Bob & Vivien & Nick & Young: Thoughts on a Post Screening Discussion

L-R: Nick Egan, Vivien Goldman, Bob Gruen, and Young Kim

Malcolm Mclaren: Worlds End Paris Catwalk Shows 

+ Duck Rock Post Screening Discussion and Q&A 

Click here to watch on YouTube 

 

 

I. 

 

If I could have been anywhere in the world this week it would have been New York City - despite the subzero temperatures - in order to attend a programme of events put on by the Anthology Film Archives to honour Malcolm Mclaren and organised in collaboration with Young Kim, his creative and romantic partner for the last twelve years of his life and the executor of his estate. 

 

Essentially a series of screenings, the week-long event explored McLaren's relationship to film and surveyed his rarely seen or discussed contributions to the world of the moving-image.

 

Following the screening of a 60 minute video of the Worlds End Paris Catwalk shows (1981-84) and the 42 minute long-form music video made to accompany the album Duck Rock (1983), there was a post-screening discussion and Q&A moderated by the the British writer, musician, and punk scholar Vivien Goldman and featuring the American photographer Bob Gruen and the English visual artist and self-styled creative vandal Nick Egan, alongside Young Kim. 

 

And, having now twice watched a recording of this discussion uploaded to YouTube, I thought I'd share some thoughts (and impressions) on what was said (since I wasn't invited to attend and chip in my tuppence ha'p'orth in person). 

 

II.

Vivien Goldman sounds fun and seems keen to infuse a little liveliness into events, which is what you need, I suppose, from a moderator. Her remark re Malcolm's heavenly status (0:26) made me smile; for if he has indeed ascended to the Kingdom of God then the angels had better tie him to a tree, or he'll begin to roam and soon you know where he will be.  

 

Young sounds smart and serious, though one might raise an eyebrow at some of her claims; was Duck Rock really an 'anthropological study of world dance cultures' (3:22)? I mean, it's more than just an amusing pop record, but that's over-egging the pudding somewhat.

 

Let's just say rather that it's an imaginative and pioneering work of ethnomusicological curation - albeit one that conveniently and commercially packages things for a Western audience. Malcolm certainly did his research and Duck Rock displays creative genius, but he wasn't an attempting a serious study of world music nor trying to faithfully document such.          

 

 

III. 

 

It's interesting to hear it confirmed by Kim that there is, in fact, not a huge archive of material left behind by McLaren (6:41); I know some people like to think he was England's Andy Warhol [1], but here he absolutely differed from his hero. 

 

For Warhol, of course, left behind an outrageously large and detailed archive of material, consisting of approximately half a million objects, including his personal and artistic belongings from the 1950s until his death in 1987, and filling a space of some 8,000 cubic feet. 

 

Amusingly, The Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts donated the vast majority of this material to The Andy Warhol Museum, giving them the Herculean task of cataloguing the contents (whilst they hold on to the massive collection of paintings, drawings, and prints).        

 

One suspects that the Malcolm McLaren Estate will soon exhaust whatever materials have not yet been placed into the public arena and that defending his legacy will be Kim's main role, rather than adding to it in any significant manner. 

 

 

IV.     

 

Nick Egan I'm always going to think fondly of, as he was kind and helpful to me back in 1983 [2]. 

 

But his claim that Malcolm was 'not a nostalgic person' (7:11) is laughably false; his entire project might be summed up as an attempt to live yesterday tomorrow (to reverse the past into the future). 

 

He may have been quickly bored and always looked to radically shake up the present (his history in relation to 430 Kings Road is evidence of that), but McLaren was a man haunted by ghosts and childhood memories his entire life and was even nostalgic for mud; i.e., some form of primal and primitive authenticity.  

 

Let's just say that his relationship with nostalgia was complex and that he viewed the lost promise of the past as potentially subversive rather than something to get sentimental about.     

 

 

V.  

 

Bob Gruen - whom I've never met or had any contact with - seems like a nice chap and I enjoyed listening to his anecdotes from back in the day, be they about the New York Dolls or suckling pigs (15:30). 

 

And his initial impression of McLaren as odd (9:45) is not wrong; Malcolm was nothing if not an odd duck, although some may prefer to idiomatically label him a queer fish. 

 

Either way, Malcolm was a member of the punk 1% - i.e., those who don't fit in and don't care (as it says on a Seditionaries shirt) [3].  

 

 

VI. 

 

Interesting also to hear from Nick that Malcolm had 'a bubble around him' (17:37) and wasn't always aware that other people didn't see things as he saw them and didn't always realise when he had overstepped the mark or outstayed his welcome. 

 

Hearing how he managed to piss off the mountain folk in Tennessee (16:42) reminds one of that time when, in 2007, he managed to antagonise the good people of Gardenstown, a small fishing village in Aberdeenshire, by informing them that Jesus Christ was a sausage [4].   

 

Is this a sign of McLaren's egoism, or narcissism, or solipsism ...? 

 

I don't know. 

 

But let's call it innocence. 

 

 

VII. 

 

Interestingly, in answering an audience question about accessing the McLaren archive Kim - who obviously has legal control - makes it clear she also wants complete control. Thus, whilst she plans to make Malcolm's work available, it will be at a time of her choosing and according to the terms and conditions she sets: 

 

'I don't really want [things] just everywhere right away. I want to do something with them, but I want to control kind of how it goes out to be honest.' (30:00 - 30:15) 

      

That's understandable, I suppose, but one does have concerns that Kim is also trying to determine the critical reception of McLaren's work and coordinate his entire story from her perspective (I suspect this is what Vivien Goldman refers to as Kim being a 'really fierce defender' (1:31) of Malcolm's legacy.   

 

 

VIII. 

 

Where Young is spot on - and right to contradict Egan - is in her claim that Malcolm always viewed things ultimately from a British perspective (33:13); thus, for example, his album Paris (1994) was very much a love letter to the city and to French pop culture written by an Englishman.     

 

He once told me that Paris is for living in; New York is for playing in; but London is where he always returns to work and bring ideas together (and it's Highgate, of course, where he has his final resting place, not Père Lachaise).   

 

 

IX.

 

Is Nick right to argue that Duck Rock has had more influence than Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols (1977) (41:02)?

 

Young looks as if she wants to interject and challenge the idea and, if I'd been there, I think I might also have challenged that. For while both albums are seminal works, the comparison is inappropriate (maybe even odious), for their influence operates in very different spheres. 

 

Push comes to shove, however, I think Never Mind the Bollocks is the more culturally significant and broadly influential work, having defined the punk movement and its global aesthetic - but this is not to deny or downplay Duck Rock's innovations and the latter album has perhaps proven to be more prophetic (some critics arguing that it not only brought hip-hop into the mainstream, but that it anticipated developments in the 21st century, such as sampling, for example). 

  

 

Notes

 

[1] See the post titled 'The Talented Malcolm McLaren and the Visionary Andy Warhol' (21 Jan 2026): click here. 

