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In late 19th century England, Oscar Wilde popularized aestheticism,
also known as art-for-art’s-sake – the idea that art, that
beauty, should not be a vehicle for morality or truth, but an end
in-and-of-itself. Rothko and Jackson Pollock enthroned the idea,
creating paintings that are barely graded panels of color or wild
splashes. Today, pop culture is aestheticism’s true heir, from
the perfect charismatic emptiness of Ocean’s Eleven to the
hyper-choreographed essentially balletic movements in the best
martial arts movies. But aestheticism has a dark core, one that
Social Justice Activists are now gathering to combat, revealing the
damaging ideology reflected in or concealed by our most beloved pop
culture icons. Taking Bryan Fuller’s television version of
Hannibal “The Cannibal” Lecter as its main text – and taking
Žižek-style illustrative detours into Malcolm in the Middle, Dark
Knight Rises, Harry Potter, Interview with a Vampire, Dexter and
more – this book marshals Walter Pater, Camille Paglia,
Nietzsche, the Marquis de Sade, Kant and Plato, as well as Dante,
Shakespeare, Milton, Blake, Baudelaire, Beckett, Wallace Stevens
and David Mamet to argue that Fuller’s show is a deceptively
brilliant advance of aestheticism, both in form and content – one
that investigates how deeply art-for-art’s-sake, and those of us
who consciously or unconsciously worship at its teat, are
necessarily entwined with evil.
In late 19th century England, Oscar Wilde popularized aestheticism,
also known as art-for-art's-sake - the idea that art, that beauty,
should not be a vehicle for morality or truth, but an end
in-and-of-itself. Rothko and Jackson Pollock enthroned the idea,
creating paintings that are barely graded panels of color or wild
splashes. Today, pop culture is aestheticism's true heir, from the
perfect charismatic emptiness of Ocean's Eleven to the
hyper-choreographed essentially balletic movements in the best
martial arts movies. But aestheticism has a dark core, one that
Social Justice Activists are now gathering to combat, revealing the
damaging ideology reflected in or concealed by our most beloved pop
culture icons. Taking Bryan Fuller's television version of Hannibal
"The Cannibal" Lecter as its main text - and taking Zizek-style
illustrative detours into Malcolm in the Middle, Dark Knight Rises,
Harry Potter, Interview with a Vampire, Dexter and more - this book
marshals Walter Pater, Camille Paglia, Nietzsche, the Marquis de
Sade, Kant and Plato, as well as Dante, Shakespeare, Milton, Blake,
Baudelaire, Beckett, Wallace Stevens and David Mamet to argue that
Fuller's show is a deceptively brilliant advance of aestheticism,
both in form and content - one that investigates how deeply
art-for-art's-sake, and those of us who consciously or
unconsciously worship at its teat, are necessarily entwined with
evil.
In 1946, French film critic Nino Frank, having just seen "The
Maltese Falcon", "Double Indemnity", "Laura", and "Murder", "My
Sweet" linked them all with the term "film noir." No one working on
these projects knew they were making film noirs; Frank invented a
label that connected them after the fact, and it is because of his
label that the genre became famous. "Imaginary Biographies:
Misreading the Lives of the Poets" aims to do for poetry what Frank
did for film: to gather together previously unrelated works in
order to better understand and appreciate them as a new,
unrecognized literary genre. In "Imaginary Biographies", Geoff
Klock argues that the bizarre portrayal of historical writers in
post-Enlightenment English poetry constitutes a genre, a
battleground for two central conflicts: the confrontation of the
self-sufficient Romantic imagination with the brute fact of
external precursors (in the nineteenth century); and the
participation in, and simultaneous deflation of, Romantic idealism
(in the twentieth). In William Blake's "Milton", the author of
"Paradise Lost" returns to earth to redeem his female half,
confront Satan and herald the apocalypse. Percy Bysshe Shelley's
Jean-Jacques Rousseau has been physically deformed and mentally
ruined by a hellish chariot in "The Triumph of Life". Algernon
Charles Swinburne, in his Anactoria, hijacks the ancient Greek
poetess Sappho and turns her into his anti-Christian Sadistic
lesbian vampire cannibal Muse. In "The Changing Light at Sandover",
James Merrill contacts W.H. Auden and William Butler Yeats with a
Ouija board and discovers their part in an insane cosmic hierarchy.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Robert Southey abandoned their youthful
plans to establish a utopian community in America; Paul Muldoon's
Madoc imagines they went through with it and describes the ensuing
disaster. John Ashbery's "Sleepers Awake" gages the work of Miguel
de Cervantes, James Joyce and Homer in terms of how much they slept
while writing. In "TV Men", Anne Carson portrays "Thucydides",
"Sappho", and "Antonin Artaud" anachronistically preparing, or
being prepared for, television adaptations. Klock makes the
audacious and fascinating case that the imaginary biography is in
continuity with literary criticism. He concentrates on how one poet
misreads another by explicitly naming the earlier poet in the
latter poem. This "misreading" forms a new genre, creating a new
kind of character and a new kind of poem. The result is a dazzling
work of literary scholarship that will stimulate debate for years
to come.
Superhero comic books are traditionally thought to have two
distinct periods, two major waves of creativity: the Golden Age and
the Silver Age. In simple terms, the Golden Age was the birth of
the superhero proper out of the pulp novel characters of the early
1930s, and was primarily associated with the DC Comics Group.
Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, and Wonder Woman are the most
famous creations of this period. In the early 1960s, Marvel Comics
launched a completely new line of heroes, the primary figures of
the Silver Age: the Fantastic Four, Spider-Man, the Incredible
Hulk, the X-Men, the Avengers, Iron Man, and Daredevil.
In this book, Geoff Klock presents a study of the Third Movement of
superhero comic books. He avoids, at all costs, the temptation to
refer to this movement as "Postmodern," "Deconstructionist," or
something equally tedious. Analyzing the works of Frank Miller,
Alan Moore, Warren Ellis, and Grant Morrison among others, and
taking his cue from Harold Bloom, Klock unearths the birth of
self-consciousness in the superhero narrative and guides us through
an intricate world of traditions, influences, nostalgia and
innovations - a world where comic books do indeed become
literature.
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