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An American suicide

There was no subject about which David Foster Wallace could not write brilliantly, from politics to

On the evening of 20 October this year a memorial service was held at Amherst College, Massachusetts, for the writer David Foster Wallace. Wallace, who graduated from Amherst in 1985, had hanged himself the previous month at his home in California. He was 46.

Since the publication of his voluminous and extravagantly ambitious second novel, Infinite Jest, Wallace had been widely acknowledged as the finest American writer of his generation. When Infinite Jest came out, in 1996, New York magazine's Walter Kirn declared that the competition had been "obliterated". It was, he wrote, "as though Paul Bunyan had joined the NFL, or Wittgenstein had gone on Jeopardy!". More or less instantly, Infinite Jest became the benchmark against which any ambitious and intellectually curious young novelist would measure himself. And so, when Wallace died, American fiction lost its lodestar. His suicide was a kind of Kurt Cobain moment, a profound generational shock. (Cobain, frontman of the rock band Nirvana, shot himself at home in Seattle in 1994. He was 27.)

Wallace had begun to write fiction while at Amherst, and his first novel, the antic and exuberant The Broom of the System, published when he was 24, was based on his senior English thesis. One of his professors, Andrew Parker, told the congregation at the Amherst service at Johnson Chapel how Wallace had insisted on writing a thesis in the philosophy department at the same time, and had still managed to graduate summa cum laude in both subjects. Sue Dickman, an Amherst alumna, remembered the year Wallace spent there as an instructor after an abortive attempt to start a PhD at Harvard; she recalled how he would come to class with a tennis racket and let his students take breaks so he could smoke.

The mourners also heard from Mark Costello, Wallace's college room-mate in the early 1980s, who implored them not to forget "how painful Dave's day-to-day life was". Wallace had suffered from depression since adolescence, and was hospitalised during his sophomore year at Amherst. Later, he briefly shared an apartment with Costello in Somerville, near Boston. Wallace was drinking heavily and experimenting enthusiastically with drugs, and eventually ended up in McLean Hospital, a psychiatric institution that had previously counted the poets Sylvia Plath and Robert Lowell among its patients. The "power of death", Costello said, was his constant companion, and "eventually it cornered him and killed him".

While he was at McLean, Wallace was prescribed Nardil, a powerful antidepressant that he would take for most of the next 20 years. By the summer of 2007, however, the drug had begun to have unpleasant side effects, and it was decided that he would come off it. Doing so had catastrophic results. "Severe depression came back," Wallace's father, James, told the online magazine Salon. "They tried all kinds of things. He was hospitalised twice . . . and had a series of electroconvulsive therapy treatments, which just really left him very shaky and very fragile and unable to sleep."

By this summer, Wallace hadn't written anything for more than a year. He had been granted medical leave from his teaching job at Pomona College in Claremont, California, and had stopped going to the gym with his friend and colleague John Seery, where they had been the only "skinny-ass egghead types" in the place.

When, in mid-August, his wife, Karen Green, had to go away on family business, Wallace's parents came to stay with him in Claremont. "He was very emotional," his mother, Sally, said. "He was just terrified of so much. We would just try to hold him. He did tell me that he was glad I was his mom." James and Sally Wallace flew back home to Illinois at the end of the month. A fortnight later, Karen came home from a shopping trip to find her husband dead.

News of Wallace's suicide first broke on the Twitter page of the Brooklyn-based writer Edward Champion. By the time the mainstream media picked up the story, Champion was already gathering tributes and testimonials from the "literary community" on his blog, the comments box of which was soon filling up with expressions of shock and anguish from Wallace's fans. The confession of one devotee that "I haven't really cried over the death of someone I haven't met since Kurt Cobain" was typical.

Within a couple of days, Dave Eggers's McSweeney's ope ration had a virtual book of condolence up on its website, and people were posting reminiscences of meeting "DFW" at readings in out-of-the-way branches of Barnes & Noble, of taking writing classes with him and, in one case, of playing tennis against him in fifth grade. (Wallace had been an adolescent tennis prodigy, playing the junior circuit in the Midwest in the mid-Seventies. The first piece of extended narrative journalism he wrote, for Harper's magazine, was about summers spent "being driven through dawns to tournaments all over Illinois, Indiana and Iowa"; and Infinite Jest is, among other things, probably the finest, and certainly the longest, work of fiction about tennis ever written.)