 

[2] See the post titled 'Memories of a Duck Rocker' (17 Mar 2025): click here. 

 

[3] I'm referring to the Anarchist Punk Gang' shirt designed by McLaren and Westwood for Seditionaries c. 1979. Click here to view an example of such held by the Met Museum.  

 

[4] See the post titled 'Don't You Know Jesus Christ is a Sausage?' (18 April 2020): click here.  

 

 

Deep in Vogue: How Madonna Threw Some Shade and Out Posed McLaren on the Ballroom Floor

 

Malcolm Mclaren and Madonna Face Off 

 

'This has got to be a special tribute to the Houses of New York ...'

I. 

 

Is voguing - the highly mannered dance craze inspired by the exaggerated poses struck by fashion models and which emerged out of the predominantly Black and Latino LGBT ballroom community in the 1980s [1] - still a thing in 2026? 

 

Apparently ... 

 

Indeed, according to some accounts, it is not only still extremely popular in some quarters, but continues to evolve stylistically, becoming ever more elaborate and performative, whilst still retaining the angular arm and leg movements for which it's famous and still playing with gender and sexuality in all its polymorphously perverse fluidity [2].

 

Here, however, I wish to pop, dip, and spin back in time and discuss the release of two singles; the first by Malcolm McLaren and the second by Madonna ...

 

 

II.

 

'Deep in Vogue' is a track by Malcolm McLaren and the Bootzilla Orchestra, featuring Lourdes and Willi Ninja. It was released as the third single from McLaren's fourth studio album, Waltz Darling (Epic, 1989) [3] and inspired by the New York voguing scene which had captured his imagination: click here.  

 

It was the first record to bring voguing to mainstream public attention, pre-dating Madonna's 'Vogue' by ten months. It topped the Billboard dance chart for a week, but only got to number 83 in the UK singles chart, so wasn't exactly what you call a hit.

 

Madonna's track, by comparison, was a massive hit - going to number one in countries all over the world (including the US and UK) - and is frequently credited with popularising what had previously been an underground dance movement in NYC and a few other cities. 

 

Indeed, to this day there are many people who think she invented voguing in much the same way as Adam Ant invented the Prince Charming dance back in 1981 [4], whereas, actually, she was simply appropriating and commercially exploiting ballroom culture - much like McLaren, though far more successfully - even if, to be fair, she did enlist Jose Gutierez and Luis Camacho of the House of Xtravaganza [5] to choreograph the accompanying music video (dir. David Fincher), and even if she involved other members of the ballroom community in its production.  

 

'Vogue' recived positive reviews from music critics upon its release and, retrospectively, it is now regarded as one of Madonna's career highlights. It has sold to over six million copies to date. Fincher's video - essentially a tribute to old school Hollywood icons - is also highly regarded by fans and critics alike.

 

And, I have to admit, I like it too: it's slicker and more seductive than Malcolm's track, although it's arguably his track that best honours the Houses of New York and which has a certain authenticity to it, rooted more firmly as it is in the underground scene. Some have called it a true mirrorball manifesto.      

 

So how did Malcolm react to Madonna's take on the vogue phenomenon? 

 

Apparently, he was more than a little miffed. But I find it hard to feel too sorry for him when he speaks of being ripped off (for obvious reasons) [6] and it's impossible not to love the Queen of Pop's song and video: click here.  

  

 

Notes

 

[1] The origins of voguing are disputed, although the drag artist Paris Dupree is often credited as being one of the first to mimic the poses of fashion models on the dance floor to the beat of the music. 

      Dupree famously featured in Jennie Livingstone's 1990 documentary Paris is Burning (named after an annual ball organised by Dupree). And Dupree was also the founder of the House of Dupree, which encouraged young urban queers to express themselves in ways that would confuse mainstream (i.e. white heteronormative) culture and place such firmly in the shade. Sadly, Dupree died, aged 61, in NYC, in 2011.  

 

[2] This post is not intended to be a complete history of vogue, but, in brief, there are three distinct styles: old way (pre-1990); new way (post-1990); and vogue fem (circa 1995). Old way is the style popularised by McLaren and Madonna; new way is perhaps the most demanding in that it requires physical dexterity and flexibility in order to pull off the moves; vogue fem, meanwhile, involves exaggerated feminine movements and is influenced more by ballet and modern dance than the world of fashion; it can be dramatic ( i.e., fast and furious) or soft (i.e., graceful) in nature.  

 

[3] For those who like to be accurate in these matters:  'Deep in Vogue' was originally released in the UK and Europe as the B-side to the 'Waltz Darling'. The record was then re-released in Europe in 1990, after it went to number one on the U.S. Billboard Dance Chart and after Madonna's 'Vogue' became a hit (credited to Malcolm McLaren and the House of McLaren).

 

[4] Funnily enough, this dance, choreographed by Stephanie Gluck for the 'Prince Charming' video, might be said to contain voguing elements and it is even set in a ballroom. 

 

[5] Dancers Luis Camacho and Jose Gutierez, both members of the House of Xtravaganza, were already famous in New York City's underground ballroom scene as voguing pioneers.   

 

[6] As Paul Gorman reminds us in The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren (Constable, 2020), p. 616: 

      "The last verse of 'Deep in Vogue' is a word-for-word lift of the final paragraph of an article about the ballroom scene which appeared in New York's Details magazine the previous year [Oct. 1988] and was written by Johnny Dynell's partner Chi Chi Valenti. She successfully sued McLaren and his publisher for infringement."

      Thus even if Madonna did refine some of his ideas for her song and accompanying video, he can't really complain; as he was fond of reminding others - all great artists steal.     

 

остранение: Notes on Viktor Shklovsky and Defamiliarisation

Viktor Shklovsky (1893-1984) 

Defamiliarised by Stephen Alexander (2026)

 

'The technique of art is to make objects unfamiliar, to make forms difficult ...' 

 

 

I. 

 

I noted in a recent post on queer defamiliarisation that the idea has its origins in a concept that arose within Russian formalism, termed ostranenie, and which refers to an artistic technique of making ordinary objects in the everyday world magically appear new and strange [1]. 

 

And because I have been asked by la maîtresse de la chambre bleue to expand on this, I thought I'd write a post in memory of Viktor Shklovsky, the Russian literary theorist, critic, and writer who coined the term остранение in an essay titled 'Art as Technique' (1917) [2].

 

 

II.  

   

Shklovsky is one of the major figures associated with Russian formalism, a school of literary theory that was big in the years before and after the Revolution, exerting a significant influence on writers and thinkers such as Bakhtin (who went on to influence a generation of structuralists and semioticians in turn).

 

Whilst formalism was a diverse movement - producing no unified doctrine  and no consensus amongst its proponents as to what it was they wished to achieve - a key idea was that poetic and literary language posseses specific qualities which can be systematically analysed without having to know anything of the author's biography, psychology, or socio-cultural background.

