Introduction: Culture and cold conflict, S Belletto, D Grausam

Tags: Cold War, the Cold War, containment, Cold War Culture, Alan Nadel, cultural criticism, culture, Communism, New York, literary critics, American Fiction in the Cold War, spy ring, Edinburgh University Press, University Press, Karen Steigman, Andrew Hoberek, Joan Didion, Adam Piette, Russian spy ring, William J. Maxwell, Christine Hong, American middle class, Steigman, Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, Charlotte Douglas, Central American country, narrative fiction, the Korean War, centralized power, Edwin Denby, Asian American, University of Illinois Press, University of Missouri Press, Christina Klein, Cold War America, Cold War Poetry, American fiction, University of California Press, Thomas Schaub, cultural turn, Columbia University Press, Allen Ginsberg, Russian Spies, Schaub, Russian spy, Salt, Leerom Medovoi
Content: INTRODUCTION CULTURE AND COLD CONFLICT STEVEN BELLETTO AND DANIEL GRAUSAM What Is Cold War Culture? When in June of 2010 news broke concerning a long term undercover Russian spy operation in the United States, the media had their summer blockbuster. Nearly every news story or radio broad cast featured some variation of "not since the Cold War," mused about whether the conflict had ever really ended, and commented on the oddity o f this espionage ring. The television critic for the New York Times, for one, noted the aesthetic shape of the "quaint," "Cold W ar-style" spy operation, and joked that there would soon be a "Real Russian Spies of New Jersey" reality show.1 The story soon emerged: nearly a dozen Russian agents had been under deep cover in the United States, tasked with integrating them selves into American society. Some did so by becoming average members of the American middle class, and in some cases so complete was their transformation that their identity started to seem the end, rather than the means, of their mission. It was all textbook Cold War thriller, if indeed a bit quaint-seeming: hadn't we seen this all before? The Rosenbergs. Klaus Fuchs. Aldrich Ames. Weren't spies supposed to be from a bygone era? And yet there was the espionage ring in all its pulp glory-- the Newsweek headline an nounced that it was "Part John le Carrй, Part Austin Powers." It was as if the Russian spies were taking their cues from film, rather than the other way around: as the employer of one of the accused noted, the story seemed "straight from a movie."2The whole affair could indeed have been straight from the film Salt, released just a few weeks later, which featured Angelina Jolie as a Russian mole inside the CIA. (Despite half-serious speculation in the blogosphere, it turned out that the real Russian spy ring was not in fact an elaborate marketing campaign by Sony Studios.)3 Directed by Phillip Noyce, who brought Tom C lancy's Clear and Present Danger and Patriot Games to the silver screen in the 1990s, Salt seemed almost too fitting in the summer of 2010. Part seat-of-the-pants thriller, part feminized reworking of Bond ingenuity, part kitsch (there is a secret 1
Russian castle where child agents train in isolation), the film paralleled the real spy ring: on the one hand it was deadly serious, on the other it was too campy to be believable. The frightening possibility of losing control of the American nuclear arsenal coexisted with scenes of children lining up to kiss the ring of their grizzled Soviet spymaster. The point of a tour through Salt is not, of course, to suggest that we should take our historiographic cues from Hollywood, or that we should necessarily seek to extend the Cold War's descriptive reach past 1989 or 1991 (although there may be good reasons to do so).4Rather, what Salt ex emplifies is a confusion about just what the Cold War and its culture were and are. Indeed, the real story of the spy ring seemed less an example of contemporary espionage than an assemblage of the classic features of high Cold War cinema. There was the striking female lead Anna Chap man, described in the m edia as if she were a Bond Girl (the New York Post headline read, inevitably, "From Russia With Love") along with reports of invisible ink and secret communication networks. Capping it all off was the reason one person simply couldn't believe that her neighbors were foreign agents: they had perfect hydrangeas in their front yard.5 For the neighbor, the mundane fact of the well-kept hydrangeas invali dates the fantastically romantic possibility that spies live on the block; for the cultural critic, this screams of the cinematic Cold War, in which the humble hydrangea played a key role as a Communist cover. In