The internet is a uniquely effective mechanism for processing public grief, of course, but there was something striking nevertheless about the sheer copiousness of the reaction to Wallace's death. This was partly because he was the kind of writer who attracts acolytes as well as admirers. The esoteric, self-enclosed quality of much of Wallace's fiction, not least the great thousand-odd-page slab of Infinite Jest itself, tended to inspire unusually fierce allegiance in many of his fans - the sort of obsessive who can tell you the likely effects of putting your head in a microwave (this being how the father of one of the central characters kills himself) because they've checked with a "med-school acquaintance", and who posts elaborate theories about arcane plot points online ("It sounds far-fetched, but check this out . . .").

Just as striking, and much more significant, however, was the reaction of other writers, Wallace's peers. There was spontaneous, unanimous agreement that he had been the best of them. Jonathan Franzen described Wallace as a "huge talent, our strongest rhetorical writer". In Zadie Smith's view, he had no "equal among living writers. He was an actual genius". He was also, everyone agreed, an unusually generous man: as "sweet a person" as Franzen had ever known, "meticulous about putting people at their ease", according to Smith.

Eggers posted a series of anecdotes about Wallace on the McSweeney's website. In one, he recalled the first time they met, in the mid-Nineties, at a diner in New York. While Wallace chewed tobacco, using a teacup in his lap as a spittoon (a habit he would never give up), he and Eggers "talked about how he'd grown up in Champaign-Urbana, Illinois, and how I'd gone to college there, how his father taught there, about the pleasures and quirks of east-central Illinois. There's something very strange and uniquely powerful about meeting a guy whose writing you find world-changing but who also comes from your part of the world."

Who else could have written a story about a marketing executive who plans to inject deadly cultures into a snack he’s testing with focus groups?

Wallace was, by his own description, an “infantile transplant” to Illinois from upstate New York: his father had done his PhD at Cornell University and had come west to teach philosophy at the University of Illinois in Champaign. His mother taught English at a local community college. Wallace described the atmosphere of the family home in an essay he wrote for Harper's: “Suppers often involved a game: if one of us children [Wallace had a sister, Amy] made a usage error, Mom would pretend to have a coughing fit that would go on and on until the relevant child had identified the relevant error and corrected it. It was all very self-ironic and light-hearted; but still, looking back, it seems a bit excessive to pretend that your small child is actually denying you oxygen by speaking incorrectly.”

Being raised as an "extreme usage fanatic" by a teacher of composition certainly left its mark on the mature Wallace's prose style. In another of his McSweeney's posts, Eggers remembered the time Wallace sent him a story, "Mister Squishy", together with a note asking that if it was to run in his magazine, it should do so under the pseudonym "Elizabeth Klemm". Eggers agreed ("we were so proud to publish it"), but the subterfuge didn't last long: Wallace was simply "too recognisable to hide, too singular to fool anyone". Who else could have written a 60-page story about a marketing executive who hatches a plan to inject deadly cultures into the "snack cakes" he is testing with a focus group? And all this in sentences of improbable length and fiendish complexity.

Take the passage in which the protagonist fantasises, while briefing his focus group, about how much ricin or botulinus it would take to bring the entire corporate snack industry to its knees. As he is doing so, he is struck by his ability to entertain such fantasies in "total subjective private" and then by the thought that half the people in the room with him are doing the same:

. . . Schmidt had a quick vision of them all in the conference room as like icebergs and/or floes, only the sharp caps showing, unknowing and -knowable to one another, and he imagined that it was only in marriage (and a good marriage, not the decorous dance of loneliness he'd watched his mother and father do for seventeen years but rather true conjugal intimacy) that partners allowed each other to see below the berg's cap's public mask and consented to be truly known, maybe even to the extent of not only letting the partner see the repulsive nest of moles under their left arm or the way after any sort of cold or viral infection the toenails on both feet turned a weird deep yellow for several weeks but even perhaps every once in a while sobbing in each other's arms late at night and pouring out the most ghastly private fears and thoughts of failure and impotence and terrible and thoroughgoing smallness . . .

This is writing of extraordinary syntactic control, and it is characteristic of what Eggers describes as Wallace's "dense, discursive, and insanely detailed style". The sentence continues for almost another page; the paragraph in which it occurs runs over four pages. Eggers says that he asked Wallace to consider breaking up some of the paragraphs before the story was published: "It was as if he were visiting the notion . . . for the first time. He was that kind of genius, whose understanding of the workings of his own fiction was, I think, largely separate from ideas of audience."

Actually, Eggers is missing something here, because Wallace thought more deeply about questions of audience and address than any other American writer of his generation. All that "insane" detail, and the formal strategies he borrowed from postmodernism (authorial intrusions, digressions, footnotes, flash-cutting between scenes and so on), were meant in fact to serve the rather traditional end of saying something about "what it is to be a fucking human being".

