Timothy Taylor’s thesis is to debunk the notion that our intelligence produced technology. For him, it is the other way round. Our technology produced our intelligence. We became more intelligent with the appearance of technology. He uses the latter word across the times, from prehistory to today as a system of articulated phenomena that make something work. For instance: a bowl presupposes tools to make said bowl, which presuppose knowledge of clay and fire to burn it. A simple bowl is a technology in the sense that it entails several knowledge systems articulated amongst then to produce it. He opens up our minds to things we may have been detached from because of their historical existence in our lives and he connects then to complex technologies of the present.
I loved reading this account of Greek women in myths. Firstly, the title of the book is shrewd because it replaces the word “box” with “jar”, thus provoking the reader. Why “jar”? I asked myself. The title is explained in the first chapter, dedicated to Pandora. The explanation roots the book in a necessity: that of exploring the women’s perspective in myths because as with Pandora, they have been simplified, muted, and at times erased. They have no agency or complexity. And that’s what this book tried to explain by dedicating each chapter to a woman. One of the other things I appreciated was the fact that the women focused on are not all good or virtuous. One of them is incredibly violent and manipulative. However, their story helps us understand how the Greek myths’ retelling has been omitting stories of rape, abuse, abduction, making it seem like these women are just evil, good, or destructive. The writing is strange as it veers into the colloquial at times while at others it use uncommon and academic words. I am not against having a mixed tone but it was disconcerting at times. This is reflected by the comparisons made between popular culture- there is even a Beyoncé videoclip description - but I think that works much better. The examples were well chosen and could draw more readers to a topic that is either the object of obsession or deemed too “stuffy”. I just wish the language had remained accessible with a few more challenging words thrown here and there. But that’s a minor qualm.
There are references to a lot of mischievous or downright violent crimes such as rape, infanticide, abuse etc as in all Greek myths. However the author is careful with the way they are alluded to or described and stands by the reader explaining how these were perceived then and how they can be daunting now.
This is a well written biography, easy to read and highly informative. It was a pleasure to devour. I read it because I had just finished Anna Karenina and was surprised to find not a story focusing on an adulterous woman, but a political and ideological landscape. Knowing Ghandi had been inspired by Tolstoy, I decided to learn more about him. I was not disappointed! This is why this biography is really well structured: it respects Tolstoy’s legacy as he built it, that is, almost against the novels he is famous for. It details his family life and his wife’s complex role in it (it focuses less in the children but that is understandable albeit a bit of a blind spot), his reluctance in embracing his wealth and privilege and his learned path towards an enlightened life. Bartlett substantiates her claims by listing what he read and how he accessed said knowledge. Moreover, we learn about his day to day life abs the way he accommodated his needs in order to have become the man he turned out to be. It is also a portrait of a woman’s life - Sonya lived in the shadow of her husband, devoted to him it renegaded by him when she didn’t comply to his wishes. This biography doesn’t paint him as a hero, and that is one of its utmost qualities. It portrays the man, with his qualities and his flaws. Patiently and with clarity it maps out his ideas, how they came to be, and his behaviour in a nuanced way that allows for the reader to understand the man, and to acknowledge how simultaneously exceptional and flawed he was.
If you are looking for a linear and perhaps historical account of the essay do not pick this up. On the contrary, this is a personal and elliptical account, musing upon this literary form that goes in and out of fashion regularly, and which seems to conform to the author’s battle with depression. Indeed, behind the account, and the laudatory prose about the essay lies the dark abyss of mental illness. When I finished reading it, it made me think of the author’s praise of essays focusing on a little instance of thought, or a small pile of things as a trick of the mind for those in pain. You focus on an object or a song when the dentist’s pricks your gum with a needle, injecting the dreaded albeit useful anesthesia. I cannot praise the writing enough. It is precise but devoid of jargon, sensitive without indulgence, autobiographical and yet generous.
This book covers a range of subjects around the theme of pleasure as an empowering self-accepting tool. This is a book I will continue reading as it has a lot of information from a community of people around the author who engage in activities / thoughts / paths that are new or not as familiar to me as others. For instance, there is talk about black queerness, fat shaming and fat phobia, BDSM, recreational drugs and somatic therapy which are enlightening and not treated in the two usual ways, which are ultra-capitalist consumerism and ensuing guilt trips, or with a christian backdrop of right or wrong. This is a new generation of mostly American thinkers who are looking for new ways to heal trauma and to build positive pleasure, as opposed to pleasure as a way to fill a void. It is an empowering and challenging book - the talks about drugs make me feel queazy, but they are important to pay attention to, especially now that doctors and researchers are finding healing powers in them, especially connected with therapy. It would be difficult to list all the themes and approaches, and it is far better for the reader to find out about them, but I am especially interested in pleasure as power, and a new way to think about after hedonists and philosophers in general failed miserably to address it. Pleasure is such an interesting concept! And state! How do the authors and their guests talk about it in terms of its fleetingness? How do they experiment with it? How do they build a philosophy from it? These are the questions I asked myself, and I keep going back for more. The writing is at times light and colloquial, but always engaging and stimulating, perhaps because of its apparent simplicity. The kind of writing is varied: there are essays, interviews, diary entries. Therefore, it makes for an exciting reading time.
It is hard to flag potentially harmful content because this is a book about healing, and therefore trauma must be referenced and at times described. What I found incredibly empowering was that it was mentioned in a way that combined it almost systematically with something engaging, be it a therapy, a thought or a unique perspective on it, that made it readable and not triggering. However, it is important for readers to know that there is sexual content, sexual trauma, fat shaming references, references to racism.
Duras’ use of repetitions should be compelling: she has an almost biblical style and achieves an almost childlike innocence. A “vérité” of writing (two words she over-uses). However, she seems to be at the center of everything- even the tale of an English soldier killed in the last days of the war. There is a narcissism of the writer enamored with their own craft in a way that doesn’t appear to include anyone else, not even the stories being written. And for someone who is so incredibly honest and in touch with herself, Duras is at times vague and cliche, using words such as “fou”, for instance, romanticizing lunacy, or using the word admit to mean aloof but in a much more mysterious and, I dare say, abstract sense. I find this kind of writing tiresome and unsubstantial- perhaps because it is so earnestly presented by the writer as extracted from an abyss of emotions and truths. As such, it obviously disappoints.
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
5.0
This is my second Taïa book. I was surprised to love the first one because I am not a fan of lyrical prose. However, Taïa’s use of the French language reflects his mother tongue, Arabic. It’s a very specific melody, and a warm, emotional vocabulary. Everything I don’t like: and yet…, because his voice is so authentic, reading Taïa’s books is like speaking to a friend who has a very different personality. You admire them for their difference and you cherish the confidence they have in you. Taïa opens up his heart through characters who are at a critical moment in their lives. That moment where you see clearly. Moreover, it is a better depiction of colonialism than any theoretical book out there.