 

I don't know if Lenin approved, but Stalin was certainly not a fan, declaring formalism to be a form of bourgeois aesthetic and intellectual elitism. For Stalin, there was no art for art's sake and nobody needed those who seek to stand above or outside of Soviet society, or make things difficult for others to understand. 

 

However, whilst the names of those artists and critics who fully embraced and affirmed the strict guidelines of Socialist Realism during Stalin's rule are now largely forgotten, Shklovsky is still highly regarded as one of the most important literary and cultural theorists of the twentieth century.

 

As indicated above, he is perhaps best known for developing the concept of ostranenie; usually translated as defamiliarisation or estrangement (or queering, as we now like to say). His main argument was that art had a duty to revitalise things (be they words, images, or objects) that had become boring and overly-familiar; to smash the cliché and the stereotype and make help us view and think things differently. Why see a urinal when you can see a fountain?  

 

In sum: the purpose of art, for Shklovsky, is to defamiliarise the world and problematise form and this idea greatly influenced 20th-century art and theory, from dadaism to postmodernism.

 

Let me close this post with a famous (and, arguably, the most crucial) passage from Shklovsky's 1917 essay:

 

"And art exists that one may recover the sensation of life; it exists to make one feel things, to make the stone stony. The purpose of art is to impart the sensation of things as they are perceived and not as they are known. The technique of art is to make objects 'unfamiliar', to make forms difficult, to increase the difficulty and length of perception because the process of perception is an aesthetic end in itself and must be prolonged. Art is a way of experiencing the artfulness of an object: the object is not important ..." [3]

 

 

Notes

 

[1] I say it has its origins here, but, of course, there's really nothing new under the sun and one might, if one were so inclined, trace out a long history of making strange; the Romantics certainly knew about so-doing and, indeed, even Aristotle insisted that poetic language must appear strange and wonderful so as to make the things it described appear likewise. 

      Shklovsky's defamiliarization can also be linked to Freud's notion of the uncanny, Bertolt Brecht's estrangement effect [Verfremdungseffekt], and Jacques Derrida's concept of différance.  

 

[2] This essay - sometimes known as 'Art as Device' - can be read as a pdf online: click here. The passage quoted at the close of this post is taken from here (translator unknown). The essay can also be found in in Literary Theory: An Anthology, ed. Julie Rivkin and Michael Ryan (Blackwell Publishing Ltd., 1998), and in Viktor Shklovsky: A Reader, ed. and trans. Alexandra Berlina (Bloomsbury, 2017). 

 

[3] Viktor Shklovsky, 'Art as Technique' (1917). 

 

 

D. H. Lawrence and the Queer Defamiliarisation of St. Mawr

 

Front cover of the Journal of D. H. Lawrence Studies 

Volume 7, Number 2 (2025) [1]

 

 

I. 

 

There are, of course, many ways of reading D. H. Lawrence. 

 

But it seems to me that the real battle now is between those who like to revere his writings from a mythopoetic perspective - i.e., an interpretive approach which looks for connections between his work and those archetypal narratives known as myths - and those who prefer to fuck Lawrence up the arse [2] and defamiliarise his texts in a queer and/or perverse manner. 

 

The first kind of reader - and they have traditionally been dominant within Lawrence scholarship - whilst conceding that there are closely observed realistic elements in his work, like to celebrate his ability to transfigure these elements via a mythopoetic imagination and thereby provide us with a glimpse into the fourth dimensional realm of Being.

 

The second kind of reader - and I'm one of a small but increasing number of such within the world of Lawrence studies - whilst conceding there is symbolic truth and metaphorical meaning in his work, prefer to celebrate his decision to climb down Pisgah and keep his feet firmly planted on the flat earth, providing us with his own form of what Bataille termed base materialism: formless, filthy, and heterogeneous.

 

For the first type of reader, Lawrence will always be a priest of love communing with ancient gods and channelling primal forces, so as to impose some kind of order and value on a secular modern world. For the second, he's more the king of kink [3], exploring the world of fluid sexuality and peculiar paraphilias, making the known world strange and always caught up in a process of becoming-other.  

 

 

II. 

 

Choosing between mythopoiesis and queer defamiliarization [4], ultimately depends on whether you think of Lawrence as a red-bearded visionary and defender of religious faith in a disenchanted world, or a radical opponent of moral rationalism and the metaphysical dualism that it rests upon; is he searching for wholeness, or is he a believer in the ruins? 

  

While traditionalists favour mythopoiesis in order to promote his prophetic genius, readers on the LGBTQI+ spectrum often find queer defamiliarization more useful for accompanying Lawrence on the thought adventures via which he tested the limits of selfhood (particularly in relation to questions of sex and gender). 

 

 

III.

 

In practice, what does all this mean? 

 

Well, it means, for example, that when distinguished Lawrence scholars still susbcribing to a mythpoeic approach read the short novel St. Mawr (1925), they immediately speak of sacred symbols and animal archetypes. 

 

John Turner, for example, although primarily wishing to discuss the sardonic aspects of the above tale, can't help insisting that what Lawrence sought beneath the mockery was "a myth that would marry the old and the new, in such a way as to [...] enrich the visionary power of the eye and re-establish religious connexion with the cosmos" [5] and that the female protagonist, Lou Witt, is on a savage pilgrimage to find "a holy place in which the self in its full depth may be known, experienced and integrated" [6].       

 

And Michael Bell, in a short piece titled 'Lawrence's Horse Sense', says that St. Mawr "belongs among those mythic tales [...] in which the balance of realism to mythopoeia shifts towards the latter" [7]. This, I suppose, is true enough. But surely we are not obliged as readers to shift accordingly and we can discuss the horse as a horse and not as a symbol with mythic significance; and surely we are entitled to claim that the new awareness that the red-golden stallion with his big, black, brilliant eyes provokes in Lou is zoosexual in nature, rather than onto-theological.

 

For although Paul Poplawski claims that there is a "relative lack of sexual content" [8] in St. Mawr, I would argue now - much as I did back in 2006, in a paper on the question of why girls love horses [9] - that St. Mawr is, in many respects, far more transgressive than Lady Chaterley's Lover (1928). 

 

For whilst in the latter book Lawrence wishes to radically challenge class divisions, in St. Mawr he challenges the distinction between human and animal by envisioning a love affair between a woman and a horse, which, whilst not explicit in its depiction - there are no sexual acts as such - is fully eroticised nonetheless. Here, for example, is a description of their very first encounter: 

 

"She laid her hand on his side, and gently stroked him. Then she stroked his shoulder, and then the hard, tense arch of his neck. And she was startled to feel the vivid heat of his life come through to her […] So slippery with vivid, hot life! 

      She paused, as if thinking, while her hand rested on the horse's sun-arched neck. Dimly, in her weary young-woman's soul, an ancient understanding seemed to flood in." [10]

 

What exactly is Lou thinking of here? 

 

Personally, I think it's clear that when Lawrence writes of an 'ancient understanding' flooding into her female soul this is a form of carnal knowledge. And I don't think this is a crassly reductive or obscene interpretation, as some critics would protest. Rather, I think that Lawrence is deliberately flirting with the possibility of a human-animal sexual relationship in St. Mawr - as he does elsewhere in his work - and that this passage is an overtly bestial piece of fantasy writing. 

