Since the collapse of communism in Eastern Europe, the validity of Marxism and Marxist theory has undergone intense scrutiny both within and outside the academy. In _Lukács After Communism_, Eva L. Corredor conducts ten lively and engaging interviews with a diverse group of international scholars to address the continued relevance of György Lukács’s theories to the post-communist era. Corredor challenges these theoreticians, who each have been influenced by the man once considered the foremost theoretician of Marxist aesthetics, to reconsider the (...) Lukácsean legacy and to speculate on Marxist theory’s prospects in the coming decades. The scholars featured in this collection—Etienne Balibar, Peter Bürger, Terry Eagleton, Fredric Jameson, Jacques Leenhardt, Michael Löwy, Roberto Schwarz, George Steiner, Susan Suleiman, and Cornel West—discuss a broad array of literary and political topics and present provocative views on gender, race, and economic relations. Corredor’s introduction provides a biographical synopsis of Lukács and discusses a number of his most important theoretical concepts. Maintaining the ongoing vitality of Lukács’s work, these interviews yield insights into Lukács as a philosopher and theorist, while offering anecdotes that capture him in his role as a teacher-mentor. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Literature 25.2 (2001) 356-360 [Access article in PDF] Book Review Ghostly Demarcations: A Symposium on Jacques Derrida's 'Specters of Marx' Ghostly Demarcations: A Symposium on Jacques Derrida's 'Specters of Marx', edited and introduction by Michael Sprinker; 278 pp. London: Verso, 1999, $20.00. "Comrades, encore un effort!" (p. 233) is the Communist battle cry by which Derrida signals to his fiercest Marxist critics that he is not ready (...) to throw in the towel and concede defeat. The ten essays included in Ghostly Demarcations are intended to remedy what the editor in his brief introduction describes as the insufficiency or incompleteness of Derrida's first major attempt, in Specters of Marx (1993), to come to terms with Marx, more so than with Marxism. As Sprinker puts it, if one came to the book "in the hope that now, at long last, Derrida's... relationship to Marxism will be profoundly clarified, or definitely resolved, one will almost certainly be disappointed" (p. 1). Derrida himself feels good about Specters of Marx, He wrote that book with a "certain gaiety of affirmative thinking," he says. "It is," as he sees it, "a gay, humorous book. It is more light-hearted than I am, undoubtedly..." (p. 259), which he could hardly claim for its sequel, "Marx & Sons," the essay by which Derrida responded to his critics in Ghostly Demarcations.The texts included in this polemical volume present a broad spectrum of views, some of them critical enough to deeply wound Derrida. It takes Derrida nearly five pages of deconstructive maneuvers to warm up for his rebuttal. [End Page 356] Then, with all his fresh energy, the first punch is directed at a woman, obviously one of his demons, since there are no essays by women included in this volume. Addressing this absent female foe, Derrida speaks of her "unbridled manipulation of a rhetoric" (p. 223), her "final gleam of lucidity" (p. 222), and "outright inability to read" (p. 223). He is actually referring to absent Gayatry Chakravorty Spivak whose superb reading, translation and preface to Derrida's Of Grammatology in 1974, contributed in no small measure to Derrida's initial success by making his work accessible and comprehensible to English speaking scholars.Derrida's appreciation of the nine, all-male contributors, whose essays are indeed present in Ghostly Demarcations, appears in direct relation to the amount of critique or homage paid him and his deconstructive theories. The shortest (five pages) but clearly the most provocative essay, is by Terry Eagleton who, similar to other Marxists, refuses to accept Derrida's claim that deconstruction is a "radicalization of Marxism" (p. 101). "There is also something unavoidably opportunist about his political pact" (p. 86), says Eagleton, his "sudden dramatic somersault onto a stalled bandwagon" (p. 84). "Where was Jacques Derrida, he asks, when we needed him?" (p. 83). Fearlessly, Eagleton likens deconstructive rhetoric to senseless Panglossian discourse using absurd word clusters such as "onto-teleo-theological animus," and "tele-techno-medio-economic and scientifico-military forces" (p. 85). En revanche, Derrida makes irate comments about Eagleton throughout his text, mocking the critic's "triumphant air [who] doubtless assumes that he will spark the plaudits, mirth, or wrath of the crowd..."