a fa mous early scene of The Manchurian Candidate (1962), arguably the clas sic film of American Cold War culture, U.S. troops being brainwashed in Manchuria are tricked into believing that they are in New Jersey listening to a Ladies' Club presentation on the growing of hydrangeas. Once again, the quotidian crashes against the improbable, and there seems a pro found confusion of realms--just where does history end, and imaginative aesthetic production begin? Anna Chapman, for instance, could popu late the pages of a Don DeLillo novel: since her return to Russia she has hosted a television program called Secrets of the World and has sported lingerie and a gun on the cover of the Russian version of Maxim. It isn't that, Bond-like, sex is in the service of espionage, but rather that secret agency qualifies you, if you are especially attractive, to sell your sexuality. In this case, the provocative agent was now "qualified" to wear the luxury lingerie brand Agent Provocateur on the cover of the premier soft-core m en's magazine. The Russian spy ring and Salt appeared after we had begun work on 2 this collection, but they confirmed our sense that the time was right for a
critical reassessment of Cold War culture. We believe that the confusion surrounding the spy ring was due in part to the fact that the full cultural impact of the Cold War remains unprocessed, and that some of the opera tive paradigms for understanding the culture of the Cold War were con tributing to, rather than alleviating, such confusion. It was time to fore ground the wide variety of ways in which we might understand the Cold War's shaping power. Collecting the work of some of the very best cultural critics writing about the period, what follows reveals the multiple ways in which American cultural production from the late 1940s to the present might be understood in relation to the Cold War. While they have benefitted from much of the pioneering work done on American Cold War culture, the following chapters offer a critical engagement with reigning paradigms and a series of suggestive revisionist claims. Cold War Literary and Cultural Studies Ann Douglas claimed in 1998 that literary critics do not make the Cold War "central" to their work on post-1945 American Literature, even though two key concepts they employ-- postmodernism and postcolonialism-- are "inexplicable outside the context it [the Cold War] supplies."6Douglas had a point: in 1998 the Cold War was still seen as an explanatory para digm for a relatively small subset of postwar cultural production. And it was also true that some work on Cold War culture did not necessarily ex tend its focus to literature. This was the case in two excellent collections that revised our understanding of postwar culture. In Lary May's Recast ingAmerica: Culture and Politics in the Age o f Cold War (1989), one chapter (of fourteen) dealt at length with a work of literature (Ralph Ellison's In visible Man [1952]).7 Although the scope of Recasting America has made it essential reading for those interested in Cold War culture, there is a tacit sense that literature might be of the Cold War only if it engages in overtly political concerns. The Other Fifties: Interrogating Midcentury American Icons (1997) does feature sustained analyses of novels but, tellingly, does not even include the term Cold War in its index, although some of the contributions explicitly engage Cold War politics.8The book's editor Joel Foreman hoped to avoid characterizing the 1950s as defined merely by "massively invasive systems of repression operating most powerfully at the level of ideology" and so downplayed the conceptual importance of the Cold War, ironically collapsing its meaning into "systems of repres sion."9 Clearly, not all cultural production from 1947 through 1991 can be explained via the Cold War, but it is equally the case that the Cold War was 3
influential in ways not solely reducible to arguments about psychological and aesthetic power struggles.10 What Douglas was calling for was a sys tematic way of linking literary analysis with what the Cold War could mean or do (and she in fact gives examples of "cultural historians attempting lit erary methods of reading. .. but falling short").11 Nearly fifteen years later, it is hard to believe that such a clarion call was ever needed. We now have a formidable list of monographs, essays, collections, and conference pre sentations that examine the literature of the last sixty-five years in relation to the Cold War.12Just since 2000, there have been more than twenty-five monographs devoted to Cold War literature-- and this number does not include book collections, countless