 

Lou may not be Bodil Joensen [11], but she's the closest to such in Lawrence's queer fictional universe ...  

 

 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] The JDHLS (2025) is published by the D. H. Lawrence Society (Eastwood, Notts.) and edited by Jane Costin. The cover shows an original artwork by Lewis Weber of Nottingham High School. For details on the DHL Society (and how to join), visit their website: click here. 

 

[2] Deleuze famously speaks of approaching an author from behind and buggering them in order to inseminate them with strange new ideas and in this way produce monstrous offspring. See Gilles Deleuze, Negotiations: 1972-1990, trans. Martin Joughin (Columbia University Press, 1997), p. 6.  

 

[3] See my post titled 'D. H. Lawrence: Priest of Kink' (19 July 2018), in which I list an A-Z of paraphilias, perversions, and fetishistic behaviours that can be found in his work: click here. 

 

[4] Defamiliarization - or, to use the original Russian term, остранение (ostranenie) - is an artistic technique of magically making ordinary objects in the everyday world appear new and as if seen for the first time. It was coined by the formalist Viktor Shklovsky in an essay of 1917. It has been utilised and adapted by many different artists and thinkers and has now become an important component of queer theory. 

      See, for example, Helen Palmer, Queer Defamiliarisation: Writing, Mattering, Making Strange (Edinburgh University Press, 2020), in which she explores how we might radically reimagine this concept in order to affirm deviant, errant, and alternative modes of being which have become synonymous with queer theory. 

 

[5] John Turner, 'Drift and Depth: the Sardonic in St. Mawr', in the Journal of D. H. Lawrence Studies, Volume 7, Number 2 (2025), p. 52. Note the dated - slightly affected - spelling of the word connection.  

 

[6] Ibid., p. 53.  

 

[7] Michael Bell, 'Lawrence's Horse Sense', JDHLS, 7. 2 (2025), p. 140.  

 

[8] Paul Poplawski, 'Less is Mawr: Revisiting Lawrence's St. Mawr', JDHLS, 7. 2 (2025), p. 80. 

 

[9] I'm referring to the essay 'Equus Eroticus: Why Do Girls Love Horses?', written in 2006, presented at Treadwell's Bookshop (London) in March 2007, and published in The Treadwell's Papers Vol. 3: Zoophilia (Blind Cupid Press, 2010), pp. 87-117. 

      Without wishing to blow my own trumpet, I would suggest that this text might be seen as seminal for those who are now discovering the notion of queer defamiliarisation and/or perverse forms of materialism.     

 

[10] D. H. Lawrence, 'St. Mawr', in St. Mawr and Other Stories, ed. Brian Finney (Penguin Books, 1997), p. 30. 

 

[11] Bodil Joensen (1944-1985) was a Danish porn star who ran a small farm and animal husbandry business. She gained public notoriety for her many  films in which she engaged in sex acts with animals, including horses, although she warned in an interview that being fucked by a horse is always a dangerous affair, particularly for those inexperienced in the practice; for not only can these powerful creatures bite and kick, or suddenly thrust and flare when excited, but at orgasm the glans of a horse will swell considerably and this can cause serious (if not fatal) internal damage. In this same interview (1980), she explained how she had developed a special technique to allow penetration without the risk of vaginal tearing. 

 

 

Sijia Yao's Cosmopolitan Love and Utopian Vision: Or How to Have D. H. Lawrence Spinning in His Grave (Part 2: Sections VI-X)

Sijia Yao: Cosmopolitan Love: 

Utopian Vision in D. H. Lawrence and Eileen Chang 

(University of Michigan Press, 2023)

 

 

This is a continuation of a post the first part of which (sections I-V) can be accessed by clicking here.  

 

 

VI. 

 

Nineteen-year-old Yvette Saywell may have had a sexual relationship with a married gipsy named Joe Boswell, but for Lawrence's most notorious tale of adultery we have to turn to the case of Lady Chatterley and her lover ... 

 

The seemingly modern - and yet actually anti-modern [e] - relationship between Connie and Mellors, says Yao, is not merely a crossing of the boundaries of "class, convention, and ideology" (69), it's a "transgressive love that institutionally challenges the local and global norms of modernization" (69). 

 

Again, whilst I have in the past argued something very similar, over the years (and in light of work by Foucault) I've become increasingly sceptical about the politics of desire [f] put forward by figures such as Wilhelm Reich, Herbert Marcuse, and, indeed, Lawrence. 

 

So, whilst I agree that warmhearted fucking and phallic tenderness are all well and good, I'm not sure these things are enough to bring about a revaluation of values or help us "breathe the air of freedom" (71) by overthrowing Western modernity. 

 

And whether the union of Connie and Mellors furthers the deconstruction of capitalist society and constitutes "an organic new life" (76), is also highly debatable; they might just become the kind of self-involved and self-contained couple that Rawdon Lilly so despises; "'stuck together like two jujube lozenges'" [g].          

 

 

VII.

 

And so we arrive at chapter 4 and the utopia of transcendental love ... The chapter which I suspect will really get my goat. But let's see. It opens thus:

 

"After defying both local and global discourses to reach a cosmopolitan freedom, Lawrence [...] discovered that freedom lies not necessarily somewhere outside but inside a heart that longs for an alternative utopian existence. The longing for utopia develops into an increasingly stronger theme in [his] later writings, displaying [his] redemptive attempts to create a new language of God's love." (95)

 

Lawrence, argues Yao, believes in projecting love into another mysterious dimension; one which is "intimately connected to the depth of time and the cosmos" (95). His ultimate goal, as a priest of love, is to "replace the eroded religious tradition" (95) of his own culture.

 

Sex is the means not only to human wholeness, but to a mystical union with the mysterious cosmos and the vast universe: "The intimate interrelation between [...] two lovers forms the bridge between humanity and the Absolute" (100), writes Yao (approvingly). Continuing:

 

"The more completely and profoundly the lovers are sexually connected, the more sacred and transcendental their passionate love becomes. Through sexual union, lovers achieve the ultimate, mystical marriage in order to fulfill their unknown desire." (102)

 

I mention Foucault in passing above, I now think we must quote him in an attempt to counter some of this sex mysticism ...

 

Referring directly to Lawrence's work at several points, Foucault discusses how the concept of sex as an omnipresent meaning, a metaphysical form of agency, and a universal signified, "made it possible to group together, in an artificial unity, anatomical elements, biological functions, conducts, sensations, pleasures" [h], becoming in the process "the most speculative, most ideal, and most internal element in a deployment of sexuality organised by power in its grip on bodies and their materiality" [i].  

 

In the imaginary element that is sex, we mistakenly believe we see our deepest and most primal selves reflected. One day, Foucault muses, "people will smile perhaps when they recall that here were men - meaning ourselves - who believed that therein resided a truth every bit as precious as the one they had already demanded from the earth, the stars, and the pure forms of their thought" [j]. 

