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            PARTISAN REVIEW
          
        
        
          sigence; now he is most admired for his flexibility and variousness.
        
        
          William Phillips' description of the modern artist as " a sus–
        
        
          pended man" who "keeps the balance of opposing forces" fits not
        
        
          only the artist but the present-day ego-ideal of many critics. The
        
        
          artist "seems to be suspended," says Mr. Phillips, "between tradition
        
        
          and revolt, nationalism and internationalism, the aesthetic and the
        
        
          civic, and between belonging and alienation. Hence any movement
        
        
          to line him up on one side or another over-simplifies
        
        
          his
        
        
          role and
        
        
          limits his creative function."
        
        
          In a much-quoted passage, Lionel Trilling applies the same idea
        
        
          specifically to American writers. He is disputing Parrington, who
        
        
          thought of American culture as a flow of two currents, one of liberals
        
        
          and one of reactionaries (and Mr. Trilling's comments would apply
        
        
          as well to writers like the early Brooks, who thought of our culture as
        
        
          a flow of two currents, one of highbrows and one of lowbrows). Cul–
        
        
          ture, writes Mr. Trilling,
        
        
          is not a flow, nor even a confluence; the form of its existence is struggle,
        
        
          or at least debate-it is nothing if not dialectic. And in any culture
        
        
          there are likely to be certain artists who contain a large part of the
        
        
          dialectic within themselves, their meaning and power lying in their
        
        
          contradictions; they contain within themselves, it may be said, the very
        
        
          essence of the culture, and the sign of this is that they do not submit to
        
        
          serve the ends of anyone ideological group or tendency. It is a signifi–
        
        
          cant circumstance of American culture, and one which is susceptible of
        
        
          explanation, that an unusually large proportion of its notable writers
        
        
          of the nineteenth century were such repositories of the dialectic of their
        
        
          times-they contained both the yes and the no of their culture, and by
        
        
          that token they were prophetic of the future.
        
        
          This is a simple but profound formulation. How indeed shall we
        
        
          understand Cooper, Melville, Hawthorne, Whitman, Faulkner and
        
        
          the rest unless we see how inexhaustibly they embody the contradic–
        
        
          tions of their culture? That we now understand them in this way is
        
        
          the surest sign of our general advance over the older simplifications
        
        
          and partialities of historical criticism.
        
        
          But does it follow from the fact that our great novelists and
        
        
          poets have succeeded by embodying the contradictions of our culture
        
        
          that the rest of us should try to do the same? Mr. Trilling does not
        
        
          say so, and yet
        
        
          if
        
        
          he did, he would be right-if he should add that