Category: Book Reviews

Leviathan

Leviathan, or The Matter, Forme and Power of a Commonwealth Ecclesiasticall and Civil by Thomas Hobbes, 2/5

It took a couple years of Hobbes’ name consistently cropping up in books and conversation for me to get around to reading his sizeable, though by no means monstrous, Leviathan.  Tommy is quoted often and respectfully, so I approached the book with a bias towards him, expecting to have my mind expanded, possibly to the point of explosion (Spinoza-style).  The first chapter, which was all of two pages, took me a couple days to comprehend in any way, which seemed like an auspicious start, but sadly, once I became acclimated to the 17th century vocabulary and sentence structure, with its superabundance of semicolons, it didn’t take long for me to realize that Hobbes and I were not going to play well together.  In fact, we clashed on an almost molecular level (if souls were made of molecules).

Where I had expected to encounter the radical and incisive mind of a bold hero of philosophy, I found instead a shattered old man, traumatized by civil war and clinging to futile modes of thinking.  I realize that my limited life experience of uninterrupted privilege and safety does not put me in a position to make compelling criticisms, but it seems reasonable to think that maybe a man whose sole ambition in life is to avoid being slaughtered by his neighbors is not the best man to be speaking for his fellows and creating vast schemes of government and civilization.  While Hobbes makes an admirably dogmatic case for the merits of abject slavery to absolute power, surely the evidence of history and testimony of every human being who has preferred death to subjugation, winning freedom at great personal risk, powerfully attests to the prevalence of an opposing set of values and beliefs.  Hobbes may have worked out the perfect form of government and religion for people with the souls of slaves, but he leaves no room for people who desire more than physical safety.

NB.  Reading Leviathan mostly consisted of manly slogging along, stifling groans of disagreement, so I feel only a little petty for pointing out the hilarity of the final chapters, where Hobbes starts to unravel, giving up even the pretence of logicality.  It is a guilty pleasure to witness the man who denounces the usage of metaphor as one of four “abuses of speech” on page 21 then comparing the papacy to the “kingdom of fairies” and the Pope to “King Oberon” on page 543.  Oh anti-Catholicism, you have never been so charming.

Ex Libris

Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader by Anne Fadiman, 5/5

This is a charming collection of book-themed essays, written with delightful wit and insight.  The essay on proofreading, which opened with Fadiman’s family gleefully pointing out typos in a fancy restaurant’s menu, was my favourite.  Overall, the collection provided a welcome check to my exuberant ego since, smothered in the society of undiscerning devourers of cheap romances and bad fantasy, I tend to forget that there exist many readers who are better than I am (by which I mean, who read and retain more than I could ever hope to).

Dodger

Dodger by Terry Pratchett, 2/5

This book was an unpleasant surprise from one of my favourite authors.  Firstly (and, to be fair, Sir Terry Pratchett can hardly be blamed for this), I was wrongly anticipating a Discworld story.  Discovering the long-awaited novel to be an isolated work of historical fantasy was depressing on two fronts, given that I have historically (and sometimes, hysterically) disliked the historical fiction genre.  It is a rare author who can weave figures from the past into an original story naturally, without having them come across as prefabricated, connotation-burdened crutches.

In most respects, Dodger is the opposite of what I have come to expect from reading dozens of Pratchett novels.  Usually, Pratchett’s stories have multiple, complicated plot lines but this effort has only one very thin, predictable one.  Usually, the characters are surprising and unique but Dodger’s are relentlessly cliched (including racial stereotyping).  Usually, Pratchett is hilarious and satirical but this book is not very witty and provides only a minimum of social commentary on Victorian London.  I also noticed that Pratchett employs an uncharacteristically limited vocabulary, constantly re-using the same words, phrases and ideas.  It is this last point that makes it seem that Dodger’s intended audience is slightly thick young adults, but it contains so many innuendos and mature themes that I couldn’t recommend it to my teenage sister.

Sadly, I wouldn’t recommend this book to anyone, not even a Pratchett fan.  In fact, especially not a Pratchett fan, since it is so very disappointing in the context of his other, much better, books.

The Privacy of the Self

The Privacy of the Self: Papers on Psychoanalytic Theory and Technique by M. Masud R. Khan, 3/5

The amount of material in these papers that I didn’t understand could fill a book…and it did.  Since I only had The Privacy of the Self for a one-week interlibrary loan, I didn’t have the luxury of pondering and re-reading any of it (though it is somewhat debatable to what degree more time would actually have helped my comprehension). At any rate, I could only gain the most cursory understanding of the main points, leaving behind many difficult sentences such as the following classic: “The dissociation of such a primitive ego-ideal system, with its primitive id cathexes and archaic object-relationships, precludes ‘the process of integration and generalization’ (ibid., 1962), that is essential for the formation of a healthy ego-ideal” (197).

