The Surrender of Man

by Naomi Falk

A modern-day manifesto, The Surrender of Man by Naomi Falk positions art as a concave mirror that reflects both ourselves as well as the pains and ecstasies of our multifaceted lives via aesthetics, godlessness, womanhood, gloom, art criticism, and subjectivity.

In this genre-defying memoir-in-series, Falk weaves together a rich tapestry of art and introspection, examining twenty pieces of art that have profoundly shaped her perception of herself and humanity. Each chapter fixates on a singular work—a painting, a stone, a film, a photograph—exploring both its art historical context and its personal significance. The author features a diverse range of artists, from cherished dear friends to the familiar brilliance of Louise Bourgeois, Remedios Varo, Gregory Crewdson, Wendy Red Star, or Shiva Ahmadi. The readings of the works metamorphose from pure expressions of pain to those that are emotionally vast. Interspersed throughout are fever dream fragments of narrative memoir pooled from Falk’s life with a prose style akin to Clarice Lispector or Jean Rhys.

Falk's exploration of her own relationship to both art and writing moves within and beyond the work's central question: Why does the writer continue to choose life? The Surrender of Man is a blend of memoir, philosophy, and art criticism which serves as a necessary antidote to the quotidian.

180 pages, Paperback

Published April 15, 2025

Reviews

[Rebecca Gransden]

With The Surrender of Man, Naomi Falk examines twenty works of art, using each as both touchstone and springboard for scrutiny of modernity. An exhibition of the psychic space inhabited by the intersection of time, memory and art itself, the book unravels as a stream of commingling impulses. Falk’s often febrile interrogations display a hunger to get to grips with the interior world as it probes contemporary existence. At times raw, inspirited, raging, and contemplative, the volume acts as a catalyst for the author’s questioning nature, and stridently asks what the hell is art for anyway?

Read my interview with the author at XRAY Literary Magazine

[Mia W · Rating 5 out of 5]

Thank you, ITC, for the ARC! Loved this book so much; it's so beautiful and I'm so excited for it to enter the world for all the read.

[Colette Bernheim · Rating 5 out of 5]

What a blessing it is to exist in the same timeline as Naomi Falk

[Sydnie · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is brilliant. From the beginning to end you're immersed in a world of culture, art, personal prose: the world of Falk. Perhaps the most engaging work of non-fiction I have ever read. If this book isn't on your shelf, you heart is not full.

[David Kuhnlein · Rating 5 out of 5]

If we desire the writer “in first person” as Sontag suggests in “The Artist as Exemplary Sufferer” we get that here, especially as we observe Falk observing art: “I’m encountering it and expecting to see myself reflected in it and instead, see nothing.” As intimate as secretly journaled thoughts, shared in an act of devotion. “The curvature of my world is bent by art.” This is one idea she insists upon: creation is kin to religious experience. Art is the scaffolding upon which her life is built. Art’s infinite potential is an outward expression of the feelings created in us as we make and witness made things. Some feelings haven’t yet been felt. We need to be there to feel them.

full review in Beyond the Last Estate issue 4

[Anne · Rating 5 out of 5]

In her prologue, Ms Falk begins, "In moments of darkness, I gravitate towards art." This book explores her relationship with various artworks and her place in the universe. This transformational book is one the reader will continue to come back to. It takes us on her journey and ultimately invites us to see art not as separate entities but as reflections of ourselves.

[Jose Carpio · Rating 5 out of 5]

The coolest book I've ever read by the most brilliant mind writing today or ever. A book about living, connecting, looking at art, creating. Instantly one of the books of my life, a book I'll have with me at my deathbed. A gift.