Intellectual life in Paris, summer 1958, as in Europe generally, centers almost exclusively around political problems. The presence of Malraux and Soustelle in the cabinet is symptomatic of the greedy appetite of politics in our time. A writer and an archaeologist, both brilliant men, are thus lost for literature and scholarship at an age when so much could be expected of them in their chosen fields. And they are not alone: Mauriac and Camus are other outstanding examples of artists who cannot leave the limelight of semi-political life, and would find almost a public resistance (or, at least, incomprehension) if they tried.
The bookshops in Paris reflect this eclipse of literature. They are filled with art books, books of documentary interest, and, of course, with political writings, both on theory and action. Practically every day a new series of political brochures appears in the windows, containing immediate and hard-hitting replies to the ones published the week before.
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