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Imperial nostalgia: How the British conquered themselves
A strong emotional attachment to the memory of empire runs deep in British culture. In recent years, that memory has become a battleground in a long-drawn ideological war, inflecting debates on race, class, gender, culture, the UK’s future and its place in the world. This provocative and passionate book surveys the scene of the imperial memory wars in contemporary Britain, exploring how the myths that structure our views of empire came to be, and how they inform the present. Taking in such diverse subjects as Rory Stewart and inter-war adventure fiction, man’s facial hair and Kipling, the Alt-right and the Red Wall, Imperial Nostalgia asks how our relationship with our national past has gone wrong, and how it might be improved.
248 pages, Paperback
Published July 12, 2021
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561 people want to read
About the author
Peter Mitchell
1 book20 followersHello. I'm a writer from Newcastle and at present my day job is being a heritage researcher at a nineteenth-century natural history society. 'Imperial Nostalgia' is my first single-authored book, I'm planning my next one - provisionally about the North Eastern writer Jack Common (1903-1968) - at the minute, and if you have any ideas what I should write about after that I'm all ears. I contribute to the Guardian and similar places sometimes.
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Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews
February 16, 2022
This book looked promising–after all trying to describe one of the foremost social problems of the time should be. However, the author consistently failed to deliver on the promise, either by saying too little, not showing how what he was talking about was relevant, or not making sure how the text would read even a few months after putting it to paper.
The problem is British: the old country is wallowing in its former glories, an empire gained and lost, with which it now contends. Yet, with the author describing this thinking and this emotion, an explanation of how this attitude could be reversed was lacking. For a work that sought to highlight societal problems, it’s inability to actually get to the nitty-gritty of those problems and to describe either how they came about or possible options to alleviate the problems made it, in the long run, irrelevant.
Mir Mitchell’s objective seems to have been fully on documenting the problem. But, does it need to be documented in such a way? Is there anyone not ideologically (i.e., right to far right) motivated who would argue that the imperial problem does not exist? While the answer to those two questions might be “Yes”, it is also clear that such people would not pick up this title—hence the author’s effort in convincing the reader of the strength and ubiquity of the problem is without purpose. The option the author had, i.e., to use his historian’s background as a starting point for finding either a cure or the specific track of the poison, would have been much more apposite, and more interesting a subject as well—not to mention also making the book interesting to those who would politically disagree with the author.
Instead, other than some First World War examples relating to John Buchan and his characters Richard Hannay and Sandy Arbuthnot (Buchan is, by the way, eminently more readable than Mr Mitchell) the reader is thrust a number of modern examples, including Boris Johnson and Rory Stewart—who by mid-2022 is as irrelevant a Tory as one could possibly think of (which doesn’t mean this can’t change in the future). A chapter finishes with references along the lines of “just this month” which even such a short time after writing the work makes it feel extremely dated, though, I didn’t look the specific examples up to see how exactly they were solved—and whether the author’s proclamations that things seemed to be improving were actually borne out.
I read this in full, but I don’t think I would have missed much if I hadn’t.
This review was originally posted on my blog.
The problem is British: the old country is wallowing in its former glories, an empire gained and lost, with which it now contends. Yet, with the author describing this thinking and this emotion, an explanation of how this attitude could be reversed was lacking. For a work that sought to highlight societal problems, it’s inability to actually get to the nitty-gritty of those problems and to describe either how they came about or possible options to alleviate the problems made it, in the long run, irrelevant.
Mir Mitchell’s objective seems to have been fully on documenting the problem. But, does it need to be documented in such a way? Is there anyone not ideologically (i.e., right to far right) motivated who would argue that the imperial problem does not exist? While the answer to those two questions might be “Yes”, it is also clear that such people would not pick up this title—hence the author’s effort in convincing the reader of the strength and ubiquity of the problem is without purpose. The option the author had, i.e., to use his historian’s background as a starting point for finding either a cure or the specific track of the poison, would have been much more apposite, and more interesting a subject as well—not to mention also making the book interesting to those who would politically disagree with the author.
Instead, other than some First World War examples relating to John Buchan and his characters Richard Hannay and Sandy Arbuthnot (Buchan is, by the way, eminently more readable than Mr Mitchell) the reader is thrust a number of modern examples, including Boris Johnson and Rory Stewart—who by mid-2022 is as irrelevant a Tory as one could possibly think of (which doesn’t mean this can’t change in the future). A chapter finishes with references along the lines of “just this month” which even such a short time after writing the work makes it feel extremely dated, though, I didn’t look the specific examples up to see how exactly they were solved—and whether the author’s proclamations that things seemed to be improving were actually borne out.