Wallace believed that each of us is "sort of marooned" inside our own skull, and that it is fiction's job to "aggravate this sense of entrapment and loneliness and death in people". It was the estranging apparatus of his style - the postmodern rhetorical devices, the hyperextended sentences - that was meant to do the aggravating.

That, at least, was the theory. However, Wallace was tormented by the thought that the “antagonistic elements” in his fiction might in fact just be manifestations of a pathological exhibitionism. He deplored his own “grossly sentimental affection for gags” and weakness for “formal stunt-pilotry” that served no narrative purpose. But he also understood that this predicament was not his exclusively; it was that of an entire generation of writers who, in a sense, had come too late – who had arrived, that is, just as the bold innovations of postmodern novelists such as John Barth, William Gaddis and Thomas Pynchon were being absorbed and neutered by the culture.

Wallace believed that each of us is “sort of marooned” inside our own skull and that it is fiction’s job to “aggravate this sense of entrapment”

This highly developed generational self-consciousness is one reason Wallace was held in such esteem by his peers: he held up a mirror to their own anxieties, and articulated them more clearly and honestly than they ever dared.

Infinite Jest bears the scars of Wallace's parricidal struggle with his influences. He insisted that he had wanted it to be an "extraordinarily sad" book about loneliness and addiction, rather than a postmodern one. And to this end, the novel's two principal settings are a tennis academy, which Wallace depicts as a kind of laboratory of obsession (he writes with considerable feeling about the psychic costs exacted by endless early-morning tennis drills), and a halfway house for recovering drug addicts and alcoholics. However, it is also crammed with set-ups and gags that could have come straight out of the fiction of Thomas Pynchon: a geopolitical agglomeration with the acronym ONAN; a gang of wheelchair-bound Québécois separatists; and a film so entertaining that it paralyses anyone who watches it.

At times it seems as if the novel is conducting an argument with itself - for instance, in a long scene in which Don Gately, a former drug addict who is now a live-in staffer at the half way house, goes to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting in Boston. One of the residents in Gately's care is there, too, and complains about the "psychobabbly dialect" that's de rigueur at events like this. Gately admits that the "seminal little mini-epiphanies" routinely experienced by new inductees into AA come embalmed in language of "polyesterish" banality. Then someone else says they also find the sentimental argot hard to stomach - especially the habit the speakers have of saying they are "here but for the grace of God", which phrase, she points out, is "literally senseless", and should be used only when introducing a conditional clause. Wallace is flattering his hip and savvy readers here, inviting them to identify with this sophisticated cynicism. But it is also clear that we are meant at the same time to find something ridiculous and overwrought about someone who is driven to want to "put her head in a Radarange" by a home-spun solecism or two. Indeed, Wallace said later that the scene was designed to get his readers - privileged, educated Americans, most of them - to "confront stuff about spirituality and values", stuff "our generation needs to feel".

Infinite Jest turned out to be Wallace's last novel. He didn't stop writing fiction - there were two further collections of stories, the second of which, Oblivion, contains some of his finest work - but, as Mark Costello observed in his Amherst encomium, something changed: "If you sit down and read his prose from the early Nineties to later, you'll hear the music changing. You'll hear sentences getting longer and longer, with these wonderfully balanced dependent clauses."

According to the novelist and journalist Tom Bissell, who knew Wallace, this was also a shift in "world-view". Bissell told me: "I think the man who wrote Oblivion would not have been satisfied with the cross-dressing leader of a Québécois separatist group whose primary mode of transport is wheelchairs, or with the political acronym ONAN, both of which are kind of silly in the way Pynchon is silly, but not in the way the world ever feels silly. I believe he escaped the anxiety of his influence."

Wallace's deepening ambivalence about the moral as well as aesthetic legacy of postmodernism is especially noticeable in the non-fiction he wrote in the last decade of his life. In many of his essays, whether the brief was to write about Caribbean cruises or the Maine Lobster Festival, he can be seen grappling obsessively with all that "stuff about spirituality and values".

A good example is a piece he wrote after Harper's sent him back to Illinois to attend the state fair, and to gorge on corn dogs while watching the rural Midwest at play. "Getting Away From Already Pretty Much Being Away From It All" derives all its considerable force from the tension between Wallace's self-acknowledged "East Coast cynicism" and his yearning for a kind of authenticity.

He describes coming across a small hillock that, for some reason, has been covered in artificial grass: "a quick look under the edge of the fake-grass mat reveals the real grass underneath, flattened and already yellowing". Now, the postmodernist debunker in him would have been content to leave that image to stand for the emptiness and shoddiness of the state fair as a whole. But Wallace doesn't settle for simply unmasking the event as a sham; and this is partly because, for all his protestations that he is no longer "spiritually Midwestern", he remains of the place he is describing.

