"Thinking Fascism" analyzes three works by women writers--Djuna Barnes's "Nightwood" (1936), Marguerite Yourcenar's "Denier du reve" (1934), and Virginia Woolf's "Three Guineas" (1938)--that engage, directly or indirectly, with fascist politics and ideology. Through these analyses, the author explores the conjunction between fascism and other forms of modernity, and refines the discussion about the relationship between women intellectuals and the various aesthetic and ideological practices collected under the names of modernism and facism.
Until recently, much theoretical work on fascism has represented fascist thought as radically different from and inimical to non-fascist thought, and feminist criticism has further assumed that women intellectuals--especially the sexually marginal women sometimes grouped as the "Sapphic Modernists"--were necessarily antagonistic to fascist ideologies. In contrast, the author argues that Western intellectuals of both genders and all political persuasions were preoccupied in the 1930's with the commodification of culture and sexuality, the erasure of liberal bourgeois concepts of the individual and the work of art in mass society, and the failure of social institutions to provide transcendence and immediacy in the face of these transformations. By demonstrating that women writers like the Sapphic Modernists and conservative or fascist male modernists often articulated very similar conceptions of these problems, this book suggests that fascism cannot be posed as the absolute other of non- or even anti-fascist politico-cultural discourses in the interwar period.

"Thinking Fascism" analyzes three works by women writers--Djuna Barnes's "Nightwood" (1936), Marguerite Yourcenar's "Denier du reve" (1934), and Virginia Woolf's "Three Guineas" (1938)--that engage, directly or indirectly, with fascist politics and ideology. Through these analyses, the author explores the conjunction between fascism and other forms of modernity, and refines the discussion about the relationship between women intellectuals and the various aesthetic and ideological practices collected under the names of modernism and facism.
Until recently, much theoretical work on fascism has represented fascist thought as radically different from and inimical to non-fascist thought, and feminist criticism has further assumed that women intellectuals--especially the sexually marginal women sometimes grouped as the "Sapphic Modernists"--were necessarily antagonistic to fascist ideologies. In contrast, the author argues that Western intellectuals of both genders and all political persuasions were preoccupied in the 1930's with the commodification of culture and sexuality, the erasure of liberal bourgeois concepts of the individual and the work of art in mass society, and the failure of social institutions to provide transcendence and immediacy in the face of these transformations. By demonstrating that women writers like the Sapphic Modernists and conservative or fascist male modernists often articulated very similar conceptions of these problems, this book suggests that fascism cannot be posed as the absolute other of non- or even anti-fascist politico-cultural discourses in the interwar period.

Why were white bourgeois gay male writers so interested in spies, espionage, and treason in the twentieth century? Erin G. Carlston believes such figures and themes were critical to exploring citizenship and its limits, requirements, and possibilities in the modern Western state. Through close readings of Marcel Proust's novels, W. H. Auden's poetry, and Tony Kushner's play "Angels in America," which all reference real-life espionaage cases involving Jews, homosexuals, or Communists, Carlston connects gay men's fascination with spying to larger debates about the making and contestation of social identity.

Carlston argues that in the modern West, a distinctive position has been assigned to those perceived to be marginal to the nation because of non-visible religious, political, or sexual differences. Because these "invisible Others" existed somewhere between the wholly alien and the fully normative, they evoked acute anxieties about the security and cohesion of the nation-state. Incorporating readings of nonliterary cultural artifacts, such as trial transcripts, into her analysis, Carlston pinpoints moments in which national self-conceptions in France, England, and the United States grew unstable. Concentrating specifically on the Dreyfus affair in France, the defections of Communist spies in the U.K., and the Rosenberg case in the United States, Carlston directly links twentieth-century tensions around citizenship to the social and political concerns of three generations of influential writers.

Why were white bourgeois gay male writers so interested in spies, espionage, and treason in the twentieth century? Erin G. Carlston believes such figures and themes were critical to exploring citizenship and its limits, requirements, and possibilities in the modern Western state. Through close readings of Marcel Proust's novels, W. H. Auden's poetry, and Tony Kushner's play "Angels in America," which all reference real-life espionaage cases involving Jews, homosexuals, or Communists, Carlston connects gay men's fascination with spying to larger debates about the making and contestation of social identity.

Carlston argues that in the modern West, a distinctive position has been assigned to those perceived to be marginal to the nation because of non-visible religious, political, or sexual differences. Because these "invisible Others" existed somewhere between the wholly alien and the fully normative, they evoked acute anxieties about the security and cohesion of the nation-state. Incorporating readings of nonliterary cultural artifacts, such as trial transcripts, into her analysis, Carlston pinpoints moments in which national self-conceptions in France, England, and the United States grew unstable. Concentrating specifically on the Dreyfus affair in France, the defections of Communist spies in the U.K., and the Rosenberg case in the United States, Carlston directly links twentieth-century tensions around citizenship to the social and political concerns of three generations of influential writers.