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Studies and Further Studies in a Dying Culture
Book by Caudwell, Christopher
536 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1971
7 people are currently reading
129 people want to read
About the author
Christopher Caudwell
34 books24 followersChristopher Caudwell is the pseudonym of Christopher St. John Sprigg a British Marxist writer, thinker and poet.
He was born into a Roman Catholic family, resident at 53 Montserrat Road, Putney. He was educated at the Benedictine Ealing Priory School, but left school at the age of 15 after his father, Stanhope Sprigg, lost his job as literary editor of the Daily Express. Caudwell moved with his father to Bradford and began work as a reporter for the Yorkshire Observer. He made his way to Marxism and set about rethinking everything in light of it, from poetry to philosophy to physics, later joining the Communist Party of Great Britain in Poplar, London.
In December 1936 he drove an ambulance to Spain and joined the International Brigades there, training as a machine-gunner at Albacete before becoming a machine-gun instructor and group political delegate. He edited a wall newspaper.
He was killed in action on 12 February 1937, the first day of the Battle of the Jarama Valley. His brother, Theodore, had attempted to have Caudwell recalled by the Communist Party of Great Britain by showing its General Secretary, Harry Pollitt, the proofs of Caudwell's book Illusion and Reality. Caudwell's Marxist works were published posthumously. The first was Illusion and Reality (1937), an analysis of poetry.
Caudwell published widely, writing criticism, poetry, short stories and novels. Much of his work was published posthumously.
He was born into a Roman Catholic family, resident at 53 Montserrat Road, Putney. He was educated at the Benedictine Ealing Priory School, but left school at the age of 15 after his father, Stanhope Sprigg, lost his job as literary editor of the Daily Express. Caudwell moved with his father to Bradford and began work as a reporter for the Yorkshire Observer. He made his way to Marxism and set about rethinking everything in light of it, from poetry to philosophy to physics, later joining the Communist Party of Great Britain in Poplar, London.
In December 1936 he drove an ambulance to Spain and joined the International Brigades there, training as a machine-gunner at Albacete before becoming a machine-gun instructor and group political delegate. He edited a wall newspaper.
He was killed in action on 12 February 1937, the first day of the Battle of the Jarama Valley. His brother, Theodore, had attempted to have Caudwell recalled by the Communist Party of Great Britain by showing its General Secretary, Harry Pollitt, the proofs of Caudwell's book Illusion and Reality. Caudwell's Marxist works were published posthumously. The first was Illusion and Reality (1937), an analysis of poetry.
Caudwell published widely, writing criticism, poetry, short stories and novels. Much of his work was published posthumously.
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
April 25, 2018
4 Stars really, but I'm adding one to counter all the confused liberal lit crit students that read this and then thought it was evil and dogmatic because it uses the word bourgeois a lot. Brilliant in many ways, confused and incomplete in others, this is book by an incredibly intelligent budding Marxist frantically analyzing every topic he could think of and killed by fascism before he had a chance to fully develop. Apocalyptic in tone (which is very understandable to anyone who knows anything about the climate and history of the late 30's in Europe), it joins Bukharin's Philosophical Arabesques as a somewhat flawed lost work of pre WWII creative Marxism that didn't manage to intervene or have much effect during the era in which it was produced. Maybe I will come back and write a proper review sometime, in the meantime E.P. Thompson has a good essay on some elements of his political writings, and you can also find good works by Rob Wallace, Helena Sheehan, and John Bellamy Foster that talk about his work specifically in a scientific context.
September 17, 2015
Written from the early context of the civil unrest between the two world wars, Caudwell takes a vulgar Marxist view of the end of capitalism for reality. He expands on himself in this two volumes, talking about various structures that center our social reality... from beauty, and reality and consciousness to the arts and the place of psychoanalysis. Caudwell seeks to show us exactly how our culture of capitalism is dying and withering in its own material (and intellectual) excess.
What makes him at times difficult to stomach but also admirable is his very strong view of deterministic relationships between access to resources and every aspect of our culture and being. His range of topics and how he manages to see his line of dialectical materialism conveys his passion for the theory and love and his disgust of people through the separation of what is good in us and what is bad.
It's a strange thing to see him care so deeply about other people in the abstract (that he took the risk of dying in a war) and yet would condemn his fellow man's action, being, psychology and identity... if that man had not yet woken up the proletariat truth. His passion takes him deeply also, into thought has he critiques even the most abstract of the sciences, mathematics and philosophy in order to sweep all these topics under the rug of Marxist revolution and explanatory power.