He understands that to be Midwestern is to be "marooned in a space whose emptiness is both physical and spiritual", and that what the state fair provides is a kind of temporary communal respite from that condition. As Bissell, himself from the Midwest, puts it, "in terms of literary persona, [Wallace] was temperamentally speaking a rural Midwesterner, intellectually speaking a high-wire postmodernist, and emotionally speaking an artist-as-priest type. I'm not sure anyone else has really managed to combine those qualities."

Wallace’s best essays are artefacts of this multifarious literary personality, dramatisations of its internal conflicts. Nowhere is this drama more powerfully performed than in the 15,000-word article he wrote for Rolling Stone about a week he spent following John McCain during his Republican primary battle, in 2000, with George W Bush. (The article was turned into a short book this year to coincide with McCain’s second run at the presidency.)

It is unsettling reading the piece now - after a Republican campaign this year conducted mostly from the sewer - to recall that eight years ago McCain represented to many the last, best hope for decency and truth in American politics. Even the most jaded hacks aboard McCain's bus, the Straight Talk Express, were wondering if "humanity and politics, shrewdness and decency" really could coexist. And Wallace finds himself as inspired as anyone: "It's difficult not to feel enthused and to really like this man and want to support him in just about any sort of feasible way you can think of."

Underpinning McCain's promise in 2000, of course, was "something riveting and unspinnable and true": that the candidate had been imprisoned and tortured during the Vietnam War, and spent five years in a box-sized cell at the "Hanoi Hilton". But whatever it was in his character that sustained McCain during those five years was shut away in that box, too. This, for Wallace, was the essential "paradox" of his campaign: the fact that the "box that makes McCain 'real' is, by definition, locked. Impenetrable." Which meant that it was up to the voter to decide whether McCain was "truly 'for real'".

What the essay is really about, therefore, is the "interior war" inside Wallace's own head between the need to believe in something larger than himself and his anxiety that the need to believe might be a sham or a fraud. And "fraud", Mark Costello reminded the mourners at Amherst, "was one of the worst words in his personal vocabulary".

In the end, Wallace took his own life. Perhaps the struggle to believe in something was too great; he had suffered too much. He was the ultimate victim of his own interior war.

Jonathan Derbyshire is a writer and philosopher

The best of David Foster Wallace

1987: The Broom of the System

The metafictional game-playing and sheer verbal inventiveness of Wallace's first novel established him as a successor to American postmodernists such as John Barth and Thomas Pynchon. It is set in the near future in Cleveland, which now stands on the border of the Great Ohio Desert (or GOD), a vast tract of land filled with black sand.

1989: Girl With Curious Hair

The centrepiece of this first collection of stories is "Westward the Course of Empire Takes Its Way", a 150-page novella set in a creative writing workshop. Wallace said the story was "written in the margins" of Barth's Lost in the Funhouse - the professor running the workshop is the author of a famous story also called "Lost in the Funhouse".

1996: Infinite Jest

The gargantuan novel that sealed Wallace's reputation as the most exciting and ambitious American novelist of his generation. The plot motor of Infinite Jest, which is over a thousand pages long and weighed down with more than a hundred pages of endnotes, is a movie of the same name which paralyses anyone who watches it.

1997: A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again

Wallace's first collection of extended non-fiction contains some of his most celebrated essays: the titular record of a comically awful Caribbean cruise; a paean to the genius of David Lynch; and "E Unibus Pluram", his account of the way the "rebellious irony" of postmodernism was co-opted by television.

1999: Brief Interviews With Hideous Men

In the title story of this second collection of shorter fiction, several unidentified men describe their sexual proclivities - including one who can't help shouting "Victory for the Forces of Democratic Freedom!" when he is on the point of ejaculating. Another story, "The Depressed Person", with its extravagantly long sentences, footnotes and abundant psychotherapeutic jargon, is typical of Wallace's later fictional style.

2004: Oblivion

Oblivion has several of Wallace's finest stories, notably "Good Old Neon" and "The Suffering Channel". The former is narrated from beyond the grave by a high school acquaintance of "David Wallace". In the latter, a journalist on a hip New York style magazine travels to Indiana to profile a man who developed an ability to shit perfectly rendered sculptures while on latrine duty during the first Gulf War.

2005: Consider the Lobster

When Gourmet magazine sent Wallace to the Maine Lobster Festival, he came back with the title essay of this collection, in which he asks whether it is morally acceptable to boil sentient creatures alive (short answer: no).

