It's not initially evident how Laskin chose these particular authors. Wilson, McCarthy, Tate, Stafford, Woodburn, Arendt. The common thread seems to have been their alliance to the Partisan Review, but politics was never the prime impetus in their lives. They might be best described as political arrivistes in a variety of left leaning shades. None of their work resorted, thankfully, to rigid polemics, and in later forms showed a decided skepticism of all dogma. They could not be described as a literary school, even with a vague commitment to a never fully articulated 'modernism'. These poets, novelists and social commentators had individual interests and styles, with no common overarching credo. Lowell's Catholicism somehow coexists with Wilson's avowed Marxism, with little tangible conflict. What you do find is a writer's clique, which at times seemed only an excuse to engage in an exuberant circus of multiple marriages, affairs, heavy drinking and bourgeois tastes. These are consummate social clubbers, actuated by a discriminating sense of membership. A club founded, no doubt, on prodigious writing talent, but seemingly searching more for the legitimacy of membership than an invigorating intellectual culture.
The style of the book is gossipy but energetic. Its aspirations are more to the interplay of personalities than the literary output. Laskin still manages a coherent critique of the major works, but his intent does not provide for much depth to the analysis. The times form an interesting period in American letters, still very much in the thrall of the late 19th Century romantic idealism, but in a society on the verge of massive social change, for better or worse. All aspired to stable marriage, but systematically destroyed relationships through petty cruelties and mutual infidelity. Laskin focuses primarily on the women and their relationships with their husbands or lovers. They desperately sought independent identities yet were inculcated with traditional ideas of roles. Their revolutionary zeal muted by conventional expectations. Simon De Beavoir's ground breaking treatise on feminism, The Second Sex, could still bring howls of derision and charges of flagrant denial of a natural order from them. They lamented shrillness and superficial icons of the bourgeoning women's movement. Unsurprisingly, this all produced a cynical edge in their writing. Laskin paints a vivid picture of the New York Literary scene of the 30's and 40's, arrogantly dismissive of American customs, and yet forever defined by the mores of the society against which they rebelled. It is not always a pretty picture, as a dimly perceived hypocrisy tinges their lives, along with the attendant profligacy, alcoholism, spousal abuse, and manic depression so seemingly entrenched in literary lifestyles. The book, though, is an insightful social looking glass, a page turner, and a good companion to his subject's writings.