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A sensational success when first published in 1893, the violent hatreds Degeneration roused among younger artists followed the author for the rest of his life. The book pursues a medicalised examination of some of the literary and artistic movements of the period. However, though taking inspiration from Cesare Lombroso’s examination of genius and insanity, and to a lesser degree of criminal man, Nordau’s language is anything but scientific. Rude and acerbic in tone, the author’s sceptical disdain for his targets results in a vitriolic, vituperative, and systematic ripping to pieces of the prose, poetry, plays, and operatic works selected for analysis. One truly gets the sense of a middle-aged critic, seated on a leather armchair, looking down his nose at the works he is unable to enjoy. Nevertheless, he is not devoid of insight, and his criticisms are salutary when the targets have since become renowned philosophers, authors, or composers of the first rank. Why is it not surprising that such a book would inspire an embittered misanthrope, and later Stalinist, like György Lukács? According to Nordau’s biographer, Degeneration caused an explosion of criticisms in Germany, to which followed a chain of explosions throughout Europe each time the work appeared in translation. Driven by utopian visions, Nordau stuck to his guns, but came in the end to regret going after some authors-like Zola-in the way that he did. Having pathologised him, the latter Nordau came to respect, and Zola bore him no umbrage. Others were, of course, less generous, and modern critics slate him for establishing the theory of degenerate art. Despite its bulk, Degeneration is written with clarity and precision, and proves an enormously entertaining read.
