This is a comparative study of Saul Bellow and Kurt Vonnegut, arguing that both writers’ engagements with the emerging historical and political dynamics of the Cold War need to be taken seriously if we are to understand how their careers began, developed, and have been read and canonized. I base my claim on detailed readings of four novels by Bellow (Dangling Man, The Victim, Herzog, Mr. Sammler’s Planet) and three novels by Vonnegut (Player Piano, Cat’s Cradle, Slaughterhouse-Five), demonstrating that formal innovation in the work of both writers remains marked by tensions in national and international life. Specifically, Bellow and Vonnegut are understood in the context of Cold War debates about the relationship between aesthetics and politics, the most decisive and contentious of which involve the question of literary realism and its legacies. I trace the evolution of debates about realism across the work of Erich Auerbach, Georg Lukács, Lionel Trilling, Diana Trilling, John Hersey, Tom Wolfe, Robert Scholes, and Reinhold Niebuhr, suggesting that for all their obvious differences these critics similarly interrogate and recast realism as a set of literary conventions and an ambiguously oriented political enterprise, whose realignment in American literature and national culture between 1944 and 1970 had everything to do with the global expansion of the superpower conflict. At stake across various strands of the realism debate were nothing less than the political possibilities of the American novel, and it is with these debates in mind this study offers its interpretations of Bellow and Vonnegut. In four chapters, Bellow’s engagement with the Cold War is shown to depend on his representations of private life, positioned as the fraught formal centre of his fiction as well as the key to its political resonances. The first two chapters approach Dangling Man (1944) and The Victim (1947) according to how private life intersects with the recent history of the Second World War and its aftermath. Dangling Man makes use of journal entries written by a civilian and former Communist awaiting induction into the army, while The Victim situates its representation of contemporary anti-Semitism in reference to the Holocaust. Herzog (1964) complicates Bellow’s fictional rendering of private life in its selective recourse to epistolary conventions, with the title character’s interminable letter-writing an expression of psychological crisis as well as a self-conscious rebuke against contemporary apocalypticism. Herzog’s juxtaposition of private life and public history is linked with Bellow’s emerging status as an essayist and public intellectual, using his newfound prominence as a bestselling author to voice a polemical criticism against the American 1960s that would become directly albeit reluctantly entangled in the growing controversy about the Vietnam War. Bellow’s dual roles as novelist and public intellectual appear most pronounced and contentious in Mr. Sammler’s Planet (1970), a novel whose savage renderings of New York City at the end of the 1960s can only be read as a bitter political critique of that decade. Mr. Sammler’s Planet calls for a rethinking of Bellow’s career up to this point, a task begun in this study in relation to the novel’s fascination with the Apollo missions and imminent moon landing. In contrast, Vonnegut’s fiction lacks all semblance of psychologically and morally complex private life, without which Bellow’s novels would be unthinkable in every sense. The point is not to reclaim Vonnegut as a realist in the manner of Bellow, but instead to demonstrate how his eclectic and self-conscious combinations of satire, science fiction, and metafiction engage with realism’s most basic forms and assumptions. In three chapters, Vonnegut’s fiction is shown to delight in its methods of imaginative contrivance, presenting readers with a series of historical and political alternatives in recognizable yet unfamiliar form. Vonnegut’s engagement with the Cold War is initially considered in relation to his work as a freelance short story writer for the popular weekly magazines Collier’s and Saturday Evening Post, read alongside his employment as a public relations writer for General Electric between September 1947 and December 1950. Vonnegut’s proximity to mass culture during the earliest period of his career is understood as highly significant to his sense of authorship as a form of popular entertainment, his amiable self-satire in his prefaces and the short story ‘Deer in the Works’ (1955) taking on more formally elaborate configurations in the science fiction of his first novel Player Piano (1952). Vonnegut’s self-conscious negotiation of authorship in the context of the Cold War is further understood in relation to his lifelong opposition to America’s nuclear program. His magazine short stories ‘Report on the Barnhouse Effect’ (1950), ‘Thanasphere’ (1950), and ‘The Manned Missiles’ (1958) adopt an earnest style of moral satire targeting the military industrial complex, before giving way to a more peculiar combination of playfulness and pessimism in the end of the world scenario of Cat’s Cradle (1963). Like Bellow, the political resonance of Vonnegut’s fiction is associated with changes in his authorial self-image as it took on an increasingly public role from the mid-1960s, what for Vonnegut was his status as what Edward Said calls an ‘amateur’ in the public sphere, taking on the largest social questions using comedy, playfulness, anecdotes, and personal sentiment. Vonnegut’s passionate albeit idiosyncratic sense of the writer’s political responsibility culminates in Slaughterhouse-Five (1969), a novel whose formal eclecticism interrogates the ability of the realist novel to represent disaster. Slaughterhouse-Five tempts readers with a series of highly contrived and ultimately unacceptable alternatives to the catastrophic history of the twentieth-century, giving the impression of history as a fundamental yet largely incomprehensible aspect of human life and understanding. Vonnegut’s reinvention of Cold War history is completed in his satirical essay on the Apollo missions, ‘Excelsior! We’re Going to the Moon! Excelsior!’ (1969), divesting the iconography of the space age of its symbolic power in the superpower narrative.