The everyday is a challenging realm for academics, many of us like to think we engage well, or aim to, and yet it remains elusive, often tedious in its mundanity, or over-theorised to abstraction in a way that the actions of the everyday are lost in our efforts to explain them. For some disciplines – history especially – it is the very mundanity that means we have no way in, with next to nothing in the way of records (although there has been some inventive work done with combinations of sources – court and police records, sociological and local government studies and reports and the like, but that’s rare). Of all the disciplines I have ever been around, its anthropology and some branches of cultural studies that get close to the everyday – and so it’s not surprising that Kathleen Stewart calls on that powerful tradition of anthropological observation in this compelling, evocative, poetic set of insights into an American everyday.
Yet, this is unlike the conventional ethnographic study. A series of observations, vignettes, meditations, and anecdotes – for the most part, there is a small number of explicit observations on the ordinary, the everyday, the mundane, that gives bones to the body, but for the most part the anthropological insight comes from the way she builds the density of her observations into something of substance. In that, her methodology shapes, informs, and reflects her argument that the significance of ordinary affects “lies in the intensities they build and what thoughts and feelings they make possible” (p3). The case she’s making, then, has a decidedly Deleuzian feel to it, highlighting density and intensity, the momentary meeting of subjects and objects in movement through time, space, and their society to point to a sociality based in myriad encounters, often fleeting, less often with more depth, but constantly moving and interacting.
Yet, and here’s the strength of the work, it is almost utterly devoid of the obscurantist language of Deleuze and others working in his tradition. In form, the work resembles writers such as Walter Benjamin, with his observations and encounters making up theses grounded in the experience of the flâneur, or of Michael Taussig’s weaving together of ethnographic observation and performance studies. All of which, while for readers like me who engage these scholarly traditions, makes it all the more interesting, is an unnecessary layer. The vignette’s, anecdotes, and observations stand in themselves as powerful evocations of the ordinary, of our everyday being and encounters in a text that deserves to be relished, rolled around in, read slowly allowing the stories around each moment – the “thoughts and feeling they make possible” are the treasure of this book as a rich and beguiling insight to the ordinary. It may be almost 20 years old, but it remains fresh, sharp, and of the now.