Last fall I asked Vincent Debaene to share Phil Watts's book proposal, of with me. The title of Tragedy had also been title of Phil's essay on Jonathan Littell's Les Bienveillantes included in issue of Yale French Studies devoted to Littell and Irene Nemirovsky that Phil and I had coedited in 2012. I had greatly admired Phil's essay on Les Bienveillantes and wanted to see what plans for larger project looked like. I read proposal of Tragedy with renewed sense of admiration and also one of loss, both personal and intellectual. In our last conversations, Phil and I had talked about tragedy, our shared admiration for Hannah Arendt--about whose work Phil knew much more than I--and Arendt's 1963 book, Eichmann in Jerusalem. We had in fact planned conference to commemorate fiftieth anniversary of publication of Arendt's profoundly influential and controversial work, to be held at Glasscock Humanities Center at Texas A&M this year. That conference took place this past January. I am so sorry that Phil couldn't be there. I'm sure he would have enjoyed it as much as I did. of Tragedy remarkable and important project, engaging as it does with crucial philosophical, political, and moral issues in post-Holocaust world, terribly complex subject of contemporary history and its representations, and critical questions concerning cultural appropriateness and longevity of literary genres and tragedy in particular. As Phil writes: examining ways in which literature and film turned to tragedy--or modern remnants of genre--we can better understand relations between fictional narratives and justice, politics, and history in postwar world. From standpoint of genre of tragedy alone--and its very possibility in postwar world--the issue already fraught one, and one that Phil deftly dissects. By definition or by tradition, tragedy an archaic and aristocratic form. Moreover, in postwar world, it has been tainted by its association with totalitarian regimes whose deliberate debasement of through propagandistic excess--what George Steiner refers to as stiffening of language in The Death of Tragedy--has decimated tragedy by stripping it of its true (read linguistic) power. Hence, as Phil notes, Brecht's dismissal of tragedy as an outmoded artifact. And yet historical and human need for tragedy, or tragedy reconceptualized or reconfigured, remains. It may serve as a genre whose rigors are necessary tonic for our postmodern times, as Phil quotes Terry Eagleton as stating. Or it might also be means of enhancing struggles and tragic destiny of common man. In this latter form, it becomes the art of common, figuring fate of Zola's Jacques Lantier, Flaubert's Emma Bovary, or perhaps tragic American Everyman in Arthur Miller's Death of Salesman or View from Bridge. But Phil's project on contemporary tragedy, or its remnants, at once both historically more specific and acute, and analytically more powerful, than either of these options allows. Remnants of Tragedy, Phil writes, is situated along fault line on which archaic literary form confronts modern dictatorships, potentially democratic art tied to abuse of power by state, and Europe's most constantly idealized and de-historicized literary art form confronted with Europe's legacy of violence. Implicit in this broad but succinct description whole host of compelling formal, aesthetic, historical, and theoretical questions, among them: What form, or forms, political or otherwise, can tragic agon assume? Who might tragic hero be? In what does tragic destiny consist? What historical events can be adequately and appropriately represented in tragedy? Can power of tragic be restored? Can traditional definitions or models of tragedy, from Aristotle to Hegel to A. …