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Of all the things absent from today’s literary canon, satire is the most conspicuous.
The greatest satire has typically come at a time of great psychic upheaval, at a time when those in power were being particularly imperious, obtuse and wrong-headed.
From Aristophanes to Cicero to Swift and on, satirists have forced a society deep in sincere self-regard to laugh darkly at the state they’re in – though I suppose that it’s only those who already suspected their bathos who find real relief in that laughter.
Second only to Voltaire’s Candide, some of the finest and most powerful satire comes from Russia in the Twenties and Thirties. Sharp and brilliant and rife with pain, aside from the best Serapions, the works of Bulgakov, Zamyatin, Zoshchenko, et al are perhaps the only truly humane and reliable expressions of those times.
There’s also Yuri Olyesha’s Envy, which is a homage to Lewis’s Babbitt, one of the few successful American satires. (I’m tempted to add Henry James to this list, but I may be the only one who finds him funny. But then, I also find the over-the-top writhings of Thomas Hardy’s characters hilarious, so my authority here may be a bit shaky.)
So why the lack of (good) satire in our times? We’ve got sarcasm and snark and collegiate parody aplenty. We’ve got dark, dark humour and the ever-reliable scatology.
Maybe the glaring absence of satire is telling of an over-reaching attempt at compassion. While most will agree how ludicrous and reductive the notion of political correctness – to use an easy example – few will attempt more than a fleeting attack, tempered by the guilt of moral relativism.
If any time was ever ripe for satire, it is ours. But we’ve become so earnest in our desire to take a global view, so cheered by our sense of victimhood, so easily mollified, that we’re muting our ability to properly dismantle those foibles which are crippling our ability to act boldly and intelligently against the rampant stupidity, manipulation and just plain seediness of the overriding currents of power and measures of worth.
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Comment
- Your analysis is stellar, as usual, and brilliantly subjective (as usual…?)
Satire has certainly been commodified. Just like revolt. And individualism. And ethics. (Can I really start a sentence with “and”...?)
It’s all symptomatic of the deep penetration of immediate access in our (cyber) culture. You and I are both participating in it now – with many others, I suppose. I do think it’s a good thing, but…...
What was the actual print-run of Voltaire’s CANDIDE, d’y’think? (Probably smaller than Leibniz’s philosphical formula of “the best of all possible worlds” on which it was based….)
David Sedaris is good right now…but also (inceasingly) the ‘currency’. How was Michael Moore so quickly nueutered, (methodology and depth – questionable: potent populist analysis – priceless)...is there no escape?!
— moj Jul 12, 6:06am # - I believe you’re forgetting Kurt Vonnegut, unless you do not consider him a satirist.
I think I agree with you, however, that satirists do have a much smaller presence in the world today, though, than they should. Perhaps it is because we are instructed to be united and optimistic, and thus have no room to be cynical or sarcastic about the state of things.
— Doug Jul 12, 10:01am # - I wonder if satire is, in fact, omni-present and at such a large scale that no one notices it. How can anyone with a mind understand our society’s obsession with sports figures or people who are ‘famous’ for no other reason than that they are ‘famous’ – like Liz Taylor etc.
Surely, someone must look at the career of someone like Tom Cruise (and the examples are many – I don’t particularly dislike Mr Cruise) and think that he is living a satirical life – a non-actor being famous and loved and adored and followed incessantly for being an actor – is not his entire existence one long satirical joke at our expense? Why do we focus on people like him while others more deserving of our attention toil away in obscurity?
— Jerry Jul 12, 10:33am # - Have you read any of Victor Pelevin’s books? He’s a contemporary Russian author whose novels can be sharply satirical; I’m thinking especially of ‘Omon Ra’ and ‘The Life of Insects.’
— misteraitch Jul 12, 11:02am # - Martin: I don’t know the figures, but I’m sure that the first edition of Candide wasn’t a very large printing since Voltaire’s name wasn’t on it—it was said to be a book translated from the German by Dr. Ralph. Ha ha. (Oh, and thanks: while trying to find an answer to that, I ended up browsing gorgeous old editions for sale, and pining and coveting and so I had to stop looking.)
And grammar teachers be damned: “and” is a good dramatic start to a sentence.
And you’re right, Doug, I’d forgotten about Vonnegut (shame on me).
Jerry: well at least Liz Taylor used to be a star. God, are you old enough to remember Orson Beane? Who was that guy?
Tom who?
Mr. H, I’ve only heard of Pelevin, but never read him. So I’ll remedy that. Thanks for the tip.
— gail Jul 12, 12:30pm # - I’ll add another Russian to your list, Gail: Victor Serge. It’s a stretch to call him a satirist—he doesn’t poke fun, he accuses and reveals—but his novel The Case of Comrade Tulayev inherently ridicules Stalin and is the best novel I’ve read all year.
— Dale Keiger Jul 12, 7:23pm # - I wonder if we’re simply in such a collective state of shock that we don’t feel the safety or comfort of a secure future to afford satire. If you’re starving or bleeding or your house has just been leveled by black hawk helicopters you certainly don’t have the mental capacity for satire. Living in the US with the incessant flow of horrible news coming from our capital, I can barely make jokes anymore because my jaw continuously hangs open in utter dismay. We’re living in extreme times, it seems, where the only legitimate response is screeching rebellion, a sound generally not conducive to satire.
I dunno…
— Jeff Jul 13, 12:03am # - Well that’s just the thing, Jeff, in the past it has been times like these, times of anger and doubt and dread, which have produced the most biting satire. It’s a powerful way of rattling cages, and giving a clear view from above—cutting through the miasma of all we would have ourselves believe.
And thanks for that title, Dale. Sounds great. The Stalinist era is a great and brutal lesson in dignity and worthy subversion. If writers could stand up to that, surely we can stand up to this (and bamboozle the self-censoring publishers like they did).
— gail Jul 13, 9:08am # - The main obstacle to effective satire in the States (most especially where politics is concerned) is the fact that actual events are continually out-absurding even the most extreme satirists. Who can keep up?
— Phineas Jul 13, 3:54pm # - Jack Womack was writing absolutely wonderful satirical novels about a future America for a while. Then he went to Russia, fell in love with its contemporary satirical possibilities, and wrote a novel set there.
I suppose it’s possible that you’d put his work (and George Romero’s work in movies) in the “dark humor” or “horror” categories instead—but “satire” is awfully hard to pin down in formal terms. I think Alaistar Fowler is probably right in calling it more a mode than a genre per se—after all, the word derives from the Latin for “medley” or “hash”.
— Ray Davis Jul 14, 9:19pm # - The October 2004 issue of Believer magazine has an article by Chris Bachelder which they describe as an essay ”[o]n satire, Upton Sinclair’s astonishing deployment of exclamation points, and the possibilities of politically engaged writing.” You might like it, if you can find a copy. Among other things, Bachelder discusses the surreal experience of writing a novel about a TV “reality” show that broadcasts fights between wild animals with people betting on the outcome (his book Bear vs. Shark), and then learning that there really is a TV show that does that.
— Amy Jul 18, 8:03pm # - Bret Easton Ellis
American Psycho and (to a lesser extent) Glamourrama—american satire matching the russians.
(and swift had his fair share of scatology)
— Anthony Easton Aug 15, 2:26am #
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