What do you think?
Rate this book
Religion, Culture, and Public Life
Blood: A Critique of Christianity
Blood , according to Gil Anidjar, maps the singular history of Christianity. As a category for historical analysis, blood can be seen through its literal and metaphorical uses as determining, sometimes even defining Western culture, politics, and social practices and their wide-ranging incarnations in nationalism, capitalism, and law.
Engaging with a variety of sources, Anidjar explores the presence and the absence, the making and unmaking of blood in philosophy and medicine, law and literature, and economic and political thought from ancient Greece to medieval Spain, from the Bible to Shakespeare and Melville. The prevalence of blood in the social, juridical, and political organization of the modern West signals that we do not live in a secular age into which religion could return. Flowing across multiple boundaries, infusing them with violent precepts that we must address, blood undoes the presumed oppositions between religion and politics, economy and theology, and kinship and race. It demonstrates that what we think of as modern is in fact imbued with Christianity. Christianity, Blood fiercely argues, must be reconsidered beyond the boundaries of religion alone.
Engaging with a variety of sources, Anidjar explores the presence and the absence, the making and unmaking of blood in philosophy and medicine, law and literature, and economic and political thought from ancient Greece to medieval Spain, from the Bible to Shakespeare and Melville. The prevalence of blood in the social, juridical, and political organization of the modern West signals that we do not live in a secular age into which religion could return. Flowing across multiple boundaries, infusing them with violent precepts that we must address, blood undoes the presumed oppositions between religion and politics, economy and theology, and kinship and race. It demonstrates that what we think of as modern is in fact imbued with Christianity. Christianity, Blood fiercely argues, must be reconsidered beyond the boundaries of religion alone.
464 pages, Hardcover
First published April 29, 2014
10 people are currently reading
248 people want to read
About the author
Gil Anidjar
17 books12 followersGil Anidjar is a professor in the Departments of Religion and Middle Eastern, South Asian, and African Studies (MESAAS)at Columbia University in the City of New York
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
June 21, 2014
http://ensuingchapters.com/2014/06/21...
Blood: A Critique of Christianity
Gil Anidjar
I’m not sure where to begin with Blood, except to say that it may well be defining its own genre. It’s challenging, bloodcontroversial, lyrical, overly referential, meandering, meta-everything and modest.
OK, I lied about the last one. This book is quite full of itself.
But don’t take that as a bad thing. It’s a book that demands its own terms, and I respect any author willing to challenge their reader. Anidjar does present a challenge. The fault, though, is that he doesn’t appear to address it to the reader.
Reading this felt like missing the first day of class and coming to the second with no review. There is a conversation happening that I don’t seem to be a part of. Perhaps that’s because I’m a lay reader. Academics and the many readers smarter than me may have better luck, but I struggled with this one.
While that’s partly on me, there is also a lack of clarity in Anidjar’s writing. He has a penchant for winding sentences, extended parentheticals and pivots of thought that left me in the weeds. He strikes me as a brilliant thinker, but struggles with communicating those ideas.
Again, this is partly on me and partly on him.
This is a worthy challenge for any reader.
Blood: A Critique of Christianity
Gil Anidjar
I’m not sure where to begin with Blood, except to say that it may well be defining its own genre. It’s challenging, bloodcontroversial, lyrical, overly referential, meandering, meta-everything and modest.
OK, I lied about the last one. This book is quite full of itself.
But don’t take that as a bad thing. It’s a book that demands its own terms, and I respect any author willing to challenge their reader. Anidjar does present a challenge. The fault, though, is that he doesn’t appear to address it to the reader.
Reading this felt like missing the first day of class and coming to the second with no review. There is a conversation happening that I don’t seem to be a part of. Perhaps that’s because I’m a lay reader. Academics and the many readers smarter than me may have better luck, but I struggled with this one.
While that’s partly on me, there is also a lack of clarity in Anidjar’s writing. He has a penchant for winding sentences, extended parentheticals and pivots of thought that left me in the weeds. He strikes me as a brilliant thinker, but struggles with communicating those ideas.
Again, this is partly on me and partly on him.
This is a worthy challenge for any reader.
October 11, 2017
Best sections: most of the opening- most valuable for his criticism of Moby Dick and Hobbes- a great reading if ever there was one. Freud’s christology is a useful inquiry but feels a little rushed. Overall brilliant
March 13, 2023
***LONG REVIEW BELOW***
BLUF: If you are interested in the connection between blood and Christianity, then this book is worth the read. Peppered with Gil Anidjar's signature humor and wit, he makes this book interesting but also accessible (as long as you got a perfect score on the verbal portion of the GRE). Ultimately, his applications of his theories on blood to texts such as The Odyssey, Dracula, and Moby-Dick or, the Whale give his book relevance in a period where Christian critique feels almost overdone and boring. Continue reading for a "formal" critical review of the book which might contain spoilers (I am not even sure if you can spoil a critical discussion on this subject matter...)
