186
PARTISAN REVIEW
They are no more. A bizarre, discouraging state of obesity and
stagnation. I don't think the American critic has nothing to say in the
first person, however, all our daily practice reduces that "first person" to
the general consuming masses. We do not await from literary criticism
either revelations, or scandals. Under these circumstances, it is no wonder
that the younger generations of writer show such feeble signs of life. It
doesn't mean that the country ran
dry
and out of talent. I'm teaching
within the framework of one of the countless programs of creative
writing and each year see quite a few young fellows who could have
challenged the literary establishment. Alas, after graduation, the young
writers enter the world of colossal parochialism, stiff classifications, the
nauseating world of "book production."
Then again, the Pieaides. They are still available. There ar e a few
lavishly awarded "thinkers and poets," a handful of high-brow periodi–
cals, the men of letters, claiming , and sometimes not without reason, the
continuation of the great tradition. There are some university publishers
who don't care much about "aggressive marketing." There are some
remnants of literary bohemia in New York .. But of course, there are
some .. . something ... no, not all the sources exhausted! We would
exclaim with a provincial pathos . . . there are still ... Oh, yes . . it is
very unlikely that everything would vanish once and for all ... There are
some lonely individuals, independent minds, free spirits who can take off
from the ground, in other words, who still haven't lost the ability to get
inspired. To conclude this spree of wishful thinking, shouldn't we ex–
claim: "There
is
an alternative world, it must exist in the consumers' so–
ciety, if it even existed in a society ridden with consumption. Yes, it does
exist, I should say, but outpouring bitterness, I won't hesitate to add
that even here, in that conjectural world of the alternative, now and
then we stumble upon some examples of he abuse and distortion of the
personality in the name of an ideological group, or a theoretical clan.
A stereotype of genius is very well entrenched in a society where no
one starting to read a long monotone opus stuffed with the names of
the ancient gods has ever reached its end. With his ever-nascent theme of
a perishable existence, our mythical mediocrity energetically ascends from
one literary prize to another, as though over notches made in advance,
until he reaches the supreme laurels, which already give him a chance to
claim a seat amidst his characters, that is, gods. From now on, he reigns
coining the banalities akin to that famous: "Love the book, a source of
knowledge" He promotes his groupies, cuts off the skepticism and thus
manifests an ideal example of transformation, the "I" into the "We," a
triumph of the collective over the personality.
The collective consciousness today manifests itself not only in the
above-mentioned mafia style, but also in a more developed, almost aca-