individual essays, or the many mono graphs predominantly about Cold War film or cultural history.13 In fact, work was well under way before Douglas's essay appeared. The three books which marked a cultural turn in Cold War studies were, per haps fittingly, clustered around the fall of the Berlin Wall and the collapse of the Soviet Union. These are Elaine Tyler May's social history Homeward Bound: American Families in the Cold War Era (1988), and two works of lit erary and cultural criticism, Thomas Schaub's American Fiction in the Cold War (1991) and Alan Nadel's Containment Culture: American Narratives, Postmodernism, and the Atomic Age (1995). Although May is not primarily concerned with literature, Homeward Bound is a favorite starting point for literary critics writing on the period because it reveals how private life was shaped by geopolitical dynamics. George Kennan's influential formu lation of containment led to an American Foreign Policy concerned with preventing the spread of Soviet-sponsored Communism abroad and with maintaining a U.S. sphere of influence. May uncovers a domestic equiva lent. As she puts it, "In the domestic version of containment, the `sphere of influence' was the home. Within its walls, potentially dangerous social forces of the new age might be tamed, where they could contribute to the secure and fulfilling life to which postwar men and women aspired. . . . More than merely a metaphor for the cold war on the homefront, contain ment aptly describes the way in which public policy, personal behavior, and even political values were focused on the home."14Homeward Bound is one of the reasons why containment now evokes a powerful cultural dimension of the Cold War as well as foreign policy. If the term means checking the spread of Communism around the globe, resulting in the Korean and Vietnam Wars and various interventions in the Middle East, Latin America, and elsewhere, it likewise names the construction of do 4 mestic consensus.
Schaub's American Fiction in the Cold War describes the rise of a new liberalism that developed in the wake of revelations about Stalinist Com munism. If Communism had once been imagined as a powerful alterna tive to fascism, midcentury history convinced some Western intellectu als that Communism and fascism were parallel forms of totalitarianism. This shift helps illuminate, according to Schaub, "the true labor of fiction throughout this period . . . the struggle to develop a new relation between art and politics." 15 After demonstrating that postwar literary critics and their aesthetic values were informed by Cold War politics, Schaub shows how fiction that seems distinct from Cold War culture -- for instance, work by Flannery O'Connor and John Barth-- ought to be understood in light of the "liberal narrative." Barth's The End o f the Road (1958), in which "the political is entirely obscured by philosophical discourse," can be shown to be "reproducing a contemporary view of liberalism's complicity with the horrors o f Nazism and Stalinism." 16 Schaub's sense that there could be a different kind of politics at work in American fiction explains why later scholars have suggested, as Adam Piette puts it, that American Fiction in the Cold War "launched Cold War Literary Criticism."17 But the book that exemplifies the first phase of Cold War literary criticism is Nadel's Containment Culture-- it is telling that seven of the eight chapters that follow are indebted to its claims and legacy. Like Schaub, Nadel looks at some texts that do not seem overtly political: J. D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye (1951) or the film The Ten Commandments (1956), among others. While nobody would say that such works are explic itly about containment, Nadel reveals how they engage with the norms of containment articulated by Kennan and implemented by the Truman and Eisenhower administrations. In a series of detailed analyses, Nadel shows how what he calls "large cultural narratives" could affect personal stories and then charts the breakdown of the logic of cultural contain ment from the 1960s on. As with Schaub's work, one reason that Nadel's blending of cultural criticism with rigorous close reading has been so in fluential is that it made visible new relationships between aesthetics and politics. Schaub and Nadel highlight a political and aesthetic culture of chastened liberalism that sought to contain dissent, and their powerful readings led to a virtual consensus among literary scholars that Cold War culture meant what Nadel named "containment culture." For many crit ics, Cold War culture is containment culture, and vice versa, which leads to a narrative of the Cold War as a principal context only for the culture of the long 1950s. And while critics learned from Nadel, too often they lacked 5
