and continuous shift
of external and internal stimuli’ noted by Simmel in his 1903 essay ‘The
Metropolis and Mental Life’.5 Whereas Nordau finds the fragmentation
Cf. Malcolm Bradbury and James McFarlane, Modernism: A Guide to European
Literature, 1880–1930 (Sussex: Harvester, 1978), 47; Douwe Fokkema and Elrud Ibsch,
Modernist Conjectures: A Mainstream in European Literature, 1910–1940 (London: C.
Hurst & Company, 1987), 43.
Max Nordau, Degeneration (1892) (New York: H. Fertig, 1968 [1895, 1892]), 536;
cited in Richard Lehan, The City in Literature: An
England and France, and has different but related manifestations in other countries. Towards the latter half of the nineteenth century a new aesthetic, predominantly European in its earlier incarnations, reacts against Realism and produces what is now collectively termed ‘modernism’. What next?
Inevitably, perhaps, modernism in turn becomes superseded. Again, it depends from which country you view these events, but in general it is thought that modernism is ‘exhausted’ by the 1930s, and that decade sees the ‘high modernism’ of works like Finnegans Wake (1939) as a
evolving genre in ‘The City of Russian Modernist Fiction’, in Malcolm Bradbury and
James McFarlane (eds), Modernism: A Guide to European Literature, 1880–1930 (Sussex:
Harvester, 1978), 467–80. Cf. David Weimer, The City as Metaphor (New York: Random
House, 1966); Jean-Yves Tadié, Le roman au XXe siècle (Paris: Belfond, 1990), especially
Chapter IV, ‘Roman de la ville, ville du roman’; Anne-Marie Quint (ed.), La Ville dans
l’histoire et dans l’imaginaire (Paris: Presses de la Sorbonne Nouvelle, 1996); David
Trotter, Paranoid Modernism (New York/London: Oxford University
be another limit case of modernism, especially compared to Gide’s next novel, Les Faux-Monnayeurs (1925), which achieves what Les Caves did not. Ellison and Prince engage in a discussion that extends Benhaïm’s analysis of the ‘false starts’ of modernism in Chapter 1 of this book, and pose questions pertaining to the categorization and critical evaluation of modernist works.
Finally, the last chapter in this part presents a panorama of the European avant-garde just before the outbreak of the First World War. In her chapter, ‘1913, between peace and war
This book is about Ford Madox Ford, a hero of the modernist literary revolution. Ford is a fascinating and fundamental figure of the time; not only because, as a friend and critic of Ezra Pound and Joseph Conrad, editor of the English Review and author of The Good Soldier, he shaped the development of literary modernism. But, as the grandson of Ford Madox Brown and son of a German music critic, he also manifested formative links with mainland European culture and the visual arts. In Ford there is the chance to explore continuity in artistic life at the turn of the last century, as well as the more commonly identified pattern of crisis in the time. The argument throughout the book is that modernism possesses more than one face. Setting Ford in his cultural and historical context, the opening chapter debates the concept of fragmentation in modernism; later chapters discuss the notion of the personal narrative, and war writing. Ford's literary technique is studied comparatively and plot summaries of his major books (The Good Soldier and Parade's End) are provided, as is a brief biography.
Eccentric creative consciousness is marked by the many contradictions inherent in being cast on the margins of paradoxically marginocentric geo-cultural sites. This book seeks to bring greater clarity to discrete urbane architectonics of modernist literature within a distended Western (including Slavic and Latin American) tradition. It traces different slants of the rational plane in modernist fictions by rupturing, deconstructing and reconstructing consciousness along differently temporalized and spatialized axes respectively aligned with concentric and eccentric cultural construction. The book redefines some of the dimensions, dynamics, creative capacities and critical contributions of discrete literary modernisms - concentric, but especially, eccentric. A distinction is made between pathologically memoried and mad (particularly manic and paranoid schizophrenic) modes of cultural consciousness, concentrated in reflexive citytexts respectively located at the centre of European modernism. The book re-examines the development of literal and literary landscapes underpinning paranoid schizophrenic constructions of eccentric consciousness in Nikolai Gogol's and Fyodor Dostoevsky's Petersburg tales and Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis's Rio narratives. It reconsiders these works as critical and creative responses to urbane European genres as well as earlier strains of Russian and Brazilian literary and artistic representation. The book focuses on eccentric consciousnesses framing the hallucinated cities drawn by writers including Andrei Bely, Mario de Andrade, Mikhail Bulgakov, Osman Lins, Clarice Lispector and Liudmila Petrushevskaya.
Geomodernisms: Race, Modernism, Modernity (Doyle and Winkiel) and Geographies of Modernism (Brooker and Thacker) paved the way in 2005 for the massive Oxford Handbook of Global Modernisms (Wollaeger) in 2012 and The Modernist World in 2015 (Ross and Lindgren). French modernism, it should be noted, has had little visibility in these volumes, as the main effort was dedicated to moving beyond the national paradigm and the exclusively European focus of such early seminal volumes as Malcolm Bradbury and James McFarlane’s Modernism: A Guide to European Literature, 1890
together to create an effervescent text that appears to fulfil Arthur Rimbaud’s demand that one become ‘absolument moderne’, Apollinaire declares that the most modern of all Europeans is none other than the Pope.
Pope Pius X had indeed shown some indication of his modernity when he gave his blessing to the aviator André Beaumont in 1911, after he flew from Paris to Rome, and F. T. Marinetti had just sent Apollinaire his new, tellingly entitled novel Le Monoplan du Pape . 4 Yet Pope Pius X is chiefly remembered today as a strong opponent of modernism, having
, for example, East Asia, in Southern, Central and Eastern Europe, or the Caribbean and Latin America – including Brazil – as well as much of the Ottoman and Arab world – and no doubt elsewhere. What is common to these places is not H. D., D. H., T. S. or even E. P., but a far more Continental, mostly French, corpus. 30 To be clear, the goal of such a claim is not to capture modernism for French patrimony, but precisely to dis-identify French-language literature from the French nation-state – or even the institution of Francophonie. 31 Emphasizing the idea of French
At a time when monolingualist claims for the importance of ‘speaking English’ to the national order continue louder than ever, even as language diversity is increasingly part of contemporary British life, literature becomes a space to consider the terms of linguistic belonging. Bad English examines writers including Tom Leonard, James Kelman, Suhayl Saadi, Raman Mundair, Daljit Nagra, Xiaolu Guo, Leila Aboulela, Brian Chikwava, and Caroline Bergvall, who engage multilingually, experimentally, playfully, and ambivalently with English’s power. Considering their invented vernaculars and mixed idioms, their dramatised scenes of languaging – languages learned or lost, acts of translation, scenes of speaking, the exposure and racialised visibility of accent – it argues for a growing field of contemporary literature in Britain pre-eminently concerned with language’s power dynamics, its aesthetic potentialities, and its prosthetic strangeness. Drawing on insights from applied linguistics and translation studies as well as literary scholarship, Bad English explores contemporary arguments about language in Britain – in debates about citizenship or education, in the media or on Twitter, in Home Office policy and asylum legislation – as well as the ways they are taken up in literature. It uncovers both an antagonistic and a productive interplay between language politics and literary form, tracing writers’ articulation of linguistic alienation and ambivalence, as well as the productivity and making-new of radical language practices. Doing so, it refutes the view that language difference and language politics are somehow irrelevant to contemporary Britain and instead argues for their constitutive centrality to the work of novelists and poets whose inside/outside relationship to English in its institutionalised forms is the generative force of their writing.