Reviews and Comments

Barthes writes about "the text" as a universe of writing, reading, acting the text out, critiquing the text, paying homage, and, particularly important, enjoying. A lot of small moments where other texts are being discussed require one to not only have already read them, but also to be aware of some of the critique that surrounds them. A lot of those small moments of delight were unreachable, to me. However, what there is plenty of, what doesn't require context, is Barthes' tender gossip about all the ways in which writing delights, moves, reveals. Becoming enmeshed with textual production and consumption brings one in full contact with the full spectrum of politics, from the most demagogical to the most direct representation of will.

All in all, a dense and pleasurable read.

I'll start with the only thing that I didn't enjoy: the fact that Eva Illouz repeatedly uses the categories of "man" and "woman" as though they had very distinct borders and as though they were the only two possibilities out there. When she writes that the professional realm has been feminized, under capitalist modernity, and the intimate realm encourages autonomy and self-determination, which are male qualities, it irked me tremendously, almost enough to make me want to quit the book.

However, the critique and the historical perspective in the book are both very valuable. In the three chapters, Illouz puts forth three main points that build up on each other: 1. that psychoanalysis took shape in the midst of rising individualism, and gave a language to an institutionalized form of psychology that, then, permeated everything from the professional to the intimate spheres 2. that the public / professional sphere disguised class inequalities under a blanket psychological myth-building about "personality" and the private / intimate sphere stripped people of their ability to live with alterity by turning intimate connections into a commodity and applying market dynamics to it 3. that online dating and the internet in general has captured the process of commodification of the private sphere and has exacerbated it into its textual and visual forms, through words and images; this, in turn, erased the embodied experience of connection and encouraged people to treat togetherness as a quantifiable phenomenon that can be optimized.

In the final chapter of the book, Illouz makes the excellent point that psychoanalysis and critique gave us two distinct things: both the means to thrive and be resilient and also the means to become individualistic, sick and disconnected. She cautions against throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

This is the kind of sci-fi that doubles as tech advocacy. Dragoș Costache shows, and does not tell, but even when he tells instead of showing, the inner monologue of his characters is relatable and entertaining. The problematization of AI technology runs through this sci-fi, touching on everything for what it means to lead a good life to what future we can look forwards to. I've enjoyed every single page of Ultra Marin.

This was my first autonomist book, author, and my first introduction to this particular vision. As someone who reads philosophy casually, I often felt I didn't have a good enough mastery of the terms being used, or the ideas being references. I come from the book not really having understood what Bifo's vision for the future is, nor what he is suggesting, concretely, we could do differently. But, that being said, I have still enjoyed this book a lot, and I don't feel like an "actionable take-away" is required in order for a piece of social critique to be valuable.

The middle part of this book was by far my favorite. His analysis of the conditions that have made solidarity difficult, unrewarded, that have pushed away the idea of communal life and self-organizing and platformed individuality felt very incisive and spot-on.

"Truth cannot be the ethical motivation of our choices, only solidarity can."

The way "Nova" experiments with the concept of labor, and its implications on culture, migration, social classes and religion is genuinely fresh, interesting and well-deserving of the "science-fiction" label. Even more so than the endless drivel about android and conquering faraway planets. The exploration of embodied labor, of a closer and more visceral link between people and the process of producing of maintaining, genuinely inspired me to look at the real-world alienated labor with an even more critical eye.

This book makes the critical claim that care is work, and that care is inscribed in political struggle. The authors use the metaphor of "pirate care" to explain how to resist the tendency to see "caring for others" as an unprofessional, private act, that "comes natural" to some and, thus, justifies burdening and confining certain people to free, unrecognized and depoliticized labor.

The figure of the pirate stands for resisting the unjust laws and the ideology of privatization, private property and individualism. Instead, the pirate, as a symbolic figure used in this book, find their own language to create kinship, to practice solidarity and to expand their network of care.

There are numerous historical and present day "pirate care" practices to draw inspiration from. The book documents such practices in education, healthcare, migration, in digital technologies and even in the sphere of establishing bonds and connections outside of blood-bound kinship and "the family".

The authors of this book, alongside their network, have also published a free and open Pirate Care Syllabus: syllabus.pirate.care/

Why have I waited so long to read my first Pynchon novel?

Coming from an affinity for the "new weird", his novel feels like post-modernism, yes, but with prefigurative "new weird" sprinkled all over.

The prose slips in and out of being descriptive about the world, about actual things the characters do, and then being descriptive of the meta, the feelings and intuitions, and musings that belong to nobody safe for, perhaps, the eye that watches all of it. The novel reads like interiority. I loved it.

This is the most emotionally intense book I have ever read. The prose itself amplified the identification, the empathy, the solidarity I felt with the characters. Even though the narrator is of the "omniscient" type, the prose changes the tone, the assumed lens of the narrator as it shifts to focus on different characters. It's as though the "eye" of the reader becomes temporarily merged with each character, with their ways of seeing the world.

If someone reads & enjoys this book, I also recommend reading Pankaj Mishra's "Run and Hide".

The way I understand it, Post-Europe explores two questions: 1. What is the future of philosophy in Asia? 2. How can European philosophy transcend its roots in colonialism / violence / imposition and become relevant once more as a lens through which we can reason about the interplay between technology and society?

I think that the answers Yuk Hui proposes to these two questions are the following: 1. Asian philosophy needs to go through a process of individuation of thought. For this, it needs internal tension, an understand of its roots, counter-points to stand against and, crucially, a creative outlook. 2. Post-European philosophy can come from a Europe that leaves behind the obsession with nationality, and instead assumes the embodied position of the "homeless"/ "nation-less" person / people.

The Cipher is addictive. The first-person narration manages to name a lot of details, to make room for a lot of backstory, while still sounding like it could be the transcript of someone telling you a really long anecdote.

The "horror" of the entire novel is, perhaps, contained in how fast the unbelievable becomes mundane. In how easy it is to accept the premise of the book and perhaps wonder what we might do, faced with similar circumstances.