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egle_va's review against another edition
informative
reflective
medium-paced
3.5
“Interlocked in the beauty experience, I might dissolve. The art thing might fit me so perfectly that I disappear. Turned up to 11, this My Bloody Valentine music will actually kill me.”
“And because of the gap between being and appearing, to be a thing at all is to be deeply flawed; in order to exist at all you have to have an intrinsic invisible crack running all the way through you.”
“And because of the gap between being and appearing, to be a thing at all is to be deeply flawed; in order to exist at all you have to have an intrinsic invisible crack running all the way through you.”
thereadingcat's review against another edition
1.75
The book had the potential to offer a profound exploration of art's relationship with ecology. However, it falls short in several key areas. The main arguments presented by the authors often feel disjointed and lack cohesion, possibly due to the disciplinary writing style of philosophy, which can make the flow of ideas abrupt and challenging to follow.
A significant issue is the lack of clear definitions for key terms, such as "ecology." This oversight creates confusion, especially when the term is used inconsistently. The author's final assertion that "You don't have to be ecological because you are ecological"raises eyebrows as being ecological in the 1st half was explained using examples of being ecologically aware and engaging in discourses or actions in environmentalism, whereas ecological in the 2nd half refer to the way that humans are connected to other beings (humans and non-humans) as a part of the ecology.
Additionally, the book suffers from the misuse of concepts due to insufficient definitions, which can give the false impression of correlations between unrelated ideas. Moreover, the discussion lacks an examination of material-related aspects, such as material decolonization, which could have enriched the conversation on art and ecology.
Despite these shortcomings, the book does offer valuable insights, particularly in the section on hyperobjects. It may be worthwhile to read and engage critically with the authors' perspectives, even if the overall execution is uneven.
A significant issue is the lack of clear definitions for key terms, such as "ecology." This oversight creates confusion, especially when the term is used inconsistently. The author's final assertion that "You don't have to be ecological because you are ecological"raises eyebrows as being ecological in the 1st half was explained using examples of being ecologically aware and engaging in discourses or actions in environmentalism, whereas ecological in the 2nd half refer to the way that humans are connected to other beings (humans and non-humans) as a part of the ecology.
Additionally, the book suffers from the misuse of concepts due to insufficient definitions, which can give the false impression of correlations between unrelated ideas. Moreover, the discussion lacks an examination of material-related aspects, such as material decolonization, which could have enriched the conversation on art and ecology.
Despite these shortcomings, the book does offer valuable insights, particularly in the section on hyperobjects. It may be worthwhile to read and engage critically with the authors' perspectives, even if the overall execution is uneven.
cailanharris's review against another edition
1.0
Combining some interesting points with pseudo-philosophical jargon and a desire to attract a younger audience with constant pop culture references and informal language results in phrases like:
“Art is a place where we get to see what it means to be human or whatever/ I’m going to push up some faders on the Kantian mixing desk”
In short, because of its desperate attempt to appeal to everyone, I don't think this book would appeal to anyone.
I came away with less of an idea of how all art is ecological and more of a reaffirmation of the unfortunate truth that “Kant didn’t turn into Yoda”.
“Art is a place where we get to see what it means to be human or whatever/ I’m going to push up some faders on the Kantian mixing desk”
In short, because of its desperate attempt to appeal to everyone, I don't think this book would appeal to anyone.
I came away with less of an idea of how all art is ecological and more of a reaffirmation of the unfortunate truth that “Kant didn’t turn into Yoda”.
nigellicus's review against another edition
challenging
reflective
5.0
Interesting take on how to cope with the ecological crises, the upshot of which seems to be, don't stress about it, you're already coping with them just by being alive. It's an unusual take, I think, and I'm not sure it has much practical use, except maybe in the way it relates to art, which, given the title is fair enough. It resonated, certainly, but his dismissal of truth in favour of truthiness lands differently in the age of disinformation, and the usual finger-wagging about finger-wagging made me roll my eyes, but it's a rich dive into thought, perception and responses, and I didn't really understand at least half of it.
jade_smith's review against another edition
challenging
slow-paced
2.0
Maybe my biggest pet peeve is philosophy that was written in English in the modern day and yet reads like it was translated from 19th-20th Century French or German.
This book was mostly word-salad. Morton has some interesting points -- I really like their notion of how living through an ecological catastrophe has this sort of uncanny aspect. They compare it to the sense of waking up back in your room after having been on holiday. But, finding and understanding these interesting points felt like a bit of a needle in a haystack exercise, moreso as the page count grew. Even as someone with an (above average, although not extensive) grounding in philosophy and a relatively high tolerance for artsy wank, this was a slog.
I'd love to give this book higher than 2/5, I really would. But I think Morton fundamentally failed to communicate their ideas. Which were, as I said, not all bad ideas.
In terms of the content (since it feels unfair to just harp on the style) -- Morton makes some assertations about history, and in particular the dawn of agriculture and 'modern' social structures that are just... factually incorrect. If this book had been written 10-15 years ago I'd forgive them, but alas. It always irks me when philosophers draw conclusions based on misunderstandings of knowledge that is well-accepted in other fields. I could play pet peeve bingo with Morton.
At the end of the day, Morton just said so much of nothing. What interesting points were raised got lost in the slop, and this text ended up feeling pretentious, detached from reality, and mostly useless.
This book was mostly word-salad. Morton has some interesting points -- I really like their notion of how living through an ecological catastrophe has this sort of uncanny aspect. They compare it to the sense of waking up back in your room after having been on holiday. But, finding and understanding these interesting points felt like a bit of a needle in a haystack exercise, moreso as the page count grew. Even as someone with an (above average, although not extensive) grounding in philosophy and a relatively high tolerance for artsy wank, this was a slog.
I'd love to give this book higher than 2/5, I really would. But I think Morton fundamentally failed to communicate their ideas. Which were, as I said, not all bad ideas.
In terms of the content (since it feels unfair to just harp on the style) -- Morton makes some assertations about history, and in particular the dawn of agriculture and 'modern' social structures that are just... factually incorrect. If this book had been written 10-15 years ago I'd forgive them, but alas. It always irks me when philosophers draw conclusions based on misunderstandings of knowledge that is well-accepted in other fields. I could play pet peeve bingo with Morton.
At the end of the day, Morton just said so much of nothing. What interesting points were raised got lost in the slop, and this text ended up feeling pretentious, detached from reality, and mostly useless.