Christopher Lasch completed this book under “trying
circumstances,” which
presumably included the knowledge that he was dying from leukemia. Its final
sardonic section is entitled “The Dark Night of the Soul,” and
contemplates the pitiable plight of modern and secularized man, who denies himself
the discipline of religion and is compelled to seek security in the easier and
probably falser gods of science or therapy or identity politics. Lasch's last,
racking examination of the
human condition as it is displayed in the United States is not exactly despairing,
because the human agency means that there is always hope, but his subjects are
unfulfilled beings in a dysfunctional society. In short, Lasch has not used his
farewell address to reprieve his fellow intellectuals of the charges he has
previously levelled against them; rather, the indictment has been intensified. In
many ways this a perfect Parthian shaft, gathering together and synthesising into
one compelling critique the many misgivings that Lasch had long been
developing about American life.