Gertrude Stein, that enigmatic and difficult writer, is credited with coining this phrase, which Ernest Hemingway famously used as an epigraph for The Sun Also Rises (1926). I can just imagine her saying to her young acolyte, “Ernie, my boy, you and your friends, you’re all just a lost generation,” then taking another sip of absinthe, brought to her on a silver tray by Alice B. Toklas, and changing the subject to talk about Ezra Pound’s latest poems. Somewhere, long ago, I read that Stein also told Hemingway, after having read his first novel, that journalism was not the same thing as literature. I don’t remember whether this hurt the young novelist’s feelings, but it just goes to show that Stein did not pull her punches.
I’ve sometimes wondered what she meant by that term, “a lost generation.” It came to define the entire post WWI generation, to denote the feeling of hopelessness and desperation that lay just below the surface the frenetic enjoyment of the Roaring Twenties. Sadly, it was this very generation, lost as it was, that would later see its own children off to yet another global war. Of course, Stein couldn’t have known that such a fate was in store when she first used the phrase. But what exactly did she mean by “lost”?
There are several ways of being lost, some of which I will now briefly explore. A person, or I suppose an entire generation, can lose their way, wandering from place to place; this certainly constitutes being lost. It involves the panic not knowing where one is going, of growing more and more confused as time passes and one is no closer to one’s destination–perhaps even farther from it, in fact. This is certainly one way of being lost.
But a thing can be lost, too, and maybe that’s what Stein meant: when one goes to look for something and it isn’t in the place it should be, it’s lost. Perhaps Hemingway’s generation was lost in this way; it defied expectations by not doing what it should be doing or being where it should be. In other words, it had simply disappeared from view.
There’s yet another connotation of “lost,” and this one is disturbing to consider, although I’ve often thought it likely that this is what Stein meant when she called Hemingway and his friends “a lost generation.” This sense of the word means, more or less, a lost cause. When something is lost, gone for good, one simply makes do without it. Stein could have thought that Hemingway’s generation was proverbially out to lunch, that they were lost without hope of rescue–AWOL, so to speak–and that nothing good or important could be expected of them. In this sense, they were worse than merely lost; they were lost with no hope of recovery.
That would have been a pretty harsh judgment on the part of Stein, and I have no real evidence to back me up on my theory. Yet it is definitely one of the meanings of “lost.” The idea of an entire generation being disposable–disappeared, in fact–is perhaps one of the cruelest things Stein could ever have said, yet I think she might just have been capable of it.
But it’s when I think of contemporary culture that the cruelty of the term really resonates with me. In fact, I’ve been thinking for a while that the term “lost generation” has become an especially fitting phrase these days, as I watch the struggles of the generation that includes my children and my students as they try to make meaningful lives for themselves. In short, all of the definitions of “lost” listed above could apply to people 40 and under today. They are hopping from university to job, and then from one underpaid job to another, never settling down to any kind of stability for a variety of reasons: the crushing burden of student loan debt, inflation, lack of affordable housing, inflation, Covid fallout–the number of problems besetting these young people seems infinite, in fact.
Politically, they are lost, too–this generation, which has so much to be angry about, seems to be AWOL from the political scene. They are the cell phone generation, so they don’t respond to polls (usually conducted on landlines), but much worse is that they are disengaged and seem to have little hope of changing a world that has been so patently unfair to them. They are a political black hole right now; when candidates go to look for them, to canvass for and rely on their votes, many of them are simply not to be found.
But what really horrifies me is the third possible definition of “lost”– as in a “lost cause.” I believe that previous generations, including mine, have essentially cannibalized this generation, selling them on the myth of education as the solution to their problems (it isn’t, unfortunately), or the way to achieve a solid job (not true, either), or the way to solve society’s ills (eye roll here). It grieves me to say this, as a parent as well as a former college professor, but higher education seems to have ensured that this generation will indeed be lost: a lost cause, a piece of collateral damage produced by greedy student loan corporations, ill-conceived government initiatives, ignorant parents, and–to my shame–college employees who sought to fill classes and to bolster enrollment figures in an effort to ensure that their jobs were secure. Because of this willful blindness, an entire generation has been relegated to the status of a lost cause, offered up on the altar of capitalism, jingoistic slogans, and complacent greed.
This is a tragedy. That an entire generation should have to scramble for jobs, housing, and most important of all, a meaningful life, constitutes a struggle that eclipses the anomie of Hemingway’s generation. And, like that first Lost Generation, this generation bears no blame for its condition, though it is often unfairly criticized for a lack of initiative and other sins against the accepted norms of society. As I said above, it’s my generation, and the one before it, that deserves the blame, because we are the ones who helped to enslave them, either willfully or by turning our eyes away from the situation.
I am not sure what, if anything, we can do about this horrible situation. I only know that the solution to all problems begins with acknowledging that the problem exists. Only after we explore the problem in detail, fully admitting our own culpability, can we hope to provide any kind of viable solution.
That seems like a platitude to me, unfortunately. It may be that there is no solution to this problem other than the kind of revolution predicted by Karl Marx 150 years ago: an attempt to throw off the shackles forged by an eminently unfair economic system. After all, an entire generation has been exploited, cruelly offered up as a vicious sacrifice to greed and complacency.
And if revolution is the only answer to the problems besetting this new Lost Generation so be it. I know who I’ll be rooting for if it does in fact come to that.