In a time of uncertainty, many have pondered: where can we find hope? In the latest collection of essays titled Kant’s Little Prussian Head & Other Reasons Why I Write: An Autobiography in Essays by Claire Messud, we are presented with a partial response. Messud highlights the ability of art and literature to serve as a means of connecting with others, healing, and exploring—not just during challenging moments, but at all times.
A blend of personal memoir and critical analysis, Kant’s Little Prussian Head consists of essays that were previously published in renowned outlets such as Vogue, The Paris Review, Granta, and The New York Review of Books. The collection provides a glimpse into Messud’s exploration of “the vast compendium of recorded human experience, from which we draw wisdom, solace, or, at the least, a sense of recognition.” These insights, works, and dialogues enable Messud—and, by extension, us—to pause amidst the chaos, seeking solace in the fundamental aspects of our humanity.
Structured into three sections, Kant’s Little Prussian Head offers Messud’s personal reflections, literary critiques, and art appraisals. It serves as a layered narrative that delves into how life encounters, relationships, and art and literature influence our pursuit of connection—to comprehend and to be understood.
“Reflections” primarily delves into Messud’s familial bonds through a series of profound analyses and vivid storytelling. In “Then,” Messud recollects her nomadic upbringing across the United States, Australia, Canada, and France. Embracing the ever-changing nature of her experiences, she grasps a crucial lesson:
[The] other life, the hidden one, or ones, is not less real, nor as real, as the life before us. It is infinitely more real, blooming and billowing in the imagination in its fecundity and fullness, colored and enlivened by so many objects, so many sounds and smells, so many minute moments that can never, never be imparted.
From her childhood encounters, Messud develops a deep admiration for intellectual pursuits. Reflecting on her anticipation of her father’s passing in “The Road to Damascus,” Messud narrates her journey to Beirut to explore her father’s childhood hometown. She unveils how these experiences have shaped her calling as a novelist:
I cannot say what drove my father, but what his lessons taught me, I realize belatedly, is to be a novelist. To understand that most of what is you can only imagine, and can imagine only through the often contradictory traces of what you can see. To understand that always, at the heart of things—whatever the ideas and ideologies, the violations and violence, the strangeness of culture—always at the heart are the ordinary people, and there is just life, being lived.
An unexpected and delightful essay, “On Dogs,” illustrates the lessons Messud has learned from her canine companions. She touches on the concept of free will and the importance of appreciating the present instead of lamenting the past. The insights derived from her furry friends—and those imparted throughout the collection—inspire and engage the reader.
One of the most significant essays, and the inspiration behind the book’s title, is “Kant’s Little Prussian Head and Other Reasons Why I Write.” In this piece, Messud grapples with Thomas Bernhard’s metaphor on the futility of writing and the challenges of expressing human experiences. Despite acknowledging the hurdles of communication, she refuses to succumb to pessimism, questioning, “What is our hope for the experience of literature, if not to share this: shards of memory and new words discovered? What, indeed, if not this, is the best truth of our experience of life?” While communication may never be flawless, writers are tasked with bridging those gaps, striving not for perfect understanding but to “[f]ail again, fail better.”
The subsequent sections, “Criticism: Books” and “Criticism: Images,” are guided by Messud’s belief in the illuminative power of literature and art—that “[w]e are as much the sum of our lived literary experiences as of our literally lived experiences.” She delves into classic and contemporary works by authors such as Albert Camus, Jane Bowles, and Valeria Luiselli. While some readers may find Messud’s wide-ranging literary references and sophisticated terminology challenging, her astute analyses unveil the nuanced layers of the discussed texts. For instance, in her examination of Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go, Messud unravels valuable insights about the role of utility and the liberal arts in modern society.
The final—and concise—segment of Kant’s Little Prussian Head showcases Messud’s perspectives on art. Through essays on artists like Alice Neel, whose creations aim to capture the essence of individuals similar to how novelists express with words, and her favorite artworks at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, Messud reveals that the same profound lessons observed in life and literature can also be found in visual art. While this section may be shorter compared to the others, it leaves readers yearning for a broader array of art analyses. Though Messud may not possess all the answers to life’s complexities, she eloquently emphasizes how the arts can serve as a poignant reminder of the beauty—and the intrinsic significance—of our humanity.
