What Ever Happened To Modernism

Gabriel Josipovici’s scathing tone throughout What Ever Happened to Modernism refreshes readers who find most literature hollow and the modern social landscape overly accepting. Near the end of a prolific career in both fiction and non-fiction, Josipovici writes from the perspective of a well-read scholar in his field; his vast knowledge provides him with endless opportunities for analysis. His masterful command of language and his interpretive genius are both a blessing and a curse, however. These literary assets contribute to an air of elitism surrounding his writing, and ironically give him the sense of authority which his beloved Modernists so strongly rebuff. This sense of elitism distorts Josipovici’s view of literary forms outside of
Modernism as not only different, but inexplicably inferior, leaving the reader with the responsibility to see through a façade.
To most clearly recognize Josipovici’s bias towards surrounding literary forms, it is first necessary to note the way he describes Modernism, his apparent gold-standard. Using examples from not only literature, but fine art and music, Josipovici portrays the movement of Modernism as “a coming into awareness by art of its precarious status and responsibilities.” The analysis of pieces from multiple disciplines is Josipovici’s forte. Using Durer’s 1514 engravings as an example, Josipovici cogently explains the anxiety Modernists felt at having no divine inspiration or Tradition upon which they could call. Josipovici deserves credit for the manner in which he seamlessly integrates literary and historical influences into one, cohesive message. Don Quixote and the French Revolution are separated by two centuries, but Josipovici utilizes them to build the argument that absolute authority is in reality a farce. Direct quotes inform us precisely of the movement’s dilemma regarding the difficulty of authentic expression amidst the need to create. On the whole, he favorably portrays the Modernists, these cursed individuals, as misunderstood geniuses who deserve our recognition. Josipovici proves to be less than kind in his treatment of works which do not fall under his precious umbrella of Modernism. Granted, What Ever Happened to Modernism is a critique, and one should expect Josipovici to excoriate at times. However, his assertion that Balzac, Dickens and Verdi possessed an “inability to question what it is they are doing” is presumptive and haughty. It is fair to say that their work was cookie-cutter, no doubt; this is a point Josipovici develops well. Yet, he neglects that these great composers and writers may have been just as aware of the mundanity of the Victorian novel as the Modernists were. The only difference is that Dickens, Verdi, and Balzac did not have a problem with coming down from the high horse of authorship to please the masses. It is one thing to criticize the novel for being unimaginative; it is another to assume that these great composers simply lacked the ability to reflect critically on their work. That same arrogance rears its ugly head in Josipovici’s perception of the public response to Modernism.
He describes the general public’s embrace of the “meretricious” and “sentimental” in the novels of Max Brod and Franz Werfel and cannot fathom how the public could “be that wrong.” This shows that he regards the poor common people as mere philistines too unrefined and ignorant to appreciate quality art. Immediately after, Josipovici expresses surprise that the work of Franz Kafka, “obscure, crabbed, incomprehensible even to [himself],” was “without merit,” as if these characteristics themselves marked compelling writing. Here, Josipovici and Modernists alike show a sense of arrogance in their expectation that these odd conventions, often not used by the public, prove their work to be superior in some way. This arrogance on the part of the Modernists is unnecessary; if their work is as revolutionary as it purports to be, it does not need to employ complex vocabulary and indecipherable constructions to proclaim the superior, higher-level nature of their work. It should be
evident. Moreover, this notion that crabbed and incomprehensible language could weed out the simple folk is shortsighted. While the public may not have been accustomed to Kafka’s conventions at the time of their introduction, it proved in time to be fully capable of understanding the difficult concepts of Modernism. By the World War II Era the so-called common people had adopted a widespread interest in Modernism, as the New World Encyclopedia chronicles. In fact, by that time, “Modernism had become so institutionalized that it was now ‘post avant-garde,’ indicating that it had lost its power as a revolutionary movement.” The elites who had for so long pushed the tenets of Modernism eventually witnessed the rejection of tradition become a tradition of its own. As this shows, the public was quite capable of understanding the obscurity of Modernist writing like Kafka’s. Josipovici seems to mistake past indifference towards Modernism for an inability to understand or appreciate it. This viewpoint is simply not true. When confronting contemporary writers, Josipovici writes with great confidence and authority.
He criticizes a number of fellow novelists, and comments that “certain ways of writing or painting or composing ‘are not possible anymore’ because they are worn out, thin, lacking in interest.” Josipovici says this on dubious authority, considering it is difficult to make such an encompassing statement without historical perspective. Frankly, critiques of his contemporaries come across as similar to a club member admonishing the entrance of new members. While Josipovici has a point-mere imitation of Modernist writing is counterintuitive at its core-he is inexplicably resistant to contemporary writing. He dismisses accomplished and popular writers such as Martin Amis, Julian Barnes, and Ian McEwan as having left him personally “feeling that [he] and the world have been made smaller and meaner.” These claims are made on shaky grounds without a perspectival distance from the era in which they were written. It is yet another example of the authority Josipovici assumes and the self-important tone with which he writes. All things considered, What Ever Happened to Modernism is a valuable analysis of a highly influential movement in the arts. However, readers do themselves a favor if they are able to recognize the elitist and condescending tone Josipovici takes. An engaging text overall, What Ever Happened to Modernism is essentially authored by a Modernist-sympathizer who brings along clear,
implicit biases which detract from the book’s legitimacy, unfortunately.