the subtlety of his readings: for Nadel, the early postmodernism of the 1960s helped us to see that containment culture was never as all-powerful or successfully repressive as some would have it. The second phase of Cold War literary criticism, which emerged in the early 2000s, acknowledged the pioneering work done by Schaub, Nadel, and others but theorized the Cold War's relationship to culture with out relying primarily on the containment model. Understanding Ameri can literature and culture in a global frame, this second phase mirrored an increasing interest in the global Cold War on the part of historians.18 Christina Klein's Cold War Orientalism: Asia in the Middlebrow Imagina tion, 1945-1961 (2003) analyzes the relationship between domestic culture and the third world, and shifts attention from the containment model to what she calls the "global imaginary of integration," which illuminates another way in which the rest of the world was viewed during the Cold War. As she explains: Where the global imaginary of containment drew on the residual inter nationalism of the right, with its vision of bulwarks between nations and a mortal conflict between communism and capitalism, the global imaginary of integration drew on the residual internationalism of the left, which imagined the world in terms of open doors that superseded barriers and created pathways between nations. It constructed a world in which differences could be bridged and transcended. In the political rhetoric of integration, relationships of "cooperation" replaced those o f conflict, "m utuality" replaced enmity, and "collective security," "common bonds," and "community" became the preferred terms for representing the relationship between the United States and the non communist world.19 Focusing on integration allows Klein to read various texts as being in formed by the Cold War without equating them with the impulses of con tainment. A range of middlebrow work featuring international adoption narratives, for instance, foregrounds "the idea of alliance among indepen dent parties-- the model of postwar integration-- rather than the idea of an empire unified by blood and force." 20 This in turn suggests another connection between personal life and the Cold War: "In part because the family balanced emotional unity with internally structured hierarchies of difference based on age, it served as a model for a `free world' community that included Western and non-Western, developed and underdeveloped, 6 established and newly created nations." 21
The idea that cultural texts might reveal a relationship between "estab
lished and newly created nations" is evident in another significant book
of the second phase, Leerom Medovoi's Rebels: Youth and the Cold War
Origins of Identity (2005). In Medovoi's account of the postwar rise of the
concept of identity, the rebellious young are important because they navi
gate the schizophrenia of a consensus culture committed to individual
freedom: the "young American rebel [serves] as guarantor of the nation's
antiauthoritarian democratic character." 22 Noting the political rebellions
occurring around the world as Africa, Asia, and Latin America began to
decolonize, Medovoi shows how the rebel was also connected to global
democratic freedom. Turning from a "dichotomous" view of the Cold War,
Medovoi reminds us that "by the mid-1950s, the `three worlds concept'
had become the globe's dominant topological imaginary," and that by
i960, forty countries (with a collective population of over 800 million) had
revolted against colonialism to create "newly sovereign `national charac
ters.' " 23 These new national characters served as key ideological battle
grounds of the Cold War, as evidenced by phenomena such as the People-
to-People Program, which aimed to win the "hearts and minds" of these
varied populations.
Rebecca M. Schreiber's Cold War Exiles in Mexico (2008) extends this
project of globalizing American Cold War culture by analyzing the work of
writers, filmmakers, and visual artists who were blacklisted or otherwise
exiled from the United States during the Cold War and found new creative
lives in Mexico. A by-product of the U.S.-Soviet rivalry but crucially not de
fined by it, this is a different archive of Cold War texts (the work of Willard
Motley, for example) and leads to a new way of viewing Cold War cultural
production. As Schreiber writes, "the work of Cold War exiles constitutes
a form of critical transnationalism that challenged official versions of U.S.
