Reviews and Comments

This book is really well-written, and the structure employed in it really has the feel of both talking to a grandparent (whether or not they're actually your own) and/or the local town gossip. I love this about this book because it makes it just so easy to read through.

I also love that one of the core elements of the story (one that, if people know about Fried Green Tomatoes, is the most well-known) is just kind of... tossed out there a couple times and in ways that make a person go "Wait, did she just say what I think she said?"

But I do find it incredibly difficult to recommend. Part of it is because I know people can find its use of racist and ableist slurs frustrating and bothersome (which I also can completely understand). While it's understandable that sometimes the perspectives match with the characterisation, there are some moments where it feels a bit off.

Also, there's a lot of Mary Kay propaganda in parts of it, which is very weird considering it's an MLM. And I say that it's propaganda because Evelyn manages to get the Pink Cadillac and other high-level rewards... which is very unlikely. Ninny telling her she'd be good at it is cute in a very naive kind of way, but Evelyn actually succeeding in an MLM is fucking wild. (And Mary Kay reps have used the connection between Fannie Flagg and Mary Kay Ash to post the story about how the former was friends with the latter and gave a speech to an Emerald Seminar in 1992.)

Something else that I'm also genuinely annoyed by is that Evelyn's goal is to... lose weight? And rather than focus on her struggle to appreciate herself despite her body and society's attempt to force her to hate it (something that I think is taught via Ninny), she takes the lessons of her friend and heads to... a fat farm in California? Which is pretty frustrating, even if not a major plot point.

This book is largely unforgiving, starting immediately with the brutality that the people of Gwangju endured throughout the uprising. So much of this book is incredibly visceral.

Probably the strength of this book is that it is structured as a set of short stories, providing multiple perspectives. The first story starts with the protagonist of Dong-ho and his perspective of what was happening, while the rest of the stories all engage with the perspectives of others while continuing to follow him (to varying degrees).

There is one moment that frustrates me and that I feel undercuts the book, which is to simply say that there were military personnel that were "also nonaggressive" even as many were cruel. But it leaves me with an unanswered and unaddressed question: If they saw that what they were doing was wrong, why were they there? What were they doing to fight back and stop it, rather than to cushion it? It's one thing for civilians to do what they can to survive, but it's an entire other for military personnel to... do little acts of kindness (that can also easily be reinterpreted through other lenses that focus on protecting themselves and their institution).

I genuinely feel that this one bit really undercuts a lot of what came before it, especially because there is a persistent back-and-forth kind of dialogue going on that discusses degrees of nationalism. This was something that I didn't mind being left unanswered and incomplete, as it allows the reader to figure out their own position... but the inclusion of this small bit about the military makes it feel like a minor capitulation to acceptable social positions.

Super easy to read this book when you've read all but one essay in it multiple times already. (Or, in some cases, have come back to the essay multiple times, skimming it for the piece of information you remember existing within its text.)

This book frustrates me, much like many of the David Graeber projects that have come out since his death. There's a hollowness to it that feels like someone trying to build a person up into some kind of Anarchist God (or Anthropologist God), and it's exhausting. Certainly, there must be more people out there than this one man who often and frequently neglected whole swathes of criticism that would've fueled his analyses. I'm sure there must be more people out there than the one guy who—though his work was engaging, sometimes insightful, and interesting—frequently extrapolated his more modern examples to beyond useless because he rarely looked at the context in which those examples fit (a superb irony for an anthropologist who had careful consideration for the nuance of the past).

At best, his work regarding patriarchy was surface level, and I don't care how many people try to convince me otherwise while highlighting the works in which he showcases those very surface level critiques. "The Bully's Pulpit," which is present in this book, is a perfect example of not understanding how the targeting of Bosniak boys and men over the age of 15 is part of a patriarchal problem, nor does it really explore why it was that Bosnian Serbs could successfully target them and pretend they weren't engaging in genocide, but it is also a perfect example of how that that very idea he had around boys and men can be extrapolated and misattributed by the "male loneliness epidemic" manarchists.

There is one "new" essay, which I have not found anywhere online. It's "The Revolt of the Caring Classes." Perhaps someone should lift it and post it to TAL, ensuring that the collection is complete. Perhaps it's good as a free ebook that collates a lot of his most commonly referenced essays, but I couldn't in good conscience recommend someone pay for this (saw a hardback in my local bookstore for €32, which is a bit pricy for things that've been widely distributed multiple times). Other essays included were turned into longer works (such as "There Never Was a West," which fueled much of what became The Dawn of Everything and "On the Phenomenon of Bullshit Jobs," which became Bullshit Jobs).

It's baffling that this is the choice that would be made, either by the editors or the publisher. Certainly, it would've been more interesting to engage in his unpublished works over these often referenced pieces.

I am really struggling with the introduction to this book. In my most charitable, all I can say is that she wrote it hastily in order for her and her publishers to meet a deadline that would best allow them to profit from pandemic books.

But there are some lines and paragraphs that really stick out like sore thumbs, like how we're fortunate that hundreds of children died because it could've been much worse. Idk, I think any children dying to a pandemic is awful. I would've also thought she'd put some numbers up next to those for how still-living children were impacted by the loss of their caregivers because they died (which maybe she'll do... at some point?).

But there's a lot of attempts to justify the existence of schools because of all the responsibilities they have (but shouldn't) without even a glimmer of asking whether that makes any sense or what we could do instead.

I mean, it's obvious that this man is an excruciatingly racist piece of shit, but holy shit.

In 2011, we knew that the Broken Windows Theory was wrong and that Wilson/Kelling had misrepresented it with full intent to support racist policing. Pinker doesn't seem to care that Zimbardo's original experiment never supported the Broken Windows Theory and talks about it as if it were truth. Granted, this chapter is also one in which he cites Charles Murray and Francis Fukuyama, so I can't be surprised he's a fan of it.

In terms of history, he has never engaged with anything beyond what little he seems to have learned from coffee table books (which he even explicitly points to as his inspiration for a chapter on torture). We knew in 2011 that the use of the Iron Maiden and similar contraptions, like the Virgin of Nuremberg, were largely believed to be myth because we could find no contemporary evidence of their use... just a lot of things from later historical periods after that claimed it existed or was used. Pinker doesn't even bring this up.

Concept seems cool, but some writing feels really obnoxious in some regards. Like, lower-class vampires are really being used as as an allegory for some kind of marginalised demographic, and I'm guessing... queerness? Though it also sometimes seems to be race... But overwhelmingly, it's giving me a vibe of "any," but queerness comes to mind with the fact that two non-vampires are running a teahouse that also caters for vampires and creates a "safe space" for them to be themselves (like gay bars) and profiting off them. While it also does a lot of anti-colonial writing? And it hasn't really hit any notes to point out that this is an inherent contradiction?

Also, I'm kind of tired of the "we'll get ours" kind of stories that end up with people working simultaneously within the system and outside of it, since the former seems to be the most important and receives the most focus, not the actions outside the system (which also get written off as "I know it's bad but also we need to").

Also, after six or so chapters, it keeps doing perspective switches between two characters who are mostly in the same place, and that's... weird? Because other than the two chapters where, so far, they haven't been in the same place... The writing between two perspectives has been near identical? Like, I at least expect some slight differences between Arthie and Jin's points of views, but they seem like they may as well be the same person when they're in the same place.