I almost feel the need to not give this book a rating at all, because a singular rating system isn't really applicable to this type of book. Though at almost no point while reading this book would I say that I "liked" it, I did find it challenging and thought-provoking, and would ultimately consider it a worthwhile read. Important books are not always likable. It's important to note, however, what makes this book important: it's not that Jensen characterizes a novel problem, or even that he forwards a novel (or even viable) solution, but rather that he frames the problem (of human civilization) as one that we must have a stance on. Despite any qualm you might have with Jensen's ideas or rhetorical style, it's hard to read this book without feeling how gravely precarious our civilization's (especially Western civilization) balance is. Jensen lodges something in your craw that you will not easily be loosed. And this, if nothing else, is extremely important. On a variety of issues, it is important that we have an opinion on this book.
Before launching into my critique of Endgame, it's worth mentioning that, fundamentally, I agree with almost all of the book's premises. There are too many of us, using too much stuff, at too fast a rate, and (as a larger culture) we're not going to change. This is, of course, a slight simplification, but is one that Jensen himself could probably get behind. The typical reader of this book will likely already agree to the first three statements, but may have to be dragged forcibly through the fourth--on the whole, our culture will not make the required changes to avoid any of the impending collapses (environmental, economic, etc).
In my 10+ years as a vegan, it's become much easier to eat vegan--suggesting to me that the number of vegans is growing and that the social structures required to support a vegan diet are strengthening. As a result, I often allow myself to feel a certain degree of optimism about the future, and to pat myself on the back for my choices. Yet when presented with the data (just the info on peak oil alone should alarm us), it seems that this incremental positive change will not rise up swiftly enough to meet the impending energy catastrophe. If Jensen convinces you of this, then this book, on some level, has been a success (though you might get a more cogent analysis, perhaps, from someone like Mike Ruppert [check out the documentary Collapse for a brief primer on Ruppert's recent efforts]).
My reaction to this book was visceral in both directions, however; while I was moved to fury and dismay at times (as, I think, Jensen intends), I also found myself frustrated, bored, and annoyed in turns. To summarize the problems, I'd suggest that the book is too emotional--not sufficiently well thought-out--for my tastes. In conversation with some intelligent, well-respected friends, I've gleaned that this can alternately be considered one of the book's chief assets. I typically like to bring my own emotions to bear on a problem, and like writing that leaves me room to establish my own reactions.
To be more specific:
The Noble Savage Myth: Jensen subscribes uncritically to the so-called "Noble Savage Myth." He believes that the ideal stage in human social/cultural evolution was the Stone Age. Humans, he suggests, were happiest, best, and least problematic in their pre-agriculture hunter-gatherer stage. He claims (explicitly) that warfare among peoples with Stone Age-level technology is a form of "play". I can't remember the last time a game of cards resulted in my getting scalped. It's all too typical for those of us who are feeling culture-sick to turn to what seems to be a simpler way of life. What disgruntled college student hasn't dreamed of a life in the woods, building their own cabin by hand? The reality is that Stone Age life was probably quite difficult. If it was such a happy, peaceful life, it seems unlikely that humans would have settled down. Even the reasons for settling down are contested: Did population expand at a rate that required the intensiveness of agriculture? Did humans' spiritual needs compel them to build temples and altars, around which settlements arose? Did climate change (the ebb and flow of ice ages) force humans to radically change their lifestyle? While it's certainly not reasonable to expect Jensen to answer any of these questions, his disregard--if not total lack of awareness--suggests that his desire for the happy Native life is woefully unsophisticated. If he dismisses progressing forward as a childish fantasy, then his simple-minded desire for noble savagery is positively jejune.
