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
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
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.
passage of the modern movement to
that of Attila, sweeping across Europe.23 It had left many of its key
figures grasping at fragments. Writing in 1918, Ford tried to reassemble the ‘fragments’ that were coming into his mind, ‘as in a cubist
picture’, in narrative.24 His most famous narrator struggles to give an
‘all-round impression’ as he tortuously and retrospectively constructs
multiple examples of the ‘minutest fragment’ of the truth.25 Woolf,
too, in Orlando, tries to work with the ‘thousand odd, disconnected
fragments’ thrown up by
placing O’Faoláin and his generation at
a critical disadvantage, caught between the vice of James Joyce and Samuel
Beckett abroad and domineered by W.B. Yeats at home. The writers of The
Bell had their faults, but they also had a difficult literary landscape to navigate
in post-independence Ireland.
Internationalist or European has long been a synonym for modernist within
literary criticism, especially when comparing Irish writing to some of the giants
of high modernism, such as T.S. Eliot, Virginia Woolf, Joyce or Ezra Pound.
But in doing so the force of critical
of Christian prejudice, freighted even more with the confessional
Catholicism that was coming to prominence in late nineteenthcentury Ireland. But Parnell’s case is merely an exemplary public
instance of a much more entrenched malaise.
The longest story in Dubliners begins to approach the adulterous territory mapped out in the European novelistic tradition of
the previous century. ‘The Dead’ is a tale of bourgeois insecurity,
set in a milieu not dissimilar to that familiar from the work of
Flaubert, Tolstoy and Zola. Gretta Conroy has not been sexually
T.S. Eliot and Gothic hauntings in Waugh’s A Handful of Dust and Barnes’s Nightwood
Avril Horner and Sue Zlosnik
between America and Europe that was to inﬂuence the course of culture
and politics for the rest of the twentieth century. However, assessments of
Eliot’s role as poet and critic have been heavily coloured by his own selfrepresentation as an intellectual in the European tradition. What we wish
to argue here is that Eliot’s ambivalence concerning the American dimension of his identity is signiﬁcant for any study of transatlantic exchanges,
especially in relation to Modernism and the Gothic. Eliot’s embrace of
European high culture (particularly the French symbolist
‘pressed into the service of the wider
cultural programme of capitalist modernisation’8 by the 1970s and 1980s.
One form of answer to such an argument is offered in the critical work
of McGahern’s interviewer in 1979, Denis Sampson. He places the writer
within ‘the literary traditions to which he feels an affinity’:9 a postFlaubertian vein straddling modernism, realism and naturalism too, which
includes Irish and European writers as various as Yeats, Joyce, Beckett,
Tolstoy, Chekhov and Proust. Drawing on an appreciation of how McGahern’s fiction subtly engages with such
were forced on
him by the dismal & degrading spectacle of the Peace Congress,
where men played shamelessly, not for Europe, or even England,
but for their own return to Parliament at the next election.’94
Keynes’s enchantments are negated by the greed both of the reparations and the self-promotion of those who conducted negotiations.
Gone is the paternalism of Victorian politics, replaced by a naked
Modernism, conflict and the home front, 1922–27 139
Figure 3.1 The Peace Day parade in London, 1919
self-interest. The Manchester Guardian’s editorial also noted