Results by title

For long periods in history, the Austrian capital found itself on the geographical edge of western civilisation. Yet from the 18th century on, Vienna has been a vibrant centre of European culture. This city is the scene of the formidable meeting of the two outstanding intellectuals that are at the core of this book. 

The warm relationship between W.H. Auden, the celebrated British-American poet (1907–1973), and his fellow expatriate, the Welsh-Austrian journalist, translator and writer Stella Musulin (1915–1996) lasted while Auden resided in the nearby small town of Kirchstetten starting in 1958. It was here that the poet was laid to rest in the autumn of 1973. This book is based on the unpublished letters of Auden to Musulin and her private journals.  

The study of this inspiring material yields new insights into Auden’s last, prolific, creative period and underscores the ‘Austrian Auden.’ In addition, Michael O’Sullivan pays tribute to the closest ‘Austrian’ friend of the poet. Baroness Stella von Musulin was an intellectual whose two books for Faber & Faber are acknowledged as classics: Vienna in the Age of Metternich and Austria: People & Landscape (with a foreword by Auden). The author situates the close relationship of two individuals in the context of Austria’s complex political, social, and cultural history in the Cold War years.

Showing the political importance of play in postwar French literature
 
In postwar France, authors approached writing ludically, placing rules and conditions on language and on the context of composition itself. They eliminated “e’s” and feminized texts; they traveled according to strict rules and invented outright silly public personas. The Politics of Play: Oulipo and the Legacy of French Literary Ludics is a comprehensive examination of how and why French authors turned to these ludic methods to grapple with their political moment. 
 
These writers were responding to a range of historical upheavals, from the rise and fall of French feminist and Third-Worldist groups to the aftermath of international socialism both at home, in the former Parisian Belt and in France more broadly, and abroad, in post-Yugoslavia Balkan states and elsewhere. Juxtaposing an array of case studies and drawing on cross-disciplinary methodologies, Aubrey Gabel reads three generations of the formalist literary group Oulipo, including Raymond Queneau, Georges Perec, and Jacques Jouet, alongside writers not traditionally deemed ludic—or sometimes not even conventionally known as novelists—such as the lesbian activist-writer Monique Wittig and the editor François Maspero. Gabel argues that literary ludics serve as both an authorial strategy and a political form: playful methods allow writers not only to represent history in code but also to intervene creatively—as political actors—in the fraught social fields of midcentury France and beyond. 
 

Eloquently extolled by President John F. Kennedy, the idea that only artists in free societies can produce great art became a bedrock assumption of the Cold War. That this conviction defied centuries of historical evidence--to say nothing of achievements within the Soviet Union--failed to impact impregnable cultural Cold War doctrine.

Joseph Horowitz writes: “That so many fine minds could have cheapened freedom by over-praising it, turning it into a reductionist propaganda mantra, is one measure of the intellectual cost of the Cold War.” He shows how the efforts of the CIA-funded Congress for Cultural Freedom were distorted by an anti-totalitarian “psychology of exile” traceable to its secretary general, the displaced Russian aristocrat/composer Nicolas Nabokov, and to Nabokov’s hero Igor Stravinsky.

In counterpoint, Horowitz investigates personal, social, and political factors that actually shape the creative act. He here focuses on Stravinsky, who in Los Angeles experienced a “freedom not to matter,” and Dmitri Shostakovich, who was both victim and beneficiary of Soviet cultural policies. He also takes a fresh look at cultural exchange and explores paradoxical similarities and differences framing the popularization of classical music in the Soviet Union and the United States. In closing, he assesses the Kennedy administration’s arts advocacy initiatives and their pertinence to today’s fraught American national identity.

Challenging long-entrenched myths, The Propaganda of Freedom newly explores the tangled relationship between the ideology of freedom and ideals of cultural achievement.

A powerful account of the claims made by victims of the 1863 Draft Riots reveals how Americans’ emotional and legal responses to loss informed the development of contemporary capitalism.

