In “Socialist Realism,” Trisha Low presents a 157-page stream-of-consciousness essay that addresses countless topics, both big and small, but lacks many significant conclusions. Low’s commentary is not quite enough; she reaches for cultural connections, but falls short of contributing anything new to already abundant conversations.
“Socialist Realism” feels very relevant. Low talks about her life with her gender-neutral partner, addressing topics of mental health very openly. She analyzes how her family feels about these topics and their respective roles in her life. This personal background sets the stage for commentary on the current political scene, but Low’s comments on such topics are vacuous. One day, when her mother calls, Low is “thinking about the Antichrist. He’s supposed to be a baby, but with his bad hair and orange tan, President Trump kind of looks like one.” Firstly, it is unclear why exactly the Antichrist is on Low’s mind. Her comment about Trump could be humorous if it were set up differently, but it seems too heavy-handed to be funny. It is unclear what to make of this comment, and comparing our president to the Antichrist–unfortunately–feels like low-hanging fruit at this point. Though Low’s takes are often difficult to dispute, they are far from revelatory additions to the national conversation.
Later on, Low laments, “I don’t think it’s strange to want revolution, just as I don’t think it’s strange to desire utopia (how could we not?), but to embrace this desire is also to recognize its emptiness.” This sentence addresses a lot, but it does not add much to broader cultural statements about revolution or utopia. It could be easily argued through any number of colloquially-known texts, let alone historical examples, that most people agree that wanting revolution is not strange. In regards to utopia, Low’s sentence feels contradictory; she states that desiring utopia is normal, then immediately asks, how could it not be? Well, no one is saying it isn’t. This confusing, possibly misdirected method of presenting opinions remains steadfast throughout the book, a declaration of seemingly mundane opinions. The presentation of opinions is not inherently flawed, but the ambiguous, almost smug way in which Low presents them is difficult and uninteresting to read; her thoughts rapidly oscillate between being too obvious and too far-fetched.
Low refers to the contradictory elements of California as “fading community murals, graffiti deriding cis-hetero-patriarchal capitalism, everything’s spun into oblivion by the yearlong sunshine — it’s a jumble of radical promise, both emerging and obsolete,” and ends with the 1960s song “‘California Dreamin’.’” Her analysis is keen, and referencing the song feels appropriate, but on the next page, Low repeats “‘California Dreamin’.” She continues, “We’re driving and it’s on the radio. Is it the Mamas and the Papas or the Carpenters? It’s strange, how our visions of a better life are barely ever new.” The initially astute observations are overshadowed by the clumsiness of not knowing who sings the iconic song. References to songs about California are abundant in cultural writing, and Low’s adds nothing new to that canon.
Low’s commentary is also riddled with generalization. Towards the end of the book, Low states that, “It’s true that when our sentimental attachments to one another outweigh our ability to critically assess what’s good for us all, we run the risk of dogma, even fascism.” It feels extremely out-of-touch to make such an umbrella statement, especially as the conclusion of a series of disjointed paragraphs. Low goes on to say, “Because of this, we cannot be seduced by our desire for the comfort of a home.” Low then concludes, “We could accept the fact that any blissful utopia we might imagine is not only false but will likely never arrive.” Not only does this feel especially downcast, but it also seems so intensely invalid of a conclusion to make. Low bases these grandiose statements on her own experiences and does not seem to consider person-to-person variability as a reality of the human experience. This rings true for almost all of Low’s views expressed throughout “Socialist Realism.” Though some of her observations are intriguing, the conclusions Low reaches are without basis; “Socialist Realism” feels like a lengthy series of unfounded claims. Low grasps at the straws of significant cultural commentary, but comes up empty-handed.