 

The irony is that in subjecting ourselves to the austere monarchy of sex, we think we have somehow liberated ourselves.  

 

 

VIII. 

 

And so we come to The Escaped Cock ... (which was actually Lawrence's preferred title - showing his ability to laugh even at his own phallic philosophy - not The Man Who Died, as Yao informs readers).

 

This final great work of fiction represents Lawrence's attempt to "replace Christianity with a secular practice of healing and rebirth" (103), says Yao, though I think it would be better (and more accurate) to say Lawrence attempts to place Christianity back within a wider (pagan) religious context via a libidinally material - but nevertheless sacred - practice of healing and rebirth.  

 

But hey, I'm not her editor ... 

 

 

IX.

 

Moving toward the end of her fourth and final chapter, Yao repeats the claim that Lawrence attempts to "cross boundaries of human domain in time and space through the lived experience of love" (111) and whilst that's  not a sentence I could ever imagine writing personally, I suppose for those who like this sort of thing, this is the sort of thing they like (although I have no idea what it means to "explore the transcendental dimension of utopia" (111-112)). 

 

Perhaps a Lawrence scholar can enlighten me on this point. And perhaps they can also confirm or deny the truth of this claim made by Yao: "Lawrence optimistically believes that utopia can ultimately be achieved triumphantly, and he consequently always concludes his stories with consummation and revelation." (112)  

 

I see that with The Rainbow - but not with his other novels. In fact, I had always thought that Lawrence was known (and often criticised) for leaving his works with open-ended, ambiguous, or inconclusive endings, thereby avoiding the conventional, neat resolutions typical of Victorian literature. Even Lady C. ends a little droopingly with the lovers separated and who's to say they will ever be reunited or that Mellor's will ever regain potency? 

 

 

X.    

 

In conclusion ...

 

For Sijia Yao, Lawrence is to be highly esteemed as a writer for developing an aesthetico-political project "in which love as an ethical feeling plays a crucial role in creating cosmopolitan connections" (117) and sharing with his readers a "vision of peace and freedom that can resist violent nationalism and hegemonic discourse" (117). 

 

She continues: Lawrence adopts love as his "mode of engagement with the multidimensional world" (117), because love, for Lawrence, "is a primal living force in its dynamic and undefinable state, which is tightly interconnected with utopia" (117) and it is the concept of utopia that "fulfills the possibility of a jump from personal love to cosmopolitan engagement" (117).   

 

Ultimately, I suppose whether one chooses to see Lawrence as a utopian or not depends on how one imagines his democracy of touch and how one interprets his injunction to climb down Pisgah. I agree with Yao that Lawrence's work has socio-political significance and philosophical import. But, unfortunately, she and I completely disagree as to the nature of this. 

 

Although, having said that, Yao nicely surprised me with the final paragraph in her book, in which she writes:

 

"While utopia itself would be a fixed state, the longing for utopia defines a particular relationship that leaves abundant space for possibilities. This mode of cosmopolitan love does not try to offer a solution but rather an attitude that welcomes a plasticity of the utopian vision." (122)

 

Now why didn't she say that at the beginning ...! 

 

 

Notes

 

[e] When it comes to the question of whether adultery is très moderne or actually anti-modern, Yao is very good: 

      "One can easily argue that adultery can be understood as a modern relationship because it dissolves traditional bonds. [...] However, adultery in Lawrence [...] is an antimodern relationship because the traditional bonds are themselves now modern forms of relationship that exclude love. The structure of modernity is still built upon the preexisting traditional norms [...] thereby breeding alienation and disconnection. Hence, the prevailing forms of relationship are so suffused with modern alienation that only adultery can be a pure form of love that opposes this alienation. Adulterous love surpasses, undermines, and destroys the existing order to set up an alternative basis for modern society." (69)  

 

[f] See, for example, my post titled 'Lady Chatterley's Postmodern Lover' (9 Sept 2023): click here.   

 

[g] This humorous remark made by Rawdon Lilly can be found in D. H. Lawrence's novel Aaron's Rod, ed. Mara Kalnins (Cambridge University Press, 1988), p. 91.

      Even the narrator of Lady Chatterley's Lover is aware of the danger that Connie and Mellors will end up in a world of their own; see p. 213 of the Cambridge edition ed. Michael Squires (1993).  

 

[h] Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality 1: The Will to Knowledge, trans. Robert Hurley (Penguin Books, 1998), p.154.  

 

[i] Ibid., p. 155. 

 

[j] Ibid., pp. 157-158.

 

 

Sijia Yao's Cosmopolitan Love and Utopian Vision: Or How to Have D. H. Lawrence Spinning in His Grave (Part 1: Sections I-V)

Sijia Yao: Cosmopolitan Love: 

Utopian Vision in D. H. Lawrence and Eileen Chang 

 (University of Michigan Press, 2023) [a]

 

 

I. 

 

One of the books reviewed in the latest edition of the Journal of D. H. Lawrence Studies (2025) is Sijia Yao's Cosmopolitan Love: Utopian Vision in D. H. Lawrence and Eileen Chang (2023) [b]. 

 

Written by Li Zhimin, a Distinguished Professor of English at the School of Foreign Studies, Guangzhou University, it intrigued me enough that I decided I would read Yao's book for myself to discover if she really does misread Lawrence's project as much as indicated. 

 

For Lawrence - just to be absolutely clear at the outset - was not a utopian in the transcendent (and optimistic) sense that Yao argues and had no truck with cosmopolitanism if the latter is interpreted as a form of universal humanism. 

 

As for love, Lawrence absolutely rejects such when it is written with a capital 'L' and transformed into something grandiose and morally ideal; when it becomes diseased and insisted upon as the only thing that matters; when it becomes politicised and serves as a justification for violence, hatred, and authoritarianism. 

 

Even in his Chatterley writings, Lawrence prefers to speak of touch and tenderness rather than use the L-word and whilst he subscribes to a politics of desire, he ultimately thinks the transformation of society will require a new religious sensibility more than a sexual revolution and his democracy to come is, of course, an immanent utopia (now/here), existing in the bonds between people, not an ideal utopia (no/where) that "transgresses and transcends local, national, global, and even cosmic boundaries" (9).   

 

To his credit, Li does find flaws with Yao's study. But, unfortunately, he too seems to buy into the (Christian and Beatlesque) idea that all we need is love in order to "help the world become better" [c] and the human family achieve its collective maturity. 

 

 

II.    

 

As my knowledge of (and interest in) the Chinese-American author Eileen Chang is strictly limited, I'll not be commenting here on Yao's discussion of her work, nor the nature of the link made between Chang's writings and those of Lawrence, as all such comparisons are, if not exactly odious, then often questionable, even when adopting a third term methodology [d].   