Rape: While any reader should be moved and horrified by the fact that Jensen was beaten and raped by his father, it should not compel us to uncritically accept his analogy of civilization as abuser and citizen as abused. It should, in fact, make us even more critical of his analogy. You can easily read the unwritten syllogism: It is insane for a father to rape his own children. This only happens in civilization. Civilization, therefore, is insane. In a way, it's pretty hard to argue with this conclusion. On many levels, civilization is insane. And a culture that produces, or somehow fails to stop, an incestuous child rapist, does have some problem with it. This does not, however, validate the inadequate--and over-used--analogy of abuser/abused. In many ways, civilization can be better understood as a system of trade-offs, with the wealthy trading on both the poor and the future. Sure, you can say that the wealthy are committing a rape of sorts, decreasing others' prosperity and/or happiness in exchange for their own, but this comparison quickly collapses into a critique of egocentrism, hedonism, or solipsism. Add to this critique some hundred pages of Jensen's own personal tale of being raped. Again, while moving, it's hard to find the discussion consistently pertinent--it turns the book into a confessional self-help book, rather than the scathing critique and call-to-arms it's meant to be. Worse, it trivializes the book's message. It often seems that Jensen, like many victims, is attempting to find meaning in his personal tragedy through his activism. His horrible past will somehow be okay if he can just affect some radical change. If I were him, I'd want to bring down the system too. But I'm not him. To all outward appearances, the system is working just fine for me. And yet I find it greatly troubling. I'm with Jensen, but somehow we're coming from two very different places.
Rhetorical Style: I think Jensen intends to come off as a sort of affable scoundrel, a Socrates-like fly-in-the-ointment character. Instead, he comes off more like a well-intentioned Rush Limbaugh, puffed up and self righteous. His constant (mis)use of “[sic]” after every statement he disagrees with creates a feeling of editorial hiccups. Instead of conducting cogent, precise arguments, we insults readers who disagree, and browbeats his strawman friends in various recountings of personal debates. Because the style is conversational, you feel—quite viscerally sometimes—like you want to participate. But it's a book, so you can't. Instead, you are forced to read on as other ask questions and defend points less articulately than you might, and watch Jensen summarilty reduce these arguments. That I wanted so badly to participate, however, may speak to some level of efficacy on Jensen's part. That I often found myself wanting to argue with him—even on points on which I agree with him—perhaps sums up my general emotional reaction.
New Age-y Pantheism/Anti-Scientism: Man, Jensen really loves trout. And trees. And rivers. In his quasi pantheistic worldview, these things are all (seemingly) afforded the same level of consideration. Don't get me wrong; I like nature. I like fish. And I certainly worry about them. And fundamentally, I actually agree with his notion of our responsibility toward the survival of things we're living in communion/ in a community with. But at times we seems to want to blow up dams because rivers want to be free. I don't think rivers have volition in the same way as sentient beings do. Nor do trees. Jensen is very down on “science”, simply because some scientists are doing unconscionable research (the sections on this could drive anybody into a murderous rage). That doesn't mean that the methods by which we learn new things about the world are inherently wrong. Even his beloved Natives used the scientfic method all the time. Is he really proposing a world without cause and effect? I'm sure if asked, he isn't, but this seems to me the logical conclusion of his anti-science stance. Technology, the application of “science” has brought some pretty horrifying things in the last several millenia, but the spears and stone axes of the Stone Age were no less technology. Where then is the logical cut off? The pre-Stone Age? Even monkies and apes use technologies of various sorts. I suppose what gets me the most are the instance when Jensen sits under a tree and purports to receive wisdom/answers from the tree. I think walk in nature, free from the constant buzz of information inherent to society, is definitely a great way to clear your head and to think undistractedly and deeply. But I don't think trees have spirits and talk to us.
Ultimately, I do think Jensen's most fundamental point is correct—we're headed for a collapse of some sort, and we need to do our best to (a) mitigate the effects of the collapse, and (b) have systems in place to ensure that we continue to thrive after the collapse. Jensen is convinced that the sooner the collapse occurs, the less extreme it will be, and thus that helping to usher it in will minimize its effects. Since we have no systems in place yet, however, we'd still find ourselves in a bad way. It's perhaps because he can't imagine those system that would allow us to thrive—truly not enough of us have the skills required to live in the primitive way Jensen envisions. A move directly to primitivism would be violent in every way imaginable, and is not an outcome I'd hurry to usher in. Even if (b) forestalls (a), I think it would ultimately have greater mitigating effect. And if I'm delusional, as Jensen suggests, than I can't see any reason for the continuation of our species. Monkies and apes have already got the primitive thing down, so what would we have to offer in a primitive world? Probably more abjection and misery than Jensen would account for. Not that I think my rain barrels are the solution to our energy dependence, resource over-consumption, and virus-like population growth, but I hardly think hanging out in the woods in a loin cloth with a stone axe is either.