Critical giants, in the spotlightPage full of 2 -- Sontag & Kael: Opposites Attract Me
By Craig Seligman Counterpoint, 244 pp., $23 In sizing up the role of art criticism in the present century, one may be hard pressed to name a critical voice as potently influential as either Susan Sontag or the late Pauline Kael. Yet these women were writing from positions distinct from one another. Kael focused her expansive insights on the singular medium of film criticism, while Sontag spread her energies across a wider range of interests and mediums, seldom pausing to penetrate individual works. Their writing was not only consistently thought provoking and often controversial, but typically was regarded as the "final word" on the subject. The fact that there may be fewer prominent voices today speaks less to a lack of critical insight or talent than to the weakening force of critical opinion in the face of ever-expanding mass interests and tastes. In the '60s, '70s, and '80s, when these women were at the top of their game, the tremendous cultural and political changes in America provided a conduit for active creative and critical expression, and a receptive platform for these highly intellectual and outspoken writers who often questioned what is art and what is trash. Both writers were making complex distinctions and setting boundaries. While earlier in her career Sontag reflected openly on pop culture in essays like "On Camp," she later restricted her writing to art she held in higher esteem. Kael, on the other hand, increasingly embraced and even enjoyed trash (albeit selectively), feeling that it held a noteworthy place in American cinema; hence her continued devotion to directors like Brian De Palma.
An examination of the role of critical writing in relation to these evolving distinctions is at the heart of Craig Seligman's curious new book, "Sontag & Kael: Opposites Attract Me." Seligman, a former editor at Seligman proves early on that he has a solid grounding in their writing, and in referring to a broader critical appraisal of their work, he seems to have read everything that's ever been written about them, literally. When he maintains an impartial stance toward their work his insights are lucid and compelling, but when he interjects personal opinions about how these women, particularly Sontag, conduct their lives, his arguments are still thought provoking, though suspect. From the outset he fesses up to his love for Kael and his reverence toward Sontag. This is somewhat of an understatement: He was a close friend of Kael's for nearly 20 years; he's had no personal relationship with Sontag, and has in fact never met her. His admiration for Sontag's writing is genuine, and his close reading of her work imparts a rich understanding of her intentions in a manner that would compliment any writer. But he has a few personal bones to pick, and this, unfortunately, is where his best intentions begin to unravel. Though he refers to Sontag's puritanical views, the elitist and self-righteous tone that he attributes to her frequently erupts in the strident remarks he directs at her: "Sontag's self-righteousness is grating. I take it personally." And it's not that you entirely disagree with him. It's just that these highly personal views don't seem to belong here, and more often than not you find yourself in the unlikely position of defending her. An example is in his contempt for her not publicly acknowledging her sexual preferences. More disturbing is his blasting of Sontag for the controversial piece she wrote for the post-9/11 issue of The New Yorker. Siding with her detractors and ignoring her many advocates, he takes offense in her condemning the media rather than offering a more emotional response to the event. And yet, today, as the experience of 9/11 escalates into a political hot button, her words resonate with startling prescience: "The disconnect between last Tuesday's monstrous dose of reality and the self-righteous drivel and outright deceptions being peddled by public figures and TV commentators is startling, depressing." Seligman is conscious of his biases: "Someone who read an early manuscript of the book . . . said, 'Even when you criticize Kael, you cast her in a golden light, but you never give Sontag the benefit of the doubt.' Another friend was blunter: 'Why are you devoting half of a book to a writer you hate?' If, after revisions, it still sounds like I hate Sontag, then my revisions haven't done their job." Yet by the end one may begin to question his underlying motives for having written this book. Winding down through his final chapter, as Seligman reflects at length on his longstanding and loving friendship with Kael, we find him traveling down a similar path taken by Francis Davis in 2002 with his affectionate paean to Kael, "Afterglow: A Last Conversation With Pauline Kael." Though Seligman offers a touching tribute to a writer whose dauntless opinions and earthy humor have deservedly won her such a devoted following, the balance of this exercise has dramatically shifted as a result. Despite whatever admiration he has for Sontag's work, he places her at a distinct disadvantage here. Both writers deserve to be taken on their own terms, and if portrayed as opposites, not as such by the degree of feeling he has for each of them.
Chris Navratil has edited two literary anthologies, "In the House of Night" and "Man of My Dreams." He lives in San Francisco. © Copyright 2004 Globe Newspaper Company.
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