national culture from the mid-1940s to the mid-1960s."24Jodi Kim's Ends
o f Empire (2010) likewise argues that "Asian American critique unsettles
and disrupts the dominant Manichaean lens through which the Cold War
is made sense of and in turn generates meaning. . . . [By] conceptualiz
ing Asian American critique as an unsettling hermeneutic [Ends o fEmpire]
generates a new interpretive practice or analytic for reading Asian Ameri
can cultural production." 25 Attuned as it is to the real effects of a conflict
sometimes rendered abstractly, Asian American cultural production can
change the way the Cold War is conceptualized: from an Asian American
perspective, for example, the Cold War can look like a civil war "within the
selfsame western modernity." 26
Other recent books have assumed the global frame of the Cold War while focusing primarily on American or Anglo-American literature. Arthur Redding's Turncoats, Traitors, and Fellow Travelers (2008) shows how domestic U.S. culture exists in a transnational context, so that, for example, W. E. B. Du Bois's "postwar activist, literary, and theoretical work remains compelling and might best be understood as a provocative and engaged critical response to the global Cold War, which itself can hardly be analyzed without a keen eye to its racial dimensions." 27 Further more, Paul Bowles's well-known depictions of existential crisis and loss in places such as North Africa "mark the limitations of imperial power." 28 Adam Piette's The Literary Cold War (2009) focuses on British and Ameri can writers but ranges around the globe, following Graham Greene and Mary McCarthy to Southeast Asia or Allen Ginsberg to the Arctic. Piette figures the Cold War relationship between aesthetics and politics in sur prising ways, as when he writes of the "Arctic Cold War," emblematized in the construction of the Distant Early Warning (DEW) line across a four thousand-mile stretch in Alaska and Canada. As Piette puts it, "the Arctic came to symbolize the Cold War, secret, inaccessible, bitterly cold, hiding within its wastes enormous bases such as Thule in Greenland, incredible Surveillance Systems and mind-numbingly powerful weaponry." 29 It was likewise the place for Ginsberg to meditate on the Cold War; in 1956, he sailed through the polar regions as a trainee yeoman on the USNS Pendle ton, part of the Military Sea Transportation Service, the body respon sible for constructing the DEW line. Noting that Ginsberg travels to this netherworld between the United States and the Soviet Union just after his Russian-born mother has died, Piette echoes the connections drawn between the familial and the political in May and Klein; analyzing Gins berg's journals, he concludes there is a "struggle between familial and superpolitical readings__ Ginsberg accepts the mystifying invisibility of the Cold War as a pastoralizing dream of peace." 30 Some of the more re cent work in Cold War literary studies, then, takes the global imaginaries of containment, integration, and three worlds as powerful, but not neces sarily exclusively explanatory, paradigms. Cold War Criticism Now As we have demonstrated, the containment thesis has enormous power for critics engaging the long 1950s. While there are some highly visible examples of state sponsorship and control of cultural production-- most 8 notably the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) in Holly-
wood, television censorship, or the revelations of CIA funding for the literary magazine Encounter-- "containm ent" has often functioned as a metaphor in literary studies, a way of registering anxiety about dissent, visibility, and surveillance. In the present volume, William J. Maxwell's opening essay is simultaneously an example and a critique of the contain ment paradigm. Building on the work of historian Ellen Schrecker, Max well looks beyond the highly visible public spectacle of McCarthyism to understand the era as one shaped by "Hooverism," that is, FBI domestic surveillance. Perhaps the most surprising aspect of the day-to-day opera tions of state surveillance is its interest in the world of books. Shamed by its failure to catch sufficiently in advance Max Lowenthal's damning The Federal Bureau o fInvestigation (1950), the FBI subsequently infiltrated the American publishing industry. Punning on the George W. Bush-era idea of Total Information Awareness, Maxwell dubs this FBI effort Total Liter ary Awareness, a program that has left behind an extensive archive of FBI interest in African American cultural production. Maxwell reveals the ma chinery of cultural containment, but his key examples also show how in effective this FBI surveillance turned out to be; works of the imagination, it turns out, don't reveal their Communist sympathies in any straightfor ward way. Catherine Gunther Kodat's examination of the career of Edwin Denby reveals that our paradigms for understanding Cold War culture are at least in part the consequence of the figures we have privileged. Although Denby was