while this one was just as detailed, thorough and balanced as macey's later bio attempt—a tremendously engaging exploration of frantz fanon—I found much of this work tedious in ways that fanon's wasn't. partly it is my disinterest in the intricacies of the French intellectual milieu. Boring and irritating. I simply don't care how Foucault went about getting books and articles published, but because this of course played a large part in the daily realities of foucualt's life, it subsequently featured as one of the primary links employed by Macey to "connect" Foucault's life and his work. Macey, I think, has sharpened his skills as a biographer since this book came out in 1993--becoming much more graceful in his infusion of theory and life. Macey begins with commenting on Foucault's elusiveness for a biographer but proceeds with the task nevertheless without going much into why his life and thought, which might resist archival such as Macey carrys out, should be captured in this manner. The missed opportunity for a meta-dialogue such as this conspicuously haunts the book, and is mentioned with some sass in the very last sentence of the bio.
As goes what I learned about Foucault in our 480 page excursion, I feel like somehow, over the course of the two years that I've been familiar with Foucault's name, I've inadvertently picked up quite a bit about the guy, already being vaguely familiar with a lot of the stuff that was most interesting in this read, even biographical details. I guess this familiarity isn't so surprising seeing as foucault's cited in every damn paper ever. One surprise: Macey portrayed Foucault as being especially pissy about Marx, I had thought Foucault to be more ambivalent than the scattering we find here, but i guess i was wrong on this point. The most important bits for me, and probably many readers, were the sections on Foucault's considerable political involvement, towards which Macey thankfully devotes much attention. I felt like I was replenishing supplies of empirical ammo to lob at those who claim, in a stupid but spirited manner, that Foucault as a man and theoretician was apolitical and dangerously relativist--which isn't to say that his thought might not lend itself towards the sorts of quietism I sense these critics to be protesting against. These are deeply confusing matters and I think awareness of the 'professor militant' Foucault, as chapter 12 calls him, adds some necessary murkiness to these already murky battles over praxis.