 

Yao opens her Introduction to Cosmopolitan Love with the following line: "Love as a feeling is universal" (1) and normally that would be enough for me to immediately close a book. For even if this is factually correct from a bio-anthropological viewpoint, the expression of love is, of course, determined by language, history, culture, etc. (as I'm sure Yao knows; speaking immediately afterwards of Chinese love and Western love as distinct traditions). 

 

Nonsensical phrases casually dropped into the Introduction such as "it stirs one's spiritual being" (11) are also problematic and usually book-closing for me, but, in this case, I'm determined to press on and "pursue the true meaning" (11) of a text which promises to "restore [Lawrence's] literary glory" (14) and address the problems of today.  

 

 

III.

 

According to Yao, "in imagining how love breaks down preexisting orders and creates alternative utopian realities" (25) Lawrence divides love into four forms, "each corresponding to different phases of an ideal subject's maturity: parental, sexual, adulterous, and transcendental" (25-26). 

 

She then explains how she traces the subject progressing through these four separate phases, transforming their relationships in the process, as they move toward cosmoplitan love as she understands it. Thus the four phases also structure her book: beginning with chapter 1, in which the love of a child for its parents is transformed into sexual love for a non-familial other; a topic Yao discusses with reference to Freud's Oedipus complex and the question of incest. 

 

I'll take a brief look at this and the following two chapters - which illustrate how Lawrence used his model of eroticised philosophy to challenge nationalism and modernisation within a secular society - before then examining the fourth and final chapter in a little more detail, as this is the one I think will most interest (and infuriate), dealing as it does with Lawrence's creation of an "alternative language of divine love to render secular existence transcendentally meaningful" (29) and allowing lovers to enter a "mysterious dimension of utopia" (29).

 

 

IV. 

 

The argument of chapter one is essentially this: cosmopolitan love = good; incestuous desire = bad. And as the incest prohibition is "the foundation of cosmopolitan love" (32) - as well as that which also provides "the framework of all morality" (32) - it is also unquestionably in need of enforcement; human culture depends on it. 

 

This sounds very Freudian, but, actually, Yao wants to reverse certain aspects of Freud's thinking on this issue, arguing that whilst he wishes to see incest as "conforming to a universal Oedipal dynamic that originates from children" (33), Lawrence, in Sons and Lovers (1913), correctly identifies parents and the local culture as the "main drivers of incestuous desire" (33); an idea he later develops in his two books on the unconscious.     

 

I'm more than happy to be convinced by what Yao says here. It's certainly the case that, whilst influenced by Freud, Lawrence was no Freudian and vehemently rejected the psychoanalytic interpretation of his work. As Deleuze and Guattari recognise, Lawrence is fundamentally anti-Oedipus.    

 

 

V. 

 

Chapter two - 'Sexual Love as Public Defiance' - argues that there's a radical politics of desire; one capable of not only liberating the subject (particularly the female subject), but challenging ideas surrounding class and race, debunking prejudice and social convention, etc.

 

So nothing very new - and it's as if Foucault never lived! 

 

Yao's reading of The Virgin and the Gipsy is untenable, naive, and cliché-ridden; a young woman, stifled by false morality and a corrupt social order, sets out on a quest to discover her "primal selfhood" (54), the climactic flood at the stories end symbolising the unleashing of her "primitive desire" (54) and sexual awakening.    

 

Yvette is a woman transformed - a woman empowered - a woman in love! Because this is not just an erotic tale in which a randy passing gipsy deflowers the vicar's daughter, it's a utopian love story and a subversive (anti-English, post-colonial) cultural expression. Oh, and it's a rejection of the patriarchy and sexually objectifying male gaze too.  

 

Yao concludes her second chapter thusly:

 

"If the critique of incestuous love described in chapter 1 represents the struggle to break the shackles of an oppressive and immoral family culture, the affirmation of sexual love finds a way to reach a realm of freedom that is briefly achieved through a utopian moment that coincides with the cosmopolitan transcendence of national boundaries." (68) 

 

 

Notes

 

[a] This 172 page text is available to purchase in hardback and paperback formats from the usual outlets, but is also freely available online as an open access book, thereby generously allowing anyone to read, download, or share it: click here to access via JSTOR. All page numbers given in this post refer to this work. 

      The author, Sijia Yao, is an Assistant Professor of Chinese Language and Culture at Soka University of America (a private liberal arts college based in California).      

 

[b] See 'Sijia Yao, Cosmopolitan Love: Utopian Vision in D. H. Lawrence and Eileen Chang, reviewed by Li Zhimin', in the JDHLS, Volume 7, Number 2 (2025), ed. Jane Costin (published by the D. H. Lawrence Society, Eastwood, Notts.), pp. 202-206.  

 

[c] Li Zhimin, ibid., p. 205. 

      The good professor goes on to explain that when love triumphs, "people from different interest groups would be more ready to recognise each other's family values" (205-06) and live according to the rule of law within a rational political framework. Humanity, Maturity, and Family (HMF): these are the (Kantian) key terms and fundamental values of his own utopian vision; see chapter 12 of his book written in collaboration with Daniel Braun, China Being Led and Leading: A Literary and Cultural Interpretation (Palgrave Macmillan, 2025), pp. 151-162.  

 

[d] See the section on comparative methodology in the Introduction to Cosmopolitan Love, pp. 19-25.   

 

 

This post continues in part two (sections VI-X): click here.  

The Talented Malcolm McLaren and the Visionary Andy Warhol

Image posted on Instagram by Young Kim 

(12 Jan 2026) @youngkim.xyz

 

 

I.

 

It's sixteen years ago this coming April that Malcolm McLaren died [1] ... and it's ten years ago this coming May that the ICA hosted an event in memoriam [2]. 

 

Essentially, the argument advanced by Young Kim and other speakers was that Malcolm was a uniquely gifted individual and that not only did he exert a seminal influence on fashion, music, and the arts during his lifetime, but that his ghost continues to haunt contemporary practice [3].    

 

Indeed, the claim was made that McLaren is England's answer to Andy Warhol ...  

 

 

II. 

 

Today, on the occasion of what would have been his 80th birthday, I'd like to endorse the above argument, agreeing that there needs to be a fundamental reappraisal of McLaren's legacy and that the (now boring) idea that he was a mere charlatan or talentless swindler, needs to be dispelled once and for all. 

 

For this image of him - which, admittedly, he is largely responsible for inventing [3] - obscures his significance as an artist and sells short his multidisciplinary body of work predicated on the radical manipulation of media and the staging of situations.

 

Having said that, the claim that McLaren was England's Warhol is, whilst bold and interesting, an imperfect analogy. 

 

For whilst there are certain similarities and points of comparison - both postioned themselves as creative directors rather than traditional artists and both understood how art was absolutely tied to commerce and commodification - Warhol and McLaren were rooted in very different cultures and I think their aesthetic and world view was, in key respects, disparate. 

 

I also suspect that (if pushed) McLaren himself would concede from beyond the grave that Warhol, who had left an indelible impression on him as a teenager in the early 1960s, was a far more profound artist, full of darkness.

