“Is there such a thing as good art that is unsure of itself, uncertain what emotion it is trying to elicit or what message it is trying to send?” Tom McTague asks (Editor’s Note, 3 July). I believe this quality is the hallmark of truly great art, because it creates space for the reader to ponder and make up their own mind. There are countless examples, but here are five I rate particularly highly:
1) The poetry of Karen Solie. Her The Caiplie Caves (2019) is an exploration of what it means to live with profound uncertainty.
2) Contemporary memoir: the work of Annie Ernaux, or Miriam Toews’s A Truce That Is Not Peace (2025), or, even better, Brian Dillon’s Ambivalence (2026). The title says it all.
3) The work of Jenny Offill, especially Dept of Speculation (2014) and Weather (2020). She turns deep uncertainty into profound meditations on the state of being human.
4) The stories of Alice Munro. They are deceptively complex, steeped in conflicting points of view and unsolvable ambiguities.
5) Finally, the incomparable Anton Chekhov (from whom Munro probably learned a good deal). His stories leave me wondering what to feel. Was I right to laugh? And so on.
As Keats wrote in his letters, “We hate poetry that has a palpable design on us.” Amen to that, and short lecture over! Keep up the wonderful work.
Freddie Baveystock, teacher of English literature, Harris Westminster sixth form
American ugly
After reading John Gray’s cover story (3 July), I was reminded of a comment I once heard about the US: “A country which has moved from youth to senility without a period of maturity.” Trump’s presidency has clearly accelerated the situation.
Tim Weaver, Lydbury North, Shropshire
John Gray’s masterful essay evokes the European carnival in his depiction of America as “a carnivalesque charade”.Carnival had a special role in Europe in the Middle Ages and Renaissance. It was a time when what was ordered and established was allowed to be suspended: social hierarchies were turned upside down; the poor could ridicule the rich and powerful, and use colourful language in public; and categories such as high and low, sacred and profane, were blurred. Importantly, all knew this state of affairs was licensed because it was temporary. American carnival displays these features with this new and troubling distinction: it is now the rich and powerful who have turned the world upside down, their power and riches ridicule those beneath them – and they give every sign that this will be permanent.
Peter J Andrews, London EC1
I enjoyed reading John Gray’s sobering analysis of the politics in contemporary America, amid the country’s 250-year celebrations. His insights made me reflect on the way right-wing politics in the UK continues shrilly to warn about immigration. Surely the hypocrisy described in Gray’s article applies just as powerfully here.
Britain built its wealth and power by invading and colonising other lands, and enslaving their people – a forced immigration, if you will – so I find the scapegoating of immigrants profoundly hypocritical and morally repugnant. Britain has a population replacement rate of around 1.4 children per woman (the required rate for a developed economy to replace itself is 2.1). Why is the UK public not being told that the population of this country is on the brink of implosion, and therefore economic collapse? Not only is the movement against immigration deeply hypocritical and morally bankrupt, but it is also an act of economic suicide.
Justin Bridge, London SE21
There is no pleasing John Gray, is there? After decades of denouncing “progressivism”, the Enlightenment and any idea of human progress, Gray now has a US president who embodies the backwardness and nihilism he craves, and he still doesn’t like it. Why does anyone continue to take him seriously?
Jim Denham, Birmingham
Counter-punch
Despite being a long-time fan of Oli Dugmore, I must object to his statistical cherrypicking (Left Hook, 3 July). The BMJ study he quotes as showing the Australian social media ban has been ineffectual also suggests that “the implementation of more stringent age-verification strategies… may be needed to prevent circumvention” and states “the full impacts of the act may not be evident for a decade”. Despite also having succumbed to a bottle of Glen’s in my youth and suffered the consequences, legislation meant I knew it was scary and bad for me. I would argue the same for the incoming wave of social media legislation.
Dr Tej Pradhan, aged 26, Nottingham
Lit crit mis-hits
Tanjil Rashid (These Times, 3 July) states that Keir Starmer cannot name a favourite novel, but Starmer has, on different occasions, cited Franz Kafka’s The Trial and James Kelman’s A Disaffection (1989) as his favourites. The focus by journalists on the one time he didn’t name a favourite seems like an attempt to portray him as soulless and boring. Surely that can be dropped now he will soon be out of power.
Madeline Thompson, Cambridge
Tanjil Rashid is quite wrong to suggest FR Leavis as a likely influence on Andy Burnham. Leavis retired from Cambridge in 1962 and his influence diminished considerably during the Seventies. When Burnham arrived at Cambridge in the autumn of 1989 the English curriculum had been restructured by Raymond Williams, Colin MacCabe et al, to reflect the new thinking: cultural studies, Marxist and sociological criticism, feminism and the expansion of the canon, structuralism, poststructuralism and continental literary theory. It is these tools that would have provided Burnham with the “training” for understanding the modern world.
Peter Brown, Enfield, Greater London
Das Rhein-Marr
If Andrew Marr believes that Wagner’s music dramas appeal mainly to “right-wing” people he is surprisingly unfamiliar with European culture (At Large, 3 July). Baudelaire, Mann, Debussy, Elgar, Proust, Kandinsky, Eliot, Auden, Shaw and Hockney all came under his spell. Bryan Magee, the former Labour MP, wrote the finest short book about the composer, and one of the best long ones. Wagner was no right-winger. He was grotesquely antisemitic, but that’s a different thing altogether.
Michael Henderson, Bamford, Rochdale
Can someone please tell Andrew Marr that my beloved Everton no longer play at Goodison Park? They now reside at the Hill Dickinson Stadium.
Francis Harcombe, Northwich, Cheshire
Without equal
I was drawn to the New Statesman more than a decade ago by the insightful feminist writing of Victoria Smith (also known as Glosswitch). But there is a real lack of parity among your contributors in 2026. In the 3 July issue Andrew Marr used his column to mention: Andy Burnham, Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin, Keir Starmer, Melvyn Bragg, Prince Harry, Benedict Cumberbatch, John Mullan, Roger McGough, Elbow, JB Priestley, Orwell, Auden, Eliot, EM Forster, Tom McTague, James Joyce, Ezra Pound, Wagner, Billy Wilder and David Hencke. We were treated to the inclusion of one woman, Margaret Atwood, but only because she was quoting a man! In despair I turned to Correspondence to find more of the same, and then on the next page I read Tanjil Rashid’s column about the merits of studying English and noted references to Shakespeare, Tony Harrison, Arthur Scargill, John Ruskin, James Callaghan, Thomas Gray, Chris Smith, Michael Gove, Homi Bhabha, Foucault, Edmund Burke and FR Leavis. Again, there is a nod to Middlemarch, but the author goes unnamed!
It seems the Bechdel test has passed the New Statesman by. It is hard to enjoy my favourite magazine when I am bubbling in fury that eventually gives way to boredom and the sense that I am reading an ancient text that isn’t intended for me, nor has any interest in capturing my experience. Do any other readers feel the same?
Grace Walsh, Leicester
Crowd-saucing
The author of Beer and Sandwiches (26 June) wonders why they cannot get Henderson’s Relish outside of Sheffield. It may be worth checking Morrisons – it is available in my local branch in Glasgow.
Alan Jenkins, Glasgow
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[Further reading: Letter of the week: The visionless visionary]