During the German occupation of France, the French intellectual
Jean-Paul Sartre (1905–1980) developed a philosophy
of resistance and individual freedom called existentialism,
whose fundamental premise was the absence
of a god in the universe, thereby denying any preordained
destiny to mankind. Humans were thus deprived of any
absolute purpose or meaning, set adrift in an absurd
world. Often reduced to despair and depression, the pro-
tagonists of Sartre’s literary works were left with only one
hope—themselves, voluntarily reaching out and becoming
involved in their community. In the early 1950s,
Sartre became a devout Marxist, hitching his philosophy
of freedom to one of political engagement to the Communist
ideal.
One of Sartre’s contemporaries, Albert Camus (1913–
1960), greatly influenced generations of young people in
the postwar era with writings that focused on the notion
of the absurd. In his seminal novel, The Stranger (1942),
the protagonist, having stumbled through a lethargic existence,
realizes just before dying that regardless of the absurdity
of life, humans still have the opportunity to embrace
the joyful dimensions of experience—in his case,
the warmth and splendor of the Algerian skies. Neither a
political activist nor an ideologue, Camus broke with
Sartre and other French leftists upon the disclosure of the
Stalinist atrocities in the Soviet gulags.
The existentialist worldview found expression in the
Paris of the 1950s in the “theater of the absurd.” One of
its foremost proponents was the Irish dramatist Samuel
Beckett (1906 –1990), who lived in France. In his trailblazing
play Waiting for Godot (1952), two nondescript
men eagerly await the appearance of someone who never
arrives. While they wait, they pass the time exchanging
hopes and fears, with humor, courage, and touching
friendship. This waiting represents the existential meaning
of life, which is found in the daily activities and fellowship
of the here and now, despite the absence of any
absolute salvation to the human condition.
With the Soviet suppression of the Hungarian Revolution
in 1956, many Europeans became disenchanted with
political systems of any kind and began to question the
validity of reason, history, progress, and universal truths.
Leading the way toward the adoption of a new perspective
was the French structuralist Claude Lévi-Strauss
(b. 1908). An anthropologist, he examined world cultures
as autonomous units, each different and worthy of
respect, thus helping to reinforce the dismantling of the
French colonial empire and empower the newly emerging
postcolonial nations in Africa and Asia.
In the late 1960s, the negation of prewar ideologies
and the proliferation of structural methodology, now applied
to all branches of learning, fused into a new doctrine
of skepticism called deconstruction. Deconstruction
cast doubt on all Western political and philosophical traditions,
leaving a world in which human beings have lost
their status as free agents dealing with universal verities
and are reduced to empty vessels programmed by language
and culture.
For deconstructionists, language was like quicksand,
constantly moving, its intermittent layers hiding unlimited
and opposing meanings. A word does not signify an
objective meaning but rather is open to different associations
by each speaker or listener. Consequently, a given
text can never have one single meaning, since the intention
of the author and the understanding of the reader
will never be precisely the same. By denying any ultimate
meaning to language, deconstruction thus negated the
existence of any objective truth.
The philosophical skepticism reflected in this new approach
quickly manifested itself in European literature as
authors grappled with new ways to present reality in an
uncertain and nonsensical world. Whereas the modernists
at the beginning of the century had celebrated the
power of art to benefit humankind, placing their faith in
the written word, much of the new “postmodern” literature
reflected the lack of belief in anything, especially the
written word (see Chapter 16).
Following in the footsteps of the modernists, French
authors in the 1960s experimented so radically with literary
forms and language that they pushed fiction well beyond
its traditional limits of rational understanding. In
the “new novel,” for example, authors like Alain Robbe-
Grillet (b. 1922) and Nathalie Sarraute (1900 –1999)
delved deeply into stream-of-consciousness writing, literally
abandoning the reader in the disorienting obsessions
of the protagonist’s unconscious mind (see Chapter 10).
Some authors, however, preferred to retrieve literary
forms and values that modernists had rejected, choosing
to tell a “good” chronological story, to entertain as well
as to deliver a moral message. Graham Greene (1904 –
1991) was one of Britain’s more prolific, popular, and critically
acclaimed authors of the century. He succeeded
in combining psychological and moral depth with enthralling
stories, often dealing with political conflicts set
in exotic locales. A longtime critic of the United States,
Greene forecast the American defeat in Vietnam in his
1955 novel The Quiet American. This and many of his
other novels have been made into films.
Two other European authors who combined a gripping
tale with seriousness of intent, written in fresh exciting
narrative, were the German writer Günter Grass
(b. 1927) and the Portuguese novelist José Saramago
(b. 1922). Grass’s 1959 novel, The Tin Drum, blasted
German consciousness out of the complacency that had
been induced by his country’s postwar economic miracle,
reexamining Germany’s infatuation with Hitler and
warning German readers of the ever-present danger of repeating
the evils of the past. In Crabwalk (2002), Grass
chronicled a 1945 Soviet submarine attack on a German
ship carrying thousands of civilian refugees, thus breaking
the taboo of silence by Germans, who had suppressed the
memory of their own suffering during World War II.
In The Cave (2001), Saramago focused on global issues,
such as the erosion of individual cultures stemming
from the tyranny of globalization, which, in his view,
had not only led to the exploitation of poor countries but
also had robbed the world’s cultures of their uniqueness,
thus reducing humankind to living in caves where communication
is impossible and the only place of worship is
the ubiquitous shopping mall. Like Grass, Saramago believed
strongly in the Western humanist tradition and
viewed authors as society’s moral guardians and political
mobilizers.
Since the end of World War II, serious music has witnessed
a wide diversity of experimental movements, each
searching for new tonal and rhythmic structures. Striving
to go beyond Schoenberg’s atonality, European composers
in the 1950s set out to free their music from
the traditional constraints of meter, form, and dynamics.
Of special consideration are Frenchman Pierre Boulez
(b. 1925) and German Karlheinz Stockhausen (b. 1928).
They devised a new procedure called serialism, which is a
mathematical ordering of musical components that, once
set in motion, essentially writes itself automatically.
The second half of the century witnessed a profusion
of diverse movements in European painting and architecture,
many of which were initiated in the United States.
For that reason, the issue will be discussed in Chapter 10.