2008: McCain's promise

This short book about John McCain was published this year to coincide with the US presidential election. Originally published as a long narrative report in Rolling Stone magazine under the title "Up, Simba!", it is an account of a week spent following the McCain's campaign during the 2000 Republican primaries. Wallace admired McCain the man, if not the politician, and was fascinated by his years in prison in Vietnam. He did not live long enough to see the outcome of this year's presidential election.

the death of Kurt Cobain

Whatever the cultural significance of Kurt Cobain's suicide, his reasons, as with David Foster Wallace, were first and foremost personal. Struggling with heroin addiction, various medical problems and facing an impending separation from his wife, Courtney Love, the lead singer of Nirvana shot himself at home in April 1994. Yet when news broke, the public outpouring of grief among teenage fans in his home city of Seattle resonated around the world.

To many, his death represented a clash between conflicting value systems: the counterculture from which Nirvana had emerged, and the corporate world of MTV and major record labels that transformed them into global rock stars just months after the release of their 1991 album, Nevermind. Cobain's suicide seemed like an admission that these two worlds could not be reconciled. "The worst crime I can think of would be to rip people off by faking it and pretending as if I'm having 100 per cent fun," he declared in his suicide note. The irony is that this exit only pushed Cobain deeper into music-industry mythology.

But it is a mistake to see his death as an artistic gesture. Cobain had come adrift in his life, which is something he shared with the increasing numbers of young men who kill themselves every year. In England and Wales, for example, suicide remains the second most common cause of death for men under the age of 35. If you really want to know something about the hopes and fears of a generation, understanding these everyday tragedies is as important as unpicking the famous ones.

Daniel Trilling

Jonathan Derbyshire is Managing Editor of Prospect. He was formerly Culture Editor of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2008 issue of the New Statesman, How safe is your job?

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New Statesman readers on Jeremy Corbyn, one year on

We asked you what you thought of Corbyn, and found that New Statesman readers are apparently as divided as the Labour membership.

Earlier in the summer, we asked readers for their views on Jeremy Corbyn as he prepared for another leadership contest. Below is a selection of responses. To avoid accusations of bias, I divided the submissions into broadly pro- and anti-Corbyn positions (usually based on whether the writer thought Corbyn should continue as leader) and the proportion of each that the NS received is reflected here. It seems our readers are as divided as the membership over a leader who has turned Labour into a mass-membership social movement.

 

Labour had been drifting

I voted for Jeremy Corbyn because he held distinctly socialist ideas and because he had a long record of standing up for these. I felt the Labour Party had been drifting and it was no longer clear where it stood on some of the big issues. Under Jeremy, Labour has shifted – and clearly Owen Smith, like him, is also on the left of the party. Jeremy has conducted himself with dignity under enormous duress. Locally, we have seen many new members join the party, attracted by Jeremy’s focus on serious political issues and by his clear views.

John Boaler, Calne, Wiltshire

 

The party might split

I remember Jeremy Corbyn from the 1980s onwards, so I wasn’t surprised that he refused to “play the game”. I saw this as unhelpful but not necessarily harmful. He inspired many to get involved in politics, especially younger people, which was and is good. However, I thought he would realise sooner or later that he wasn’t up to the job. My views changed when he didn’t stand aside after the MPs’ vote of no confidence. My impression of him then was as someone obstructive – destructive, even – not charmingly rebellious. If he wins decisively, I think the party may have to think about splitting.

James Chater, London

 

A divided party cannot rule

While most Labour MPs oppose Corbyn because they see him as unelectable, they fail to see that a divided party is causing much more damage to Labour’s prospects than his leadership. Perhaps Labour MPs would serve their party better by presenting to the public a united front, even if it isn’t one they fully support.

Oliver Callaghan, Lancashire

 

We need a snap election

I cried when Corbyn won the leadership election last year, as I felt that it would be the end of the Labour Party. There was nothing about his campaign which inspired me and I found his lack of ability to think on his feet very worrying. Recently, I have been perplexed at how even the unfairness displayed in the nepotistic employment of his son Seb [who works for the shadow chancellor, John McDonnell] has failed to puncture the aura of sanctity. The only solution seems to be a snap election to prove that he is absolutely unelectable, so that Labour can rebuild.

Caroline Dorber, Lichfield, West Midlands

 

I’ll be voting for Smith

I voted for Corbyn as a refreshing change from politicians repeating patronising soundbites. However, the turning point for me was during the Paris attacks [in November 2015]. He was asked to confirm that he would use lethal force against terrorists if a similar incident happened here and he hesitated, as if considering an interesting philosophical point. I will be voting for Owen Smith (but wish I could vote for Owen Jones).

Philippa Barton, London

 

We are poised for change

I resigned from the Lib Dems to join Labour because of Jeremy Corbyn. His task is to re-create the Labour Party as a socialist, not a Blairite centre-left, party. He is right to persevere. “Labour” MPs should support him or resign. My view is that he has the right principles and is very courageous, but is still receiving unfair and corrupted coverage by the British media. This country is poised for great change.

George Macpherson, Dulverton, Somerset

 

We need a Labour government

I voted for Jeremy Corbyn first time round, believing a new standard of politics could be achieved, and to some extent it has. He is undoubtedly a decent, principled man whose politics I share and actively advocate. His staunch defence of the NHS, his solidarity with striking teachers and junior doctors and his sustained attack on austerity are admirable. Yet it is clear that to overturn six years (and counting) of austerity, we need a Labour government. With Corbyn as our leader, we won’t achieve that aim any time soon.

Josh Wilmer, Leeds

 

Corbyn has been underestimated

Undeniably the biggest surprise for many about Corbyn’s term of leadership has been the way they underestimated the man himself. Those who sought to remove him simply didn’t understand the nature of their prey. His resilience, courage and respectful loyalty to his supporters are qualities that perhaps should not define a person as being unfit to lead or incapable of winning an election. With his experience and involvement with the needs of the disabled, to take just one example, he has a social and political CV more relevant to the needs of many in Britain today than a business or public relations background.

Ian Flintoff, Oxford

 

Labour has become a cult

I used to think of myself as on the left of the Labour Party. No longer. The way Corbyn and his supporters have behaved over the past year – the immaturity and ineptitude – has contaminated my view of the whole socialist project. They are not interested in winning. Fine if you’re well fed and middle class (like most Labour members): you’ll be OK whoever is in power. Not so good if you’re poor or working class (like most Labour voters) and you’re relying on a Labour government to improve your life chances. That’s Corbyn’s unforgivable crime, turning a practical, pragmatic party into an irrelevant cult.

Another year of this will finish Labour off – possibly for good.

Adam Patrick, via email

 

Lone voice in wilderness

Three people have struck me with their steadfast principles and quiet resolution in the past year: Ken Loach, Michelle Obama and Jeremy Corbyn. Though consistently demonised by the MSM [mainstream media], JC has maintained the principled stance he has always had. What mighty hypocrisy he would be accused of if he now abandoned it for short-term gain. His is a lone voice in UK politics speaking out for the ordinary citizen.

The New Labour rump should reflect on the fact that it was their policies that lost the last two general elections, largely because they were indistinguishable from the Tories. It is my hope that among the newer Labour intake of MPs there will be those who are not tainted by connection with global business interests or petty personal ambition. Most politicians say they entered politics to “make a difference”. JC and a principled team could do that.

Vivien Jones, Powfoot, Dumfriesshire

 

Metropolitan figure

Jeremy Corbyn’s “overwhelming” mandate was 60 per cent of the votes of a group comprising 0.05 per cent of the UK electorate. What about the other  99.95 per cent? What does Corbyn have to say to the bloke in Sunderland who reads the Daily Mail, used to vote Labour but is now Ukip, wants immigrants to go home, thinks Corbyn is as remote a metropolitan figure as David Cameron, and doesn’t think much of a bloke who won’t sing the national anthem? One year on, Corbyn and his cohorts do not seem to have recognised that or, worse, don’t care.

Iain Macniven, Highlands, Scotland

 

No to a Tory clone

New Labour won elections because it behaved like the Conservatives, turning a blind eye to tax avoidance/evasion, big bonuses and big-business bribery and corruption. David Cameron was pleased to call himself the “heir to Blair” but one who would do better because he had the willing support of his party. We don’t need a clone of the Conservative Party; we want an effective opposition that can shame the Conservatives into doing the right thing. Corbyn has done rather well in that respect.

Alice Edwards, Wokingham, Berkshire

 

The Micawbers dithered

I expected nothing from Corbyn and he hasn’t surprised me. He is not and never will be competent. Currently, the party is unelectable, but not indestructible. Scotland is the ominous warning. However, Corbyn and the people who manipulate him (John McDonnell, Seumas Milne, Momentum/Militant) are not wholly to blame for our dire state. I wrote in the NS in January what the PLP needed to do. But the Micawbers dithered and delayed. The Parliamentary Labour Party should at last go its own way, or face electoral oblivion.

Joe Haines, Tunbridge Wells, Kent

 

A purge of neoliberals could be his legacy

Any assessment of the Corbyn leadership has to be considered on two levels: how has he performed as a “traditional” leader of the opposition, and how has his leadership impacted on the political debate in the broader community? On the first question, certainly by the usual measures (unifying the parliamentary party, point-scoring against the government, etc) he has not been what the majority in the PLP want or expect. However, purging the Labour Party of the neoliberalist ideology that has compromised its capacity to confront the challenges of globalisation could well be his lasting achievement.