Gil Anidjar’s Blood: A Critique of Christianity opens with the disclaimer that he “did not wish for this to be a book” (xi), but instead Anidjar hoped that this “unfinished project” (xi) might lay the foundation for a future discussion of blood’s role in the continued critique of Christianity. Anidjar’s preface claims that “this book offers no explanation. And certainly no historical explanation” (viii) of the blood that he traces throughout the remainder of his analysis. However, in both Parts I and II, Anidjar offers historical context resembling an explanation for blood’s role in Christian, specifically American Christian, history. Part I of Anidjar’s book seeks to consider blood through the modern lenses of “nation, state, capital” (31) and their connections to “the community of blood, the bloodless body-politic, and the blood of economic thought” (31). Anidjar challenges the scientific definition of blood as a “biological substance” in Part II when he extends his historical analysis of blood into a textual one. Ultimately, Anidjar’s careful attention to historicity and blood’s ever-evolving role specifically in the Judeo-Christian faiths makes his readings of texts such as Homer’s the Odyssey, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, and Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick a compelling study of the bloodiness of Christianity.
Throughout Anidjar’s six chapters: “Nation (Jesus’ Kin),” “State (The Vampire State),” “Capital (Christians and Money),” “Odysseus’ Blood,” “Bleeding and Melancholia,” and “Leviathan and the Blood Pump,” he scaffolds an argument for the culminating moment of its application to Moby-Dick. Before the textual application, though, Anidjar provides historical contextualization which provides the necessary background for understanding how blood functions over the course of several millennia. This abundant staging aids in the book’s overall accessibility allowing nonexperts a seat at the table thus accomplishing Anidjar’s overall goal of starting, but not finishing, a project dealing with this subject matter.
In Anidjar’s first chapter, “Nation (Jesus’ Kin),” he outlines the concept of blood as a marker of community by expressly connecting it to Christianity. Anidjar describes blood as “what the Christian community is made of” (44) thus demonstrating the centrality of this substance. Conversely, Anidjar also highlights the othering that blood plays into through the consideration of the Spanish Inquisition and the “limpieza de sangre” (64). While Anidjar argues blood’s connective properties, he demonstrates their powerful divisive ones as well. These two contrasting phenomena of unity and separation sets the stage for a continued discussion of how government and economy might use these same principles to accomplish similar ends.
Chapter two, “State (The Vampire State),” focuses specifically on the United States and their Judeo-Christian background and the inextricability of blood from politics and vice versa. While this chapter highlights America specifically, Anidjar makes it clear that “when it comes to blood, America is merely exemplary” (107), and other nations not mentioned might still be implicated in his Christian critique. Anidjar introduces his “one-drop rule” (114) in which blood takes shape as a marker of community specifically for the Native American citizens within the United States. This rule demonstrates the hemophilic tendencies of the otherwise “bloodless body-politic” that governs the United States. Ultimately, chapter two was the most impactful application of blood’s significance because it was the point in which Anidjar concretized blood as a lens through which the Christian critique will unfold.
The final chapter of Part I, “Capital (Christians and Money),” underscores the similarities between blood and currency. Anidjar concludes the discussion of blood and money by claiming that capitalism is “a kind of hematology…[an] economic hematology” (140). By introducing capitalism as the study of blood’s physiology, Anidjar reiterates the continued study of blood as a Christian critique and has succeeded in laying the foundation for a textual application of blood’s fluidity. Additionally, Anidjar lays the foundation for the exploration of Christianity through economic pathways demonstrating the connectedness of economy and theology.
The second half of Anidjar’s book applies the historical lens of blood to literature published both before and after the establishment of the Jewish and Christian traditions. By beginning chapter four “Odysseus’ Blood” with a reading of the Homeric epic the Odyssey, Anidjar demonstrates the properties of blood enumerated by Homer. In the Odyssey, Odysseus uses his own blood as a sort of currency when he wishes to “revive the dead” (166) whom Odysseus came “to see and interrogate” (166). This sacrificial blood draws us back to chapter three in which Anidjar describes the relation blood and money have when specifically applied to the Jews. Anidjar observes that “like Christian blood, however, money is equally barred from access by the Jews” (153) demonstrating this continued othering of the blood. However, in the case of Odysseus and the dead the phrase “universal blood” unites the dead and the living. Unlike these Christians and Jews mentioned in chapter three, blood is not used as a means of separation but instead to bring two groups together.
