Question

Modernism is the most peculiar of all artistic movements of the twentieth century and the most difficult
to pin down since people started coming with "movements" in the first place. Modernism is the only thing
that strikes more fear into the heart of an English undergraduate than the idea of going to a lecture.
Critics and academics, not unwisely, prefer their artistic movements to be readily comprehensible and
clearly enough defined to make some logical sense. Modernism, however, will not be tamed. It is straggly
begins nowhere and with no one in particular, and ends only when its writers have started to battle even
themselves. One treads carefully through its key texts: James Joyce's Ulysses, T.S. Eliot's The waste
Land (both 1922), and Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway (1925). The authors of these aberrations, these
posturing, egoistical, lunatic, kaleidoscopic works of blatant and self-conscious genius, have laid literary
landmines throughout their works.
Joyce said of Ulysses that "I've put in so many enigmas and puzzles that it will keep the professors busy
for centuries arguing over what I meant, and that's the only way of insuring one's immortality." This
statement sums up the enigma of modernism (if one can said to sum up an enigma) in that it contains
arrogance mingling with modesty, cleverness tied up in self-effacing humor and above all, absurdity with
a purpose. Plots, such as they exist at all in modernist writing, are submerged beneath wave upon wave
of classical allusions, archaisms, neologisms, foreign languages, quotations, swear words and other
hyper literary and meta-literary indulgences. If I haven't made it clear already, it is hard not to love
modernism. It is hard to work out what exactly it is.


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Answer 1

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