What do you think?
Rate this book


437 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 17, 2015
”For Tibetan Buddhists, the wish to free a person from suffering is ideally experienced in equanimity, with a quiet confidence. For many of us, however, compassion is considerably more anxious territory…requiring a person to discover very vulnerable parts of themselves…Only the wisest can bend themselves to another’s pain without being rendered numb and helpless themselves: the “compassion fatigue” we hear about in the caring professions today.”Her discussion of contempt puts me in mind of Donald Trump, as do many things these days. Contempt is a performative emotion in that it turns a spectator into a participant, inviting a conversation. One can watch a spectacle, but once one acts or speaks in contempt, one is provoking a response.
Die Grenzen meiner Sprache bedeuten die Grenzen meiner Welt.This astonishing revelation could only have sprung—in the same way Athena sprung from Zeus—from the mind of one truly insane German man, insane because no one sane has any hope of approaching this close to reality, and German because, let’s face it, it’s obviously in German. With its trusty sidekick the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, this statement proves more or less that one who has control of language can control his very experience of reality. Thus it becomes imperative to amass as many words as possible.
Most of all, [feeling MIFFED] is blessed with what the French deconstructionists call jouissance, a playful ambiguity of meaning which leaves the reader plenty of room for interpretation.Given Smith’s propensity to name thinking figures by the schema “the British lawyer Jeremy Bentham [p.129] or “the novelist Park Kyung-ni [p.127]” or “the philosopher Max Scheler [p.233]” or “the Greek philosopher Aristotle [p.255]” or “the philosopher René Descartes [p.242]” or “the French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre [p.234],” striking it is that Jacques Derrida alone escapes not only definition as such but proper quotation. Indeed the term Smith was looking for was not jouissance but différance, and though Derrida is all for creative misreadings I’m sure he would’ve taken issue at being conflated with Jacques Lacan (to whom the term jouissance actually belongs), who was decidedly not a deconstructionist, nor even a philosopher. Secondly, I find it rather inconceivable how Ludwig Wittgenstein (said insane mensch) received precisely zero mentions in a work whose content is the best demonstration of language games in action one could ask for; the same fate is suffered by Hume and his incredible dictum:
Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey them.Much less forgivable, on the other hand, is Smith’s omission of my favorite Cerberus: ANGUISH, ENNUI, WELTSCHMERZ. Perhaps it is the case that such powerful liquors are not for the faint of heart, but to brush aside their existence in favor of such ephemera as ROAD RAGE (when RAGE already has an entry) and such non-emotions as RIVALRY (really?) is tantamount to heresy, a heresy hereby punished with the docking of a star.
She hovered like a hawk suspended, like a flag floating in an element of joy which filled every nerve of her body.” [p.162]
…‘This cannot last,’ she thought.