( p. 251).The longest, somewhat Proustian essay (44 pages) by Werner Hamacher, about "the messianism of commodity language," is a well written but essentially uncritical, deconstructive reading of Marx and Derrida built around abundant quotations from Derrida's text such as: "Pluriformative and reformative, the revolutionary performative of the absolute messianic promise is also a performative that turns against itself..." (p. 196). Derrida praises the "many luminous, powerful gestures [made to Derrida!] of his [Hamacher's] interpretation," calling it "impressive, admirable and original" (p. 224). Similar praise, for his "perceptive essay" (p. 244), goes to Warren Montag who adheres to Derrida's critical jargon and supports the philosopher's polemics surrounding "ontology."While Antonio Negri is sympathetic to Derrida, he also feels, as do other critics, that "Derrida is a prisoner of the ontology he critiques" (p. 13): "In playing with... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:A History of Modern Criticism: 1750–1950, Volume 7: German, Russian, and Eastern European Criticism, 1900–1950Eva L. CorredorA History of Modern Criticism: 1750–1950, Volume 7: German, Russian, and Eastern European Criticism, 1900–1950, by René Wellek; xvii & 458 pp. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1991, $42.50.The seventh volume of René Wellek’s history of modern criticism may well be the most interesting of his eight-volume monumental oeuvre. Devoted to German, (...) Russian, and Eastern European criticism between 1900 and 1950, it exemplifies most strikingly Wellek’s personal battles with critics who were roughly his contemporaries and closest to his own European background. “I should like to think of my History as ‘elucidatory,’ as not ‘argumentative’ or ‘polemical’” (v, xxi), Wellek writes, but he does not shrink from expressing his own critical perspective usually in a gentlemanly humorous or ironical, but occasionally also quite harsh and stubborn fashion. He insists on the importance of individual value judgments in critical analysis, particularly when they are his own: “I do not believe that... my views and those of my contemporaries will be replaced by completely different assumptions” (“Reflections on my History,” The Attack on Literature, Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1982, p. 145).Since Wellek rejects the idea of a historical determinism and thinks that “an evolutionary history of criticism must fail” (The Attack, p. 144), he provides less a history than a collection of essays in which he offers succinct appraisals of writers, thinkers and critics both as individuals and as participants in the broader literary movements of the century. He presents “portraits” (p. xv), which he also calls “doxographies” (The Attack, p. 143), containing a vast amount of quotations carefully selected to support the authority of his own views or to let them speak for themselves when he would rather not comment.More than any previous work, this volume embodies Wellek’s will and determination to carry on against all odds even when he can no longer do so on his own. An accident in 1986 left him bedridden and dependent on students and secretaries to help him with his research and writing. He was able to draw on a wealth of previously published essays, some of which had been written more than three decades ago. There are some arguable inaccuracies and shortcomings (his canon includes obscure writers but not Adorno and [End Page 259] again no women writers), and problems with his bibliographies and references. Yet Wellek’s unique talent to assemble in one volume half a century of critical commentary on the literatures of half a dozen different cultures appears intact. So do his well-known critical positions.Among his most interesting essays are those on Spitzer, Auerbach, Ingarden, Bakhtin, and Benjamin, highly erudite men in whose company Wellek enjoys moving. On the other hand, some extraordinarily fertile minds and their enormous influence on the post-1950 critical discourse are often quickly dismissed or treated with unnecessary condescension. Young Roman Jakobson “should be forgotten” (p. 372). Freud’s psychoanalysis “seems forced and mistaken” (p. 79). Heidegger “often ascribes a meaning which seems to me absent in the text itself” (p. 89). Wellek’s low tolerance of any but his own interpretation of Dostoevsky appears repeatedly in this volume: Thomas Mann’s views are called “strange” and “distorted” (p. 12), Freud’s “deeply flawed” (p. 79), Bakhtin’s “simply wrong” (p. 357), and Lukács’s “simply... [those] of Communism” (p. 232). Wellek’s anti-historicism is dramatized in essays on Auerbach and his “historical perspectivism” (p. 132), vs. Spitzer who “always saw that there is a point at which historicism must fail” (p. 144). The vacuum of German criticism during the Nazi period is hauntingly demonstrated. The essays on Walter Benjamin, Bertholt Brecht, and in particular György Lukács reveal best Wellek’s notorious feuds with Marxists. Wellek indulges in a sarcastic critique of the Marxist Lukács’s “doctrinaire limitations” (p. 245) and attempts, wrongfully, to “prove” the Hungarian philosopher’s “exaltation of Socialist Realism” (p. 244). When in the mid-eighties and after much encouragement Wellek finally writes an essay on the early Lukács, he... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:A History of Modern Criticism: 1750–1950, Volume 7: German, Russian, and Eastern European Criticism, 1900–1950Eva L. CorredorA History of Modern Criticism: 1750–1950, Volume 7: German, Russian, and Eastern European Criticism, 1900–1950, by René Wellek; xvii & 458 pp. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1991, $42.50.The seventh volume of René Wellek’s history of modern criticism may well be the most interesting of his eight-volume monumental oeuvre. Devoted to German, (...) Russian, and Eastern European criticism between 1900 and 1950, it exemplifies most strikingly Wellek’s personal battles with critics who were roughly his contemporaries and closest to his own European background. “I should like to think of my History as ‘elucidatory,’ as not ‘argumentative’ or ‘polemical’” (v, xxi), Wellek writes, but he does not shrink from expressing his own critical perspective usually in a gentlemanly humorous or ironical, but occasionally also quite harsh and stubborn fashion. He insists on the importance of individual value judgments in critical analysis, particularly when they are his own: “I do not believe that... my views and those of my contemporaries will be replaced by completely different assumptions” (“Reflections on my History,” The Attack on Literature, Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1982, p. 145).Since Wellek rejects the idea of a historical determinism and thinks that “an evolutionary history of criticism must fail” (The Attack, p. 144), he provides less a history than a collection of essays in which he offers succinct appraisals of writers, thinkers and critics both as individuals and as participants in the broader literary movements of the century. He presents “portraits” (p. xv), which he also calls “doxographies” (The Attack, p. 143), containing a vast amount of quotations carefully selected to support the authority of his own views or to let them speak for themselves when he would rather not comment.More than any previous work, this volume embodies Wellek’s will and determination to carry on against all odds even when he can no longer do so on his own. An accident in 1986 left him bedridden and dependent on students and secretaries to help him with his research and writing. He was able to draw on a wealth of previously published essays, some of which had been written more than three decades ago. There are some arguable inaccuracies and shortcomings (his canon includes obscure writers but not Adorno and [End Page 259] again no women writers), and problems with his bibliographies and references. Yet Wellek’s unique talent to assemble in one volume half a century of critical commentary on the literatures of half a dozen different cultures appears intact. So do his well-known critical positions.Among his most interesting essays are those on Spitzer, Auerbach, Ingarden, Bakhtin, and Benjamin, highly erudite men in whose company Wellek enjoys moving. On the other hand, some extraordinarily fertile minds and their enormous influence on the post-1950 critical discourse are often quickly dismissed or treated with unnecessary condescension. Young Roman Jakobson “should be forgotten” (p. 372). Freud’s psychoanalysis “seems forced and mistaken” (p. 79). Heidegger “often ascribes a meaning which seems to me absent in the text itself” (p. 89). Wellek’s low tolerance of any but his own interpretation of Dostoevsky appears repeatedly in this volume: Thomas Mann’s views are called “strange” and “distorted” (p. 12), Freud’s “deeply flawed” (p. 79), Bakhtin’s “simply wrong” (p. 357), and Lukács’s “simply... [those] of Communism” (p. 232). Wellek’s anti-historicism is dramatized in essays on Auerbach and his “historical perspectivism” (p. 132), vs. Spitzer who “always saw that there is a point at which historicism must fail” (p. 144). The vacuum of German criticism during the Nazi period is hauntingly demonstrated. The essays on Walter Benjamin, Bertholt Brecht, and in particular György Lukács reveal best Wellek’s notorious feuds with Marxists. Wellek indulges in a sarcastic critique of the Marxist Lukács’s “doctrinaire limitations” (p. 245) and attempts, wrongfully, to “prove” the Hungarian philosopher’s “exaltation of Socialist Realism” (p. 244). When in the mid-eighties and after much encouragement Wellek finally writes an essay on the early Lukács, he... (shrink)