Stuart Holroyd, Gnosticism, & the Occult Wave (Part II)

Holroyd Elements

First and Only Edition of The Elements of Gnosticism

III. Holroyd’s case for Gnosticism remains nevertheless a measured one.  Unlike Pagels, Holroyd’s attitude is not, against Orthodoxy, an angry one.  In Elements, Chapter 1, in setting forth the common propositions of the numerous Gnostic systems, Holroyd remarks that “the idea that the world was the work of an incompetent or malevolent deity” figures among them.  He adds that, “stated thus baldly, it seems a merely perverse idea, or an attempt to exonerate human iniquity by putting the blame on God.”  He immediately tries to downplay the perversity by explaining that the Gnostic systems posit two deities: The inferior Demiurge who, envying the creative potency of the superior deity, authors the botched world; and that selfsame superior deity, sometimes referred to as the Father.  Holroyd notes that the “transcendent God does not, and never did, act, in the sense of willing something and bringing it about.”  Rather than create, as does the God of Genesis, the Father emanates the lower levels of the metacosmic hierarchy in which he dwells, whatever that means.  Thus, to think like the Gnostics, “we have to substitute the idea of divine emanation, or ‘bringing forth,’ for the idea of divine action.”  In Gnostic rhetoric, the Demiurge is the “abortion” of Sophia or Wisdom.  When the Demiurge came forth from Sophia, then, in Holroyd’s words, “he imagined himself to be the absolute God.”  Holroyd makes a good job of conveying to his readership the baroque complexity of the Gnostic myth, with its many levels of divine and demonic beings and its multi-stage causality that brings about the world as men know it.

Joseph Thors (1835 - 1920) Way Home (1880)

Joseph Thors (1835 – 1920): The Way Home (1880)

Holroyd writes, again in Chapter 1, that “in some Gnostic schools the savior bears the name Christos, or Jesus, but there is a fundamental difference from Christian belief in that the Gnostic Christ brings salvation not from sin but from ignorance, offers not redemption but the knowledge that redeems, and demands not belief and contrition but spiritual effort and diligence.”  Holroyd writes that: “There is an obvious elitism implicit in this.  To be awakened to the existence of the divine spark within is in itself to be set apart from the majority of mankind, and actually to possess the gnosis is to attain a rare spiritual distinction.”  It is the case, as Holroyd sees it, that “the Gnostic contempt for the material and physical world can easily be extended to contempt for human beings who do not see anything intrinsically wrong with the world, and the contempt for the Creator can result in the repudiation of moral principles and prohibitions and the assumption of a status above the law, where anything is permissible.”   That last phrase alludes to Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Brothers Karamazov, in which Ivan Karamazov declares that, “I do not accept the world that [God] created,” and adds that in the rejection of God, “Everything is permitted to the intelligent man.”  Intelligence!  Is it not the same as gnosis?  Holroyd’s allusion is tantalizing.

Holroyd writes in Elements, Chapter 2, of Gnostic stubbornness: “The Gnostics did not take kindly to authority.”  As with the mentality of Ivan in Dostoevsky’s novel, “there were those among them who repudiated all terrestrial authority on principle, as deriving from the counterfeit God who created and governs the world.”  Holroyd’s assertion that the Gnostics “had no vested interest in exercising authority” seems, however, baseless.  Indeed, a non-Christian commentator, the Third-Century Neo-Platonist philosopher Plotinus, devoted an essay to the Gnostics (Enneads, Book Two, Section Nine) in which he describes their fanaticism and their arrogation of a presumptive authority that exceeds all other authority.  Members of a Gnostic sect rudely interrupted Plotinus’ lectures.  For his part Holroyd notices the absence of caritas in the Gnostic doctrine: “The meek, the poor, the burdened, the captive and oppressed, the sick and the maimed, the little children are not the beneficiaries of the gnostic Jesus’ ministrations.”  Later in the discussion, he writes that, “Undeniably there is something inhuman in Gnosticism, even anti-human, a repugnance felt and expressed for all things we associate with being human, which no doubt in part explains why orthodox Christianity, with its emphasis on the humanity of Jesus, prevailed.”