I read this in full, but I don’t think I would have missed much if I hadn’t.
This review was originally posted on my blog.
December 8, 2021
A scintillating study of Britain’s relationship with its Empire, and how that continues to warp society, infect the discourse and power the culture wars.
Beginning with probably the funniest epigraph I’ve ever read, Mitchell casts a remarkably clear eye over his subject, covering everything from the post-rationalised manufacturing of the imperial myth to the masculine violence that underpins the soft, feminine beauty of the standard British country house; the studied innocence of the colonial project and its “imperial wonder boy” (typified most recently by Rory Stewart) to the ventriloquising of far-right ideas, currently emerging with remarkable regularity from the mouths of a fictional northern demographic.
Mitchell is a withering, acerbic and compassionate guide, profoundly moving when dealing with his own father’s death (a metaphor for wanting to resurrect a vanished idyll), even-handed in his extended portrait of culture warrior Nigel Biggar, and fantastically pungent when turning his fire on right-wing commentators like Tim Shipman and Matthew Goodwin. Those vivid, economical portraits of contemporary players are in several cases virtually definitive: Boris Johnson is “a public school boy from a mid-century comic strip … about to snaffle a pie from the window ledge on which it is cooling”.
Occasionally he’ll repeat a phrase or an idea, or be over-exuberant in dismissing a tangled culture story as simply “a lie”. But Imperial Nostalgia remains an invigorating antidote to a form of gaslighting-by-media that Mitchell himself identifies: at times, the sheer quantity of misinformation currently being spewed into the public sphere makes it almost impossible to withstand.
The most vital non-fiction either opens your eyes a little wider or else sneaks you around the back so you can see the contraptions that power the machine. This book does both.
Beginning with probably the funniest epigraph I’ve ever read, Mitchell casts a remarkably clear eye over his subject, covering everything from the post-rationalised manufacturing of the imperial myth to the masculine violence that underpins the soft, feminine beauty of the standard British country house; the studied innocence of the colonial project and its “imperial wonder boy” (typified most recently by Rory Stewart) to the ventriloquising of far-right ideas, currently emerging with remarkable regularity from the mouths of a fictional northern demographic.
Mitchell is a withering, acerbic and compassionate guide, profoundly moving when dealing with his own father’s death (a metaphor for wanting to resurrect a vanished idyll), even-handed in his extended portrait of culture warrior Nigel Biggar, and fantastically pungent when turning his fire on right-wing commentators like Tim Shipman and Matthew Goodwin. Those vivid, economical portraits of contemporary players are in several cases virtually definitive: Boris Johnson is “a public school boy from a mid-century comic strip … about to snaffle a pie from the window ledge on which it is cooling”.
Occasionally he’ll repeat a phrase or an idea, or be over-exuberant in dismissing a tangled culture story as simply “a lie”. But Imperial Nostalgia remains an invigorating antidote to a form of gaslighting-by-media that Mitchell himself identifies: at times, the sheer quantity of misinformation currently being spewed into the public sphere makes it almost impossible to withstand.
The most vital non-fiction either opens your eyes a little wider or else sneaks you around the back so you can see the contraptions that power the machine. This book does both.
September 20, 2021
This book offers a diagnosis and historical explanation of why the politics of the historical legacy of the British Empire are so frought.
He examines common tropes and motifs of the nostalgia felt by swathes of the public and political elites.
He writes from a socially progressive perspective so it is unlikely this book will be enjoyed by those on the right wing of politics who dislike progressivism.
There are interesting breakdowns of how imperialist policies were supported by arguments surrounding racial and cultural hierarchy. Additionally the reactionary nature of the debates surrounding the empire today is analysed. There are particularly interesting discussions of the free speech debates, the role of nostalgia is avoiding discussion of empirical history, (rather a mythical history is felt and invoked) and the contradictions and poor rationales for defences of imperialism.
While the analysis is often intriguing and clarifying, sometimes the author pushes his speculations too far and makes arguments that are unsupported by anything other than his view on the issue. This leads to some dubious passages.
On the whole though, an interesting and very readable book about imperial nostalgia and its role in structuring political thought and debate in Britain.
