Book Review: "Monsters" by Claire Dederer

robertmcgrath

Oct 22

Monsters by Claire Dederer

These days, "consumers" of art ("Art?") have a dilemma.

For example, Pablo Picasso created a huge amount of unique objects, which are beautiful, interesting, and challenging. Many of us love his art works. But Picasso was an awful human being, even allowing for cultural and historical differences. He was abusive and violent, especially to women; irrational and selfish; and generally horrible.

He was a monster.

Should we love the art made by a monster?

There are a lot of different ways to look at that question, which is Dederer's theme.

I'm not really as passionate about "art" as Dederer. (For instance, I have no problem simply ignoring both Picasso's art and biography.) Even so, I was really interested in her analysis of these questions.

Dederer reaches broadly and open mindedly. The introductory cases are, of course, rapists and other abusers of women and girls. Dederer, like many or most women, has a visceral reaction to such monsters. This makes them tough cases. She is repelled by the crimes, but can be absolutely in love with their work.

Simply "cancelling" the monster doesn't seem like the right answer, at least not for everyone.

But Dederer does not stop at #MeToo. She examines "monstrous" women artists, whose "crime" often involves abandoning their children. As a mother and a writer, Dederer groks this personally, and simply cannot forgive this particular behavior.

She also has a nuanced discussion of the status of art that depicts monstrous conduct. Does portraying abusive, horrible people imply sympathy or even autobiography? Sometimes, maybe it does. But it isn't really valid to condemn an artist for portraying something horrible, if there is a valid artistic point. (She parses Lolita at great length.)

Dederer is mainly a memoirist, so it is natural that there is a bit of autobiography here. And it is highly relevant, as she makes the crucial point that monsters are people, and everyone is better than the worst thing they have ever done. However vile the headline deeds, it is just plain wrong (and monstrous) to "cancel" a whole person and everything they ever did.

That said, Dederer shows us the struggle between biography and the artwork. When we read or otherwise experience art, we are influenced—emotionally influenced—by the work itself, but also what we know about the creator and everything else. The problem of "monsters" is that their behavior creates emotional reactions that conflict with, and "stain" the beauty of the works.

"And so we come back around to what to do about these monstrous people. Emotion, subjectivity, forgiveness, empathy, institutional change, making room for silenced voices, acknowledgement that the work was altered—all these things matter. So does one more thing: beauty."

(p. 243)

What? Huh? Art is about beauty?

Of course it is.

Trained as an anthropologist and psychologist, I strongly agree with Dederer's position that balancing these conflicts is an individual affair. There isn't a single right answer. (And critics who believe in "objective truth" are just wrong. They are also mostly white males, who can't see beyond their privilege.)

In the end, I think it is important to think about Dederer's discussion of ideas about art that come out of contemporary capitalism. The view that each of us are "consumers", leads to notions that it somehow matters whether we "consume" the art of a monster or not. As if watching a movie or reading a book is somehow a "like" for the creator.

This leads to the most simpleminded criticisms, as well as feelings of guilt. Am I a bad person if I like Wood Allen's movies? Is it wrong to read books written by people who did horrible things? Is it wicked to like music stained by monstrous deeds?

In the end, these are probably not reasonable questions.

Is there a simple clear answer to the problem of monsters?

Nope. Not in this book. Not anywhere.

"The question "what do we do with the art?" is kind of a laboratory or a kind of practice for the real deal, the real question: what is it to love someone awful?"

(pp.255-6)

The problem is that you still love them, despite what they did.

Are you telling me that art is about love? And love is complicated in real life?

Yes. Yes, that's exactly what we're saying here.

This is exactly what art is about.

And this is exactly what being human is about.