Amazon.com Review
Playful, amusing, frivolous, and bizarre. As Ruth Brandon points out in the preface to her marvelous
Surreal Lives,
surrealism has passed into everyday life as a byword for the strange. However, as this wonderfully exhaustive book point outs, the intellectual and political drive behind the movement was in fact highly revolutionary. What Brandon proceeds to unfold is a kaleidoscopic cultural history of the movement, which by 1924 had self-consciously adopted the title "surrealism," from its emergence in the midst of the ashes of interwar Zurich dada to its enforced relocation to New York in the 1940s. Along the way
Surreal Lives deftly weaves a fascinating account of the cultural, artistic, political, personal, and sexual dynamics of the men and women who defined the movement from the 1920s onward.
The personal and artistic connections between the usual suspects of Apollinaire, Picabia, Man Ray, Duchamp, Buñuel, and Dalí are all traced in extensive and highly entertaining detail. And at the book's center lies the pompous, autocratic, charismatic figure of André Breton and his creative but highly volatile relations with the entire cast--from his feuds with Tristan Tzara to his ultimate disillusion with Dalí. Following Breton's enigmatic career, the book moves beautifully between the revolutionary aspirations of the movement and the endemic literary squabbles that often blunted its radicalism. Brandon is particularly successful at uncovering the importance of the various women who had such a decisive impact upon the development of surrealism, as well as offering a range of salacious and often wonderfully incongruous encounters, such as the aged Erik Satie's involvement in the creation of Marcel Duchamp's The Gift. How surreal. --Jerry Brotton, Amazon.co.uk
From Publishers Weekly
"Jacques Vach? is the Surrealist in me." So said Andr? Breton of his compatriot, dead from drug abuse in 1919, well before the heyday of the official movement that Breton came to run like a political party. Vach?, a man who created virtually no artwork, embodied the surrealist ideal that one's life itself should be a work of art. Brandon (Uncertainty Principle; Singer and the Sewing Machine)Aentranced by these artists' dadaist outrages, political radicalism, flirtations with Stalin, psychic seances and sexual debaucheryAfinds the search for this ideal more compelling than any art objects, poetry or manifestos left behind along the way. The narrative focuses on the most sensational behavior of this disparate group of avant-gardists; at times, it has the breathless feel of a rock-star bio, paying considerable attention to outrageous, backstabbing disputes and wife-swapping affairs. Her interpretations of their art are swift and punchy to a fault, however. Of Duchamp's infamous "readymade" urinal, Brandon says: "In Art's very own sanctum Mr Mutt pissed on the notion of Art." And she misses key connections. Brandon herself suggests that Vach? may well have modeled himself on Gide's character Lafcadio. Later, she dismisses Arthur Cravan as a "simplified and brutalized" version of Vach?. She then provides evidence that Cravan may have been Gide's model for LafcadioAand yet, she never directly comments on this Escher-like circle of influence. Despite such drawbacks, this account of the flawed and ambitious group of surrealists is enthralling, for despite their many failures, the questions the surrealists sought to raise are more relevant today than ever. Illus. not seen by PW. (Sept.)
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.
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