Chapter five “Bleeding and Melancholia” is Anidjar’s first mention of literature published specifically as a Christian critique. By reframing Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Anidjar succeeds in preparing a future discussion on the Christian critique by including such a well-known publication. Additionally, Anidjar connects the primary theme of Dracula to chapter two “The Vampire State” because “the melancholic cannibal… is the vampire” (200). The verbiage of the “vampire” further punctuates the image of the Christian nation of the United States as a hemophilic state again demonstrating the inextricability of Christianity and blood.
In chapter six “Leviathan and the Blood Pump,” Anidjar riffs on the famous debate that took place between Thomas Hobbes and Robert Boyle but appropriates it to describe the more covert dispute between Melville and Hobbes to read Moby-Dick as “the ultimate hematography” (205). Moby-Dick is a convenient example because the sea as a setting clearly represents the ebbing and flowing of the blood inside of a body. However, Anidjar observes, “the sea may be different from the land… but it is no less bloody… no less Hobbesian, than the rest of the world” (216). By drawing parallels between the sea and the land, Anidjar continues to strengthen his argument of blood’s relation to theology, policy, and economy.
Finally, in Anidjar’s conclusion, he provides a dizzying recap of the connections made primarily between blood and theology while speculating on the future of both. Returning to his main points of unity and othering from Part I, Anidjar observes that “blood belongs to Christianity” (257) demonstrating the power of blood to bring people together while also separating those with “different” blood from the group. Since Christianity and blood are similar in the sense that they have no essence, what remains after “the red tide” (258) “is the particular, and peculiar, hematology—the hemophilia—that is Christianity” (258).
BLUF: If you are interested in the connection between blood and Christianity, then this book is worth the read. Peppered with Gil Anidjar's signature humor and wit, he makes this book interesting but also accessible (as long as you got a perfect score on the verbal portion of the GRE). Ultimately, his applications of his theories on blood to texts such as The Odyssey, Dracula, and Moby-Dick or, the Whale give his book relevance in a period where Christian critique feels almost overdone and boring. Continue reading for a "formal" critical review of the book which might contain spoilers (I am not even sure if you can spoil a critical discussion on this subject matter...)
Gil Anidjar’s Blood: A Critique of Christianity opens with the disclaimer that he “did not wish for this to be a book” (xi), but instead Anidjar hoped that this “unfinished project” (xi) might lay the foundation for a future discussion of blood’s role in the continued critique of Christianity. Anidjar’s preface claims that “this book offers no explanation. And certainly no historical explanation” (viii) of the blood that he traces throughout the remainder of his analysis. However, in both Parts I and II, Anidjar offers historical context resembling an explanation for blood’s role in Christian, specifically American Christian, history. Part I of Anidjar’s book seeks to consider blood through the modern lenses of “nation, state, capital” (31) and their connections to “the community of blood, the bloodless body-politic, and the blood of economic thought” (31). Anidjar challenges the scientific definition of blood as a “biological substance” in Part II when he extends his historical analysis of blood into a textual one. Ultimately, Anidjar’s careful attention to historicity and blood’s ever-evolving role specifically in the Judeo-Christian faiths makes his readings of texts such as Homer’s the Odyssey, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, and Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick a compelling study of the bloodiness of Christianity.
Throughout Anidjar’s six chapters: “Nation (Jesus’ Kin),” “State (The Vampire State),” “Capital (Christians and Money),” “Odysseus’ Blood,” “Bleeding and Melancholia,” and “Leviathan and the Blood Pump,” he scaffolds an argument for the culminating moment of its application to Moby-Dick. Before the textual application, though, Anidjar provides historical contextualization which provides the necessary background for understanding how blood functions over the course of several millennia. This abundant staging aids in the book’s overall accessibility allowing nonexperts a seat at the table thus accomplishing Anidjar’s overall goal of starting, but not finishing, a project dealing with this subject matter.
In Anidjar’s first chapter, “Nation (Jesus’ Kin),” he outlines the concept of blood as a marker of community by expressly connecting it to Christianity. Anidjar describes blood as “what the Christian community is made of” (44) thus demonstrating the centrality of this substance. Conversely, Anidjar also highlights the othering that blood plays into through the consideration of the Spanish Inquisition and the “limpieza de sangre” (64). While Anidjar argues blood’s connective properties, he demonstrates their powerful divisive ones as well. These two contrasting phenomena of unity and separation sets the stage for a continued discussion of how government and economy might use these same principles to accomplish similar ends.
Chapter two, “State (The Vampire State),” focuses specifically on the United States and their Judeo-Christian background and the inextricability of blood from politics and vice versa. While this chapter highlights America specifically, Anidjar makes it clear that “when it comes to blood, America is merely exemplary” (107), and other nations not mentioned might still be implicated in his Christian critique. Anidjar introduces his “one-drop rule” (114) in which blood takes shape as a marker of community specifically for the Native American citizens within the United States. This rule demonstrates the hemophilic tendencies of the otherwise “bloodless body-politic” that governs the United States. Ultimately, chapter two was the most impactful application of blood’s significance because it was the point in which Anidjar concretized blood as a lens through which the Christian critique will unfold.