 

Ultimately, whilst Malcolm hit targets no one else could hit, Warhol hit a target no one else could envision ... [5]      

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Malcolm McLaren, born 22 January, 1946, died of peritoneal mesothelioma in a Swiss hospital on 8 April 2010, aged 64.  

 

[2] The two-day ICA event consisted of The Legacy of Malcolm McLaren: The Clothes (20 May 2016), followed by The Legacy of Malcolm McLaren: The Art (21 May 2016).

      The first was a panel discussion chaired by McLaren's long-term partner (and heir to his Estate) Young Kim, was meant to feature writer Paul Gorman, fashion designer Kim Jones, and magazine editor Ben Reardon, and address Malcolm's life-long obsession with clothes and his frequent forays into fashion design. Unfortunately, Jones and Reardon couldn't attend the event, so Gorman persuaded Simon Withers onto the stage to contribute, which he did with great success. Click here for more details.  

      The latter was a panel discussion between ICA Executive Director Gregor Muir, Young Kim, author Michael Bracewell, and curator Andrew Wilson, followed by a screening of McLaren's 86 minute film Shallow 1-21 (2008). Click here for more details.  

 

[3] Supporters of McLaren (like me) will point to the fact that via his conceptual boutiques operated in partnership with Vivienne Westwood, McLaren left his sartorial signature on the fashion world and effectively invented the visual language of punk; that with the release of his pioneering first solo album, Duck Rock (1983), McLaren introduced hip-hop and world music to a British audience; and that the moving-image works made at the end of his career saw a fascinating return to his art-school roots, utilising a distinctive concept of musical paintings.  

 

[4] Mclaren is largely responsible for his own negative reputation due to the role he adopted in The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle (dir. Julien Temple, 1980). As he himself later confessed, he thought everybody would understand it was meant to be comical and self-mocking, but, unfortunately, people took it seriously: 'I was too good an actor'.  

 

[5] I'm paraphrasing Schopenhauer here who makes this distinction when discussing talent contra genius in Vol. 2, Ch. 31 of The World as Will and Representation (Cambridge University Press, 2018), pp. 393-415. 

      According to Schopenhauer, whilst a talented individual thinks faster and more accurately than most people; the person of genius sees a different world, although only insofar as they look more deeply into this world. 

 

 

 Thanks to Paul Gorman for providing information on the ICA event. 

 

 

On the Monstrous Creation of the Fourth Simon: A Short Story Written in the Manner of Mary Shelley

Simonstein (SA/2026)

 

It was an unholy and tempestuous winter's night when I, Victor Frankenstein, completed my most singular transgression against the natural order ...

      For months, I had been gathering the disparate remains of three men named Simon [1] in order to create a singular, supreme intellect whom I would name Solomon [2]. 

    The torso and lungs I took from Simon Armitage, ensuring the Creature would breathe with pleasing rhythm and its heart beat with the metrical precision of a poet. To this, I grafted the hyper-attuned nerves of Simon Reynolds, that Solomon might perceive the vibrations of the modern world with the vital energy of a thousand subcultures. Finally, I encased these within the shining skull of Simon Critchley, layering the grey matter of the philosopher over the soul of the poet, providing the capacity for tragic pessimism and existential depth. 

      By the glimmer of a nearly extinguished candle, I applied the spark of life; a bolt of blue lightning captured from the screaming heavens. The composite frame shuddered and the eyes - squinting, yet filled with a terrible, multifaceted intelligence - threw open and Solomon spoke: 'Those who know not evil, know not of anything good.'

      I recoiled in horror. I had sought to create the ultimate post-Romantic intelligence, but I had instead birthed a chimera of restless critique and malevolent verse. 

      Solomon rose from the copper-plated operating table, his movements jerky like those of a monstrous marionette. He did not seek my blessing; only a pen with which to write. As he departed across the fog-choked moorlands, I realised I had not merely animated a corpse - I had unleashed a critic from whom no aspect of cultural life was safe. 

      Locals say that on certain nights, one can hear a voice on the wind, deconstructing the aesthetics of the Abyss in perfect, terrifying meter. 

   

Notes

 

[1] Simon Armitage is the current UK Poet Laureate, known for his accessible verse often rooted in everday life; Simon Critchley is the British-born Hans Jonas Professor of Philosophy at the New School for Social Research (New York); Simon Reynolds is a music critic known for his chronicling of glam, post-punk, rave, and pop culture's endless recycling of its own history. 

      For my post on the Three Simons, click here.     

 

[2] Síomón Solomon - of whom this is an affectionate fictional portrayal - is a Dublin-based writer and independent scholar who, arguably, embodies elements of the above figures, whilst giving his own unique post-Romantic take on things informed by the schizopoetics of Hölderlin. 

      His 2021 publication, Hölderlin's Poltergeists: A Drama for Voices, was a translation and ingenius remix of an audio drama by Stephan Hermlin which has been much discussed on Torpedo the Ark; as has his disturbing debut play, The Atonement of Lesley Ann (2020), a theatrical ghost-cum-love story based on actual events. 

      Whilst he may lack the public profile of the Three Simons and his work may not have the same broad appeal, for me, he is very much their peer and not just a contemporary who happens to share the same prénom.    

      For posts written on (or inspired by) Síomón Solomon's Hölderlin's Poltergeists, click here. And for posts written on The Atonement of Lesley Ann, click here.  

 

On the Three Simons: Messrs. Armitage, Critchley, and Reynolds

The Three Simons: Messrs. Armitage, Critchley & Reynolds 

(SA/2026) 

 

 

I. 

 

I'm guessing that Simon was a very popular name for boys in the UK during the 1960s [1]. Perhaps not as popular as it was during the first century AD in Roman Judea, but popular all the same. 

 

In any event, there are three Simons of increasing interest to me, each born in the early sixties and each characterised by a specific late-twentieth-century British sensibility: they are the poet Simon Armitage; the philosopher Simon Critchley; and the music critic Simon Reynolds [2].  

 

I don't know what these three figures think of one another or whether they have ever met socially, but one assumes they must have crossed paths or shared a stage in a professional capacity at some point. But perhaps not [3]. 

 

Either way, I thought it would be nice to bring them together here and briefly note one or two of the parallels between them, whilst remaining aware of the fact that their fundamental modes of inquiry are distinct.    

 

 

II.

 

The first thing to say is that each of the above are adept at translating complex aesthetic and metaphysical concerns into accessible (though always cleverly crafted) text. 

 

Perhaps it's a post-punk thing - or possibly a working-class thing [4] - but all three Simons, whilst capable of scaling the icy heights, always seem happiest when descending back into a world where cabbages grow in the dark earth. 

 

Armitage, as a poet, is particularly skilled at finding meaning and beauty in the mundane with linguistic precision. But Critchley and Reynolds are also very good at mixing critical theory with references to popular culture moving from Derrida to David Bowie and back again in order to conceptualise (and deconstruct) political and socio-cultural trends.     

 

 

III. 