What is strange and odd about him though, and what makes his books also difficult to swallow is how often you catch him agreeing with himself. A good author should also present counter arguments, demonstrate how the dialectical truth twists in its logic to create false poses that must shift into more stable positions in later revolutions. Instead he rushes too quickly to the point, making it obvious that he is railroading us swiftly into the proletariat reality as if writing books, (even keeping journals, or papers) would help usher in the Marxist dream of plenty for all, and the end of suffering.
For example, in talking about the flaw of bourgeois science, Caudwell will make the claim that much of scientific knowledge is swayed, or fragmented by bourgeois decay -- the blind hoarding and administration of the ruling class would impede science from making real discoveries, else use science to justify their agenda. Yet Caudwell, decides to tell us what the real discoveries are, the overlooked gems that science has to offer... how does he decide this? By what supports the idea for him of the Marxist paradise -- that man must move towards as the absolute stable equilibrium? The question I would have is how does he know what scientific truths are to be valued? And if so, what is it that is reasonable about such criteria? And if not this, then also if every institution or form of human thought is created through class struggle between the class conscious ruling class and the unconscious working class, then is not Reason and Rationality itself also created by this decaying and dying culture?
Of course he does not go so far, as to justify why Reason or even the dialectical materialism provides such answers... he is less a theorist than say, Jameson or Engels but more of a practioner, or applicationist... he heard the call and merely extends their thoughts for himself, to give himself direction and that extends for him as far as his eye can see. And he sees a lot, tries to see everything.
These writings may not have been intended for public eye, but it is refreshing to connect with a mind from so long ago, and get a taste of what he thought to share with someone... although he doesn't tell you who he thinks you are, he does seek to enlighten you, pull you up from your oppression and unconscious acceptance of your oppression.
He also does not talk about what things will be like when the day will come.
All in all, I felt this was like visiting an old mind, trapped in old photographs of a time when things seemed so much simplier and the answers fathomable. He doesn't talk about his life -- he is being serious though, and for that, I don't mind he doesn't break his shield and be more personal. Still, for the vulgarness and the directness, Caudwell seems sometimes like a brick wall, unmoving, uncompromising and unhearing. We sometimes want the other's stance to acknowledge us as well, so maybe the visiting metaphor was not apt at all. =p
Still, that he doesn't question his own roots, seems to me to be a big reason why I wouldn't take what he wants to convey too seriously. He fits the form of a thinker, and has a good heart, but is critically unaware of his own stance. That's probably okay though, because who of us would want to fall into a pit of despair of not knowing what to value, or how to be, or what should matter? Certainly not Caudwell, although you could maybe take his Marxism as an answer to what seems like a deep despair and loss of person early on in his first volume. So in that sense, maybe this isn't a Marxist work... but the Marxism takes place as a practice of a deeper philosophy, perhaps an existential one, one in which Caudwell paid the ultimate price for, dying in the Spainish Civil war in the name of la revolución.
.
What makes him at times difficult to stomach but also admirable is his very strong view of deterministic relationships between access to resources and every aspect of our culture and being. His range of topics and how he manages to see his line of dialectical materialism conveys his passion for the theory and love and his disgust of people through the separation of what is good in us and what is bad.
It's a strange thing to see him care so deeply about other people in the abstract (that he took the risk of dying in a war) and yet would condemn his fellow man's action, being, psychology and identity... if that man had not yet woken up the proletariat truth. His passion takes him deeply also, into thought has he critiques even the most abstract of the sciences, mathematics and philosophy in order to sweep all these topics under the rug of Marxist revolution and explanatory power.
What is strange and odd about him though, and what makes his books also difficult to swallow is how often you catch him agreeing with himself. A good author should also present counter arguments, demonstrate how the dialectical truth twists in its logic to create false poses that must shift into more stable positions in later revolutions. Instead he rushes too quickly to the point, making it obvious that he is railroading us swiftly into the proletariat reality as if writing books, (even keeping journals, or papers) would help usher in the Marxist dream of plenty for all, and the end of suffering.