a vital part of the New York arts scene, he is remembered primarily for one subset of his writings -- his dance criticism-- rather than his four volumes of poetry. By considering both the poetry and Denby's writings on dance, Kodat gives us new ways of understanding Cold War culture. A conventional approach might well link Denby's commitment to neo classical values in ballet and his formalist poetics to his homosexuality: such established and circumscribed forms of aesthetic expression might allow Denby to hide queerness. Yet as Kodat notes, Denby's poetry is sur prisingly open about male-male desire, so the homology between formal aesthetic control and political oppression breaks down when the poetry is taken seriously. Restrictive aesthetic form s-- the sonnet, in Denby's case-- might function as glass houses rather than as wooden enclosures. One of the recurring critiques directed at Communism was that it rep resented a hitherto unknown centralization of power. But in Daniel Bel grade account, the centralization of power is a defining feature of moder nity, rather than a mere Communist aberration in its history, and he 9
demonstrates the continuities between fears of Communism abroad and anxieties about centralized power in the United States. From World War II onward, some American intellectuals claimed that democracy must be a means as well as an end, and in their view deliberate and centralized social planning threatened it. For Belgrad, this anxiety helps us to under stand the emergence of American postmodernism in new ways, and he tracks a cultural narrative critical of centralized authority, with refer ence to the idea of feedback loops. Cybernetics and ecology both under stood the complexity of the systems they sought to model and argued that rational technocratic control threatened to destroy the very democracy it sought to defend. Belgrad shows how a commitment to seeing the uni verse as a self-regulating system of interconnection informs major works of music, literature, and social theory, and in so doing offers us a new way of comprehending the rise of postmodernism within a Cold War context. Andrew Hoberek's chapter situates Frank Herbert's 1965 novel Dune in an ever-evolving Cold War U.S. foreign policy. Kennedy's administration moved away from a foreign policy based on containment to one in which the path to global success lay in winning the hearts and minds of devel oping nations, and in suggesting to the developing world that American help was the path to modernity itself. What is particularly telling is that Dune reveals how this change was sold to the American public, as it shows us how modernization theory offered a way for America to think of itself as a global but-- crucially-- nonimperial power, while simultaneously re animating a sense of domestic potentiality that had seemed increasingly fragile in the era of the gray flannel suit. In Hoberek's allegorical reading of Dune, the third world is marked less by the absence of modernity than by its potential for arrival, and thus becomes the ground on which the American middle class can recuperate its agency. Linking the United States with the globe is also one of the tasks of Karen Steigman's chapter. Joan Didion has often been represented as a conservative political thinker, and her work has been placed in a longer history of colonial and imperial romance. But Steigman's chapter offers us a somewhat different Didion. The unlikely pairing of Didion with Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak suggests a shared project: what is the historical nature-- and proper form -- of intimacy between first- and third-world feminists? Steigman argues that Didion's A Book o f Common Prayer (1977) charts the "impossible intimacy" of the privileged American woman Charlotte Douglas, who comes to the fictional Central American country 10 of Boca Grande but fails to register or understand its politics, even as she
herself affects them. Didion demonstrates how Charlotte and her armsbrokering lawyer of a husband are implicated in the seemingly relentless series of revolutions in Boca Grande and in the American Cold War state writ large; both geopolitics and personal relations are figured as the im brication of the first and third worlds. Christine Hong's examination of narratives chronicling the 1950 seizure and subsequent loss of Pyongyang by UN forces reminds us that the Cold War was quite hot and that the Korean War complicates the ex planatory power of the containment paradigm. Furthermore, narrative fiction plays a crucial role in understanding a conflict that is both on going and forgotten. As Hong points out, the notion of exile, along with its associated postcolonial theory, is inadequate for understanding the work of Korean American authors: in these cases, the relationship to an au thentic home is complicated by the lack of a definitive resolution to con flict. Hong claims that we can read the work of Korean American authors through the lens of counterintelligence, suggesting