For decades, Anderson has been pressing critical theorists and literary scholars to acknowledge the inescapably normative dimensions of their work. Through careful attention to rhetorical styles, she has persuasively argued that epistemological positions and social theories are tethered to “characterological” judgments—to implicit endorsements of ethos. Meanwhile, critical discourse has warmed to the claims of lived experience (the “turn to ethics,” the interest in “affect”), but the “ethical” has remained a negative movement, either as the critique of social and discursive structures (...) or as clearing space for the “other”—and “affect” has been construed as the pleasure and self-care that enable resistance to the pressure of these structures. The questions that galvanize ethical criticism (What is wrong with the way things are?) and theories of affect (How can I survive?) continue to evade the deeper one that Anderson sees as basic to any theorizing: How should I live?The lesson of Anderson's The Way We Argue Now is that ethics without ethos is shallow. In Psyche and Ethos, the lesson is that psychology without morality is benumbed. Though Anderson is characteristically judicious in her reconstruction of the arguments she opposes, there are several rhetorical targets in these lectures. The first is contemporary cognitive science, which pictures moral thinking as either the “belated” rationalization of decisions really made by “automatic” psychological processes or as a mechanism for eliminating “cognitive dissonance.” Anderson shows how these pictures assume an abstracted, “punctual” model of moral experience; their “deflationary” zeal ironically depends on an untenable ideal of moral voluntarism that is then speciously “debunked.” By contrast, novels are able to explore the temporal dimension of moral consciousness, especially through their representation of what she calls “moral rumination,” a concept further developed in her recent contribution to Character: Three Inquiries in Literary Studies. Anderson shows, moreover, that narrative fictions like The Winter's Tale, Middlemarch, and The Beast in the Jungle understand “belatedness” not as evidence for the superficiality of morality but as a distinct mode of moral recognition that can unfold only across time.Anderson worries that the new “eudaimonic” literary criticism, which explores “enabling moods,” unwittingly perpetuates the moral confusion of empirical psychology and “privileg[es] psychological over moral desiderata,” even as certain “psychological states” are “presented as morally desirable.” This contradiction is another iteration of one she has been confronting throughout her career: the strange incapacity of critical discourse either to recognize or to avow the normative claims—the elaboration of an ethos as good or valuable—with which it is nonetheless saturated. Still, the contradiction has been a defining feature of modern “therapeutic culture” (a formulation she employs): the neutral, functionalist descriptions of empirical psychology ostensibly bracket morality, yet some descriptions are inevitably coded as “better” or “worse,” and they are consistently harnessed to fully moral evaluations. It is rare to hear a literary theorist of Anderson's provenance reanimate, if indirectly, the criticism that Philip Rieff, Christopher Lasch, and Jackson Lears directed toward “therapeutic culture,” which has largely been forgotten or vulgarized by right-wing pundits. In essence, however, her plea is similar to theirs: she wants us to acknowledge that the moral life is integral to the “healthy” life; and she wants critics to stop dismissing it as epiphenomenal to either psychology or politics. She sees the novel, and the humanities more broadly, as the preeminent cultural vehicles for “clarifying” the moral life. (shrink)

This review-essay examines two books about the history of the modern humanities: Permanent Crisis: The Humanities in a Disenchanted Age by Paul Reitter and Chad Wellmon and Battle of the Classics: How a Nineteenth-Century Debate Can Save the Humanities Today by Eric Adler. Both studies reconstruct genealogies of discourse and practice by which to understand the “crisis” of the humanities, yet they draw disparate lessons from these reconstructions. The review traces the two monographs’ competing accounts of the historical continuity of (...) humanities practices and the moral dimension of humanistic inquiry. Together, Permanent Crisis and Battle of the Classics describe an antinomy that can be neither resolved nor ignored: the methodological norms of the modern university tend to subvert the humanities’ investment in meaning and value, but without that investment, humanistic study loses the motivations and purposes that define it. (shrink)

_A scholarly and deeply sensitive study that explores how religion and secularism are tightly interwoven in the major works of modernist literature_ Matthew Mutter provides a broad survey of modernist literature, examining key works against a background of philosophy, theology, intellectual and social history, while tracing the relationship of modernism’s secular imagination to the religious cultures that both preceded and shaped it. Mutter’s provocative study demonstrates how, despite their explicit desire to purify secular life of its religious residues, Wallace Stevens, (...) Virginia Woolf, and other literary modernists consistently found themselves entangled in the religious legacies they disavowed. (shrink)

J. M. Coetzee's trilogy of novels with Jesus in their titles, published between 2013 and 2019, has bewildered many reviewers. This essay review proposes that that bewilderment stems from a misconception of the novels’ allegorical dimension and of the possible meanings evoked by their titles. The trilogy is the consummation of Coetzee's meditations on analogy and linguistic skepticism; on the ontological status of fictions; on the eschatological impulsion of writing; and on memory's capacity for true recognitions that have no empirical (...) basis. The trilogy presents us with a world that affirms a purely immanent life. Coetzee tests this world dialogically by subjecting its self-identical “here” to the nonidentical repetitions of analogical thought, through which an “elsewhere” impinges on the “here.” The trilogy's deepest questions turn on the metaphysical scope of this “elsewhere”: that is, on whether the vertiginous depths of analogy participate in an underlying substrate of meaning, recognizable as “the Word of God.”. (shrink)