He examines common tropes and motifs of the nostalgia felt by swathes of the public and political elites.
He writes from a socially progressive perspective so it is unlikely this book will be enjoyed by those on the right wing of politics who dislike progressivism.
There are interesting breakdowns of how imperialist policies were supported by arguments surrounding racial and cultural hierarchy. Additionally the reactionary nature of the debates surrounding the empire today is analysed. There are particularly interesting discussions of the free speech debates, the role of nostalgia is avoiding discussion of empirical history, (rather a mythical history is felt and invoked) and the contradictions and poor rationales for defences of imperialism.
While the analysis is often intriguing and clarifying, sometimes the author pushes his speculations too far and makes arguments that are unsupported by anything other than his view on the issue. This leads to some dubious passages.
On the whole though, an interesting and very readable book about imperial nostalgia and its role in structuring political thought and debate in Britain.
January 30, 2022
Deep research, brilliant and accessible analysis. And very beautiful prose. One of the best books on the subject, and totally zeitgeist-y. You'll try to pass his views and voice off as your own in discussion.
One of the most pertinent parallels (not actually drawn by the author) is that between the nostalgia of those on the right for empire, and the nostalgia and melancholy of members of diasporas, many of whom have had a rupture with culture and historical/ memorialised past as a result of post-imperial migration. The psychological displacement, the myths, the longing seem to affect both the post-immigration communities, and their self-appointed adversaries on the political right, and in the media.
BUT, on fact checking/ proof reading:
- p31 - Lord (David) Ashcroft from the UK, is an entirely different person from John David Ashcroft, the former US Attorney General. Lord Ashcroft DEFINITELY wasn't Attorney General for England and Wales.
- p39 - the Ashanti war was 1873-4, not 1973-4
- p59 - it should be 'particularly well-liked' not 'particular'
One of the most pertinent parallels (not actually drawn by the author) is that between the nostalgia of those on the right for empire, and the nostalgia and melancholy of members of diasporas, many of whom have had a rupture with culture and historical/ memorialised past as a result of post-imperial migration. The psychological displacement, the myths, the longing seem to affect both the post-immigration communities, and their self-appointed adversaries on the political right, and in the media.
BUT, on fact checking/ proof reading:
- p31 - Lord (David) Ashcroft from the UK, is an entirely different person from John David Ashcroft, the former US Attorney General. Lord Ashcroft DEFINITELY wasn't Attorney General for England and Wales.
- p39 - the Ashanti war was 1873-4, not 1973-4
- p59 - it should be 'particularly well-liked' not 'particular'
January 28, 2022
Plenty of good stuff here: the idea is that a nostalgia for an imagined empire and the (white, patriarchal, straight) values it apparently stands for is prominent in current British society, and informs so much of the (Conservative-engineered) scandals in recent history. Particularly good on how imperial nostalgia is deeply wound up with issues of decorum, tone, as well as the body, though for an academic monograph I would've liked more close reading (I seem to be using this word everywhere these days, but I'm increasingly of the view that close reading is really the magic of all humanities scholarship). A definite read for our times, though, of which we need much more.
January 7, 2023
Didn't understand all of it but still really good.
Now how do I turn it into an essay.
Now how do I turn it into an essay.
November 21, 2021
An erudite investigation into how the collapse of the British Empire shapes current British society and politics. It’s a 5-star for eloquent and thought-provoking analysis, but also a 5-star discomfort!
The book will make uncomfortable reading for many British readers brought up in the British education system and its typical history curriculum of Henry VIII, some Waterloo plus a lot of WW2. But Mitchell’s tone is analytical rather than hysterical, which will help all open-minded readers accept much of his thought-provoking thesis and to recognise some of the unintentional biases inculcated by that education. His critiques are clearly aimed at the stale and counter-productive narrative of British exceptionalism, “ossified into historical caricature”, and promulgated by the non-centrist wing of Imperial Nostalgics in the Conservative party — BUT it can equally (and more generously?) be read as a clarion call for a new, more forward-looking, younger and modern centrist politics.
Lexico defines nostalgia as "A sentimental longing or wistful affection for a period in the past”; but also as a more transitive purposeful act, "Something done or presented in order to evoke feelings of nostalgia”. It is this latter aspect that is the main focus of the book: the conscious manipulative use by British politicians of the British voter’s nostalgia for the days of the Empire and the schooldays narrative — constructed since its collapse — of what they (want to) believe characterises the British people.