a reciprocal relation ship between literary and state-sponsored narratives of a past that is not yet over. Richard Kim's The Martyred (1964) is a rich site for such consider ation. Not simply fiction about the Korean War, it is finally a novel about the Korean War as a narrative battlefield, concerned as it is with the work of South Korean intelligence operatives tasked with narrating the atroci ties of North Korea against its Christian population. Leerom Medovoi's chapter turns conventional accounts of the era as a bipolar ideological conflict on their head by instead foregrounding the Cold War as part of the long biopolitical remapping of the world. The claim that Communism and Nazism were parallel forms of totalitarian ism, in that both sought to organize every aspect of their populations' lives, made possible an understanding of Communism not simply as an ideological argument about economics but as the enemy of humankind itself. In this formulation, Communism was committed to the creation of a class of racialized subhumans. What distinguishes Medovoi's argu ment is the way in which a war against totalitarianism, a war that often took the form of an argument about totalitarianism's links to racism, was itself committed to the logic of racial hierarchy. Totalitarianism was bad because it imagined some life as subhuman, yet antitotalitarianism fre quently racialized its ideological opponent, thereby ironically committing itself to the very dynamic it was ostensibly criticizing. Alan Nadel revisits his foundational work on American Cold War cul ture by considering how the Cold War was revivified in the Reagan era; 11
if Hoberek pointed out how the "Eastern" could function in the 1960s to reenergize domestic ambitions, Nadel asks us what it means that in the Reagan era such work could only happen in "a galaxy far, far away." For Nadel, the original Star Wars trilogy is a crucial text for understanding the logics of the Reagan era, and in particular for examining how Reaganism found ways of reinvigorating a story of Western power and con quest that had seemingly disappeared during what Jonathan Schell has called "the time of illusion," a decade (the 1970s) defined by epic failures abroad (Vietnam, the oil crisis) and at home (Watergate).31 Nadel returns to his influential formulation of "Containment Culture" to see in the Viet nam era a continued exposure of the contradictions of Cold War culture, contradictions that were suppressed during the 1950s and exposed in the 1960s. The illumination of these contradictions helps, in Nadel's account, to explain the "virtual demise" in the 1960s of the Western, the most pro lific of American popular genres, and the aesthetic corollary to the politi cal mythology of the high Cold War. In his analysis, the original Star Wars trilogy tried to resolve how we might reinvigorate both the Western and the story of the West when the informing political situation had changed so dramatically. NOTES 1. Alessandra Stanley, "Cold War-Style Spying Is Back (How Quaint)," New York Times (13 June 2010): C l. 2. Jerry Markon and Philip Rucker, "The Suspects in a Russian Spy Ring Lived All-American Lives," Washington Post (30 June 2010). Web. 3. Salt, DVD, directed by Phillip Noyce (Sony Pictures, 2010). 4. See for example Nikhil Pal Singh, "Cold War Redux: On the `New Totalitari anism,' " Radical History Review 85 (Winter 2003): 171-81. 5. Scott Shane and Charlie Savage, "In Ordinary Lives, U.S. Sees the Work of Russian Agents," New York Times (28 June 2010). Web. 6. Ann Douglas, "Periodizing the American Century: Modernism, Postmod ernism, and Postcolonialism in the Cold War Context," Modernism/Modernity 5, no. 3 (September 1998): 71-98, 75. 7. Lary May, ed., Recasting America: Culture and Politics in the Age o f Cold War (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988). 8. Joel Foreman, ed., The Other Fifties: Interrogating Midcentury American Icons (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1997). 9. Ibid., 3. 10. One powerful recent example is Mark McGurl, The Program Era: Postwar 12 Fiction and the Rise o f Creative Writing (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press,
2009), which argues that the defining context for postwar American fiction was the system of higher education. 11. Douglas, "Periodizing the American Century," 85. 12. This change is reflected in a more recent interdisciplinary collection, Douglas Field, ed., American Cold War Culture (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2005), which has detailed readings of various novels and films. Other re cent collections that offer readings of literature contextualized by the Cold War include Andrew Hammond, ed., Cold War Literature: Writing the Global Conflict (New York: Routledge, 2006); Josh Lukin, ed., Invisible Suburbs: Recovering Protest Fiction in the 1950s United States (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2008); and Andrew Hammond, ed., Global Cold WarLiterature: Western, Eastern and Post colonial Perspectives (New York: Routledge, 2012). 