The right to property has been central to America’s history, but for Joanna Cohen, loss of property has been powerful, too, not as a right but as an emotion. In The Properties of Loss, Cohen focuses on the aftermath of Manhattan’s infamous Draft Riots in July 1863, where Civil War draft protests fomented anti-Black terrorism that set the city aflame. In the wake of this destruction, nearly 2,000 people filed claims against the city, seeking reparation. But they found that the city chose not to value their property or imagine their losses as they did. Beyond the individual stories of suffering and struggle, these claims serve as a nexus for understanding how the conception of loss, the value of property, and the obligations of restitution changed in the nineteenth century. Charting these changes by focusing closely on emotions, Cohen shows how these changes shaped contemporary capitalism and underpin a surprising array of today’s discriminatory forces.

The intellectual resistance to totalitarian regimes can take many forms. This remarkable volume portrays one such story of resistance in Romania during the reign of Ceauşescu: that of Constantin Noica, one of the country’s foremost intellectuals.

Noica was an original thinker belonging to the remarkable intellectual generation of important figures such as Mircea Eliade, E. M. Cioran and Eugene Ionescu, but he chose to stay in Romania after the communist takeover when many others fled. Harassed and jailed for six years, Noica retreated to the mountains and gathered around him some brilliant young minds and future talent to challenge and nurture them in a time when communism denied them the materials of true intellectual importance.

This group of students withdrew to Noica’s retreat for intensive philosophical sessions to debate the works of Kant, Plato, Heidegger and discuss humanistic values. The author of this volume Liiceanu, himself a brilliant philosopher, was Noica’s closest disciple and during every meeting he noted every conversation in a diary which came to be known as The Păltiniş Diary. These conversations were secretly published and quickly devoured by intellectuals in Romania who were prepared to sacrifice part of their food provisions to acquire the book. The Păltiniş Diary sold out within a matter of days and because of Secret Police censorship, was not published again in Romania until 1991 by which time Noica had died and the group had disbanded to help with the reconstruction of post-Ceauşescu Romania.

The Păltiniş Diary is a wonderful homage to an intellectual master and to the power of intellect and freedom. The book will be of interest to philosophers, non-philosophers alike, and to anyone who seeks to grasp the true meaning of survival under totalitarian conditions. 

A close look at the emotional and intellectual world of writer John Dos Passos, who was at one time America’s leading modernist, that reveals the political and cultural rhythms of the twentieth century.

John Dos Passos (1896–1970) was a prolific writer—at once compulsive and enigmatic—who became famous in the 1930s as America’s leading literary modernist, only to be eclipsed in the second half of his life because of his own political and aesthetic choices. The Rage of John Dos Passos adopts a psychoanalytic perspective to comprehend the curious career of a man whom Jean-Paul Sartre described in 1938 as “the greatest writer of our time.” 

As a young man after World War I, Dos Passos wrote books that won him notoriety as an intemperate critic of American society. His Three Soldiers (1921) was called an insult to the army in which he had been enlisted. His impressionistic novel of New York City, Manhattan Transfer (1925), was dismissed as “spattered filth.” Then in the 1930s, three wildly creative and politically engaged novels written under the collective title U.S.A. truly made his name. Yet Dos Passos then abandoned his youthful radicalism to embrace strident anticommunism and the second Red Scare. 

The Rage of John Dos Passos examines the central strands of the author’s life, from infancy until death, and the full range of his writing, including his often-scorned late novels. Christopher Tomlins aims to fuse history, biography, and literary analysis in understanding Dos Passos and his times—and our own. 

Between 1946 and 1948, roughly five thousand ethnic Italians from the northern Adriatic shipbuilding town of Monfalcone relocated to the newly communist Yugoslavia. This rare case of eastward Cold War migration demonstrates how ordinary people conceived of liberation during the transitional years between World War II and the early Cold War—a time when Monfalcone was both the object of competing Italian and Yugoslav territorial claims and the subject of Anglo-American military occupation.

In The Red Italians of Monfalcone, Luke Gramith undertakes a deep and detailed analysis—based on archival sources in Italy, Slovenia, and the United States—of how the Monfalconesi came to understand Fascism and communism through everyday experience and how those emergent ideologies affected and were affected by their migration. In the course of his analysis, Gramith also examines the failure of “defascistization” and how it fueled strong (but ultimately unsuccessful) pro-Yugoslav and communist movements.

Examines how the modern French Republic came into being through state efforts to assimilate Christians, Muslims, and Jews across France and colonial Algeria.

