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The most astonishing thing about this novel is that it apparently inspired hundreds of thousands of people around the world. Even in the Netherlands, until WWII, the Bellamist association counted some 30.000 people in its ranks.

And I suppose this is because it's socialism for the conservative; it doesn't question religion, social hierarchy, or anything about human relations. Instead, it formalizes the existing hierarchical structures of society into a giant military apparatus that provides for everyone.

Supposedly it was very popular in Russia as well, before the 1918 revolution. It figures, you'll find preciously little about how to construct a socialist state in Marx. Bellamy, however, sketches a very clear design of a centralized, planned economy much like the Bolshewiks tried to construct.

This is a novel about Bellamy's dream society, and the plot is minimal. "Show, don't tell" was not one of the writer's guidelines, and most of the exposition is through dialogue.

Much like L Neil Smith's The Probability Broach, the main character is mostly expresses uncritical awe of the new society he finds himself in.

Julian West wakes up to find that everyone he knows, his supposedly extended circle of friends, not to mention his fiancé, have been dead for almost a century. Most people would find such a realization depressing, but not a word is wasted on any sense of loss or mourning.

And there's a ready-made romance angle that is so similar to the one in the Probability Broach that it makes me wonder if Smith's version wasn't an explicit nod to Bellamy.

In summary, it's mostly surprising that a novel this bad could inspire so many.

Multiple people I respected recommend this book, so I thought I'd look at it. The title is a clever sales pitch, as it implies that our normal style of communication is violent, and you wouldn't want to be violent, would you?

Like most American non-fiction books, it tries to oversell itself. If you believe the author, he's not only able to solve gang violence and the Israel-Palestine conflict, but has successfully made peace with the most odious, argumentative group imaginable, software developers!

Looking past that, it touches upon truths most of us realize about communication in our teens; that statements of fact often are very effective ways to lie and manipulate.

There is a degree of over-simplification here. Marshall interprets a "violent" statement like "You're so insensitive!" as a factual assertion, when the vast majority of the population would understand this to be a subjective expression. In practice there's no miscommunication.

The non-violent version might be "The way you act around me makes me feel like you're not responsive to my needs ..." (or something even longer), in a style that brings to mind Mr. Spock and Sheldon Cooper, not creative, emotionally sensitive people.

But we teach young children to grammatically deconstruct sentences at an age when they're perfectly capable of forming them without ever learning what a verb is. To me, it makes at least as much sense to teach children to emotionally deconstruct an argument, and find the subjective statements embedded in it. It might make them more resilient towards manipulations by parents, teachers, partners and politicians.

First of all, this book is good fun to read. The author manages to imitate Heinlein's style in an uncanny way.

But I'm not the target audience; I'm not a thirteen year-old American boy raised to think of the founding fathers as unified, benign philosopher-warriors who set their country on a path to greatness. In the rest of the world, other than George Washington and Benjamin Franklin, these guys aren't particularly well known.

And I'm not nearly naive enough to fall for the Anarcho-Capitalist politics that are espoused on every page.

The main character has problems; he's a forty-eight year-old man who travels through a dimensional gap to encounter his twin who is healthier, better-looking, and more successful than he is. An author writing for adults would be able to spin just this idea into an entire novel, but instead this is mostly ignored; the main character spends his time pining for his new love interest ... more like a thirteen year-old would. And the problems don't end there. Half the time he's breathlessly conveying the technological marvels of a world without government interference. Then he turns around and acts as a strawman defending government, to be torn apart by his friends. And he's also supposed to be a cynical, Philip Marlowe-esque gumshoe.

That being said, this novel never bores. From highway shootouts in high-speed hovercraft, to talking dolphins, to cynical long-lived motormouth Lucy Kropotkin, there is plenty of fun to be had.

The politics are tolerable precisely because it's clear the author is writing an idealized history he wishes had happened; one where humans can live together without power and politics. As the novel illustrates, that is not the world we live in.

The book starts with a compact overview of what obfuscation is, and why it might be a good privacy-enhancing strategy. But considerable space is devoted to discussing the moral framework in which you might choose to use obfuscation.

Most non-fiction books, especially those trying to argue a point, tend to gloss over details. While reading them, your mind starts to form counter-arguments. "That's a bit convenient, " you might think. "But what about...?"

In Helen Nissenbaum's writing, you'll find that she's anticipated your "what about ...?". In fact, she's anticipated the counter-arguments of someone considerably smarter than you. And she'll explain the contrary view in detail, with great kindness, before taking it apart piece by piece. And then she'll move on to a counter-argument you hadn't even thought of.

All of this does not make for light reading. Don't let the small size of this book (70-ish pages excluding footnotes) fool you. But still recommended.