13. See Suzanne Clark, Cold Warriors: Manliness on Trial in the Rhetoric o f the West (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2000); Timothy Melley, Em pire o f Conspiracy: The Culture o fParanoia in Postwar America (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2000); Edward Brunner, Cold War Poetry (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2001); D. Quentin Miller, John Updike and the Cold War: Drawing the Iron Curtain (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 2001); Marcel Cornis-Pope, Narrative Innovation and Cultural Rewriting in the Cold War Era and After (New York: Palgrave, 2001); Camille Roman, Elizabeth Bishop's World War II-Cold War View (New York: Palgrave, 2001); Jacqueline Foertsch, Enemies Within: The Cold War and the AIDS Crisis in Literature, Film, and Culture (Urbana: University o f Illi nois Press, 2001); Deborah Nelson, Pursuing Privacy in Cold War America (New York: Columbia University Press, 2002); Robin Peel, Writing Back: Sylvia Plath and the Cold War (Madison, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2002); Christina Klein, Cold War Orientalism: Asia in the Middlebrow Imagination, 1945-1961 (Berke ley: University of California Press, 2003); Bruce McConachie, American Theater in the Culture o f the Cold War: Producing and Contesting Containment (Iowa City: Uni versity o f Iowa Press, 2003); Michael Davidson, Guys Like Us: Citing Masculinity in Cold War Poetics (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003); David Seed, Brain washing: The Fictions o fMind Control (Kent, OH: Kent State University Press, 2004); Leerom Medovoi, Rebels: Youth and the Cold War Origins o fIdentity (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2005); Julia Mickenberg, Learningfrom the Left: Children's Literature, the Cold War, and Radical Politics in the United States (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006); Matthew Frye Jacobson and Gaspar Gonzбlez, What Have They Built You to Do? The Manchurian Candidate and Cold War America (Min neapolis: University o f Minnesota Press, 2006); Rebecca M. Schreiber, Cold War Exiles in Mexico: U.S. Dissidents and the Culture o f Critical Resistance (Minneapolis: University o f Minnesota Press, 2008); Arthur Redding, Turncoats, Traitors, and Fel low Travelers: Culture and Politics o f the Early Cold War (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2008); Daniel Cordle, States o f Suspense: The Nuclear Age, Postmod ernism, and United States Fiction and Prose (Manchester, UK: Manchester Univer- 13
sity Press, 2008); Eric Keenaghan, Queering Cold War Poetry:Ethics o f Vulnerability in Cuba and the United States (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 2009); Adam Piette, The Literary Cold War: 1945 to Vietnam (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2009); Ann Sherif, Japan's Cold War: Media, Literature, and the Law (New York: Colum bia University Press, 2009); David Caute, Politics and the Novel During the Cold War (Piscataway, NJ: Transactions Publishers, 2010); Jodi Kim, Ends o f Empire:Asian American Critique and the Cold War (Minneapolis: University of Min nesota Press, 2010); Daniel Grausam, On Endings:American Postmodern Fiction and the Cold War (Charlottesville: University o f Virginia Press, 2011); Derek C. Maus, Unvarnishing Reality: Subversive Russian and American Cold War Satire (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2011); and Steven Belletto, No Accident, Com rade: Chance and Design in Cold War American Narratives (New York: Oxford Uni versity Press, 2012). 14. Elaine Tyler May, Homeward Bound: American Families in the Cold War Era (New York: Basic Books, 1988), 14. 15. Thomas Schaub, American Fiction in the Cold War (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1991), 191. 16. Ibid., 163,178. 17. Piette, The Literary Cold War, 6. 18. See for example Odd Arne Westad, The Global Cold War: Third World Inter ventions and the Making o f Our Times (Cambridge: CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS, 2005); and Gilbert Joseph and Daniela Spenser, eds., In from the Cold: Latin America's New Encounter with the Cold War (Durham,NC: Duke University Press, 2007). 19. Klein, Cold War Orientalism, 41. 20. Ibid., 146. 21. Medovoi, Rebels, 146. 22. Ibid., 3. As Medovoi writes, "Although containment undoubtedly represents a central political logic of Cold War culture, I believe that the three worlds imagi nary generated a rival logic of emancipation whose consideration offers a more dialectically complex understanding o f the era" (Rebels, 337, n. 29). 23. Ibid., 11. 24. Schreiber, Cold War Exiles in Mexico, 202. 25. Kim, Ends o fEmpire, 5. 26. Ibid., 24. 27. Redding, Turncoats, Traitors, and Fellow Travelers, 60. 28. Ibid., 112. 29. Piette, The Literary Cold War, 79. 30. Ibid., 80. 31. Jonathan Schell, The Time o fIllusion (New York: Vintage, 1976). 14

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