For example, in talking about the flaw of bourgeois science, Caudwell will make the claim that much of scientific knowledge is swayed, or fragmented by bourgeois decay -- the blind hoarding and administration of the ruling class would impede science from making real discoveries, else use science to justify their agenda. Yet Caudwell, decides to tell us what the real discoveries are, the overlooked gems that science has to offer... how does he decide this? By what supports the idea for him of the Marxist paradise -- that man must move towards as the absolute stable equilibrium? The question I would have is how does he know what scientific truths are to be valued? And if so, what is it that is reasonable about such criteria? And if not this, then also if every institution or form of human thought is created through class struggle between the class conscious ruling class and the unconscious working class, then is not Reason and Rationality itself also created by this decaying and dying culture?
Of course he does not go so far, as to justify why Reason or even the dialectical materialism provides such answers... he is less a theorist than say, Jameson or Engels but more of a practioner, or applicationist... he heard the call and merely extends their thoughts for himself, to give himself direction and that extends for him as far as his eye can see. And he sees a lot, tries to see everything.
These writings may not have been intended for public eye, but it is refreshing to connect with a mind from so long ago, and get a taste of what he thought to share with someone... although he doesn't tell you who he thinks you are, he does seek to enlighten you, pull you up from your oppression and unconscious acceptance of your oppression.
He also does not talk about what things will be like when the day will come.
All in all, I felt this was like visiting an old mind, trapped in old photographs of a time when things seemed so much simplier and the answers fathomable. He doesn't talk about his life -- he is being serious though, and for that, I don't mind he doesn't break his shield and be more personal. Still, for the vulgarness and the directness, Caudwell seems sometimes like a brick wall, unmoving, uncompromising and unhearing. We sometimes want the other's stance to acknowledge us as well, so maybe the visiting metaphor was not apt at all. =p
Still, that he doesn't question his own roots, seems to me to be a big reason why I wouldn't take what he wants to convey too seriously. He fits the form of a thinker, and has a good heart, but is critically unaware of his own stance. That's probably okay though, because who of us would want to fall into a pit of despair of not knowing what to value, or how to be, or what should matter? Certainly not Caudwell, although you could maybe take his Marxism as an answer to what seems like a deep despair and loss of person early on in his first volume. So in that sense, maybe this isn't a Marxist work... but the Marxism takes place as a practice of a deeper philosophy, perhaps an existential one, one in which Caudwell paid the ultimate price for, dying in the Spainish Civil war in the name of la revolución.
.
September 16, 2024
Caudwell's diagnoses of the ills of society are regularly accurate and sometimes deeply insightful. Unfortunately, his prescriptions are vague (action! but unified with thought!) and often ill-formed or impracticable. He loves grand, unqualified statements, and the careful reader will find it easy to disagree with many of his pronuncements. He spends much of the text riffing on things that Marx already said better rather than carefully developing new ideas in his own right.
That's not to say that Caudwell doesn't try to develop new ideas. The second half of the book (Further Studies) is full of them. They just aren't worth your time: for example, he gets excited about transitivity and believes that he's restored dialectic to the hard sciences, or he goes on an extended flight of fancy about the thalamus as the locus of consciousness.
The first half of the book is worth reading to get insight into a particular strand of fairly dogmatic Marxism in the 1930s. I was inspired at times by Caudwell's prose and was interested in analyzing his arguments and methods, enough to keep me going to the end.
That's not to say that Caudwell doesn't try to develop new ideas. The second half of the book (Further Studies) is full of them. They just aren't worth your time: for example, he gets excited about transitivity and believes that he's restored dialectic to the hard sciences, or he goes on an extended flight of fancy about the thalamus as the locus of consciousness.
The first half of the book is worth reading to get insight into a particular strand of fairly dogmatic Marxism in the 1930s. I was inspired at times by Caudwell's prose and was interested in analyzing his arguments and methods, enough to keep me going to the end.
April 30, 2025
I would rate this 10 stars out of 5 if I could.
A more detailed review is incoming, but first I need to digest everything.
A more detailed review is incoming, but first I need to digest everything.
July 25, 2016
More limited in scope and more dogmatic than Illusion and Reality. Some good insights nonetheless.
June 26, 2010
Only read the "Studies" section, not the "Further Studies" section. Interesting read. Not really something I'd bring with to the beach...
April 22, 2025
About 90% of this book is tired prose making very basic Marxist points. It isn’t really worth reading, although I liked the chapters on pacifism and on Lawrence of Arabia.
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews