The Art of Nostalgia

Most of us, at least once, come to a moment when the contradictions between the world as we prefer to imagine it and the world as it apparently is become impossible to ignore. Our defenses overwhelmed and our sustaining delusions exposed, we feel an acute sense of loss, a falling away of fixity and coherence. It is at these moments that nostalgia’s pull is strongest. The same could be said in times of cultural and political crisis. The world is burning; the country is collapsing; the only thing certain about the future is that it won’t look like the past. In this situation, we can argue with our feelings and prove the safety we yearn for is another delusion: our childhood wasn’t actually happy; our nation’s past was full of horrors. Or we can pick up the sword of reaction: take our longing for the past at face value and attempt to reorder the world back into its proper shape. Both quests, however, are quixotic and never-ending. Nostalgia is ineradicable: dangerous when channeled, but even more dangerous to ignore.