As in the tale of Odysseus, the sentiment reflects the “tension between the desire to return to a recognisable home and the fact that true return is never really possible.” As anyone who has mourned a lost one will recognise, nostalgia, in “its mourning of the lost object, it both seeks to resurrect those parts of it which were lost and refuses to acknowledge those parts which persist.” It is a grieving that, in Kubler-Ross’s famous model, is stuck somewhere between the stages of denial and bargaining, well short of a final acceptance that allows the sufferer to move on constructively.
Mitchell at his most magnanimous accepts that this “nostalgism is probably, at base, a reaction to modernity grown more palpably unstable and confusing”, evoking “visceral anxiety”. Mitchell worries (as I do) that "its political trajectory is apocalyptic …. [towards a] purgative violence.” Hence the potential reading of the book as justifying the need for the more forward-looking younger centrist voter to stand up and be counted.
That magnanimity is brief. Mitchell’s tone in the book is mostly acerbic, as he forensically lays bare how nostalgia for a white-washed (in more ways than one) British Empire Man, the reconstructed civilising force of this well-meaning if somewhat naive Anglo-Saxon adventurer, has infiltrated domestic British politics of socio-economic class and race (dividing the working class into the redeemable, who uphold ’true’ Britishness, and the “residuum” assimilated to the racialised colonial populations), and sexuality (the media’s “safaris” into Booze Britain and Benefit Street). In these politics, it is employed as a manipulative stand-in for the tired and outdated tenets of what Mitchell believes is an organised "reactionary project” to variously defend whiteness, masculinity, heterosexuality and the nativist’s moral claims of ‘kin’ over ‘cosmopolis’. Mitchell sees that “project” as wanting “to have one’s cake and eat it: autochthony* and belonging for some, and mobility for others; barbed wire for the involuntary stateless, and fast-track passport control for those who have outgrown (or rather, out-earned) the need for states. …. a new iteration of the kinds of mobility that empire allowed its managerial class, a way of moving through the world and reshaping it with masterful sovereignty which imposes no obligation…” However, I am not sure Mitchell recognises how this “project” has its own fragilities as it does not have the support of a unified group: those that most value the mobility aspects often despise the doctrinal nativism and imperial nostalgia of those who seek the autochthony aspect.
[* autochthony: “nativeness by virtue of origin or occurring naturally”]
More forlornly but correctly (in my view), Mitchell concludes that “(A)s the source code of the exceptionalism that continues to cause irreparable damage to the politics and public life of the contemporary UK [which Mitchell explores in different chapters], empire continues to brutalise, to divide, and to diminish whatever we have left of a coherent national community.” As an example, whichever way the reader voted in the Brexit referendum, most will agree that their choice usually represented two quite different perspectives of Britain’s place in the world; and how this issue, which prior to the referendum few voters cared enough about to list as one of their top 3 priorities, was subsequently politicised to the point that it continues to this day to drive a corrosive wedge through the middle of British social dialogue.
Mitchell ends the book with a chink of optimism, accepting that “it is all too easy to read the record of recent history as a grim spectacle of reaction on the march and to ignore the countercurrents of hope, solidaristic organisation and political renewal against which that reaction militates”. But perhaps here his time frame is too short and impatient. These Fourth Turning points (William Strauss & Neil Howe, 1997) take years to bed down (even if brought in by revolution); are not easily visible initially; and in the more attractive versions, first need someone to emerge who will win over the skepticism of the centrist — through honest passion and skill, not autocratic scheming - and create a new unifying narrative that is agreeable not just to one political extreme or the other.
The book will make uncomfortable reading for many British readers brought up in the British education system and its typical history curriculum of Henry VIII, some Waterloo plus a lot of WW2. But Mitchell’s tone is analytical rather than hysterical, which will help all open-minded readers accept much of his thought-provoking thesis and to recognise some of the unintentional biases inculcated by that education. His critiques are clearly aimed at the stale and counter-productive narrative of British exceptionalism, “ossified into historical caricature”, and promulgated by the non-centrist wing of Imperial Nostalgics in the Conservative party — BUT it can equally (and more generously?) be read as a clarion call for a new, more forward-looking, younger and modern centrist politics.
Lexico defines nostalgia as "A sentimental longing or wistful affection for a period in the past”; but also as a more transitive purposeful act, "Something done or presented in order to evoke feelings of nostalgia”. It is this latter aspect that is the main focus of the book: the conscious manipulative use by British politicians of the British voter’s nostalgia for the days of the Empire and the schooldays narrative — constructed since its collapse — of what they (want to) believe characterises the British people.
As in the tale of Odysseus, the sentiment reflects the “tension between the desire to return to a recognisable home and the fact that true return is never really possible.” As anyone who has mourned a lost one will recognise, nostalgia, in “its mourning of the lost object, it both seeks to resurrect those parts of it which were lost and refuses to acknowledge those parts which persist.” It is a grieving that, in Kubler-Ross’s famous model, is stuck somewhere between the stages of denial and bargaining, well short of a final acceptance that allows the sufferer to move on constructively.
Mitchell at his most magnanimous accepts that this “nostalgism is probably, at base, a reaction to modernity grown more palpably unstable and confusing”, evoking “visceral anxiety”. Mitchell worries (as I do) that "its political trajectory is apocalyptic …. [towards a] purgative violence.” Hence the potential reading of the book as justifying the need for the more forward-looking younger centrist voter to stand up and be counted.
That magnanimity is brief. Mitchell’s tone in the book is mostly acerbic, as he forensically lays bare how nostalgia for a white-washed (in more ways than one) British Empire Man, the reconstructed civilising force of this well-meaning if somewhat naive Anglo-Saxon adventurer, has infiltrated domestic British politics of socio-economic class and race (dividing the working class into the redeemable, who uphold ’true’ Britishness, and the “residuum” assimilated to the racialised colonial populations), and sexuality (the media’s “safaris” into Booze Britain and Benefit Street). In these politics, it is employed as a manipulative stand-in for the tired and outdated tenets of what Mitchell believes is an organised "reactionary project” to variously defend whiteness, masculinity, heterosexuality and the nativist’s moral claims of ‘kin’ over ‘cosmopolis’. Mitchell sees that “project” as wanting “to have one’s cake and eat it: autochthony* and belonging for some, and mobility for others; barbed wire for the involuntary stateless, and fast-track passport control for those who have outgrown (or rather, out-earned) the need for states. …. a new iteration of the kinds of mobility that empire allowed its managerial class, a way of moving through the world and reshaping it with masterful sovereignty which imposes no obligation…” However, I am not sure Mitchell recognises how this “project” has its own fragilities as it does not have the support of a unified group: those that most value the mobility aspects often despise the doctrinal nativism and imperial nostalgia of those who seek the autochthony aspect.
[* autochthony: “nativeness by virtue of origin or occurring naturally”]
More forlornly but correctly (in my view), Mitchell concludes that “(A)s the source code of the exceptionalism that continues to cause irreparable damage to the politics and public life of the contemporary UK [which Mitchell explores in different chapters], empire continues to brutalise, to divide, and to diminish whatever we have left of a coherent national community.” As an example, whichever way the reader voted in the Brexit referendum, most will agree that their choice usually represented two quite different perspectives of Britain’s place in the world; and how this issue, which prior to the referendum few voters cared enough about to list as one of their top 3 priorities, was subsequently politicised to the point that it continues to this day to drive a corrosive wedge through the middle of British social dialogue.
Mitchell ends the book with a chink of optimism, accepting that “it is all too easy to read the record of recent history as a grim spectacle of reaction on the march and to ignore the countercurrents of hope, solidaristic organisation and political renewal against which that reaction militates”. But perhaps here his time frame is too short and impatient. These Fourth Turning points (William Strauss & Neil Howe, 1997) take years to bed down (even if brought in by revolution); are not easily visible initially; and in the more attractive versions, first need someone to emerge who will win over the skepticism of the centrist — through honest passion and skill, not autocratic scheming - and create a new unifying narrative that is agreeable not just to one political extreme or the other.
July 30, 2023
As a stiil fairly recent immigrant to Britain (Scotland to be specific) I've been at times bemused and at times horrified at the extent to which nostalgia for the despicable British empire still permeates British (mostly English to be fair) culture. This is a thoughtful and compelling analysis of a key aspect of the British conservative ideology today. This right wing project fuses confected martyrdom of the 'professionally silenced' with an enraged but mournful yearning for an unachievable illusionary past of white, masculine dominance. The chapter that looks at the career of right-wing Oxford professor Nigel Biggar - an emblematic figure in the current wave of British imperial nostalgia - was particularly good and really helped clarify for me what is going on. Great critical scholarship.
July 30, 2021
Entertainingly written - Mitchell has a fantastic turn of phrase - this is a well-researched, considered, calm yet passionate exploration of how Britain (actually largely England) has managed to regress over the last decade or more. Picking apart the culture wars, it focuses on right-wing mythmaking, detailing how today's arguments are yesterday's - and yesterday's were largely deliberately fabricated based on false or manipulated evidence. It's an excellent short primer of the current state of debate, with helpful signposts to further reading at the end.
Will it persuade anyone inclined to the views of those the book's analysing? Unlikely. But then, as this book amply shows with its diverse wealth of evidence and anecdote, facts are unimportant in the culture wars. All that matters is emotion.
Here, the way Mitchell keeps his own emotions in check - while never hiding his opinions - is impressive. These are emotive topics. That's why we're all so worked up about them. And while this may well be a book coming from one side of the argument, it comes armed with citations and evidence galore - and an admirable level of calm consideration. Albeit with a constant undertone of contempt.
Will it persuade anyone inclined to the views of those the book's analysing? Unlikely. But then, as this book amply shows with its diverse wealth of evidence and anecdote, facts are unimportant in the culture wars. All that matters is emotion.
Here, the way Mitchell keeps his own emotions in check - while never hiding his opinions - is impressive. These are emotive topics. That's why we're all so worked up about them. And while this may well be a book coming from one side of the argument, it comes armed with citations and evidence galore - and an admirable level of calm consideration. Albeit with a constant undertone of contempt.
September 29, 2022
The thesis of the book was quite interesting. The importance of British historical storytelling is so crucial in the modern landscape of the country that it seems that the toppling of something as small as a single statue seemed to cry out far against the “enemy”. The points made in order to convey this were a bit hot or miss. Some were well researched but others were just anecdotal unsubstantiated stories
July 16, 2021
Very good book on the current wave of Empire apologism, with particular attention to the press and education; deals with a potentially grim and currently absolutely inescapable subject with great wit, grace, humour and well-aimed anger, especially with a priceless chapter on...Rory Stewart.
May 9, 2023
Some interesting ideas and theories, with some fascinating examples and context, but a little dry at times, and repetitive in places.
Thought provoking but I felt it could have been punchier, and I found myself drifting at times.
Thought provoking but I felt it could have been punchier, and I found myself drifting at times.
December 30, 2022
One of my all time favourite books! Very insightful.
June 8, 2025
A very well detailed and hugely researched book that gives a good insight into the way in which Britain's imperial past is mythologised for political gain and the consequences of this. Definitely very relevant in the current climate
December 3, 2025
I'm immensely conflicted by Mitchell's Imperial Nostalgia.
At times, it offers a compelling exploration of Britain's enduring fixation on a romanticized past. Mitchell traces the effect of this backward-looking impulse on government policy and national identity.
But accessing that insight requires enduring Mitchell's brutal ideological bias. When writing about individuals or movements he agrees with, he gives them the benefit of the doubt, portraying their motives as principled and righteous. Yet, he treats those he disagrees with reductively, assuming the most uncharitable interpretation and often leaping to moral judgments without reasoning. This uneven treatment is compounded by Mitchell's needless reliance on dense language.
This doesn't mean his conclusions are wrong (many are compelling). But the presentation limits their punch. For readers who share Mitchell's political leanings, Imperial Nostalgia will resonate deeply. For those who don't, the book will feel alienating and antagonistic, making it easy to dismiss. Mitchell's style is very much a product of its moment (published in 2021). But reading it four years later makes these flaws incredibly visible.
At times, it offers a compelling exploration of Britain's enduring fixation on a romanticized past. Mitchell traces the effect of this backward-looking impulse on government policy and national identity.
But accessing that insight requires enduring Mitchell's brutal ideological bias. When writing about individuals or movements he agrees with, he gives them the benefit of the doubt, portraying their motives as principled and righteous. Yet, he treats those he disagrees with reductively, assuming the most uncharitable interpretation and often leaping to moral judgments without reasoning. This uneven treatment is compounded by Mitchell's needless reliance on dense language.
This doesn't mean his conclusions are wrong (many are compelling). But the presentation limits their punch. For readers who share Mitchell's political leanings, Imperial Nostalgia will resonate deeply. For those who don't, the book will feel alienating and antagonistic, making it easy to dismiss. Mitchell's style is very much a product of its moment (published in 2021). But reading it four years later makes these flaws incredibly visible.
Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews