endless re-write of the same yearn, but they&#039;re all so cleverly literary!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Carp away, damn you all. Mailer will survive all the back-alley ambushes laid for him by people like Wallace and the reviewers of &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;????????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt;. In aliterary world where most of the champions are featherweights with glass-jaws, it&#039;s a dangerous life being one of the few real pro heavyweights. Everything he publishes is important, and a novel with the daring and vigor of An American Dream cannot be dismissed with pathetic references to Ian Fleming (my Lord...) or accusations of pretension and bad taste. The bad taste lies not with a man like Mailer, but with the middle-brow public that consumes television and the books of Wouk, Michener and Harold Robbins. This nation has two choices, RIGHT NOW, (not twenty years from now): it can wake up and drop its frontiersman hatred of intellectual attainment and &amp;quot;kulcher&#039; and be willing to dare, to live more vividly, to stop being afraid of sex, life, death or hell&#039;s very passions; or it can muddle through on its own momentum for perhaps another half-century &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; the rot sets in for good. The neo-Renaissance could happen here, or we could miss our &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; utterly. It&#039;s a hard job waking up 200 million consciousnesses, but Mailer and a few others are throwing buckets of ice water into our faces as hard as they can. If the doom comes, we&#039;ll have only our own bad tastes to blame. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the beginning, Mister Wallace, Sartre&#039;s book were full of pretension, so.....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yours sincerely, &lt;br /&gt;
William R. Trotter&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Archive]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Full Letters]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7814</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala/sandboxTrotter1965</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7814"/>
		<updated>2019-04-23T16:22:30Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{byline|last=Trotter |first=William R.}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
1847 Cassamia Place&lt;br /&gt;
Charlotte&lt;br /&gt;
March 14, 1965&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ahom, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It has become the fashion for conservative book reviewers, as well as those all-too-numerous people who prefer their culture in neat, easily digested packages, to teh-teh loudly over every new book by Norman Mailer and say, with solemn tones of ponderous righteousness, &amp;quot;Why doesn&#039;t the poor bastard give up? Everybody knows NAKED AND THE DEAD was the only good thing he&#039;ll ever write? And why must he go mucking-about trying to do messy things like existential political articles? They&#039;re so uncomfortable to read.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fortunately for America&#039;s artistic consciousness, Mailer has refused to allow himself to quietly expire after writing one fine novel which won the approbation of all sorts of people and critics, and continues to write as he damn well pleases without caring how many people he makes uncomfortable. The trouble with American culture is that too many people like Dan Wallace consume its products. His snotty and condescending review in this Sunday&#039;s Observer is a prime example of what happens in our society when the &amp;quot;respectable&amp;quot; people gang-up on the visionary outlaw and conspire to pole-axe him everytime he opens his mouth until he either becomes so rattled that he writes meaningless far-out drivel, or accepts their terms of surrender and writes neat, safe, impeccable little novels. Either way is artistic death for the artist, and cultural sedation for the timorous society that murders him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mailer is one of the few, incredibly few, writers or artists of any kind in our whole land who is willing to stake his reputation, his career, even his very sanity, on the once-revered principle that the artist is the standard-bearer, the vatic spokesman, the prophet...he is courageous enough to make an ass out of himself half the time, in order to say something important the other half. Mailer has more courage, more integrity, and more passion than any number of sweet, oh-so-precious writers like Salinger and Updike, who never show public concern over any issue. We live in a neurotic anti-emotional age, and our society prefers to hear truths or ideas whispered discreetly rather than shouted passionately. Anyone who commits himself publically with any degree of passion whatever, offends our sense of propriety. No, Mailer&#039;s style is not impeccable, nor are his ideas always profound- the ideas of Dostoyevsky, Faulkner, Freud, Sartre, were not always profound either. Genius has rough edges- that means, you&#039;re likely to get splinters in your mind from contemplating what it has to say. Aren&#039;t those splinters nasty, though? Don&#039;t they make you uncomfortable? Oh, that&#039;s tooooo bad, here&#039;s the least Updike story in the New Yorker- see the pretty metaphors? Aren&#039;t they glittery and spotless and impressive? See the new Salinger collection- aren&#039;t all those nice stories nice? Maybe they all do seem like an endless re-write of the same yearn, but they&#039;re all so cleverly literary!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Carp away, damn you all. Mailer will survive all the back-alley ambushes laid for him by people like Wallace and the reviewers of &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;????????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt;. In aliterary world where most of the champions are featherweights with glass-jaws, it&#039;s a dangerous life being one of the few real pro heavyweights. Everything he publishes is important, and a novel with the daring and vigor of An American Dream cannot be dismissed with pathetic references to Ian Fleming (my Lord...) or accusations of pretension and bad taste. The bad taste lies not with a man like Mailer, but with the middle-brow public that consumes television and the books of Wouk, Michener and Harold Robbins. This nation has two choices, RIGHT NOW, (not twenty years from now): it can wake up and drop its frontiersman hatred of intellectual attainment and &amp;quot;kulcher&#039; and be willing to dare, to live more vividly, to stop being afraid of sex, life, death or hell&#039;s very passions; or it can muddle through on its own momentum for perhaps another half-century &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; the rot sets in for good. The neo-Renaissance could happen here, or we could miss our &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; utterly. It&#039;s a hard job waking up 200 million consciousnesses, but Mailer and a few others are throwing buckets of ice water into our faces as hard as they can. If the doom comes, we&#039;ll have only our own bad tastes to blame. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the beginning, Mister Wallace, Sartre&#039;s book were full of pretension, so.....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yours sincerely, &lt;br /&gt;
William R. Trotter&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Archive]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Full Letters]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7813</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala/sandboxTrotter1965</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7813"/>
		<updated>2019-04-23T16:22:06Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{byline|last=Trotter |first=William R.}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
1847 Cassamia Place&lt;br /&gt;
Charlotte&lt;br /&gt;
March 14, 1965&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ahom, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It has become the fashion for conservative book reviewers, as well as those all-too-numerous people who prefer their culture in neat, easily digested packages, to teh-teh loudly over every new book by Norman Mailer and say, with solemn tones of ponderous righteousness, &amp;quot;Why doesn&#039;t the poor bastard give up? Everybody knows NAKED AND THE DEAD was the only good thing he&#039;ll ever write? And why must he go mucking-about trying to do messy things like existential political articles? They&#039;re so uncomfortable to read.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fortunately for America&#039;s artistic consciousness, Mailer has refused to allow himself to quietly expire after writing one fine novel which won the approbation of all sorts of people and critics, and continues to write as he damn well pleases without caring how many people he makes uncomfortable. The trouble with American culture is that too many people like Dan Wallace consume its products. His snotty and condescending review in this Sunday&#039;s Observer is a prime example of what happens in our society when the &amp;quot;respectable&amp;quot; people gang-up on the visionary outlaw and conspire to pole-axe him everytime he opens his mouth until he either becomes so rattled that he writes meaningless far-out drivel, or accepts their terms of surrender and writes neat, safe, impeccable little novels. Either way is artistic death for the artist, and cultural sedation for the timorous society that murders him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mailer is one of the few, incredibly few, writers or artists of any kind in our whole land who is willing to stake his reputation, his career, even his very sanity, on the once-revered principle that the artist is the standard-bearer, the vatic spokesman, the prophet...he is courageous enough to make an ass out of himself half the time, in order to say something important the other half. Mailer has more courage, more integrity, and more passion than any number of sweet, oh-so-precious writers like Salinger and Updike, who never show public concern over any issue. We live in a neurotic anti-emotional age, and our society prefers to hear truths or ideas whispered discreetly rather than shouted passionately. Anyone who commits himself publically with any degree of passion whatever, offends our sense of propriety. No, Mailer&#039;s style is not impeccable, nor are his ideas always profound- the ideas of Dostoyevsky, Faulkner, Freud, Sartre, were not always profound either. Genius has rough edges- that means, you&#039;re likely to get splinters in your mind from contemplating what it has to say. Aren&#039;t those splinters nasty, though? Don&#039;t they make you uncomfortable? Oh, that&#039;s tooooo bad, here&#039;s the least Updike story in the New Yorker- see the pretty metaphors? Aren&#039;t they glittery and spotless and impressive? See the new Salinger collection- aren&#039;t all those nice stories nice? Maybe they all do seem like an endless re-write of the same yearn, but they&#039;re all so cleverly literary!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Carp away, damn you all. Mailer will survive all the back-alley ambushes laid for him by people like Wallace and the reviewers of &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;????????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt;. In aliterary world where most of the champions are featherweights with glass-jaws, it&#039;s a dangerous life being one of the few real pro heavyweights. Everything he publishes is important, and a novel with the daring and vigor of An American Dream cannot be dismissed with pathetic references to Ian Fleming (my Lord...) or accusations of pretension and bad taste. The bad taste lies not with a man like Mailer, but with the middle-brow public that consumes television and the books of Wouk, Michener and Harold Robbins. This nation has two choices, RIGHT NOW, (not twenty years from now): it can wake up and drop its frontiersman hatred of intellectual attainment and &amp;quot;kulcher&#039; and be willing to dare, to live more vividly, to stop being afraid of sex, life, death or hell&#039;s very passions; or it can muddle through on its own momentum for perhaps another half-century &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; the rot sets in for good. The neo-Renaissance could happen here, or we could miss our &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; utterly. It&#039;s a hard job waking up 200 million consciousnesses, but Mailer and a few others are throwing buckets of ice water into our faces as hard as they can. If the doom comes, we&#039;ll have only our own bad tastes to blame. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the beginning, Mister Wallace, Sartre&#039;s book were full of pretension, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yours sincerely, &lt;br /&gt;
William R. Trotter&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Archive]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Full Letters]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7810</id>
		<title>An American Dream Expanded</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7810"/>
		<updated>2019-04-23T16:21:03Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: added date to description&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{DISPLAYTITLE:&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; Expanded}}&lt;br /&gt;
{{Aad-tabs}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{notice|This project is coming in the spring of 2019. If you’d like to contribute, see the [[Talk:An American Dream Expanded|discussion page]]. }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[File:65-7c.jpg|thumb|Dust wrapper of the British edition published by Andre Deutsch on 26 April, 1965.]]&lt;br /&gt;
{{cquote|&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; is Norman Mailer’s first novel in nine years. He wrote it at a high pitch, each chapter appearing in &#039;&#039;Esquire&#039;&#039; while he was still at work on the next: a method now unusual but common enough among the great novelists of the nineteenth century, which contributed much to the quivering tension of the story.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The theme of challenge suggested by Mailer’s choice of this method is very much a part of the book. His hero challenges the Devil himself. Stephen Rojack kills his wife, lies to the police, is interrogated by them, discovers a woman, his wife’s opposite, in whom he senses the truth and strength he longs for. The ingredients of his story are deliberately those familiar from many a thriller or movie-murder—suspense, sex—but Rojack lives these experiences with a fierce intensity which shatters their popular image and reveals extraordinary meanings behind them. He is a man who believes in God and the Devil, and to whom God is courage, not love. His actions become explosively significant because he feels that any one of them might open the crack through which the Devil’s power, or that of God, could flood in.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Simply on the level of ‘what will happen next?’ &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; grips relentlessly: will the suspicious police pounce on Rojack? Will he and Cherry, his new girl, be able to&lt;br /&gt;
establish the love which has begun to grow between them? But beyond this there is the immense exhilaration springing from the boldness and passion with which Norman Mailer tackles his central theme of man as the battleground for God and the Devil.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is his most exciting book since &#039;&#039;The Naked and the Dead&#039;&#039;, which became a modern classic and has sold, over two and a half million copies in the English language.|source=Dust jacket text, British edition, Andre Deutsch, April 1965.}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Gallery==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Gallery&lt;br /&gt;
|width=200&lt;br /&gt;
|height=200&lt;br /&gt;
|align=left&lt;br /&gt;
|File:AAD-Esquire.jpg|Title and opening paragraph of the first installment of &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; in &#039;&#039;Esquire&#039;&#039;, January 1964.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:AAD-Proofs.jpg|Cover of uncorrected page proof of the Dial Press edition.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7.jpg|Front and spine of dust wrapper of the Dial Press edition.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:1964 NM by Ann Barry.jpg|Back panel of dust wrapper of the Dial press edition: photograph of Mailer by Anne Barry.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:Aad-ad.jpg|Advertisement in the &#039;&#039;New York Times&#039;&#039; for the &#039;&#039;Esquire&#039;&#039; serial version, 22 April 1964.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:AAD-Cover-Mockup.jpg|An early &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; cover mockup.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:Saturday Review.jpg|Cover of 20 March 1965 &#039;&#039;Saturday Review&#039;&#039; depicting Mailer.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:AAD-Bestsellers.jpg|Best seller list in &#039;&#039;Book Week&#039;&#039;, 30 May 1965, showing the novel in No. 10 position.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650315-Invitation.png|Invitation to the reception for the novel at the Village Vanguard in New York on publication day, 15 March 1965.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19660829-Invitation-Screening.png|An invitation to the screening of the film &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:AAD-Movie-Ad.jpg|Advertisement for the film version of the novel from Warner Brothers Pressbook.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:1964-Bookseller.jpg|Cover of the British trade journal, &#039;&#039;The Bookseller&#039;&#039;, 26 December 1964, featuring the forthcoming British edition of &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, published by Andre Deutsch.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:1964-PW.jpg|Cover of &#039;&#039;Publishers’ Weekly&#039;&#039; featuring the forthcoming Dial Press version of &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 12 October 1964.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7a.jpg|Cover of the third Dell paperback edition, published February 1970.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7b.jpg|Paperback.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7d.jpg|Paperback.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7-Chinese Cover.jpg|Chinese hardcover.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7-Vintage Cover.png|Vintage cover.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7-Harper Ed.jpg|Harper cover.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:NYT AAD Ad-2.jpg|“[[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews for a Major Novel]]” in the &#039;&#039;NYT&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:PW_May_1965.JPG|Best seller list of the week in &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039;, May 1965, showing &#039;&#039;[[An American Dream]]&#039;&#039; in No. 6 position.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19640302_Rights_and_Permissions.JPG|Announcement of Warner Brothers studios purchasing the movie rights to &#039;&#039;[[An American Dream]]&#039;&#039;, March 2, 1964&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650316 1.JPG|[[An American Dream Expanded/Advertising Copy|Advertising Copy]] for the &#039;&#039;New York Times&#039;&#039;, March 15, 1965&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650322.1.jpg|[[An American Dream Expanded/Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965|Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650322 Publishers Weekly 1.JPG|[[&#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 22, 1965]] &lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650401 Herald Tribune.JPG |[[Mailer hosts party for Jose Torres, &#039;&#039;Herald Tribune&#039;&#039; April 1, 1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
|File:1650403.JPG|&#039;&#039;The New Republic&#039;&#039; April 3, 1965&lt;br /&gt;
|File:20190302 SOI parts 1.JPG|[[Scene: Inside an Army Tent in Vietnam March 22, 1965]]&lt;br /&gt;
|File:Huffman - Jungian Approach (1).jpg|An outline for James Huffman&#039;s presentation on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; at the American Culture Association&#039;s Popular Culture Conference, April 25-28, 1979.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650514 Envelope.jpg|Envelope&lt;br /&gt;
}}&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;div style=&amp;quot;clear:both;&amp;quot;&amp;gt;&amp;lt;/div&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Blurbs and Snippets==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Gallery&lt;br /&gt;
|width=200&lt;br /&gt;
|height=200&lt;br /&gt;
|align=left&lt;br /&gt;
|File:1963-AAD-Snippet.jpg|“I’ll finish my book in another year of bleeding at the typewriter,” Norman Mailer sighed at the Spindletop the other night. (1963)&lt;br /&gt;
|File:1963-NYW.jpg|&#039;&#039;&#039;Norman Mailer&#039;&#039;&#039; has just come into a large chunk of money. Dial, the book publishers, have given him a reported $125,000 for the rights to his as yet untitled and unwritten novel. . . . (1963)&lt;br /&gt;
|File:20190302 HarperPlan.JPG|&#039;&#039;Harper’s&#039;&#039; plan an anthology of Norman Mailer criticism.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:20190302 002 .JPG|John Braine states that “the only first-rate novelist is Norman Mailer” publishing in 1965.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650130.jpg|Tom Wolfe’s review of &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; is mentioned in &#039;&#039;Book Week&#039;&#039; on March 14, 1965.&lt;br /&gt;
}}&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;div style=&amp;quot;clear:both;&amp;quot;&amp;gt;&amp;lt;/div&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Letters==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Gallery&lt;br /&gt;
|width=200&lt;br /&gt;
|height=200&lt;br /&gt;
|align=left&lt;br /&gt;
|File:Trotter Letter 1965.jpg|A 1965 letter from Mr. William Trotter to Mr. A. Wallace expressing his support for Norman Mailer.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650923-Mary.Bancroft.Letter.JPG|Mary Bancroft offers her strong support for Mailer in this 1965 letter. &lt;br /&gt;
}}&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;div style=&amp;quot;clear:both;&amp;quot;&amp;gt;&amp;lt;/div&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Reviews ==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Gallery&lt;br /&gt;
|width=200&lt;br /&gt;
|height=200&lt;br /&gt;
|align=left&lt;br /&gt;
|File:Buckley_Miami_Herald.JPG|[[There&#039;s Hope in Mailer|William F. Buckley, Jr. states]]: “it was {{NM}} who developed the cult of the Hipster—the truly modern American who lets the bleary world go by doing whatever it bloody well likes, because nothing it does can upset the Hipsters’ inexhaustible Cool.” (&#039;&#039;The Miami Herald&#039;&#039;, September 26, 1965)&lt;br /&gt;
|File:Dana - North Am Review Page1.jpg|Robert Dana&#039;s review of &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, published July 1965 in &#039;&#039;The North American Review&#039;&#039;, declares the novel to be Mailer&#039;s &amp;quot;best and most powerful novel since &#039;&#039;[[The Naked and the Dead]]&#039;&#039;&amp;quot; despite what Dana sees as a poor conclusion and a lack of meaning in the main character&#039;s actions.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:Dana - North Am Review Page2.jpg|Robert Dana,&#039;&#039;The North American Review&#039;&#039; July 1965, page 2. &lt;br /&gt;
|File:Lewis Nichols In and Out of books.jpg|Lewis Nichols In and Out of Books&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650417 Letter.jpg|Granville Hicks, in his review of Norman Mailer’s &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; [&#039;&#039;SR&#039;&#039;, March 20], tells us that Mailer’s main character has no reality, the other characters are “dummies,” the writing is sloppy, and the plot is absurd. One might say the same about Dostoevsky’s &#039;&#039;Notes from the Underground&#039;&#039;. Perhaps &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; is not a great book, but it is most certainly not a “bad joke.” It contains scenes of great power and pages of brilliant imagery. It holds one’s interest. It is an entertaining book to read. ~W. K. MASON, Madison, Wis.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:BillPowers SaturdayReview Page1.jpg|In his letter to the Book Review Editor at the &#039;&#039;Saturday Review&#039;&#039;, dated June 5, 1965, Bill Powers responds to criticism that &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; is a &amp;quot;literary hoax&amp;quot; and argues that through murder Rojack places himself &amp;quot;in the position to rebegin his life.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
|File:BillPowers SaturdayReview Page2.jpg|Bill Powers, Saturday Review, Page 2.&lt;br /&gt;
}}&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;div style=&amp;quot;clear:both;&amp;quot;&amp;gt;&amp;lt;/div&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Projects]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7808</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala/sandboxTrotter1965</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7808"/>
		<updated>2019-04-23T16:18:40Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: Added byline, category&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{byline|last=Trotter |first=William R.}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
1847 Cassamia Place&lt;br /&gt;
Charlotte&lt;br /&gt;
March 14, 1965&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ahom, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It has become the fashion for conservative book reviewers, as well as those all-too-numerous people who prefer their culture in neat, easily digested packages, to teh-teh loudly over every new book by Norman Mailer and say, with solemn tones of ponderous righteousness, &amp;quot;Why doesn&#039;t the poor bastard give up? Everybody knows NAKED AND THE DEAD was the only good thing he&#039;ll ever write? And why must he go mucking-about trying to do messy things like existential political articles? They&#039;re so uncomfortable to read.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fortunately for America&#039;s artistic consciousness, Mailer has refused to allow himself to quietly expire after writing one fine novel which won the approbation of all sorts of people and critics, and continues to write as he damn well pleases without caring how many people he makes uncomfortable. The trouble with American culture is that too many people like Dan Wallace consume its products. His snotty and condescending review in this Sunday&#039;s Observer is a prime example of what happens in our society when the &amp;quot;respectable&amp;quot; people gang-up on the visionary outlaw and conspire to pole-axe him everytime he opens his mouth until he either becomes so rattled that he writes meaningless far-out drivel, or accepts their terms of surrender and writes neat, safe, impeccable little novels. Either way is artistic death for the artist, and cultural sedation for the timorous society that murders him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mailer is one of the few, incredibly few, writers or artists of any kind in our whole land who is willing to stake his reputation, his career, even his very sanity, on the once-revered principle that the artist is the standard-bearer, the vatic spokesman, the prophet...he is courageous enough to make an ass out of himself half the time, in order to say something important the other half. Mailer has more courage, more integrity, and more passion than any number of sweet, oh-so-precious writers like Salinger and Updike, who never show public concern over any issue. We live in a neurotic anti-emotional age, and our society prefers to hear truths or ideas whispered discreetly rather than shouted passionately. Anyone who commits himself publically with any degree of passion whatever, offends our sense of propriety. No, Mailer&#039;s style is not impeccable, nor are his ideas always profound- the ideas of Dostoyevsky, Faulkner, Freud, Sartre, were not always profound either. Genius has rough edges- that means, you&#039;re likely to get splinters in your mind from contemplating what it has to say. Aren&#039;t those splinters nasty, though? Don&#039;t they make you uncomfortable? Oh, that&#039;s tooooo bad, here&#039;s the least Updike story in the New Yorker- see the pretty metaphors? Aren&#039;t they glittery and spotless and impressive? See the new Salinger collection- aren&#039;t all those nice stories nice? Maybe they all do seem like an endless re-write of the same yearn, but they&#039;re all so cleverly literary!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Carp away, damn you all. Mailer will survive all the back-alley ambushes laid for him by people like Wallace and the reviewers of &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;????????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt;. In aliterary world where most of the champions are featherweights with glass-jaws, it&#039;s a dangerous life being one of the few real pro heavyweights. Everything he publishes is important, and a novel with the daring and vigor of An American Dream cannot be dismissed with pathetic references to Ian Fleming (my Lord...) or accusations of pretension and bad taste. The bad taste lies not with a man like Mailer, but with the middle-brow public that consumes television and the books of Wouk, Michener and Harold Robbins. This nation has two choices, RIGHT NOW, (not twenty years from now): it can wake up and drop its frontiersman hatred of intellectual attainment and &amp;quot;kulcher&#039; and be willing to dare, to live more vividly, to stop being afraid of sex, life, death or hell&#039;s very passions; or it can muddle through on its own momentum for perhaps another half-century &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; the rot sets in for good. The neo-Renaissance could happen here, or we could miss our &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; utterly. It&#039;s a hard job waking up 200 million consciousnesses, but Mailer and a few others are throwing buckets of ice water into our faces as hard as they can. If the doom comes, we&#039;ll have only our own bad tastes to blame. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the beginning, Mister Wallace, Sartre&#039;s book were full of pretension, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yours sincerely, &lt;br /&gt;
William R. Trotter&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Archive]]&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Full Text Reviews]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7804</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala/sandboxTrotter1965</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7804"/>
		<updated>2019-04-23T16:10:16Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: Completed transcription&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;1847 Cassamia Place&lt;br /&gt;
Charlotte&lt;br /&gt;
March 14, 1965&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ahom, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It has become the fashion for conservative book reviewers, as well as those all-too-numerous people who prefer their culture in neat, easily digested packages, to teh-teh loudly over every new book by Norman Mailer and say, with solemn tones of ponderous righteousness, &amp;quot;Why doesn&#039;t the poor bastard give up? Everybody knows NAKED AND THE DEAD was the only good thing he&#039;ll ever write? And why must he go mucking-about trying to do messy things like existential political articles? They&#039;re so uncomfortable to read.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fortunately for America&#039;s artistic consciousness, Mailer has refused to allow himself to quietly expire after writing one fine novel which won the approbation of all sorts of people and critics, and continues to write as he damn well pleases without caring how many people he makes uncomfortable. The trouble with American culture is that too many people like Dan Wallace consume its products. His snotty and condescending review in this Sunday&#039;s Observer is a prime example of what happens in our society when the &amp;quot;respectable&amp;quot; people gang-up on the visionary outlaw and conspire to pole-axe him everytime he opens his mouth until he either becomes so rattled that he writes meaningless far-out drivel, or accepts their terms of surrender and writes neat, safe, impeccable little novels. Either way is artistic death for the artist, and cultural sedation for the timorous society that murders him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mailer is one of the few, incredibly few, writers or artists of any kind in our whole land who is willing to stake his reputation, his career, even his very sanity, on the once-revered principle that the artist is the standard-bearer, the vatic spokesman, the prophet...he is courageous enough to make an ass out of himself half the time, in order to say something important the other half. Mailer has more courage, more integrity, and more passion than any number of sweet, oh-so-precious writers like Salinger and Updike, who never show public concern over any issue. We live in a neurotic anti-emotional age, and our society prefers to hear truths or ideas whispered discreetly rather than shouted passionately. Anyone who commits himself publically with any degree of passion whatever, offends our sense of propriety. No, Mailer&#039;s style is not impeccable, nor are his ideas always profound- the ideas of Dostoyevsky, Faulkner, Freud, Sartre, were not always profound either. Genius has rough edges- that means, you&#039;re likely to get splinters in your mind from contemplating what it has to say. Aren&#039;t those splinters nasty, though? Don&#039;t they make you uncomfortable? Oh, that&#039;s tooooo bad, here&#039;s the least Updike story in the New Yorker- see the pretty metaphors? Aren&#039;t they glittery and spotless and impressive? See the new Salinger collection- aren&#039;t all those nice stories nice? Maybe they all do seem like an endless re-write of the same yearn, but they&#039;re all so cleverly literary!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Carp away, damn you all. Mailer will survive all the back-alley ambushes laid for him by people like Wallace and the reviewers of &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;????????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt;. In aliterary world where most of the champions are featherweights with glass-jaws, it&#039;s a dangerous life being one of the few real pro heavyweights. Everything he publishes is important, and a novel with the daring and vigor of An American Dream cannot be dismissed with pathetic references to Ian Fleming (my Lord...) or accusations of pretension and bad taste. The bad taste lies not with a man like Mailer, but with the middle-brow public that consumes television and the books of Wouk, Michener and Harold Robbins. This nation has two choices, RIGHT NOW, (not twenty years from now): it can wake up and drop its frontiersman hatred of intellectual attainment and &amp;quot;kulcher&#039; and be willing to dare, to live more vividly, to stop being afraid of sex, life, death or hell&#039;s very passions; or it can muddle through on its own momentum for perhaps another half-century &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; the rot sets in for good. The neo-Renaissance could happen here, or we could miss our &amp;lt;big&amp;gt;?????&amp;lt;/big&amp;gt; utterly. It&#039;s a hard job waking up 200 million consciousnesses, but Mailer and a few others are throwing buckets of ice water into our faces as hard as they can. If the doom comes, we&#039;ll have only our own bad tastes to blame. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the beginning, Mister Wallace, Sartre&#039;s book were full of pretension, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yours sincerely, &lt;br /&gt;
William R. Trotter&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7799</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala/sandboxTrotter1965</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7799"/>
		<updated>2019-04-23T15:13:00Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: Transcribed 3rd paragraph&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;1847 Cassamia Place&lt;br /&gt;
Charlotte&lt;br /&gt;
March 14, 1965&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ahom, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It has become the fashion for conservative book reviewers, as well as those all-too-numerous people who prefer their culture in neat, easily digested packages, to teh-teh loudly over every new book by Norman Mailer and say, with solemn tones of ponderous righteousness, &amp;quot;Why doesn&#039;t the poor bastard give up? Everybody knows NAKED AND THE DEAD was the only good thing he&#039;ll ever write? And why must he go mucking-about trying to do messy things like existential political articles? They&#039;re so uncomfortable to read.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fortunately for America&#039;s artistic consciousness, Mailer has refused to allow himself to quietly expire after writing one fine novel which won the approbation of all sorts of people and critics, and continues to write as he damn well pleases without caring how many people he makes uncomfortable. The trouble with American culture is that too many people like Dan Wallace consume its products. His snotty and condescending review in this Sunday&#039;s Observer is a prime example of what happens in our society when the &amp;quot;respectable&amp;quot; people gang-up on the visionary outlaw and conspire to pole-axe him everytime he opens his mouth until he either becomes so rattled that he writes meaningless far-out drivel, or accepts their terms of surrender and writes neat, safe, impeccable little novels. Either way is artistic death for the artist, and cultural sedation for the timorous society that murders him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mailer is one of the few, incredibly few, writers or artists of any kind in our whole land who is willing to stake his reputation, his career, even his very sanity, on the once-revered principle that the artist is the standard-bearer, the vatic spokesman, the prophet...he is courageous enough to make an ass out of himself half the time, in order to say something important the other half. Mailer has more courage, more integrity, and more passion than any number of sweet, oh-so-precious writers like Salinger and Updike, who never show public concern over any issue. We live in a neurotic anti-emotional age, and our society prefers to hear truths or ideas whispered discreetly rather than shouted passionately. Anyone who commits himself publically with any degree of passion whatever, offends our sense of propriety. No, Mailer&#039;s style is not impeccable, nor are his ideas always profound- the ideas of Dostoyevsky, Faulkner, Freud, Sartre, were not always profound either. Genius has rough edges- that means, you&#039;re likely to get splinters in your mind from contemplating what it has to say. Aren&#039;t those splinters nasty, though? Don&#039;t they make you uncomfortable? Oh, that&#039;s tooooo bad, here&#039;s the least Updike story in the New Yorker- see the pretty metaphors? Aren&#039;t they glittery and spotless and impressive? See the new Salinger collection- aren&#039;t all those nice stories nice? Maybe they all do seem like an endless re-write of the same yearn, but they&#039;re all so cleverly literary!&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7798</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala/sandboxTrotter1965</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7798"/>
		<updated>2019-04-23T14:56:40Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: added content&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;1847 Cassamia Place&lt;br /&gt;
Charlotte&lt;br /&gt;
March 14, 1965&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ahom, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It has become the fashion for conservative book reviewers, as well as those all-too-numerous people who prefer their culture in neat, easily digested packages, to teh-teh loudly over every new book by Norman Mailer and say, with solemn tones of ponderous righteousness, &amp;quot;Why doesn&#039;t the poor bastard give up? Everybody knows NAKED AND THE DEAD was the only good thing he&#039;ll ever write? And why must he go mucking-about trying to do messy things like existential political articles? They&#039;re so uncomfortable to read.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fortunately for America&#039;s artistic consciousness, Mailer has refused to allow himself to quietly expire after writing one fine novel which won the approbation of all sorts of people and critics, and continues to write as he damn well pleases without caring how many people he makes uncomfortable. The trouble with American culture is that too many people like Dan Wallace consume its products. His snotty and condescending review in this Sunday&#039;s Observer is a prime example of what happens in our society when the &amp;quot;respectable&amp;quot; people gang-up on the visionary outlaw and conspire to pole-axe him everytime he opens his mouth until he either becomes so rattled that he writes meaningless far-out drivel, or accepts their terms of surrender and writes neat, safe, impeccable little novels. Either way is artistic death for the artist, and cultural sedation for the timorous society that murders him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mailer is one of the few, incredibly few, writers or artists of any kind in our whole land who is willing to stake his reputation, his career, even his very sanity, on the once-revered principle that the artist is the standard-bearer, the vatic spokesman, the prophet...he is courageous enough to make an ass out of himself half the time, in order to say something important the other half. Mailer has more courage, more integrity, and more passion than any number of sweet, oh-so-precious writers like Salinger and Updike, who never show public concern over any issue. We live in a neurotic anti-emotional age, and our society prefers to hear truths or ideas whispered discreetly rather than shouted passionately. Anyone who commits himself publically with any degree of passion whatever, offends our sense of propriety.&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7797</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala/sandboxTrotter1965</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7797"/>
		<updated>2019-04-23T14:28:36Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: Transcribed 2nd paragraph&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;1847 Cassamia Place&lt;br /&gt;
Charlotte&lt;br /&gt;
March 14, 1965&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ahom, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It has become the fashion for conservative book reviewers, as well as those all-too-numerous people who prefer their culture in neat, easily digested packages, to teh-teh loudly over every new book by Norman Mailer and say, with solemn tones of ponderous righteousness, &amp;quot;Why doesn&#039;t the poor bastard give up? Everybody knows NAKED AND THE DEAD was the only good thing he&#039;ll ever write? And why must he go mucking-about trying to do messy things like existential political articles? They&#039;re so uncomfortable to read.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fortunately for America&#039;s artistic consciousness, Mailer has refused to allow himself to quietly expire after writing one fine novel which won the approbation of all sorts of people and critics, and continues to write as he damn well pleases without caring how many people he makes uncomfortable. The trouble with American culture is that too many people like Dan Wallace consume its products. His snotty and condescending review in this Sunday&#039;s Observer is a prime example of what happens in our society when the &amp;quot;respectable&amp;quot; people gang-up on the visionary outlaw and conspire to pole-axe him everytime he opens his mouth until he either becomes so rattled that he writes meaningless far-out drivel, or accepts their terms of surrender and writes neat, safe, impeccable little novels. Either way is artistic death for the artist, and cultural sedation for the timorous society that murders him.&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7785</id>
		<title>User:Mango Masala/sandboxTrotter1965</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7785"/>
		<updated>2019-04-23T14:03:40Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: Transcribed first paragraph&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;1847 Cassamia Place&lt;br /&gt;
Charlotte&lt;br /&gt;
March 14, 1965&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ahom, &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It has become the fashion for conservative book reviewers, as well as those all-too-numerous people who prefer their culture in neat, easily digested packages, to teh-teh loudly over every new book by Norman Mailer and say, with solemn tones of ponderous righteousness, &amp;quot;Why doesn&#039;t the poor bastard give up? Everybody knows NAKED AND THE DEAD was the only good thing he&#039;ll ever write? And why must he go mucking-about trying to do messy things like existential political articles? They&#039;re so uncomfortable to read.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7724</id>
		<title>Talk:An American Dream Expanded</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7724"/>
		<updated>2019-04-22T15:46:09Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Welcome to the digital Humanities project, &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded. This page will facilitate the discussion on the development of this project, beginning in the spring of 2019.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Purview==&lt;br /&gt;
This project aims to create a critical and cultural context around the composition and subsequent reaction to [[Norman Mailer]]’s novel &#039;&#039;[[An American Dream]]&#039;&#039;. It will begin with [[J. Michael Lennon]]’s 2004 &#039;&#039;Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969&#039;&#039;. Additional interviews, reviews, essays, and miscellany will be added as they are collected, permissions cleared, and digitized.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Access==&lt;br /&gt;
Participation requires:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;An account on Project Mailer&#039;&#039;&#039;. This cannot be created by users, but must be done by the editor, [[Gerald R. Lucas]]. [[grl:Contact|Send him an email]] requesting an account (please include the username you would like).&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;Access to original documents&#039;&#039;&#039;. Original documents are stored on [https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1GGktIf5f9wvHRjf-uKi2oCQkWAP1S5d0?usp=sharing Google Drive]. Please request access using your Google account. There will be numerous source documents we will be working with on this project.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==To Do==&lt;br /&gt;
See the to-do list on the talk page for &#039;&#039;[[AAD:Letters|Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969]]&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{to do|2}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Discussion==&lt;br /&gt;
. . .&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|grlucas}} Link to my PM Sandbox. Please give feedback when you can and let me know if I have linked this to the wrong location. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox|Dmcgonagill/sandbox for PM]]([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:43, 30 March 2019 (UTC))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} My article is ready to be moved from my sandbox to PM. Am I supposed to move it or are you supposed to review it and then move it?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 17:53, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dillbug}} OK, looking good, but it&#039;s not quite ready. All citations should be formatted correctly using the citation templates for whatever it is you&#039;re citing, like a [[Template:Cite_book|book]] or [[w:Template:Cite_journal|journal article]]. Simply cut and paste the template and fill in the info for each reference (many can already be found on the site&#039;s [[Criticism|crit bibliography]]). Use [[Existentialism, Violent Liberation, and Racialized Masculinities: Norman Mailer’s “The White Negro” and An American Dream|McKinley&#039;s article]] as a guide. The notice up top does not really make sense, either. Next, you need to convert all parenthetical citations to [[Template:Sfn|shortened footnotes]]. Again, use the McKinley article for your reference. I&#039;ll do one or two for you as an example. Finally, I see some typos. Be sure you proof it well. Thanks. (I fixed the beginning for you and gave you some examples to work with.) —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 21:25, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I tried to add two articles from the Misc. drive and am having issues with getting the image. I am going to continue to try and add the images.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:28, 10 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have attempted to post a review, an article to the Gallery, and a Snippet. Please advise if I have done so correctly. I would like to do more but do not want to until I am sure I am on the right track.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 16:57, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Looking good. I cleaned up the language a bit. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Please take a look at the news paper review by William F. Buckley, Jr. at [[User:Dillbug/sandbox.review#Sort_of_Conservative]] and see if the review is ready to be moved to the main page. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:22, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Check spelling of his name. Mailer should only be linked once — usually the first time he is mentioned. Otherwise, proofread and it looks good. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have made the necessary corrections. I do believe, the article is now ready to be moved. Do you want me to try to move it, or will you?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 11:59, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to |grlucas}} Feeling ready to post this review or edit with further direction or model from you on desired formatting. Please take a look and advise. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox/review]] ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:01, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to |grlucas}} I uploaded envelope from misc folder but due to lack of access to a pdf convertor, it stays in that form and appears to be of little value on Wiki. Searched internet for work arounds but found nothing. I&#039;m leaving upload but not adding it to gallery. Please advise. Thanks! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 14:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Yes, that&#039;s right. I would have to install the PDF viewer here. Do you think I should? —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 19:52, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} Yes, please. Increased group contribution would result. Thank you! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:07, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} OK, but give me a bit of time. I&#039;ll get to is ASAP. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:42, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== &#039;&#039;MR&#039;&#039; Articles for this Project ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
These are available in the shared Google drive under &#039;&#039;Mailer Review&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 3: Laist: “&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;: American Existentialism”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 5: Sermeus: “Norman Mailer’s Mythmaking in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; and ‘The White’”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 6: McKinley: “Mailer’s Modern Myth: Reexamining Violence and Masculinity in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 7: Batchelor: “Visions of the American Dream: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Bob Dylan, and Norman Mailer Probe at the Heart of the National Idea”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Press ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} We might be getting some press about our recent contributions to this project. As you know, Project Mailer is an official site of the Norman Mailer Society, so what we do here is important. Mailer’s biographer [[JML|Mike Lennon]] has expressed his appreciation for our efforts and others have shown interest in writing about our project! I just wanted to let you know. I’m putting together a press release about what we’ve accomplished this semester, so be sure we’re finishing up with our best, most conscientious work. Your efforts, as always, are very much appreciated. Thanks for all the hard work and congratulations for a great showing! Let me know below if there&#039;s anything you think I should add to the press release. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 20:45, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent news!  -[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] (User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 09:53, 18 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|grlucas}} Sweet! Mention of quick turn around from beginner to able to contribute to project would be cool. It&#039;s pretty amazing the progress.~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:10, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Indeed, I had planned to mention just that. I’m going to write something for the credits page, too. They may be the same thing. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:33, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}}Wow! I did not realize others would be able to view our work, or even appreciate it. I have so enjoyed these past two weeks, now that I have a better understanding of how to edit in Wikipedia. I am truly going to miss editing Norman Mailer!(I would have never thought I would say such a thing a couple of weeks ago.) This class is so different from any class I have taken in the past and the best part, is your assignments are real world work, where what you do makes a difference. I feel a very real sense of accomplishment. Thank you Dr. Lucas for allowing me to be a part of PM.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:08, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dillbug}} Awesome! You all should feel a sense of accomplishment. Everyone has grown so much in just a few short weeks. I&#039;m proud of all the work we&#039;ve accomplished. You all should be proud of yourselves, too. And who says you have to stop when the semester ends? I hope you all keep editing, especially on Wikipedia. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:00, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent News. Happy to see our work is real world experience. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 12:54, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Cool beans. Congrats, all. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 18:41, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} That&#039;s very exciting. Everyone should be well chuffed. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 13:19, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Additions ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, longer gallery additions should probably have their own pages — like the Buckley review; the long ad that lists excerpts from reviews would also be a good candidate for its own page. We could mostly just make them subpages of [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]]. Thanks. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:51, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} OK, all these text-heavy additions &#039;&#039;&#039;should&#039;&#039;&#039; have their own pages. Here&#039;s an example: [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews]]. I appreciate Dillbug’s enthusiasm here. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 17:48, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have rewritten Book Week article 19650130. It is in my [[User:Dillbug/sandbox_BookWeek|sandbox]]. Please review to see if ready to repost. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:38, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug}} You probably should just concentrate on the part of the page that has to do with Mailer. It&#039;s only a small section. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 13:26, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{Reply to|Jules Carry}}Thank you for the feedback. I edited the picture under the gallery to reflect the changes.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:02, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== PDFs ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, I have tried to install the PDF handler extension for MediaWiki, but my hosting service is missing a crucial piece of software. I&#039;m going to see if they can help, but I would suggest we continue as if we will &#039;&#039;&#039;not be able to get PDFs to embed&#039;&#039;&#039;. Sorry about that. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:23, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas|waebo|Dmcgonagill|Mango Masala}} I am back online, finally, after the storms, and am able to convert one page PDFs to JPGs. Is there a trick to dealing with a multi-page PDF? Every time I try to convert to a JPG, I get separate files instead of one scrolling picture, like the PDF has. Any ideas, anyone? I&#039;m going to try more tomorrow and work on editing as well-[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 19:16, 20 April 2019  (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} I know little about it - sorry. I&#039;m trying to sort out why the left side of the letter I added is missing. It appears correctly when you click the image, but not when viewing on main page. It appeared correctly in my sandbox. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 19:33, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} Isn&#039;t that frustrating! I know things like that leave me scratching my head and make me just want to hit some chocolate and do some stress eating! [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 09:56, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} You did not follow the formatting for the gallery. I fixed it. 😁 —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:57, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I see. Thank you for correcting.[[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 11:46, 22 April 2019 (EDT) &lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Clean-Up ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} OK, all, the gallery is starting to look a bit crowded. Let&#039;s clean it up by:&lt;br /&gt;
# getting rid of multi-page images. Link to another page where you can display all the images and a transcript.&lt;br /&gt;
# transcribing all longer pieces on their own subpages. (For a guide: see how the Buckley review is done.)&lt;br /&gt;
# filing images in their correct sections.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thanks! —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 11:02, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Will do. Working on editing letters right now and then will move over to the gallery... [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 10:11:14, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I will begin cleaning my submissions up next week and transcribe the longer pieces on their own subpages. I am unclear on what you mean by &amp;quot;filing images in their correct sections&amp;quot;.  Which ones are filed in the wrong place? Oh, hope you have a very Happy Easter!--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 16:25, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I noticed that there&#039;s already an early mock up of the cover, so is the Mock up that I posted a repeat of that mock up? It was on the to do list, but I&#039;ll take it off if it&#039;s just a repeat.  Going to have to work on the multi-page images. They&#039;re giving me trouble, but will figure them out... [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 16:49, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to| JVbird}} Yes, that mock up image has been posted already. As for multiple-page images: why not just post the first page in the gallery and others on the subpage? {{reply to| Dillbug}} I have already moved some items into other sections. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:31, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I&#039;ll take the mock up image down and then fix the multiple-page images. Will be later today, though. [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 07:57, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I&#039;m also working on figuring out how to update my multipage images.[[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 16:57, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to|Grlucas|Sherita Sims-Jones}} I also posted some JPGs with multipage images, so I&#039;m going to have to get mine corrected as well. That will have to be tomorrow, though, it looks like. = I have class tonight with my online students and it&#039;s been a long day. Sherita, if you figure it out, let me know. I thought I had had a breakthrough with the JPG files, but the multipage idea I had just isn&#039;t the solution! [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 17:45, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to |grlucas}} Example of your #2 request somewhere? &amp;amp; never heard back about my Didion work...Good? No? Suggestions? Thanks.~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:33, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User_talk:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7723</id>
		<title>User talk:Mango Masala/sandboxTrotter1965</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User_talk:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7723"/>
		<updated>2019-04-22T14:56:20Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{reply to|grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I added the letter from Trotter to AAD Expanded. Please review as I&#039;m uncertain why the left half is chopped until you click on image, then it appears correctly. I tested here and it looked as it should. Thank you. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 19:21, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Mango Masala}} The coding was incorrect; I fixed it. However, that letter should be transcribed on its own page, I think. Are you willing to do that? Thanks! —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 11:16, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} Thanks. Yes, I can transcribe the letter into my sandbox for your review. Once printed, it&#039;s much easier for me to read.[[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 10:56, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7722</id>
		<title>Talk:An American Dream Expanded</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7722"/>
		<updated>2019-04-22T14:42:49Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Welcome to the digital Humanities project, &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded. This page will facilitate the discussion on the development of this project, beginning in the spring of 2019.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Purview==&lt;br /&gt;
This project aims to create a critical and cultural context around the composition and subsequent reaction to [[Norman Mailer]]’s novel &#039;&#039;[[An American Dream]]&#039;&#039;. It will begin with [[J. Michael Lennon]]’s 2004 &#039;&#039;Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969&#039;&#039;. Additional interviews, reviews, essays, and miscellany will be added as they are collected, permissions cleared, and digitized.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Access==&lt;br /&gt;
Participation requires:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;An account on Project Mailer&#039;&#039;&#039;. This cannot be created by users, but must be done by the editor, [[Gerald R. Lucas]]. [[grl:Contact|Send him an email]] requesting an account (please include the username you would like).&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;Access to original documents&#039;&#039;&#039;. Original documents are stored on [https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1GGktIf5f9wvHRjf-uKi2oCQkWAP1S5d0?usp=sharing Google Drive]. Please request access using your Google account. There will be numerous source documents we will be working with on this project.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==To Do==&lt;br /&gt;
See the to-do list on the talk page for &#039;&#039;[[AAD:Letters|Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969]]&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{to do|2}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Discussion==&lt;br /&gt;
. . .&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|grlucas}} Link to my PM Sandbox. Please give feedback when you can and let me know if I have linked this to the wrong location. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox|Dmcgonagill/sandbox for PM]]([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:43, 30 March 2019 (UTC))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} My article is ready to be moved from my sandbox to PM. Am I supposed to move it or are you supposed to review it and then move it?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 17:53, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dillbug}} OK, looking good, but it&#039;s not quite ready. All citations should be formatted correctly using the citation templates for whatever it is you&#039;re citing, like a [[Template:Cite_book|book]] or [[w:Template:Cite_journal|journal article]]. Simply cut and paste the template and fill in the info for each reference (many can already be found on the site&#039;s [[Criticism|crit bibliography]]). Use [[Existentialism, Violent Liberation, and Racialized Masculinities: Norman Mailer’s “The White Negro” and An American Dream|McKinley&#039;s article]] as a guide. The notice up top does not really make sense, either. Next, you need to convert all parenthetical citations to [[Template:Sfn|shortened footnotes]]. Again, use the McKinley article for your reference. I&#039;ll do one or two for you as an example. Finally, I see some typos. Be sure you proof it well. Thanks. (I fixed the beginning for you and gave you some examples to work with.) —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 21:25, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I tried to add two articles from the Misc. drive and am having issues with getting the image. I am going to continue to try and add the images.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:28, 10 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have attempted to post a review, an article to the Gallery, and a Snippet. Please advise if I have done so correctly. I would like to do more but do not want to until I am sure I am on the right track.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 16:57, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Looking good. I cleaned up the language a bit. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Please take a look at the news paper review by William F. Buckley, Jr. at [[User:Dillbug/sandbox.review#Sort_of_Conservative]] and see if the review is ready to be moved to the main page. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:22, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Check spelling of his name. Mailer should only be linked once — usually the first time he is mentioned. Otherwise, proofread and it looks good. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have made the necessary corrections. I do believe, the article is now ready to be moved. Do you want me to try to move it, or will you?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 11:59, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to |grlucas}} Feeling ready to post this review or edit with further direction or model from you on desired formatting. Please take a look and advise. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox/review]] ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:01, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to |grlucas}} I uploaded envelope from misc folder but due to lack of access to a pdf convertor, it stays in that form and appears to be of little value on Wiki. Searched internet for work arounds but found nothing. I&#039;m leaving upload but not adding it to gallery. Please advise. Thanks! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 14:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Yes, that&#039;s right. I would have to install the PDF viewer here. Do you think I should? —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 19:52, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} Yes, please. Increased group contribution would result. Thank you! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:07, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} OK, but give me a bit of time. I&#039;ll get to is ASAP. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:42, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== &#039;&#039;MR&#039;&#039; Articles for this Project ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
These are available in the shared Google drive under &#039;&#039;Mailer Review&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 3: Laist: “&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;: American Existentialism”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 5: Sermeus: “Norman Mailer’s Mythmaking in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; and ‘The White’”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 6: McKinley: “Mailer’s Modern Myth: Reexamining Violence and Masculinity in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 7: Batchelor: “Visions of the American Dream: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Bob Dylan, and Norman Mailer Probe at the Heart of the National Idea”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Press ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} We might be getting some press about our recent contributions to this project. As you know, Project Mailer is an official site of the Norman Mailer Society, so what we do here is important. Mailer’s biographer [[JML|Mike Lennon]] has expressed his appreciation for our efforts and others have shown interest in writing about our project! I just wanted to let you know. I’m putting together a press release about what we’ve accomplished this semester, so be sure we’re finishing up with our best, most conscientious work. Your efforts, as always, are very much appreciated. Thanks for all the hard work and congratulations for a great showing! Let me know below if there&#039;s anything you think I should add to the press release. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 20:45, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent news!  -[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] (User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 09:53, 18 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|grlucas}} Sweet! Mention of quick turn around from beginner to able to contribute to project would be cool. It&#039;s pretty amazing the progress.~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:10, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Indeed, I had planned to mention just that. I’m going to write something for the credits page, too. They may be the same thing. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:33, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}}Wow! I did not realize others would be able to view our work, or even appreciate it. I have so enjoyed these past two weeks, now that I have a better understanding of how to edit in Wikipedia. I am truly going to miss editing Norman Mailer!(I would have never thought I would say such a thing a couple of weeks ago.) This class is so different from any class I have taken in the past and the best part, is your assignments are real world work, where what you do makes a difference. I feel a very real sense of accomplishment. Thank you Dr. Lucas for allowing me to be a part of PM.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:08, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dillbug}} Awesome! You all should feel a sense of accomplishment. Everyone has grown so much in just a few short weeks. I&#039;m proud of all the work we&#039;ve accomplished. You all should be proud of yourselves, too. And who says you have to stop when the semester ends? I hope you all keep editing, especially on Wikipedia. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:00, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent News. Happy to see our work is real world experience. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 12:54, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Cool beans. Congrats, all. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 18:41, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} That&#039;s very exciting. Everyone should be well chuffed. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 13:19, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Additions ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, longer gallery additions should probably have their own pages — like the Buckley review; the long ad that lists excerpts from reviews would also be a good candidate for its own page. We could mostly just make them subpages of [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]]. Thanks. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:51, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} OK, all these text-heavy additions &#039;&#039;&#039;should&#039;&#039;&#039; have their own pages. Here&#039;s an example: [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews]]. I appreciate Dillbug’s enthusiasm here. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 17:48, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have rewritten Book Week article 19650130. It is in my [[User:Dillbug/sandbox_BookWeek|sandbox]]. Please review to see if ready to repost. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:38, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug}} You probably should just concentrate on the part of the page that has to do with Mailer. It&#039;s only a small section. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 13:26, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{Reply to|Jules Carry}}Thank you for the feedback. I edited the picture under the gallery to reflect the changes.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:02, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== PDFs ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, I have tried to install the PDF handler extension for MediaWiki, but my hosting service is missing a crucial piece of software. I&#039;m going to see if they can help, but I would suggest we continue as if we will &#039;&#039;&#039;not be able to get PDFs to embed&#039;&#039;&#039;. Sorry about that. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:23, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas|waebo|Dmcgonagill|Mango Masala}} I am back online, finally, after the storms, and am able to convert one page PDFs to JPGs. Is there a trick to dealing with a multi-page PDF? Every time I try to convert to a JPG, I get separate files instead of one scrolling picture, like the PDF has. Any ideas, anyone? I&#039;m going to try more tomorrow and work on editing as well-[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 19:16, 20 April 2019  (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} I know little about it - sorry. I&#039;m trying to sort out why the left side of the letter I added is missing. It appears correctly when you click the image, but not when viewing on main page. It appeared correctly in my sandbox. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 19:33, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} Isn&#039;t that frustrating! I know things like that leave me scratching my head and make me just want to hit some chocolate and do some stress eating! [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 09:56, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Mango Masala}} You did not follow the formatting for the gallery. I fixed it. 😁 —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:57, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I see. Thank you for correcting. &lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Clean-Up ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} OK, all, the gallery is starting to look a bit crowded. Let&#039;s clean it up by:&lt;br /&gt;
# getting rid of multi-page images. Link to another page where you can display all the images and a transcript.&lt;br /&gt;
# transcribing all longer pieces on their own subpages. (For a guide: see how the Buckley review is done.)&lt;br /&gt;
# filing images in their correct sections.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thanks! —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 11:02, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Will do. Working on editing letters right now and then will move over to the gallery... [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 10:11:14, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I will begin cleaning my submissions up next week and transcribe the longer pieces on their own subpages. I am unclear on what you mean by &amp;quot;filing images in their correct sections&amp;quot;.  Which ones are filed in the wrong place? Oh, hope you have a very Happy Easter!--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 16:25, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I noticed that there&#039;s already an early mock up of the cover, so is the Mock up that I posted a repeat of that mock up? It was on the to do list, but I&#039;ll take it off if it&#039;s just a repeat.  Going to have to work on the multi-page images. They&#039;re giving me trouble, but will figure them out... [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 16:49, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to| JVbird}} Yes, that mock up image has been posted already. As for multiple-page images: why not just post the first page in the gallery and others on the subpage? {{reply to| Dillbug}} I have already moved some items into other sections. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:31, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I&#039;ll take the mock up image down and then fix the multiple-page images. Will be later today, though. [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 07:57, 22 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I&#039;m also working on figuring out how to update my multipage images.[[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 16:57, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:::::{{reply to|Grlucas|Sherita Sims-Jones}} I also posted some JPGs with multipage images, so I&#039;m going to have to get mine corrected as well. That will have to be tomorrow, though, it looks like. = I have class tonight with my online students and it&#039;s been a long day. Sherita, if you figure it out, let me know. I thought I had had a breakthrough with the JPG files, but the multipage idea I had just isn&#039;t the solution! [[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 17:45, 21 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to |grlucas}} Example of your #2 request somewhere? &amp;amp; never heard back about my Didion work...Good? No? Suggestions? Thanks.~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:33, 22 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7617</id>
		<title>Talk:An American Dream Expanded</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=Talk:An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7617"/>
		<updated>2019-04-20T23:33:53Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: /* PDFs */&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;Welcome to the digital Humanities project, &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded. This page will facilitate the discussion on the development of this project, beginning in the spring of 2019.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Purview==&lt;br /&gt;
This project aims to create a critical and cultural context around the composition and subsequent reaction to [[Norman Mailer]]’s novel &#039;&#039;[[An American Dream]]&#039;&#039;. It will begin with [[J. Michael Lennon]]’s 2004 &#039;&#039;Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969&#039;&#039;. Additional interviews, reviews, essays, and miscellany will be added as they are collected, permissions cleared, and digitized.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Access==&lt;br /&gt;
Participation requires:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;An account on Project Mailer&#039;&#039;&#039;. This cannot be created by users, but must be done by the editor, [[Gerald R. Lucas]]. [[grl:Contact|Send him an email]] requesting an account (please include the username you would like).&lt;br /&gt;
# &#039;&#039;&#039;Access to original documents&#039;&#039;&#039;. Original documents are stored on [https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1GGktIf5f9wvHRjf-uKi2oCQkWAP1S5d0?usp=sharing Google Drive]. Please request access using your Google account. There will be numerous source documents we will be working with on this project.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==To Do==&lt;br /&gt;
See the to-do list on the talk page for &#039;&#039;[[AAD:Letters|Norman Mailer&#039;s Letters on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 1963–1969]]&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{to do|2}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Discussion==&lt;br /&gt;
. . .&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|grlucas}} Link to my PM Sandbox. Please give feedback when you can and let me know if I have linked this to the wrong location. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox|Dmcgonagill/sandbox for PM]]([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:43, 30 March 2019 (UTC))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} My article is ready to be moved from my sandbox to PM. Am I supposed to move it or are you supposed to review it and then move it?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 17:53, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dillbug}} OK, looking good, but it&#039;s not quite ready. All citations should be formatted correctly using the citation templates for whatever it is you&#039;re citing, like a [[Template:Cite_book|book]] or [[w:Template:Cite_journal|journal article]]. Simply cut and paste the template and fill in the info for each reference (many can already be found on the site&#039;s [[Criticism|crit bibliography]]). Use [[Existentialism, Violent Liberation, and Racialized Masculinities: Norman Mailer’s “The White Negro” and An American Dream|McKinley&#039;s article]] as a guide. The notice up top does not really make sense, either. Next, you need to convert all parenthetical citations to [[Template:Sfn|shortened footnotes]]. Again, use the McKinley article for your reference. I&#039;ll do one or two for you as an example. Finally, I see some typos. Be sure you proof it well. Thanks. (I fixed the beginning for you and gave you some examples to work with.) —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 21:25, 2 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I tried to add two articles from the Misc. drive and am having issues with getting the image. I am going to continue to try and add the images.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:28, 10 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have attempted to post a review, an article to the Gallery, and a Snippet. Please advise if I have done so correctly. I would like to do more but do not want to until I am sure I am on the right track.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 16:57, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Looking good. I cleaned up the language a bit. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} Please take a look at the news paper review by William F. Buckley, Jr. at [[User:Dillbug/sandbox.review#Sort_of_Conservative]] and see if the review is ready to be moved to the main page. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:22, 16 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dillbug}} Check spelling of his name. Mailer should only be linked once — usually the first time he is mentioned. Otherwise, proofread and it looks good. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 07:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have made the necessary corrections. I do believe, the article is now ready to be moved. Do you want me to try to move it, or will you?--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 11:59, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to |grlucas}} Feeling ready to post this review or edit with further direction or model from you on desired formatting. Please take a look and advise. Thanks! [[User:Dmcgonagill/sandbox/review]] ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 12:01, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to |grlucas}} I uploaded envelope from misc folder but due to lack of access to a pdf convertor, it stays in that form and appears to be of little value on Wiki. Searched internet for work arounds but found nothing. I&#039;m leaving upload but not adding it to gallery. Please advise. Thanks! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 14:51, 17 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Yes, that&#039;s right. I would have to install the PDF viewer here. Do you think I should? —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 19:52, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|grlucas}} Yes, please. Increased group contribution would result. Thank you! ~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:07, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
:::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} OK, but give me a bit of time. I&#039;ll get to is ASAP. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:42, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== &#039;&#039;MR&#039;&#039; Articles for this Project ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
These are available in the shared Google drive under &#039;&#039;Mailer Review&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 3: Laist: “&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;: American Existentialism”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 5: Sermeus: “Norman Mailer’s Mythmaking in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; and ‘The White’”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 6: McKinley: “Mailer’s Modern Myth: Reexamining Violence and Masculinity in &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;”&lt;br /&gt;
* Vol 7: Batchelor: “Visions of the American Dream: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Bob Dylan, and Norman Mailer Probe at the Heart of the National Idea”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Press ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} We might be getting some press about our recent contributions to this project. As you know, Project Mailer is an official site of the Norman Mailer Society, so what we do here is important. Mailer’s biographer [[JML|Mike Lennon]] has expressed his appreciation for our efforts and others have shown interest in writing about our project! I just wanted to let you know. I’m putting together a press release about what we’ve accomplished this semester, so be sure we’re finishing up with our best, most conscientious work. Your efforts, as always, are very much appreciated. Thanks for all the hard work and congratulations for a great showing! Let me know below if there&#039;s anything you think I should add to the press release. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 20:45, 17 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent news!  -[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] (User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 09:53, 18 April 2019 (UTC)&lt;br /&gt;
: {{reply to|grlucas}} Sweet! Mention of quick turn around from beginner to able to contribute to project would be cool. It&#039;s pretty amazing the progress.~~([[User:Dmcgonagill|Dmcgonagill]] ([[User talk:Dmcgonagill|talk]]) 09:10, 18 April 2019 (EDT))&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dmcgonagill}} Indeed, I had planned to mention just that. I’m going to write something for the credits page, too. They may be the same thing. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:33, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}}Wow! I did not realize others would be able to view our work, or even appreciate it. I have so enjoyed these past two weeks, now that I have a better understanding of how to edit in Wikipedia. I am truly going to miss editing Norman Mailer!(I would have never thought I would say such a thing a couple of weeks ago.) This class is so different from any class I have taken in the past and the best part, is your assignments are real world work, where what you do makes a difference. I feel a very real sense of accomplishment. Thank you Dr. Lucas for allowing me to be a part of PM.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 12:08, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to| Dillbug}} Awesome! You all should feel a sense of accomplishment. Everyone has grown so much in just a few short weeks. I&#039;m proud of all the work we&#039;ve accomplished. You all should be proud of yourselves, too. And who says you have to stop when the semester ends? I hope you all keep editing, especially on Wikipedia. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:00, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Excellent News. Happy to see our work is real world experience. [[User:Sherita Sims-Jones|Sherita Sims-Jones]] ([[User talk:Sherita Sims-Jones|talk]]) 12:54, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} Cool beans. Congrats, all. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 18:41, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas}} That&#039;s very exciting. Everyone should be well chuffed. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 13:19, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
== Gallery Additions ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, longer gallery additions should probably have their own pages — like the Buckley review; the long ad that lists excerpts from reviews would also be a good candidate for its own page. We could mostly just make them subpages of [[An American Dream Expanded|&#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; Expanded]]. Thanks. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 10:51, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug|Dmcgonagill|JVbird|JenniferMGA|Mango Masala|Namir Riptide|Roger C. Byrd|Sherita Sims-Jones|Waebo}} OK, all these text-heavy additions &#039;&#039;&#039;should&#039;&#039;&#039; have their own pages. Here&#039;s an example: [[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews]]. I appreciate Dillbug’s enthusiasm here. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 17:48, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
{{reply to|Grlucas}} I have rewritten Book Week article 19650130. It is in my [[User:Dillbug/sandbox_BookWeek|sandbox]]. Please review to see if ready to repost. Thank you.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 20:38, 18 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Dillbug}} You probably should just concentrate on the part of the page that has to do with Mailer. It&#039;s only a small section. --[[User:Jules Carry|Jules Carry]] ([[User talk:Jules Carry|talk]]) 13:26, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{Reply to|Jules Carry}}Thank you for the feedback. I edited the picture under the gallery to reflect the changes.--[[User:Dillbug|Dillbug]] ([[User talk:Dillbug|talk]]) 18:02, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== PDFs ==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All, I have tried to install the PDF handler extension for MediaWiki, but my hosting service is missing a crucial piece of software. I&#039;m going to see if they can help, but I would suggest we continue as if we will &#039;&#039;&#039;not be able to get PDFs to embed&#039;&#039;&#039;. Sorry about that. —[[User:Grlucas|Grlucas]] ([[User talk:Grlucas|talk]]) 16:23, 19 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
:{{reply to|Grlucas|waebo|Dmcgonagill|Mango Masala}} I am back online, finally, after the storms, and am able to convert one page PDFs to JPGs. Is there a trick to dealing with a multi-page PDF? Every time I try to convert to a JPG, I get separate files instead of one scrolling picture, like the PDF has. Any ideas, anyone? I&#039;m going to try more tomorrow and work on editing as well-[[User:JVbird|JVbird]] ([[User talk:JVbird|talk]]) 19:16, 20 April 2019  (EDT)&lt;br /&gt;
::{{reply to|JVbird}} I know little about it - sorry. I&#039;m trying to sort out why the left side of the letter I added is missing. It appears correctly when you click the image, but not when viewing on main page. It appeared correctly in my sandbox. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 19:33, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User_talk:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7611</id>
		<title>User talk:Mango Masala/sandboxTrotter1965</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=User_talk:Mango_Masala/sandboxTrotter1965&amp;diff=7611"/>
		<updated>2019-04-20T23:22:00Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: Trouble viewing Trotter letter&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{reply to|grlucas}} Dr. Lucas, I added the letter from Trotter to AAD Expanded. Please review as I&#039;m uncertain why the left half is chopped until you click on image, then it appears correctly. I tested here and it looked as it should. Thank you. [[User:Mango Masala|Mango Masala]] ([[User talk:Mango Masala|talk]]) 19:21, 20 April 2019 (EDT)&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7608</id>
		<title>An American Dream Expanded</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7608"/>
		<updated>2019-04-20T23:09:20Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: /* Letters */ added Trotter letter&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{DISPLAYTITLE:&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; Expanded}}&lt;br /&gt;
{{Aad-tabs}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{notice|This project is coming in the spring of 2019. If you’d like to contribute, see the [[Talk:An American Dream Expanded|discussion page]]. }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[File:65-7c.jpg|thumb|Dust wrapper of the British edition published by Andre Deutsch on 26 April, 1965.]]&lt;br /&gt;
{{cquote|&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; is Norman Mailer’s first novel in nine years. He wrote it at a high pitch, each chapter appearing in &#039;&#039;Esquire&#039;&#039; while he was still at work on the next: a method now unusual but common enough among the great novelists of the nineteenth century, which contributed much to the quivering tension of the story.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The theme of challenge suggested by Mailer’s choice of this method is very much a part of the book. His hero challenges the Devil himself. Stephen Rojack kills his wife, lies to the police, is interrogated by them, discovers a woman, his wife’s opposite, in whom he senses the truth and strength he longs for. The ingredients of his story are deliberately those familiar from many a thriller or movie-murder—suspense, sex—but Rojack lives these experiences with a fierce intensity which shatters their popular image and reveals extraordinary meanings behind them. He is a man who believes in God and the Devil, and to whom God is courage, not love. His actions become explosively significant because he feels that any one of them might open the crack through which the Devil’s power, or that of God, could flood in.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Simply on the level of ‘what will happen next?’ &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; grips relentlessly: will the suspicious police pounce on Rojack? Will he and Cherry, his new girl, be able to&lt;br /&gt;
establish the love which has begun to grow between them? But beyond this there is the immense exhilaration springing from the boldness and passion with which Norman Mailer tackles his central theme of man as the battleground for God and the Devil.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is his most exciting book since &#039;&#039;The Naked and the Dead&#039;&#039;, which became a modern classic and has sold, over two and a half million copies in the English language.|source=Dust jacket text, British edition, Andre Deutsch, April 1965.}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Gallery==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Gallery&lt;br /&gt;
|width=200&lt;br /&gt;
|height=200&lt;br /&gt;
|align=left&lt;br /&gt;
|File:AAD-Esquire.jpg|Title and opening paragraph of the first installment of &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; in &#039;&#039;Esquire&#039;&#039;, January 1964.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:AAD-Proofs.jpg|Cover of uncorrected page proof of the Dial Press edition.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7.jpg|Front and spine of dust wrapper of the Dial Press edition.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:1964 NM by Ann Barry.jpg|Back panel of dust wrapper of the Dial press edition: photograph of Mailer by Anne Barry.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:Aad-ad.jpg|Advertisement in the &#039;&#039;New York Times&#039;&#039; for the &#039;&#039;Esquire&#039;&#039; serial version, 22 April 1964.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:AAD-Cover-Mockup.jpg|An early &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; cover mockup.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:Saturday Review.jpg|Cover of 20 March 1965 &#039;&#039;Saturday Review&#039;&#039; depicting Mailer.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:AAD-Bestsellers.jpg|Best seller list in &#039;&#039;Book Week&#039;&#039;, 30 May 1965, showing the novel in No. 10 position.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650315-Invitation.png|Invitation to the reception for the novel at the Village Vanguard in New York on publication day, 15 March 1965.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19660829-Invitation-Screening.png|An invitation to the screening of the film &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:AAD-Movie-Ad.jpg|Advertisement for the film version of the novel from Warner Brothers Pressbook.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:1964-Bookseller.jpg|Cover of the British trade journal, &#039;&#039;The Bookseller&#039;&#039;, 26 December 1964, featuring the forthcoming British edition of &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, published by Andre Deutsch.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:1964-PW.jpg|Cover of &#039;&#039;Publishers’ Weekly&#039;&#039; featuring the forthcoming Dial Press version of &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 12 October 1964.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7a.jpg|Cover of the third Dell paperback edition, published February 1970.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7b.jpg|Paperback.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7d.jpg|Paperback.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7-Chinese Cover.jpg|Chinese hardcover.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7-Vintage Cover.png|Vintage cover.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7-Harper Ed.jpg|Harper cover.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:NYT AAD Ad-2.jpg|“[[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews for a Major Novel]]” in the &#039;&#039;NYT&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:PW_May_1965.JPG|Best seller list of the week in &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039;, May 1965, showing &#039;&#039;[[An American Dream]]&#039;&#039; in No. 6 position.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19640302_Rights_and_Permissions.JPG|Announcement of Warner Brothers studios purchasing the movie rights to &#039;&#039;[[An American Dream]]&#039;&#039;, March 2, 1964&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650130.jpg|Norman Mailer&#039;s &#039;&#039;[[An American Dream]]&#039;&#039; (Dial Press) is reviewed on the cover of the March 14, 1965 issue of &#039;&#039;BOOK WEEK&#039;&#039; by Tom Wolfe&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650923-Mary.Bancroft.Letter.JPG|Mary Bancroft Letter.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650316 1.JPG|Advertising Copy page 1 of 3&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650316 2.JPG|Advertising Copy page 2 of 3&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650316 3.JPG|Advertising Copy page 3 of 3&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650322.1.jpg|Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965 page 1 of 4&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650322.2.jpg|Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965 page 2 of 4&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650322.3.JPG|Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965 page 3 of 4&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650322.4.JPG|Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965 page 4 of 4&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650401 Herald Tribune.JPG |Mailer hosts party for Jose Torres,&#039;&#039;Herald Tribune&#039;&#039; April 1, 1965 page 1 of 2&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650401.1 Herald Tribune.JPG |Mailer hosts party for Jose Torres,&#039;&#039;Herald Tribune&#039;&#039; April 1, 1965 page 2 of 2&lt;br /&gt;
|File:1650403.JPG|&#039;&#039;The New Republic&#039;&#039; April 3, 1965&lt;br /&gt;
|File:20190302 002 .JPG|John Braine-Coming Up Fiction&lt;br /&gt;
|File:Huffman - Jungian Approach (1).jpg|An outline for James Huffman&#039;s presentation on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; at the American Culture Association&#039;s Popular Culture Conference, April 25-28, 1979.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:Cover Mock-up-1.jpg|Mock-up cover for &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
}}&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;div style=&amp;quot;clear:both;&amp;quot;&amp;gt;&amp;lt;/div&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Blurbs and Snippets==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Gallery&lt;br /&gt;
|width=200&lt;br /&gt;
|height=200&lt;br /&gt;
|align=left&lt;br /&gt;
|File:1963-AAD-Snippet.jpg|“I’ll finish my book in another year of bleeding at the typewriter,” Norman Mailer sighed at the Spindletop the other night. (1963)&lt;br /&gt;
|File:1963-NYW.jpg|&#039;&#039;&#039;Norman Mailer&#039;&#039;&#039; has just come into a large chunk of money. Dial, the book publishers, have given him a reported $125,000 for the rights to his as yet untitled and unwritten novel. . . . (1963)&lt;br /&gt;
|File:Projectmailer.net-pm-Special-ListFiles-AAD-Time_Snippet.JPG|&amp;quot;(B)ecause &#039;&#039;Mailer&#039;&#039; is a born writer, it is a heady ride&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
}}&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;div style=&amp;quot;clear:both;&amp;quot;&amp;gt;&amp;lt;/div&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Letters==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Gallery&lt;br /&gt;
|width=200&lt;br /&gt;
|height=200&lt;br /&gt;
|align=left&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650417 Letter.jpg|Granville Hicks, in his review of Norman Mailer’s &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; [&#039;&#039;SR&#039;&#039;, March 20], tells us that Mailer’s main character has no reality, the other characters are “dummies,” the writing is sloppy, and the plot is absurd. One might say the same about Dostoevsky’s &#039;&#039;Notes from the Underground&#039;&#039;. Perhaps &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; is not a great book, but it is most certainly not a “bad joke.” It contains scenes of great power and pages of brilliant imagery. It holds one’s interest. It is an entertaining book to read. ~W. K. MASON, Madison, Wis.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[File:Trotter Letter 1965.jpg|thumb|A letter from Mr. William Trotter to Mr. Wallace expressing his support for Norman Mailer.]]&lt;br /&gt;
}}&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;div style=&amp;quot;clear:both;&amp;quot;&amp;gt;&amp;lt;/div&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
== Reviews ==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Gallery&lt;br /&gt;
|width=200&lt;br /&gt;
|height=200&lt;br /&gt;
|align=left&lt;br /&gt;
|File:Buckley_Miami_Herald.JPG|[[There&#039;s Hope in Mailer|William F. Buckley, Jr. states]]: “it was {{NM}} who developed the cult of the Hipster—the truly modern American who lets the bleary world go by doing whatever it bloody well likes, because nothing it does can upset the Hipsters’ inexhaustible Cool.” (&#039;&#039;The Miami Herald&#039;&#039;, September 26, 1965)&lt;br /&gt;
}}&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;div style=&amp;quot;clear:both;&amp;quot;&amp;gt;&amp;lt;/div&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[Category:Projects]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
	</entry>
	<entry>
		<id>https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7606</id>
		<title>An American Dream Expanded</title>
		<link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://projectmailer.net/index.php?title=An_American_Dream_Expanded&amp;diff=7606"/>
		<updated>2019-04-20T23:07:58Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Mango Masala: Undo revision 7605 by Mango Masala (talk)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;{{DISPLAYTITLE:&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; Expanded}}&lt;br /&gt;
{{Aad-tabs}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{notice|This project is coming in the spring of 2019. If you’d like to contribute, see the [[Talk:An American Dream Expanded|discussion page]]. }}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[[File:65-7c.jpg|thumb|Dust wrapper of the British edition published by Andre Deutsch on 26 April, 1965.]]&lt;br /&gt;
{{cquote|&#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; is Norman Mailer’s first novel in nine years. He wrote it at a high pitch, each chapter appearing in &#039;&#039;Esquire&#039;&#039; while he was still at work on the next: a method now unusual but common enough among the great novelists of the nineteenth century, which contributed much to the quivering tension of the story.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The theme of challenge suggested by Mailer’s choice of this method is very much a part of the book. His hero challenges the Devil himself. Stephen Rojack kills his wife, lies to the police, is interrogated by them, discovers a woman, his wife’s opposite, in whom he senses the truth and strength he longs for. The ingredients of his story are deliberately those familiar from many a thriller or movie-murder—suspense, sex—but Rojack lives these experiences with a fierce intensity which shatters their popular image and reveals extraordinary meanings behind them. He is a man who believes in God and the Devil, and to whom God is courage, not love. His actions become explosively significant because he feels that any one of them might open the crack through which the Devil’s power, or that of God, could flood in.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Simply on the level of ‘what will happen next?’ &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; grips relentlessly: will the suspicious police pounce on Rojack? Will he and Cherry, his new girl, be able to&lt;br /&gt;
establish the love which has begun to grow between them? But beyond this there is the immense exhilaration springing from the boldness and passion with which Norman Mailer tackles his central theme of man as the battleground for God and the Devil.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is his most exciting book since &#039;&#039;The Naked and the Dead&#039;&#039;, which became a modern classic and has sold, over two and a half million copies in the English language.|source=Dust jacket text, British edition, Andre Deutsch, April 1965.}}&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Gallery==&lt;br /&gt;
{{Gallery&lt;br /&gt;
|width=200&lt;br /&gt;
|height=200&lt;br /&gt;
|align=left&lt;br /&gt;
|File:AAD-Esquire.jpg|Title and opening paragraph of the first installment of &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; in &#039;&#039;Esquire&#039;&#039;, January 1964.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:AAD-Proofs.jpg|Cover of uncorrected page proof of the Dial Press edition.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7.jpg|Front and spine of dust wrapper of the Dial Press edition.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:1964 NM by Ann Barry.jpg|Back panel of dust wrapper of the Dial press edition: photograph of Mailer by Anne Barry.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:Aad-ad.jpg|Advertisement in the &#039;&#039;New York Times&#039;&#039; for the &#039;&#039;Esquire&#039;&#039; serial version, 22 April 1964.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:AAD-Cover-Mockup.jpg|An early &#039;&#039;AAD&#039;&#039; cover mockup.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:Saturday Review.jpg|Cover of 20 March 1965 &#039;&#039;Saturday Review&#039;&#039; depicting Mailer.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:AAD-Bestsellers.jpg|Best seller list in &#039;&#039;Book Week&#039;&#039;, 30 May 1965, showing the novel in No. 10 position.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650315-Invitation.png|Invitation to the reception for the novel at the Village Vanguard in New York on publication day, 15 March 1965.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19660829-Invitation-Screening.png|An invitation to the screening of the film &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:AAD-Movie-Ad.jpg|Advertisement for the film version of the novel from Warner Brothers Pressbook.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:1964-Bookseller.jpg|Cover of the British trade journal, &#039;&#039;The Bookseller&#039;&#039;, 26 December 1964, featuring the forthcoming British edition of &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, published by Andre Deutsch.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:1964-PW.jpg|Cover of &#039;&#039;Publishers’ Weekly&#039;&#039; featuring the forthcoming Dial Press version of &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039;, 12 October 1964.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7a.jpg|Cover of the third Dell paperback edition, published February 1970.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7b.jpg|Paperback.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7d.jpg|Paperback.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7-Chinese Cover.jpg|Chinese hardcover.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7-Vintage Cover.png|Vintage cover.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:65-7-Harper Ed.jpg|Harper cover.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:NYT AAD Ad-2.jpg|“[[An American Dream Expanded/Major Reviews for a Major Novel|Major Reviews for a Major Novel]]” in the &#039;&#039;NYT&#039;&#039;.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:PW_May_1965.JPG|Best seller list of the week in &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039;, May 1965, showing &#039;&#039;[[An American Dream]]&#039;&#039; in No. 6 position.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19640302_Rights_and_Permissions.JPG|Announcement of Warner Brothers studios purchasing the movie rights to &#039;&#039;[[An American Dream]]&#039;&#039;, March 2, 1964&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650130.jpg|Norman Mailer&#039;s &#039;&#039;[[An American Dream]]&#039;&#039; (Dial Press) is reviewed on the cover of the March 14, 1965 issue of &#039;&#039;BOOK WEEK&#039;&#039; by Tom Wolfe&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650923-Mary.Bancroft.Letter.JPG|Mary Bancroft Letter.&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650316 1.JPG|Advertising Copy page 1 of 3&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650316 2.JPG|Advertising Copy page 2 of 3&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650316 3.JPG|Advertising Copy page 3 of 3&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650322.1.jpg|Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965 page 1 of 4&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650322.2.jpg|Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965 page 2 of 4&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650322.3.JPG|Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965 page 3 of 4&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650322.4.JPG|Press Conference &#039;&#039;Publishers Weekly&#039;&#039; March 23, 1965 page 4 of 4&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650401 Herald Tribune.JPG |Mailer hosts party for Jose Torres,&#039;&#039;Herald Tribune&#039;&#039; April 1, 1965 page 1 of 2&lt;br /&gt;
|File:19650401.1 Herald Tribune.JPG |Mailer hosts party for Jose Torres,&#039;&#039;Herald Tribune&#039;&#039; April 1, 1965 page 2 of 2&lt;br /&gt;
|File:1650403.JPG|&#039;&#039;The New Republic&#039;&#039; April 3, 1965&lt;br /&gt;
|File:20190302 002 .JPG|John Braine-Coming Up Fiction&lt;br /&gt;
|File:Huffman - Jungian Approach (1).jpg|An outline for James Huffman&#039;s presentation on &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; at the American Culture Association&#039;s Popular Culture Conference, April 25-28, 1979.&lt;br /&gt;
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==Blurbs and Snippets==&lt;br /&gt;
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|File:1963-AAD-Snippet.jpg|“I’ll finish my book in another year of bleeding at the typewriter,” Norman Mailer sighed at the Spindletop the other night. (1963)&lt;br /&gt;
|File:1963-NYW.jpg|&#039;&#039;&#039;Norman Mailer&#039;&#039;&#039; has just come into a large chunk of money. Dial, the book publishers, have given him a reported $125,000 for the rights to his as yet untitled and unwritten novel. . . . (1963)&lt;br /&gt;
|File:Projectmailer.net-pm-Special-ListFiles-AAD-Time_Snippet.JPG|&amp;quot;(B)ecause &#039;&#039;Mailer&#039;&#039; is a born writer, it is a heady ride&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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==Letters==&lt;br /&gt;
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|File:19650417 Letter.jpg|Granville Hicks, in his review of Norman Mailer’s &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; [&#039;&#039;SR&#039;&#039;, March 20], tells us that Mailer’s main character has no reality, the other characters are “dummies,” the writing is sloppy, and the plot is absurd. One might say the same about Dostoevsky’s &#039;&#039;Notes from the Underground&#039;&#039;. Perhaps &#039;&#039;An American Dream&#039;&#039; is not a great book, but it is most certainly not a “bad joke.” It contains scenes of great power and pages of brilliant imagery. It holds one’s interest. It is an entertaining book to read. ~W. K. MASON, Madison, Wis.&lt;br /&gt;
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== Reviews ==&lt;br /&gt;
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|File:Buckley_Miami_Herald.JPG|[[There&#039;s Hope in Mailer|William F. Buckley, Jr. states]]: “it was {{NM}} who developed the cult of the Hipster—the truly modern American who lets the bleary world go by doing whatever it bloody well likes, because nothing it does can upset the Hipsters’ inexhaustible Cool.” (&#039;&#039;The Miami Herald&#039;&#039;, September 26, 1965)&lt;br /&gt;
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[[Category:Projects]]&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Mango Masala</name></author>
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