Degeneration

Rating:
Summary: Alarming assault on the arts
Review: Max Nordau's "Degeneration", first published in 1892, is a scathing attack of the Decadents, Aesthetes, Parnassians and various artistic disciplines of the late nineteenth century. By adopting the superficial and thus highly questionable theory of Lombroso, Nordau, himself a physician and a disciple of the said Lombroso, interprets the works of such stars as Baudelaire, Verlaine, Wilde, Tolstoy, Wagner, Nietzsche and Ibsen as the result of physiological "degeneration" and classifies the various artists according to their respective pathologies - egomania, sadism, exhibitionism and mysticism. It is ironic that the author, a Zionist Jew with socialist leanings, should have anticipated the programs of Fascism in the twentieth century, with their public burnings of books, Cubist paintings and all other art forms arbitrarily deemed as "degenerate art". In contrast to such art forms, these regimes, of course encouraged "healthy" art, embodied in propagandist statues, usually depicting the athletic male type with upstretched arm, triumphantly affirming the ideals of authority, militarism and nationhood. Nordau is admittedly readable, writing in a lively and vitriolic style, pouring scorn on the figures he brings under his scrutiny. But it is a prohibitionist work compiled by an arch-conservative purist, explicitly calling for the suppression of so-called "undesirable" art and espousing a reductionist theory that may have enjoyed a vogue for some decades but is now recognised as manifestly worthless. An example of politics masquerading as science, to be approached with caution.

Rating:
Summary: The Pleasures of Degeneration
Review: Reeling from the final word of his acidic polemic, one feels strangely uplifted by Max Nordau's fin de siècle masterpiece Degeneration. For here is a book, whose scope does nothing to diminish its virulence and yet simultaneously confirms the degenerative stance. Who alone cannot fail to identify with Nordau's sublime description of the decadent? Hear his derision in regard to the Symbolists: "They had in common all the signs of degeneracy and imbecility: overweening vanity and self-conceit, strong emotionalism, confused disconnected thoughts, garrulity, and complete incapacity for serious work." Exquisite virtues! What profound confirmation arises upon reading these words! But are there still those who are able to resist the lure of debauchery? Ah, then you will find favour with Nordau: unable to sympathize you will seek refugee in the veil of positivism and quasi-science. But here too one feels Nordau sliding, perhaps occasionally peering from over his scuffed coat: such is the dogma attached to his convictions that one surely suspects that he is counter-balancing his predilection for the opium-infused brothel. Yes, but is all science not a retreat from such licentious inclinations: how do we read without hearing a confession of decadence from the author himself? Bear this thought in mind and you'll be rewarded - highly recommended!

Rating:
Summary: An amusing lesson in pseudoscience
Review: This book is almost entirely bunk from its first page to the last. This is what makes it worth reading.

Nordau was a nineteenth century believer in the supposed virtues of Clean Living. He thought that the works of contemporary poets and artists were too deliquescent and depraved. Looking for some grounds to condemn them while maintaining the facade of liberal objectivity, he turned to nineteenth century pseudoscience.

Cesare Lombroso, an Italian anthropologist, had invented a doctrine of what could only be called forensic phrenology. He believed that criminals could be identified as "atavistic" by their physical features; in practise, just about any feature could be considered "atavistic."

Nordau turns this starry wisdom against the poets and artists of whom he disapproves. Not surprisingly, they all turn out to have "atavistic" features in their person, and display equally apish traits in their art. Fortunately, in the process of condemning these writers, he must necessarily compile an anthology of some of the most interesting passages from the authors and intellectuals he condemns. This alone may be worth the price of admission.

If you take this twaddle seriously, you will probably be infuriated by it. But who says ya gotta? (Atavism's got me in its simian clutches!) If you enjoy unintentionally (?) funny rants like Bram Dijkstra's -Idols of Perversity-, you might get some kicks here too.