Abstract

In the early nineteen sixties, Irving Howe and Ralph Ellison crossed swords in an exchange of vehemently argued essays. Ellison's half of the exchange remains handily available, "The World and the Jug," reprinted in his now canonical essay collection Shadow and Act. Ellison is rarely a hot-tempered essayist, but "The World and the Jug" bristles. The essay to which Ellison is abrasively responding, Howe's "Black Boys and Native Sons," (Dissent, Autumn 1963) has gotten his dander up. He is defending his raison d'ĂȘtre. He is reclaiming his artistic value and independence from easy political categories (especially those imposed by Marxist-influenced white critics). His oratorical powers at full blast, with resounding indignation, he is asserting nothing less than the lasting significance of art.

"The World and the Jug," then, looks like the definitive statement on artistic autonomy vs. liberal condescension. Or, at least, it looks that way until one reads the somewhat less well-known Howe essay. Ellison is so blisteringly, so persuasively indignant that the Howe essay is often unjustly summarized. For example, in 1991 Mark Busby states that "Howe charged Ellison with insufficient anger and called for more protest against racism in his work." This is flat-out incorrect.

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