Not incidentally, these words would apply to Sartre’s philosophy, as Holroyd represents it in Flight.  Indeed, in Elements, Chapter 7, in the context of justifying his classification of Existentialism under the rubric of gnosis, he returns to Sartre.  Holroyd is thinking of Sartre’s Nausée when he writes that, “Existentialists, like the Gnostics, tended to regard the material, physical world, with repugnance, as constituting a mode of being utterly different from and inimical to the mode appropriate for men.”  Holroyd invokes Sartre’s categories of “en soi” and “pour soi,” the former referring to mute objects and the latter to subjectivity.  In Holroyd’s view, “Existentialism endorses the fundamentally gnostic view of the human condition as one of entrapment in an ‘inauthentic’ mode of existence, and that… escape from the trap demands a sustained mental effort of awareness.”  This very “sense of entrapment” unites Sartre’s universe with the shared universe of the “Angries,” who whine about the wretchedness of an empty civilization while at the same time wallowing in it.  For the “Angries,” at least, and quite possibly also for Sartre, authenticity is a spurious goal.  Authenticity serves only as a rhetorical position from which to designate and denounce inauthenticity.  Negativity permeates the practice of the Sartrean Existentialist – it hints at a desire to be conspicuous for conspicuity’s sake.

Benjamin Williams Leader A Quiet Pool in Glenfalloch (1857)

Benjamin Williams Leader (1831 – 1923): A Quiet Pool in Glenfalloch (1857)

Holroyd wonders whether Oswald Spengler’s thesis of an inevitable civilizational decadence might explain the re-emergence of exotic religious ideas, especially those related to Gnosticism, in the current era.  In The Decline of the West, Volume II, in a section devoted to Pythagoras, Mohammed, and Cromwell, Spengler adduces two phases of religious decline – what might be called religious frivolity and what he names as “the second religiousness.”  In respect of the former Spengler writes: “Materialism would not be complete without the need now and then of easing the intellectual tension, by giving way to moods of myth, by performing rites of some sort, or by enjoying with an inward light-heartedness the charms of the irrational, the unnatural, the repulsive, and even, if need be, the silly.”  As to the second religiousness, which follows religious frivolity, Spengler writes that it “consists in a deep piety that fills the waking consciousness.”  The second religiousness emerges from rationalism, which for Spengler is already something defective, by way of negation.  The renewed piety “starts with Rationalism’s fading out in helplessness,” whereupon the archetypes of “primitive religion” reappear “in the guise of a popular syncretism that is to be found in every Culture at this phase.”  Whereas the structure of this piety is composite, its attitude is monistic and puritanical.

Spengler’s insight has considerable relevance for cultural phenomena under discussion.  Take, for example, Holroyd’s late authorship, concerning which Holroyd himself used a diminishing vocabulary.  In addition to Alien Intelligence and Elements, Holroyd wrote during the period from the late 1970s to the early 1990s Dream Worlds (1976), PSI and the Consciousness Explosion (1977), Mysteries of the Inner Self (1978), Briefing for the Landing on Planet Earth (1979), The Complete Book of Sexual Love (1979), Quest of the Quiet Mind (1980), and Krishnamurti: The Man, the Mystery & the Message (1991).  As the titles indicate, these books furnished part of the vast bibliography of so-called spiritual and occult books that flooded the market – and found a large audience – in the first phase of post-1968 modernity.  The subject-matter of these tomes corresponds to Spengler’s paradigm of cultic divertissement in the phase of religious frivolity.[i]  Holroyd addresses Jung’s Unconscious and its archetypes, telepathic contact with alien beings, the allure of an intensified consciousness, a type of Tantric discipline, and the life and teachings of an exotic guru.  Holroyd’s titles take their place in a catalogue that includes, in addition to similar titles by Wilson, the Seth books by Jane Roberts, the alien-abduction books by Budd Hopkins, and the series beginning with Holy Blood, Holy Grail by Michael Baigent, Richard Leigh, and Henry Lincoln.

How to sum up the Occult Wave, the reverberations of which are felt even today?  If it were frivolous, it would never have been pious or puritanical as Spengler uses those terms.  Interest in the ancient mystery cults, in the possibility of encounters with alien beings, or in telepathic contact via the psychically attuned with the spiritual dimensions would signify, as Spengler intuited, a need to escape from the weightiness and implacability of a materialistic milieu.  The new type of esoterica is mildly dissentient.  The Zoology Department tells people that no such creature as Sasquatch exists, whereupon the Bigfoot literature thumbs its nose at departmental dogmatism.  The Air Force tells people that the flying saucers have no reality, whereupon the “Close Encounters” literature sends a raspberry at the starched uniforms.  In this way, the weird diversions reveal a perhaps unexpected healthy streak.  They are anti-pious and anti-puritanical.  If the weird diversions were unserious, they would nevertheless be playful.  They are playful, moreover, in a baroque manner that endows them with a certain qualified attractiveness.  The book with which the Occult Wave began – Morning of the Magicians by Louis Pauwels and Jacques Bergier (French original 1962; first English version 1963) – is self-consciously ludicrous, from its mish-mash organization to its joyous embrace of the most outrageous and unlikely notions.  The authors have discerned a stern system, which they playfully oppose: “The Positivists, in the name of Truth and Reality, reject everything en bloc: X-rays, ectoplasms, atoms, spirits of the dead, the fourth phase of matter, and the idea of there being inhabitants on Mars.”  Holroyd’s Elements contains a summation of Manichaeism that relates to Pauwels’ jibe at Positivism.  Speculating why, with its elaborate and worldwide organization, the Manichaean Church failed to secure a place in the world, Holroyd concludes that it qualified itself as “generally too uncompromising and demanding – in a word too gnostic – to furnish the foundation for a faith of universal and lasting appeal.”

Benjamin Williams Leader An English River in Autumn (1877)

Benjamin William Leader (1831 – 1923): An English River in Autumn (1873)

IV. Pagels’ Neo-Gnosticism corresponds, on the other hand, not to Spengler’s religious frivolity, but to his second religiousness. One visited the same so-called metaphysical bookstore to purchase either Holroyd’s Elements or Pagels’ Gnostic Gospels, but the two books differ from one another, one curious but reserved, the other zealously affirmative; in the same way Holroyd’s oeuvre differs from Pagels’ oeuvre – the former eclectic and the latter focused on one thing repetitively. But then Holroyd lived independently, having established a language-instruction franchise.  Pagels joined herself to the bureaucracy of scholarship in colleges and universities where an infinitesimal specialization, difficult to distinguish from a general ignorance, defines status.  There is something inhuman in the bureaucratization of knowledge.  There is something essentially corporate, and thus also essentially inhuman, in a bureaucratized society where human beings become “resources.”  What have these phenomena to do with piety and Puritanism?  Spengler asserts that the second religiousness mimics the “springtime” religiousness of the culture, but it also participates in the crude materialism and the fossilized rationalism of the global regime, the Imperium whether Roman or American.  The need to mimic the original outburst of the culture with its panorama of symbols suggests both a lack of creativity and an impoverishment of consciousness.  Because the decreased consciousness cannot deal with the richness and variety of the original symbols, it drastically minimizes their number and allegorizes them politically; at the same time it arranges the diminished remainder into a Manichaean dichotomy.

That Pagels should have linked the ancient Gnosticism with the modern progressive agenda well accords itself with the hypothesis that a stark dualism looming up from the past will appeal to the second religiousness.  Pagels’ foreword to her translation and commentary on the Gnostic Gospel of Judas, written in collaboration with Karen King, supplies an instance.  “At our first reading,” the co-authors record, “the author of The Gospel of Judas struck us as a very angry man with an offensive, even hateful, message, for he portrays Jesus repeatedly mocking his disciples and charging them with committing all kinds of sins and impurities in his name.”  According to Pagels and King, “It seemed to us that the author was doing exactly that himself – using Jesus’ name to propagate his own homophobic and anti-Jewish views.”  Once the two scholars recognized the document’s radically anti-Nicene character, however, they accommodated themselves to it: “We found that not all is angry”; and that “much of The Gospel of Judas is filled with Jesus’s brilliant teaching about the spiritual life.”  A retrojected oppositionality, as the contemporary academic jargon would no doubt have it, permits Pagels and King to overcome their loathing of the “homophobic,” a word whose presence in the discourse betrays (pardoning the expression) the predictable orthodoxy of the two liberal professors.

Pagels can claim something of a successor in Marianne Williamson, a corporate motivational speaker, author of numerous books on spirituality, and in late 2019 one of the Democratic Party candidates for the presidential nomination in 2020.  In February 2017 Williamson sat for an interview with The Bodhi Tree, a former brick-and-mortar bookstore of the metaphysical variety, as previously mentioned, once located in Hollywood, which migrated online at the beginning of the teens.  Asked about her relation to Christianity, Williamson responded that: “There is a mystical tradition within Christianity, as there is a mystical tradition within Judaism and all the other great religions…  The depths are there in Christianity, because the early Christians – the Gnostics – said it all.”  Borrowings from Gnosticism permeate Williamson’s prose, which in its repetitiveness and sentimentality resembles that of a Hallmark Card.  Human beings incorporate an “inner light” that corresponds to the Valentinian “spark.”  To activate that inner light, one must undertake an elaborate self-initiation (the “Course in Miracles”).  In the Bodhi Tree interview, Williamson remarks how: “This world of Maya is illusion…  You don’t even try to work within the illusion – you transcend it.”  Elsewhere: “The Zen mind is very much what the Course in Miracles is talking about, or what in Christic-philosophical terms is known as ‘being as a little child.’”  Williamson’s “illusion” is the equivalent of the “botched creation.”  Her metaphor of “being as a little child” inadvertently points to the diminished consciousness of her brand of theosophical gnosis, which her simplistic prose likewise indicates.  Williamson is undoubtedly the first ­self-declared Gnostic to seek the presidency of the United States of America.[ii]

Samuel David Colkett (1806 - 1863) Farmhouse with Pond (1847)

Samuel David Colkett (1806 – 1863): An English Farmhouse with Pond (1847)

Holroyd’s work has disappeared into oblivion.  Such a fate befell him ill-deserved but also probably unavoidably given the copiousness of modern publishing and the sub-literacy of the modern reading taste.  A reexamination of that work has nevertheless provided the occasion to draw together some seemingly disparate strands of cultural phenomena of recent decades and to comment not only on their relation to one another but also on their genetic relevance to the present moment.  In particular, Holroyd’s subtle self-reflection, revealing itself in Flight and Contraries, enables a reader to form the picture, in detail, of what might be called an optimal model of worldly reconciliation and centeredness.  In Flight, Part V, in the chapter entitled “Darkness and Light,” Holroyd charts his progress from an alienating and egocentric world-rejection, which at low moments resembled that of the “Angries,” to a Christianizing sense of dwelling in a world whose basic goodness he no longer doubts – combined with a complementary sense of standing perpetually under the sign of what he freely names as “grace.”  Moving towards a “point of balance,” Holroyd can already participate in that balance although not completely, and perhaps never completely.  Holroyd writes: “I am no longer apart; I am a part; and I derive my meaning from the Whole.”  The motion occurs “within God.”  This progress is the equivalent of Holroyd’s “pursuit of meaning,” a quest that necessarily remains open and that gradually transforms itself into the path of transcendence.  The quality of subtlety should be stressed.  The questing attitude “embraces things that are irreconcilable and allows itself to be conditioned by… the conflict between them.”  Holroyd adds that the “most characteristic expression of [this attitude] is in the form of irony and paradox.”

This metamorphosis in the disposition of the ego has at its beginning and in its consummation stark polarities.  Yet Holroyd denies any “dramatic story of ‘conversion.’”  As he writes, “the change was gradual rather than cataclysmic and more in the nature of an awakening than an apocalypse.”  Holroyd’s transformation might justly be described as increase of knowing luminosity in the temporal flow of his self-consciousness.  Recalling his phase of flight Holroyd tells how “walking in a large city, I felt more my community with the people of the backstreets than with those of the busy thoroughfares.”  Despite this, as he writes, “I felt that my natural habitat was the city.”  The world struck him as “malignant.”  A conviction of “unreasoned pride” accompanied these sensations.  In the phase of pursuit, however, “everything is reversed.”  He now finds his home in the countryside, where the environment “correlate[s] with my inward condition.”  He attunes himself to “vastness and permanence and slow rhythms of change.”  The metamorphosis in the ego entails the sublimation of that ego.  For the raw ego, life furnished only a scene for monologue.  After the transformation, and in consonance with the movement towards transcendence that never completes itself, but that like Grace constantly vivifies, dialogue assumes a supreme importance.

The increasingly homogeneous mentality of the West, ever propagated and ever reinforced by broadcasting and the new digital technologies, takes it as a given that the world, although purely accidental and malleable according to whim, exists mainly to provide a platform for egocentric monologue.  A neurotic flicka haranguing the United Nations General Assembly represents the trend in an iconic way.   Although “progress” functions as a shibboleth for the “woke,” the signs point to regress and to sleepwalking – to a fatal restriction of consciousness that gives no evidence of participating in vastness and permanence and slow rhythms of change.  Such a consciousness, insofar as the word consciousness finds justification in context, rejects dialogue.  It seems also unaffected by wonder, in which, according to Aristotle, the quest for knowledge, eventually articulating itself as philosophy, finds its ground.  In Gnostic fashion, the modern ersatz consciousness claims to possess wisdom or if not wisdom then some kind of diktat from out of the blue to which everyone must conform his thought and behavior.  In the apocalypse of modernity, transcendence becomes subscendence, appearing even as human offal on the sidewalks of the megalopoleis.  The trinity of vastness and permanence and slow rhythms of change has another name, with which Holroyd, subduing his ego, familiarized himself.  That name, which modernity seeks with Ivan-Karamazovian anger to banish from all vocabularies, is – God.

[i] Spengler writes (same context as above): “About 312 [BC] poetical scholars of the Callimachus type in Alexandria invented the Serapis-cult and provided it with an elaborate legend.  The Isis-cult in Republican Rome was something very different both from the emperor-worship that succeeded it and from the deeply earnest Isis-religion of Egypt; it was a religious pastime of the society, which at times provoked public ridicule and at times led to public scandal and the closing of the cult-centers.  The Chaldean astrology was in those days a fashion, very far removed from the Classical belief in oracles and from the Magian faith in the might of the hour.  It was ‘relaxation,’ a ‘let’s pretend.’  And over and above this, there were numberless charlatans and fake prophets who toured the towns and sought with their pretentious rites to persuade the half-educated into a renewed interest in religion.  Correspondingly, we have in the European-American world of today the occultist and theosophist fraud, the American Christian Science, the untrue Buddhism of drawing-rooms, the religious arts-and-crafts business (brisker in Germany than even in England) that caters for groups and cults of Gothic or Late Classical or Taoist sentiment.  Everywhere it is just a toying with myths that no one really believes, a tasting of cults that it is hoped might fill the inner void.”  Spengler formed these thoughts in the early 1920s, but his description is just as relevant to the renewed religious frivolity of the 1970s.
[ii] The worldwide Left has, in the Twenty-First Century, assumed a tone increasingly religiose.  The religiosity of the global warming movement, which now stylizes itself as the climate-change movement, is obvious to critical observers.  It corresponds to the cultic trademarks catalogued by Leon Festinger, Henry Riecken, and Stanley Schachter in their classic study of a UFO coven in When Prophecy Fails (1956), the foremost trait being that when, as the title suggests, prophecy fails – the cultists cling even more tightly to their beliefs, postponing the judgment day and issuing baroque explanations of why it never occurred on the predicted date.  In American politics, the raft of Democratic Party candidates for the presidential nomination in 2020 includes not only Marianne Williamson but also Mayor “Pete” Buttigieg of South Bend, Indiana, who makes religious pronouncements.  Many of these combine his professed religiosity with the palaver of the climate-change cult.  A Newsweek article (Tue, Oct 22, 2019) quotes him as saying: “Look, I’m not out to impose my faith on anybody else, but to me environmental stewardship isn’t just about taking care of the planet, it’s about taking care of our neighbor, we’re supposed to love our neighbor as ourselves.  The biggest problem with climate change isn’t that it’s going to just hurt the planet. I mean in some shape, way or form the planet is still going to be here, it’s that we are hurting people. People who are alive right now and people who will be born in the future.”  The “Green New Deal,” however, which Buttigieg supports, and which assumes the “settled science” of the global warming hypothesis, would impose a drastic change of life on Americans.

12 thoughts on “Stuart Holroyd, Gnosticism, & the Occult Wave (Part II)

  1. “Plotinus…describes [the Gnostics’] fanaticism and their arrogation of a presumptive authority that exceeds all other authority. Members of a Gnostic sect rudely interrupted Plotinus’ lectures.”

    This has a familiar ring to it.

  2. Pingback: Stuart Holroyd, Gnosticism, & the Occult Wave (Part II) | Reaction Times

  3. Perhaps worthy of mention, as a writer of fiction aimed at a reasonably general audience, is Phyllis Paul, author of 11 books, of which those I have read could be described loosely as novels of the preternatural or as stories in the Gothic tradition. Paul’s writing evoked a sense of mystery and exhibited an unsparing moral intelligence, but she seems to me more gnostic in her sensibility than Christian. (Certainly she clearly disliked Roman Catholicism.) I wrote about her here:

    Only four of her books were published in the United States, and since she is something of a cult author, they are very hard to get hold of in used copies. However, interlibrary loan should be able to secure for the inquirer at least a copy of Twice Lost, which, happily, is excellent.

    I first learned of Paul in a brief comment in the late Glen Cavaliero’s book on Charles Williams, and Cavaliero write a few pages on Paul in The Supernatural in English Fiction.

    Dale Nelson

    • Thank you for your comment. I followed your link and read — and appreciated — your essay on Paul’s novel’s. Judging by your description of them, the stories are prompted by a genuine religious sensibility. There is something of a mysterious pleasure, as though synchronicity were at work, in discovering obscure or nowadays obscure authors whose work arouses one’s intellectual and spiritual sympathy. Rediscovering Holroyd amounted to such an experience for me. There is a tall stack of books in my study that I have promised myself to plough through in the coming months, but I can foresee, perhaps in mid-summer giving Miss Paul a try.

  4. Dr. Bertonneau, you might have to sign up to have access, but I maintain a sort of site on Phyllis Paul at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Chronicles Forums site. (The moderators kindly extend hospitality to those who sometimes wish to discuss things falling beyond the boundaries of science fiction and fantasy as marketed by publishers.)

    Miss Paul herself and the legal status of her literary legacy are interesting, and I have a few links at the site enabling readers to find out more. She seems to have been very protective of her privacy and there was for a long time uncertainty about who, if anyone, had the rights to her books since her death; i.e. the books were “orphan works.” However, it seems that that person has been identified and might be willing to permit reprints of her work (by the very small publisher Sundial Press). I think “Faber Finds” ought to include her books, at least the majority of them after a couple or so early books that she repudiated, in their series.


    • Thank you for commenting. I vaguely remember Encounters, as a kind of riposte to the left-leaning Horizons, edited by Cyril Connolly, if memory serve. Was it Irving Kristol who founded Encounters?

  5. Dr. Bertonneau, scroll down — to the second page here:

    — for comments on quality magazines in an essay called “The Fourteenth Colony,” written by Scott Lahti in the 1980s, and conveying something of the value of Encounter.

    Your essay on Stuart Holroyd seems to me like the sort of piece that Encounter might have featured in one of its “Men & Ideas” offerings in the mid-1970s.

    I believe most or all of the run of Encounter is available here:

    You are right in thinking of Irving Kristol, but in the period I am thinking of, the editors were Melvin Lasky and Anthony Thwaite.

    Dale Nelson

    • In “The Fourteenth Colony” (National Review, December 31, 1986) I wrote on Encounter.

      At Wikipedia I wrote on Encounter (Unz Historical Research Competition, 2012, First Place, $10,000). In “Journal de combat of the Cold War” (The Critic, April 2020, print and online), Gerald Frost, a contributor to Encounter, used several paragraphs from the Wikipedia article.

      At Wikipedia I wrote on politics (magazine, small “p”; Unz Historical Research Competition, 2013, Runner-up, $1,000).

      In The Times Literary Supplement I wrote on Encounter (Letters, May 8, 2020):

      Hurrah for the CIA

      I have long been at one with the efforts of J.C. (NB, April 24) to rescue Encounter from its reputation among the bien-pensants as little more than a propaganda front for the CIA – the source, over its first decade, of secret funding, which came via private foundations and thence Encounter’s publisher, the Congress for Cultural Freedom (CCF). The revelation of that funding in 1966 led to the resignation of Encounter’s founding co-editor Stephen Spender and his successor Frank Kermode, and a decline in prestige as rival start-ups such as the New York Review of Books absorbed its top-rank contributors. (George Steiner proved a notable exception, sticking with Encounter through to the late 1980s; indeed he had already alienated William Phillips, the veteran editor of Partisan Review – the signature quarterly of the New York intelligentsia for which Steiner had scant regard – by refusing to sign an anti-Encounter petition circulating among Phillips and his comrades.)

      To J.C.’s enlistment of the breadth in ideas of 1950s numbers of Encounter and its French CCF stablemate, Preuves, as counter-demonstration to the CIA-dominance thesis, I add my own favourite single-issue nominee, the March 1965 Encounter, which published Kingsley Amis, Anita Brookner, Albert Camus, Robert Creeley, Richard Eberhart, Philip French, John Gross, Frank Kermode, C. S. Lewis, George Lichtheim, Mary McCarthy, Ignazio Silone, Alexander Solzhenitsyn, Philip Toynbee, Lionel Trilling and John Wain – all of whom, currently under the lightest of lockdowns in the free full- facsimile file of Encounter at, must be enjoying the latest among their literary laughs.

      Scott Lahti
      Marquette, Michigan

  6. Pingback: Under the Iron Dome: Thomas Bertonneau on Transcendence – The Orthosphere


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