Susan Sontag was one of the twentieth century's most influential public intellectuals, reshaping how we think about art, photography, illness, representation, and moral attention. Born in New York and educated at Chicago, Harvard, and Oxford, she established herself as a fierce opponent of reductive interpretation, arguing instead for direct sensory and formal engagement with works of art. Her landmark 1966 essay "Against Interpretation" called for "an erotics of art" — attention to surface, form, and texture before meaning. On Photography (1977) diagnosed how image proliferation dulls perception and moral response. Illness as Metaphor (1978) attacked the narratives imposed on disease. Her framework, built before AI existed, turns out to be the most precise diagnostic tool available for detecting when machine-generated content substitutes formal competence for genuine thought.
Sontag's intellectual formation occurred during the American postwar period when interpretation dominated literary and cultural criticism. The New Critics read texts as autonomous verbal objects; Freudian critics read them as expressions of unconscious drives; Marxist critics read them as reflections of class struggle. Every school treated the work of art as a container for meaning that the critic's job was to extract. Sontag's 1966 polemic "Against Interpretation" challenged this entire apparatus, arguing that interpretation had become "the revenge of the intellect upon art" — a mechanism by which critics domesticated works that ought to remain strange, converting sensory and formal experience into comfortable paraphrase. She called instead for transparency: "experiencing the luminousness of the thing in itself, of things being what they are."
This demand for unmediated attention extended across her career into domains far beyond literary criticism. On Photography examined how the proliferation of images created what she called an "ecology" that was simultaneously enriching perception (by making the invisible visible) and impoverishing it (by converting experience into spectacle). By 2003's Regarding the Pain of Others, she had grown pessimistic about whether any ecology of images was possible — the saturation was too complete, the habituation too deep. Illness as Metaphor applied the same method to disease narratives, stripping away the cultural meanings imposed on tuberculosis and cancer to reveal the biological reality beneath. In each case, Sontag's method was identical: refuse the available interpretations, attend to the thing itself, resist the comfort of premature meaning.
Her work created a discipline of attention that has become newly urgent in the age of AI-generated content. When outputs arrive formally perfect, semantically coherent, and substantively hollow, the capacity to detect the hollowness before accepting the surface becomes the central intellectual skill. Sontag never encountered a large language model, but her framework for distinguishing genuine encounter from its simulation, real form from decorative surface, authority earned through struggle from fluency generated without cost, is the framework the AI moment needs most and uses least. Her insistence on moral seriousness — on treating the distinction between the real and its representation as a matter of ethical consequence, not merely aesthetic preference — is the insistence that converts critical reading into survival skill.
Susan Sontag was born in New York City on January 16, 1933, to Mildred and Jack Rosenblatt. Her father, a fur trader in China, died of tuberculosis when she was five; her mother remarried a man named Nathan Sontag, whose surname Susan adopted. She grew up in Tucson and Los Angeles, a precocious reader who discovered Thomas Mann at fifteen and entered the University of Chicago at sixteen. By twenty-six she had completed a B.A. in philosophy at Chicago, an M.A. in English at Harvard, and begun doctoral work at Oxford. She married Philip Rieff at seventeen, had a son (David Rieff, who became her editor and biographer) at nineteen, and divorced at twenty-five. Her intellectual formation was European and cosmopolitan — she read widely in French, German, and Italian, spent significant periods in Paris, and positioned herself against what she saw as American culture's philistinism and middlebrow complacency.
She published her first novel The Benefactor in 1963, but it was "Against Interpretation" in 1966 that made her reputation. The essay appeared in Evergreen Review and became the title piece of her first essay collection, establishing her as the most important young critic in America. Over the next four decades she published essays, fiction, plays, and film criticism; directed four feature films; became a prominent anti-war activist during Vietnam; survived breast cancer in the 1970s and wrote Illness as Metaphor in response; won the National Book Award for In America (2000); and remained, until her death from leukemia on December 28, 2004, a figure of extraordinary cultural authority — celebrated, controversial, impossible to ignore. Her journals, published posthumously, reveal a mind in constant self-examination, wrestling with intellectual and emotional contradictions she rarely resolved. She was relentlessly serious about art and relentlessly suspicious of the culture's substitutes for seriousness.
Against Interpretation. The refusal to reduce artworks to extractable meanings — arguing that interpretation impoverishes encounter by converting sensory and formal experience into comfortable paraphrase, and calling instead for "an erotics of art" that attends to surface, texture, and form.
Photography as Trace and Mediation. The recognition that photographs bear an indexical relationship to reality ("something directly stenciled off the real") while simultaneously mediating and altering the viewer's relationship to what they depict — a dual character now collapsed by AI-generated images that are mediation without trace.
Illness Without Metaphor. The insistence that the most honest and humane response to suffering is to strip away the cultural narratives (tuberculosis as spiritual refinement, cancer as repression) that impose meaning on biological events, treating illness as "merely" biological rather than as moral parable.
Style as Will. The argument that style is not decoration laid over content but "the signature of the artist's will" — the formal record of a specific consciousness engaging specific material, inseparable from what the work is.
The Spectatorial Problem. The diagnosis that representations of suffering can produce acknowledgment without response, sympathy without structural change, moral seriousness as performance rather than practice — a mechanism operating identically in war photography and in the AI discourse's treatment of the displaced.
Sontag's framework has been contested on multiple fronts. Her dismissal of interpretation has been challenged by critics who argue that attending to form is a mode of interpretation, that her erotics of art presupposes interpretive categories she refuses to acknowledge. Her pessimism about the ecology of images — the claim that proliferation has permanently overwhelmed the capacity for genuine seeing — has been challenged by scholars who document resistant practices of careful attention persisting in niche communities. Her stripping of metaphor from illness has been questioned by medical humanities scholars who argue that meaning-making is intrinsic to the experience of disease, not an imposition upon it. Feminist critics have complicated her account of camp by examining its gender politics. Postcolonial theorists have noted her frameworks' Eurocentrism. Each critique illuminates dimensions her work did not address. None diminishes the diagnostic power of her central insistence: that the culture systematically converts encounter into consumption, and that learning to feel the difference is the essential discipline.