Art, morality, and hollow reflections

In Monsters: A Fan’s Dilemma, Claire Dederer tackles the ethical dilemma of engaging with art made by morally flawed artists, or – as she terms them – “monsters”. Dederer initially explored this idea seven years ago in an essay for the Paris Review titled “What Do We Do with the Art of Monstrous Men?”, where she recounted her conflicting experience watching Woody Allen’s Manhattan amid allegations that he abused his adoptive daughter. The rise of the #MeToo movement gained Dederer’s article considerable traction, prompting her to expound on her ideas. The themes in Monsters are pertinent to the ethical and cultural dilemmas of modern society, specifically contemporary concerns about ‘cancel culture’. They aim to confront the question, ‘how should we engage with works produced by people who have done bad things?’ Yet, rather than offering discerning and substantive insights, Dederer presents a disjointed series of unwarranted introspections and hollow reflections. In the first half of Monsters, Dederer unfolds her experience as an admirer of “genius monsters” like Ernest Hemingway, Roman Polanski, and Pablo Picasso. She explores the difficulty she faces in separating their works from their biographies, each of which is marred by reports of abuse and mistreatment of women. While Dederer acknowledges that our appreciation of art is inevitably shaped by what we know about the artist’s life, she ultimately stops short of concluding that they merit any less acclaim. In fact, she hesitates to make any definitive claims throughout the entire book – possibly to appease all her readers. She desperately wants to be liked, and we can feel it. In the second half of the book, Dederer diverts her focus to women like Sylvia Plath and Doris Lessing, who are examined as “monstrous” for having poor mental health or choosing their careers over their children. Though an honorable attempt at producing a feminist critique of double standards in art, Dederer’s comparisons dilute the strength of her arguments. By what standard does a mother’s choice to prioritize her career possibly compare to acts of abuse? The book’s lack of cogency left me with more questions than I started with. New arguments and themes are constantly introduced but rarely fully addressed. To Dederer’s credit, this topic lends itself to a vast array of routes to explore. However, her arguments fluctuate without a clear sense of direction and are explored with inconsistent depth. It is evident Dederer herself can’t quite formulate a homogenous opinion. Finally, Dederer’s conclusion takes a nihilistic turn. She suggests that our choice to boycott art made by “monsters” holds no ethical significance beyond an empty gesture. Since it makes no difference, she argues, we might as well continue to engage with such art in any way we want. Here, I do not agree with Dederer (though I don’t think she’d mind – she continually disagrees with herself). Instead, I believe we should approach art with caution, trying to seek out sources that do not contribute to the profit or legacy of the “monsters” behind the work. Although achieving perfect consistency might be impossible, our efforts to consume both judiciously and responsibly send a message that art is not just a commodity. Art is a reflection of our values and the people we choose to uplift. In the end, it’s not just about what we consume, but what we stand for when we do.