The final chapter of Part I, “Capital (Christians and Money),” underscores the similarities between blood and currency. Anidjar concludes the discussion of blood and money by claiming that capitalism is “a kind of hematology…[an] economic hematology” (140). By introducing capitalism as the study of blood’s physiology, Anidjar reiterates the continued study of blood as a Christian critique and has succeeded in laying the foundation for a textual application of blood’s fluidity. Additionally, Anidjar lays the foundation for the exploration of Christianity through economic pathways demonstrating the connectedness of economy and theology.
The second half of Anidjar’s book applies the historical lens of blood to literature published both before and after the establishment of the Jewish and Christian traditions. By beginning chapter four “Odysseus’ Blood” with a reading of the Homeric epic the Odyssey, Anidjar demonstrates the properties of blood enumerated by Homer. In the Odyssey, Odysseus uses his own blood as a sort of currency when he wishes to “revive the dead” (166) whom Odysseus came “to see and interrogate” (166). This sacrificial blood draws us back to chapter three in which Anidjar describes the relation blood and money have when specifically applied to the Jews. Anidjar observes that “like Christian blood, however, money is equally barred from access by the Jews” (153) demonstrating this continued othering of the blood. However, in the case of Odysseus and the dead the phrase “universal blood” unites the dead and the living. Unlike these Christians and Jews mentioned in chapter three, blood is not used as a means of separation but instead to bring two groups together.
Chapter five “Bleeding and Melancholia” is Anidjar’s first mention of literature published specifically as a Christian critique. By reframing Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Anidjar succeeds in preparing a future discussion on the Christian critique by including such a well-known publication. Additionally, Anidjar connects the primary theme of Dracula to chapter two “The Vampire State” because “the melancholic cannibal… is the vampire” (200). The verbiage of the “vampire” further punctuates the image of the Christian nation of the United States as a hemophilic state again demonstrating the inextricability of Christianity and blood.
In chapter six “Leviathan and the Blood Pump,” Anidjar riffs on the famous debate that took place between Thomas Hobbes and Robert Boyle but appropriates it to describe the more covert dispute between Melville and Hobbes to read Moby-Dick as “the ultimate hematography” (205). Moby-Dick is a convenient example because the sea as a setting clearly represents the ebbing and flowing of the blood inside of a body. However, Anidjar observes, “the sea may be different from the land… but it is no less bloody… no less Hobbesian, than the rest of the world” (216). By drawing parallels between the sea and the land, Anidjar continues to strengthen his argument of blood’s relation to theology, policy, and economy.
Finally, in Anidjar’s conclusion, he provides a dizzying recap of the connections made primarily between blood and theology while speculating on the future of both. Returning to his main points of unity and othering from Part I, Anidjar observes that “blood belongs to Christianity” (257) demonstrating the power of blood to bring people together while also separating those with “different” blood from the group. Since Christianity and blood are similar in the sense that they have no essence, what remains after “the red tide” (258) “is the particular, and peculiar, hematology—the hemophilia—that is Christianity” (258).
May 17, 2014
First!
April 29, 2021
It started reading a bit like Lacan - lots of words, little meaning - but soon settled down into a fascinating, but very comprehensive narrative with lots of name dropping. The book ranges very wide, dipping deeper into issues here and there, somewhat randomly but perhaps where the author feels more comfortable. It would be difficult to digest all in a single reading. The section on Purity of Blood and race is a worthwhile section. Also the section on Melville and blood. But that section makes the section on Freud feel somewhat superficial. Overall a good read. There are parts I will come back too. Maybe even the whole thing at some point.
April 23, 2025
كتاب قيم رغم ان نصف صفحاته التي تقارب ٦٠٠
كانت حواشي !
كانت حواشي !
August 2, 2015
Great read - fascinating exploration of the pervasiveness of "blood" in its many yet contiguous, overflowing forms. The references to Greg Bear's Blood Music, Italo Calvino, and Batman were also titillating. The discussion of "liquid modernity" and the pervasive flow of blood was particularly interesting, especially as relates to law existing even where it is not (see the Calvino and the "Leviathan and the Blood-Pump" sections). Some parts I felt could have been elaborated upon further, but I may have to re-read this at a later date in order to fully absorb and understand the breadth and intricacy of the discussion. I loved Anidjar's admission in the beginning about the problematics of the discourse on violence/war and about the seemingly increasing futility of many academic discourses ("consider this the project of some premodernity," he confesses/laments). "The Vampire State" chapter was also pretty solid. Overall, closer to 3.75.
February 4, 2017
an incredibly self indulgent text.
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews