Near the end of Jean-Paul Sartre’s essay on prose writing (“What is Writing?”, which first appeared in What is Literature?), he claims, “Our critics are Catharists.” Sartre makes a brief but important change in his language here. They are no longer, as earlier in the essay, “the critics” but now “our critics.” By using the term “the,” Sartre had initially set literary critics aside from the world; they are off on their own in a protective bubble by themselves where they can discuss dead men and old ideas. Here, however, Sartre makes a distinction. By calling them “our critics,” he exerts his ownership over this group of scholars. But this ownership extends beyond Sartre’s individual personhood. He is not saying “my critics,” but “our critics.” By claiming the critic is ours, Sartre implies that scholars have a responsibility in the world and to those who live in it. Our critics shape our understanding of the literary world and thus shape the real world. So, just as our critics belong to us, so we are indebted to them in a mutual interdependence that shapes the collective world.
Yet, “our critics are Catharists,” according to Sartre. Though they belong in the world, they wish to separate themselves from it in a similar manner to the medieval Christian sect known as the Cathars. For Cathars and critics, the physical world is a terrible place that is often a hindrance to a purer form of reality that is hidden from most people. By using such religious terms, Sartre suggests that “our critics” often perceive their work as a kind of spiritual ritual. Indeed, earlier in the essay, Sartre claims that a critic “lends his body to the dead in order that they may come back to life.” This is some power. Yet, since they are Catharists, they wish to remain in this place beyond the physical boundaries of the world. They wish to remain in the realm of dead authors and ideas when they should be bringing them back to life for a purpose in the present moment. For this reason, “The critic lives badly.” One might even say, as Sartre clearly claims, that “our critics” have a responsibility to take up their position in making the world. When they remain focused solely on the world of dead authors and ideas, they neglect the physical reality of the present moment.
Sartre continues, “[Our critics] don’t want to have anything to do with the real world except eat and drink in it.” “Eat and drink” is a fundamental aspect of life in the “real world.” Nothing can survive without it. At the same time, however, if people are restricted only to eating and drinking, then they are living life at its bare minimum. Humans desire much more than just relieving hunger and thirst. The fact that we often desire richer foods than bread and stronger drinks than water prove this to be true. Of course, human desire extends well beyond hunger and thirst. Yet, if our critics desire only to eat and drink in the real world, then they are living life at its barest. In fact, we might even venture to say that our critics are barely human. More accurately, perhaps, they have placed their humanity in an illusory world of dead writers and old ideas. As such, our critics do not share their humanity with us because they are so focused on the old, dead, and gone. After all, as Sartre goes on to argue, “since it is absolutely necessary to have relations with our fellow-creatures, they have chosen to have them with the defunct.” Sharing the world together, interacting with others, and having relations with our fellow-creatures is a necessity in the world. We all live in ecologies where our interactions with each other, with animals, and with plants shape the world around us. Our critics “have chosen” to interact only with those creatures who no longer exist. They want to reside in a ghostly ecology where the spirits of the dead roam. Hence, critics do not share their humanity with the functioning world but only with that which is no longer alive. Sartre says that our critics “have chosen” this type of life. It has already happened. They have already gone down this path of living badly and barely. But it is a choice. Critics can choose to interact with their “fellow-creatures.” For Sartre, critics must choose to interact or have relations with their living fellow creatures rather than the “defunct.”
Sartre then writes, “They get excited only about classified matters, closed quarrels, stories whose ends are known.” Each of these phrases implies a boundary. Our critics “get excited” about being closed-off or separated from the rest of the world. They enjoy discussing “classified matters” because “classified” suggests the idea that only special, highly trained individuals can investigate the matter at hand. Additionally, the quarrels of academic discourse are “closed.” Critics argue only with other critics. They see no need nor have any desire to engage in an open quarrel in which the larger public can participate. With both phrases, Sartre is highly critical of the separation our critics create between themselves and the rest of society. To return to religious language, Sartre seems critical of our critics because they perceive themselves as “holy.”
Sartre also claims that our critics “get excited only about…stories whose ends are known.” At first, this phrase seems to suggest that Sartre sees no purpose in re-reading those stories that are well-known. Why, after all, do we continue to study Hamlet or Moby-Dick? We know Hamlet dies as the tragic hero; we know Captain Ahab is taken to the depths by the white whale. Sartre’s comment here is very provocative. Is he really saying that the study of literature is worthless? This seems preposterous given the fact that he bestows great importance on the writer. Rather, I suggest he is leading us to think about how we might apply concepts from “stories whose ends are known” to our own lives. After all, he claims our critics have the power to lend their “body to the dead in order that they may come back to life.” What is the good in this power if not to allow those dead writers and old ideas to speak to the present moment?
Jean-Paul Sartre writes this essay in the context of a post-World War II world. He watched the global fallout of this tragic conflict, and he lived through the Nuremberg trials, where many witnessed the horrors of the Nazi regime for the first time. Sartre calls on the critics, the theorists, and the philosophers to take a more active role in society, to use their knowledge of the past to inform the future. He calls on them to engage with the contemporary world, with the public, and with their communities. For Sartre, critics and scholars best serve their community when they offer their specific knowledge to build a better, more-informed world Ultimately, he argues, this is the purpose of writing.
Jack Love is a PhD Student at Texas A&M University where he studies American Literature of the twentieth century. He has contributed criticism and reviews to venues including Christianity & Literature, the Oxford Handbook of American Street Literature, and the Journal of Arts Writing by Students. Additionally, he teaches composition, business writing, and literature courses at Texas A&M.
