Showing posts with label Van Wyck Brooks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Van Wyck Brooks. Show all posts

Monday, June 6, 2016

“The Writer in America” by Van Wyck Brooks


I started this series on the writer and literary historian Van Wyck Brooks (1886-1963) more than three months ago. This post is the conclusion, and perhaps it’s fitting that it ends with his defense of his work, The Writer in America, published in 1953.

In a series of seven related essays, Brooks takes on the critics – essentially, the “literary form” crowd who believed that literary history was only about form (they’re still with us today); why he wrote his “Movers and Shakers” series of literary histories; the tendency to over-psychologize writers and their works; the question of a “national literature;” and the stewardship of a writer’s talent.

What he writes, it seems to mem is not unreasonable. But it stirred up a hornet’s nest with the form critics who held academic sway and the time and still generally do.

Here’s Brooks in his own words:

On critics’ obsession with literary form: “One feels criticism itself has followed the path of scholasticism and has traveled too far from its source in literature.” (This would only get worse in the 1980s and 1990s, with the advent of postmodernism’s “deconstruction” and the obsession with form as a lever of power.)

On poets in academia, Brooks quotes Dylan Thomas: “Why do so many American poets teach? They graduate from college, and then they stay in college. When do they learn anything?” (One could say the same of today’s political class in the United States, the people who have spent their entire working careers in government.)

On psychologizing writers and their works: “In our hour of insecurity, the critical spirit tends to admit only the writers of the past who throw some light on our personal problems, differing widely in this way from the spirit that prevailed when the young grew up in a world that seemed secure.” (And so today we likewise junk whole sections of the literary canon, or even the notion of a canon, and write learned treatises on minor and obscure writers because they seem to fit the temper of our times better than “dead white European males.”)

Brooks spends time on discussing the literary culture’s fixation with always finding new (and younger) writers but doing nothing to helped older writers mature and become better. This was a major difference between American and European literary culture, he believed. What he may not have understood was that this fixation with youth (he called it a “cult”) would get far worse, and would extend beyond literary concerns to American culture in general.

Van Wyck Brooks
This helping writers mature idea is generally what Brooks called “the stewardship of a writer’s talent.” He saw this as largely ignored by literary critics “in their recent preoccupation with the grammatical and rhetorical minutiae of literary texts.” And then he says this, which struck not only at the literary culture of his own time but our contemporary culture as well:

“How many writers’ conferences, how many summer schools, how many classes, how many books and magazines dwell each year, with fanatical concentration, on the ‘form’ of writing, never diverting a moment’s thought from the question, How to write well, to the question, How to live well to be a writer?”

His words were noted but not heeded. We’re still obsessed with form. Publishers are still obsessed with the cult of youth and the next new thing. We still obsess with our personal problems, paying attention only to those writers who give us insight into them. Our poets still (largely) teach. And we still neglect the stewardship of writing talent.

As Brooks pointed out repeatedly, as long as we continue to do these things, our literary culture remains immature, a teenager expected his opinions to count for everything and demanding that every expectation be met.

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Top photograph by Petr Kratochvil via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

Monday, May 30, 2016

“Van Wyck Brooks” by James Hoopes


There is only one biography of literary historian Van Wyck Brooks. It was published in 1977, some 14 years after Brooks’ death, when author James Hoopes was with the English Department at the University of California, Santa Barbara. Today he is a professor of Ethics in Business at Babson College in Massachusetts.

I suppose this is, and was, a measure of the regard for Brooks and his writings in the 50 years since his death. For a literary historian who won the National Book Award and Pulitzer Prize, and was one of the most influential critics of his day, it seems rather odd that he is generally forgotten and disregarded today.

Reasons exist, for this, of course. Brooks talked about the feminization of American literature, which by the late 1960s and early 1970s didn’t exactly earn laudatory responses in academia or the literary set. By “feminization” Brooks didn’t mean that women writers were coming to dominate literature. What he did mean, however, that writers were losing what little strength and direction they had, was then and is now politically incorrect enough to cause offense.

As biographer Hoopes points out several times in Van Wyck Brooks: In Search of American Culture, Brooks was seeking a national American literature, a national American culture, something between literary/academic writing and low-brow popular entertainment. And he wasn’t finding it. Without it, without a strong center, ultimately the culture couldn’t hold, he believed.

Considering the general state of culture, academia, and politics today, perhaps he had a point.

Van Wyck Brooks
Hoopes spent a considerable amount of time researching Brooks, including living for three months in Brooks’ last home and having access and support (but not control) by Brooks’ second wife, Gladys. He’s written a considered, balanced account of Brooks’ life and especially his literary works. Hoopes disagrees with much of what Brooks believed and write, and he notes his differences. But he’s still conscious of what Brooks contributed to American literary history and the influence he had on numerous writers and critics.

Perhaps because this book was published in the 1970s, there is a psychological flavor to it. For a time, well into the 1990s and not entirely gone today, psychological biographies were popular among academics, and my own first experience with this genre of biography was Frederick Karl’s William Faulkner: American Writer, published in 1989. What a psychological biography can do is require a writer to make assessments, and projections, that might possibly be on the mark but may also be overblown, especially if the writer doesn’t have a background in psychology. In the case of Van Wyck Brooks, Hoopes seems to generally have avoided that problem.

James Hoopes today

Where Hoopes excels here is his discussions of Brooks’ books – the context, how they were published, and what happened afterward. He also notes the controversies Brooks could engender – historian Bernard De Voto, for example, seems to have had a permanent case of vented spleen when it came to Brooks, and possibly because of Brooks’ criticism of Mark Twain, whom De Voto devoted a large chunk of his career to writing about. Nothing is as ugly as a literary spat.



Photograph: A group of writers, movie stars, and artists meet with President Franklin Roosevelt in 1944. Van Wyck Brooks is standing at far left.