In The Republic Estranged, Yuval Tal studies three religious communities—Christians, Muslims, and Jews—and their interactions with French settlers in colonial Algeria. While each of these groups wanted to “become French” without abandoning their communal identities, the French system had its own ideas about what kind of assimilation was possible or desirable. It welcomed Christians, excluded Muslims, and enfranchised Jews while insisting that Jews could never become as naturally French as Christians could. The result, Tal shows, was a “republican ethnic common sense” that continues to shape French politics today.

Tal argues we must understand France’s deeply entrenched anti-Muslim rhetoric as part of a larger strategy that selectively privileges Christians over and against Muslim and Jewish minorities. He focuses on a period between 1870 and 1919, in which we see how France’s supposedly universalist project of national assimilation was predicated on the notion that some ethnically and religiously defined communities were more capable of “becoming French” than others. Working with sources in Arabic, French, Spanish, and Italian, including literary, political, and legal texts, this book speaks to readers across French studies, Jewish studies, and Middle East and North African studies, showing the ongoing relevance of this important period in French history.

Once the pride of interwar Czechoslovakia, and key during the forced industrialization of the Stalinist period, during the 1970s and 1980s the Czechoslovak railway sector showed the symptoms of the political tiredness and economic exhaustion of the Soviet Bloc. This book examines the failure of central economic planning through the lens of this national transport system.

Based on the presentation of its history and on the detailed scrutiny of the actors, institutions, internal mechanisms, and conditions of the railway sector, the analysis reveals the identities of the real stakeholders in the state administration. This case shows how the country was governed by Communist Party institutions and government ministries, and how developments in the transportation sector—like in every sector—reflected their priorities. Numerous tables with selected statistics underscore the economic analysis and black and white photos offer a glimpse on the technical base of the railway sector.

The book is filled with enlightening comparisons of the Czechoslovak transportation industry with its counterparts in the whole Eastern Bloc. Integration into the Council for Mutual Economic Assistance (Comecon) of the Bloc could have been an asset, yet the records have more to say about conflicts than cooperation.

To most observers, the 1984 Winter Olympics in Sarajevo, Yugoslavia, were an unmitigated success. That year, the unlikeliest of candidate cities in the unlikeliest of candidate countries did what many had thought impossible: it hosted an international sports competition at the highest level, housing and feeding hundreds of athletes and thousands of tourists while broadcasting a positive image of socialist Yugoslavia to the world. 

The first Winter Games held in a communist country, Sarajevo also marked the first Olympic confrontation of Soviet and American athletes since the U.S. boycott of the 1980 Moscow Summer Games. And the competitions themselves were spectacular and memorable. This was the Olympics of British ice dancers Jayne Torvill and Christopher Dean, American skiers “Wild Bill” Johnson and Debbie Armstrong, and East German skaters Katarina Witt and Karin Enke, not to mention a Soviet hockey team that rebounded from its stunning loss to the Americans at Lake Placid four years earlier to win all seven of its matches. 

Yet The Sarajevo Olympics is more than just a history of sport. Jason Vuic also retraces the history of the Olympic movement, analyzes the inner workings of the International Olympic Committee during the troubled 1970s and 1980s, and places the 1984 Winter Games in the context of Cold War geopolitics. The book begins and ends by reminding readers that less than a decade after it hosted the Olympics, the Bosnian city of Sarajevo found itself at the vortex of a bloody and brutal civil war that would end with the dissolution of the multiethnic Yugoslavian state.

Visionary Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño was known for his darkly poetic prose and postmodern narratives, exemplified in his novel The Savage Detectives. His work is also deeply infused with references to the Western literary canon—from French and Spanish baroque texts to American and German modernism, as well as postmodern literature from Latin America and France. Taking Bolaño’s notion of “savage” reading as a point of departure, this study explores the key authors and literary traditions that underpin his oeuvre. Blending close textual analysis with insights from the history of literature and ideas, Loy offers fresh perspectives on some of Bolaño’s most significant works, including Distant Star, By Night in Chile, and 2666. The intertextual dialogues Loy traces—with figures such as Blaise Pascal, Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, Charles Baudelaire, William Carlos Williams, Ernst Jünger, Nicanor Parra, and Georges Perec—illuminate the aesthetic universe of an author now regarded as a central figure in twenty-first-century world literature.

Published by Bucknell University Press. Distributed worldwide by Rutgers University Press.