Paul Pearce, New South Wales, Australia

 

Greens against Corbyn

You may assume that, as a Green Party supporter, I am thrilled to have a lefty like Corbyn as Labour leader. Last year I was thankful for him having put such issues as Trident and austerity properly on the agenda. However, a year later, I’m calling for him to stand down. As long as we have first-past-the-post, Labour must be centre-left, and must be a broad church. Corbyn will not win a general election, and shouldn’t punish those who need help most by proving this in 2020, and extending Tory rule by another five years.

Freya Pigott, via email

 

Remarkable courage

I cannot tell if Corbyn has been a good leader of the Labour Party. From the moment he was elected 11 months ago a senior group of Labour MPs has plotted unceasingly to remove him when they should have been attacking a socially divisive Conservative government.

Corbyn wants to create a Nordic-style social-democratic party that recognises the important role of the public sector. They remain wedded to austerity and New Labour’s policy of privatisation.

How successful would I have been as leader if I had been surrounded by people whose sole aim was to remove me? I think that Corbyn has shown remarkable courage in fighting for what he believes in.

Barry Bennett, Kingston-upon-Thames

 

The experiment flopped

You can’t sit at the back in a grump with your arms folded then expect loyalty when you become leader. It needed an astute approach by someone who cared enough about Labour to work out how to unite everyone, and go on to become a radical, reforming, electable party.

It could have been magnificent, a spectacular achievement – but it flopped. I know this is a rant, and I am ashamed it’s personal, but I am furious.

Audrey Laughlin, Sandwich, Kent

 

An end to Blairism

Blairism doesn’t work; it is based on false premises, especially that the private sector is always superior to the public sector. Corbyn is not perfect, but he remains the only leader who consistently rejects these false premises. Until this changes, he’ll get my vote.

Peter Nicklin, Newcastle-upon-Tyne

 

Man of great integrity

Corbyn stepped up as Labour leader promising straight talking and honest, kinder politics; in his first year, he has delivered just that. He has conducted himself with great integrity at Prime Minister’s Questions. He has, however, taken a while to hone his style, and his determination to keep things civil has, on occasion, proved costly. This was demonstrated most clearly with his failure to capitalise on Iain Duncan Smith’s acrimonious departure from the cabinet. If Corbyn wins again, he should maintain the energy of his leadership campaign by making frequent public appearances and stating his case in the communities with which Labour must reconnect to ensure victory in 2020.

Samuel Peers, via email

 

It’s all over

I didn’t vote for Corbyn. A leadership candidate needs to be electable, not just selectable by members. I liked the way he contrasted with Cameron at the despatch box. But despite airing the emailed concerns of everyday Britons, he failed to speak clearly to Labour voters on the EU; a third opted for “Leave”. Moreover, he has failed to present a compelling policy offer to support his “new kind of politics”. With only feeble support from his parliamentary colleagues, the question is: if Corbyn wins again, will the last Labour MP to leave the party turn out the lights?

James Young, London

 

Should he play the game?

Corbyn has not been a complete disaster for Labour. He has navigated electoral tests – performing adequately in some, such as the local elections, and exceptionally in others, as in recent mayoral votes and by-elections. His finest achievement has been his influence on politics as a whole, gradually pulling the political and economic consensus over to the left and hugely expanding the party’s grass-roots potential by inflating the membership. As a supporter, I by no means wish him to become a professional politician, but he may now have to start playing the game to recover.

Tim Bliss, Kent

 

Don’t blame the media

Expected little, got even less. Intellectually feeble, organisationally incompetent, ideologically Neanderthal and copes poorly in adversarial situations, Corbyn lives in a neo-Marxist bubble surrounded by unpleasantly hard-nosed ideologues. He is incapable of convincing anyone beyond the faithful, who are as depressingly unrealistic as he is. His continuation as leader will make me review over 50 years’ support for the party. The attempt to blame his negative image on a hostile media is disingenuous and patronising. I and other critics are perfectly capable of making a judgement on what we see and hear.

Mike Penny, Northampton

 

Stop the selfies!

He appears well mannered, principled, different, refreshing, tough, genuine – and you have to admire the man for sticking with it. He shares initials with another great rabble-rouser and you can feel this is starting to become a cult – especially when he requests cuddles with his admirers. Some of us are starting to shudder. He appears to be unable to lead a team with credibility. Or is he just being blocked by the press, the cynics, the Blairites? How on Earth are we supposed to know the answers to such questions when the mainly right-wing press vilifies him and his party have never all rallied behind him?

If there is a credible alternative, bring it on. I don’t see one.

Lyn Poole, Tameside, Greater Manchester

 

I’ve lost my excitement

As a long-standing active Labour member, I was excited, if tentative, about the idea of Corbyn as leader. Sadly, his election has caused division from the bottom to the top of Labour and created an atmosphere of disrespect. A good leader should not let that happen.

Veronica Ward, south-east London

 

Who’s the alternative?

Due to his preference for angrily ranting at rallies to sensible debate with his colleagues, and allowing his praetorian guard to cut off contact from MPs and members alike, I have, regrettably, come to support replacing Jeremy as leader. My problem now is that those whom I trust to lead Labour to electoral success are not stepping forward, leaving us first with Angela Eagle, who is as wet as a bank holiday Monday, and now Owen Smith, who looks like a poor impression of John Oliver. However, I haven’t given up hope that one day, sooner or later, our talents (Dan Jarvis, Tristram Hunt, Chuka Umunna) will step forward from the back benches to lead our party.

Neal Rubow, via email

 

Smith is a weasel

When I heard that Jeremy Corbyn had been selected as leader, my heart soared. Here was a leader who was truly socialist in his values. If the party would stand behind him, ignore the little weasel that is Owen Smith, and save the energy that it uses trying to destroy him to rally round him and the causes he champions, we would have a leader par excellence and a party that can win the next election.

Kate Colgrave, Milton Keynes

 

Labour must reach out

The point of the Labour Party is to seek representation at all levels of government and through such representation to implement the policies agreed by its members. The most important role of the leader is to be a face of the party who can inspire. It is not sufficient to enthuse party members. Our message has to reach out to the majority, to people who in the past may have voted for other parties. Corbyn has signally failed to achieve this.

Michael Jefferys (former PPC, West Suffolk)

 

Politics should not be a business

The events and commentary surrounding Jeremy Corbyn’s tenure as Labour leader have brought some disturbing truths about our political system and society to the surface. Arguing whether he is electable is essentially turning politics into a business, with a politician’s agenda transformed into a service, to be bartered and shaped to best fit the market. A more pertinent question than “whether Corbyn is electable” would be: “Should Corbyn be electable?” If the answer to that is yes, we should fall behind him.

Erik Edman, Brussels, Belgium

 

Talk to the north

Labour voters in the north of England and elsewhere who look like abandoning us do want to hear about jobs, good pay, a better social life for them and their families. But Corbyn just seems to feel this is secondary to the central message of socialism. If he can’t put the economic well-being of the people and the country at the centre of the party’s message, then he will have failed the British people. Sadly, I believe he has.

Guthrie McKie (Labour councillor, Harrow)

 

“Yes” to the EU . . . with caveats

One thing Jeremy didn’t get wrong was his contribution to the referendum debate: a critical “yes” was far more in tune with most Labour voters than the last-minute pandering to racist attitudes, which did nothing but muddy the waters.

Jon Bounds, Abingdon, Oxfordshire

 

Support, not sniping

Corbyn has the right party but the wrong MPs. He should lose many at the next election; he should enter an electoral pact with the Liberal Democrats and the Greens on proportional representation and he should control better who gets on candidate shortlists. He deserves support, not sniping.

Roger Steer, via email

 

Missed open goals

I did not vote for Jeremy but I tried to support him as I have done every other leader. Yet I soon became disillusioned by his continual missing of open goals and the lack of any clear policy definition. Worse, on the doorstep, it was clear he did not resonate with voters.

We invited him to speak at a fundraising dinner but, despite many reminders, we could not get a reply. Ian Murray MP stepped in at short notice and we raised over £500. Many new members joined after Jeremy became leader but not one has supported any of our campaigning activities. This is not the new party of activists we were promised.

Peter Young, Strachan, Scotland

 

We need a realignment

I voted for Corbyn. I’m a Labour-voting union member – not the Daily Mail’s Trotskyite version, but a hard worker who could be made redundant at any moment. For me and my family, Corbyn talks sense: about social justice, about Trident, about the kind of society that Britain could be. But one thing has dismayed me – his failure to engage with the Remain campaign. And without election wins, nothing is possible.

I’ll be voting Corbyn again. But I suspect the best hope for change now is the implosion of both main parties, with a broad, socially minded, Europe-aspiring coalition taking on the ruling hard-right orthodoxy in a brutal, post-Brexit,
post-Scotland “rump UK”. Ken Clarke for leader, anyone?

Simon Procter, Ilford, Essex

 

From nice to stubborn

I thought he was a “nice” and principled man (though I didn’t vote for him as leader). Now I think he’s stubborn, rigid and more interested in his own principles than changing the UK for the better.

Georgina Webster, Keighley, West Yorkshire

This article first appeared in the 18 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Corbyn’s revenge