 

Another thing which, as a thanatologist, one can't help noticing, is that the three Simons seem to be  fascinated by death and related issues to do with memory, mortality, and loss. 

 

This is particularly true of Critchley and Armitage, with the former adopting the Heideggerian position that thinking the thought of death is essential to guarantee an authentic human life and the latter recently publishing a collection of poems entitled New Cemetery (2025), wherein he uses moths as an indicator species to comment on death in nature and the threat of mass extinction due to environmental breakdown.

 

But Reynolds too is thanatologically inclined, utilising Derrida's concept of hauntology to explore spectral presence and what he terms retromania (i.e., a culture's fixation with its own immediate past leading to a form of stasis or living death). He has a particular concern with suicide, both as a mental health issue and as something around which there is an entire mythology, referencing the cases of Ian Curtis and his friend Mark Fisher.   

 

 

IV. 

 

Politically, all three Simons can best be described as left-leaning, although they occupy different positions within this broad cataegorisation. 

 

One might have imagined that Critchley's tragic pessimism would have inclined him in an opposite direction, but, no, he's a radical leftist advocating for a form of ethical anarchism and a politics of resistance to the established order (not that this prevents him from holding a highly prestigious and well-paid named professorship at a private institution). 

 

Similarly, Simon Reynolds frequently engages with post-Marxist (and poststructuralist) thought in order to critique neoliberalism's stifling effect on culture and our ability to even imagine an alternative (non-capitalist) future. At the same time he has established a long and successful career on the back of this critique and built a nice family life in South Pasadena, California, so must surely concede there are some advantages to a free market economy ...?

 

As for Simon Armitage, despite accepting the role of Poet Laureate and thus having the seal of royal approval stamped on his work, he likes to think of poetry as inherently radical and, in some sense, offering a form of dissent to the powers that be. If wary of being too overtly political, he nevertheless attempts to articulate the concerns of the poor and marginalised (and, indeed, of wildlife). 

 

   

V. 

 

Finally, I'd like to touch on the inclination all three Simons have towards concepts that might be described as spiritual or transcendent (if in a secular or non-religious context) ... 

 

I would certainly endorse Armitage's belief that poetry is a way of inventing meaning in a meaningless world and, perhaps more importantly, ritualising events and giving ordinary objects back their magic and mystery. Ultimately, and to his credit, Armitage rejects spirituality and consistently describes himself and his work as down to earth. 

 

I'm happy also, like Reynolds, to regard music and dance as powerful expressions of our inherently religious or creative nature. This will to euphoria - which should not be confused with ecstasy [5] - is, says Lawrence, our prime motivity. Unfortunately, Reynolds, like many others associated with rave culture, does seem to conflate the two terms euphoria and ecstasy and then conceive of the latter in relation to the synthetic psychoactive drug of that name [6].  

 

As for Critchley, he directly explores those intense feelings that lift us out of ourselves in his book Mysticism: The Experience of Ecstasy (2024) and openly discusses the building of an atheist utopia on the basis of mystical anarchism and new forms of consciousness - all of which makes me fearful of the direction he's dragging philosophy. 

 

The mystical Professor Critchley ... where he leads I cannot follow. 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] For those who just have to know the facts: the name Simon experienced a significant rise in popularity  between 1955 and 1965 as part of a wider trend for traditional names with a biblical ring. 

      In the early 1970s, Simon even briefly broke into the top ten of British boy's names, but then rapidly went out of favour; its sharp decline in popularity continuing in the 21st century; it is presently ranked outside the top 500 with only a handful of newborn baby boys being given the name (compared to the 1000s of Muhammads and Olivers). 

 

[2] I'm assuming that most readers will know of the three Simons and have some familiarity with their work, or can quickly google details if not. However, for those who might appreciate a quick line or two of biographical information right here, right now ...

      Simon Armitage was born in Huddersfield, in May 1963, and is a celebrated English poet, playwright, and novelist who currently serves as the Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom and holds a post as a Professor of Poetry at the University of Leeds. His debut collection - Zoom! (1989) - brought him immediate fame (although he wasn't able to become a full-time professional writer until 1994). Armitage is rightly-celebrated for his darkly humorous and often northern-inflected style that blends colloquial accessibility with formal precision. His most recent work has focused heavily on the natural world and the human experience within it. His influences include Philip Larkin and W. H. Auden. His official website can be accessed by clicking here.  

      Simon Critchley was born in Liverpool, in Feb 1960, and is the Hans Jonas Professor of Philosophy at the New School for Social Research, in New York. His work engages in many areas of philosophy, literature, and contemporary culture and he has written over twenty books, including studies of Greek tragedy, David Bowie, Shakespeare, football, and the ethical practice of joy before death. Critchley is a public intellectual in the best sense; reminding us all that in a world shaped by nihilsm we must root our ethics and politics not in the old ideals, but in an acknowledgement of limits and failure and the fact that this is an essentialy tragic age. His philosophical influences include Nietzsche, Heidegger, and Derrida. Critchley's recent work has taken a somewhat troubling mystical turn as he attempts to attune himself to the silence and find a form of secular transcendence. His official website can be accessed by clicking here. 

      Simon Reynolds was born in London, in June 1963, and is an independent music critic and cultural commentator who has a real knack for identifying trends and inventing new terms to discuss them in. He has published several definitive works on pop history, including, perhaps most famously, Rip It Up and Start Again (2005) - his study of the post-punk era (1978-1984), framing it as a period of avant-garde ambition and political radicalism - and Retromania (2011), a seminal investigation into pop music's zombification in the digital age, due to its obsessive recycling of its own sounds and fashions. Crucially, his work often explores how music intersects with issues of class, race, and gender and he isn't afraid to infuse his journalism with theory drawn from the likes of Derrida and Deleuze. He is a long-time and brilliant blogger: click here to access Blissblog, just one of many sites he maintains.

 

[3] I could find nothing to suggest bonds of friendship between the three Simons, so must conclude that whilst they are contemporaries in British intellectual life, their relationship is, at most, one of mutual awareness rather than close personal acquaintance. 

 

[4] Whilst Reynolds comes from a rather more middle-class background than Armitage and Critchley, he doesn't seem to identify with such. Rather, Reynolds posits the idea of a liminal class existing in the void between the upper-working and lower-middle classes and he seems to place himself here. He credits this liminal class with possessing creative (and radical) energy which results in significant cultural production.

 

[5] See the post 'Euphoria Contra Ecstasy' (26 Nov 2025), where I explain the distinction as I understand it: click here.  

 

[6] Reynolds views the drug ecstasy as integral to rave culture, shaping the sounds and experiences and enabling a form of communal bliss, whilst acknowledging its rather more troubling aspects. See his book Generation Ecstasy: Into the World of Techno and Rave Culture (Routledge, 1999). 

      For a more recent work on the synergistic link between dance music and MDMA (Methylenedioxymethamphetamine), see Kirk Field's Rave New World (Nine Eight Books, 2023). 

 

 

For a follow up to this post on the monstrous creation of a fourth Simon, click here.