Despite the difficulty of much of the material, there were bits I was able to understand at some level and the case studies were interesting.  Perhaps the best thing I got out of the book (besides the meaning of the fantastic word “aetiology”) was a better understanding of Freud’s value in a historical sense.  I have always been deeply repulsed by Freud’s theories and reading his The Ego and the Id made me think of him even more as a human-shaped pile of bullshit.  This opinion contrasted with Khan’s evident respect and admiration for the man.  It was interesting to learn that Freud invented the very framework of the analytic setting and to understand that his attempts at self-analysis (whether successful or not) were both intellectual and admirable.

My main complaint about this book is that Khan quotes excessively from previously published sources and seems to have little to contribute that is original.  The Privacy of the Self comes across as a sort of vain, self-published affair, that does not fit in the categories of scholarly writing or academic research.  Perhaps this is an inevitable reflection of the controversial scientific standing of the whole theory of psychoanalysis.

The Empty Core

The Empty Core: An Object Relations Approach to Psychotherapy of the Schizoid Personality by Jeffrey Seinfeld, Ph.D., 4/5

At first, the opacity of many sections of this book tempted me to take back my criticisms of the much simpler Split Self/ Split Object.  The first chapter of this work, a short overview of object relations theory, could be the basis for an entire college course.  Fortunately, the case examples made the technical material bearable and I find myself understanding much more as I look back over the content.  Since this book is both difficult to understand and difficult to obtain (I had to get it through a two-week inter-library loan), I am writing a longer, more detailed review in order to help myself process and remember certain aspects of the book.

The title references a concept that I did not find easy to grasp at first, but later resonated with completely – the “empty core.”  Seinfeld describes the schizoid experience of the empty core as “the uncrossable divide between the external and internal object worlds” (10).  Since “instinctual drives are not complete in themselves but create, in the individual, a need for something external; they embody a sense of incompletion and lack” (8).  One strategy schizoids use to cope with this feeling is “the effort to eliminate all need by maintaining himself as aloof, self-sufficient, isolated.  Emptiness becomes an ideal.  The individual strives toward extinguishing all need” (14).  This sounds like someone I know and love…

Another concept in this book that I found fascinating and insightful is the idea that, as infants, we only experience ourselves through other people – seeing our reflection in them, which explains the human need for privacy:

“In existential phenomenological terms, the infant discovers its true self, which includes biological temperament, cognitive capacity, appearance, through the response of the other.  The infant therefore discovers itself in the mode-of-being for others (Sartre 1943).  The conception of being-for-others is analogous to the Kleinian idea of the infant becoming incorporated by the other and gives rise to comparable anxieties.  In being for the other, the infant becomes aware of a lack of being-for-itself.  It sees itself in its otherness, as object to the other’s subjectivity and endeavors to wrest back its subjectivity by the desire to flee from the sight of the other.  To become invisible, to be unseen, is to annihilate one’s reflection in the eye of the other.  This is the origin of the need for solitude and privacy, to make oneself into something more than what others perceive one to be” (37).

Reading this book did not consist entirely of “aha” moments of insight and clarity.  For every compelling idea offered, there were paragraphs positively reeking of B.S., especially much of the content related to infant psychology and the mother/father as objects.  I am aware that Seinfeld’s main purpose was to outline, not defend object relations theory, but many of the quotes and ideas he used came across outlandish, unscientific and unsupported.  I was unsurprised to find Freud’s name and that of his followers connected to many of these theories.

Overall, though there was much that I disagreed with or didn’t understand in this book, it did reward my mental effort with some thought-provoking ideas and insights.

Split Self/ Split Object

Split Self/ Split Object: Understanding and Treating Borderline, Narcissistic, and Schizoid Disorders by Philip Manfield, Ph.D., 3/5

Knowing nothing about clinical psychology at the outset, I was surprised by how accessible this book, geared towards an audience of professional therapists, turned out to be.  The language was not technical and the concepts seemed simplistic.  Because of this, I have split feelings (haha) about it;  on one hand, it was enjoyable to gain an understanding of general psychology concepts, but on the other hand, I was shocked that any practicing clinician would need a book this basic.

No matter what Manfield’s approach might suggest about the competency levels of some therapists, I read this in an attempt to gain the tools to understand myself a little better and it was a successful experience.  Until now, my understanding of psychotherapy consisted of something vague about people who think they’re smart, generally wear glasses on the tips of their noses, scribble meaningfully on notepads while muttering tut tut and claim couches as business expenses.  Now, I understand better that a therapist’s job is more to direct their client’s self-analysis than to intervene.  My conclusion?  Making people think is cool.  Making yourself think is cooler.  Challenge accepted.

Unbroken

Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption by Laura Hillenbrand, 5/5

Several people recommended this book to me, so naturally, I expected it to suck (following the observable and direct correlation between popularity and shitness… *ahem* 50 Shades of Grey, Twilight *ahem*).  Given this [realistic, not pessimistic] expectation, I was first surprised to find myself not hating the beginning chapter, then shocked to find the rest of the book to be an extremely enjoyable page-turner.  Not only does the story have enough drama and action for four movies, but it is based on a true account and is written sensibly.  Hillenbrand doesn’t waste the reader’s time or make loads of obnoxious speculations about characters’ subjective feelings.  The book is well-formatted, with pictures placed strategically throughout instead of in annoying inserts.  The last time I was this surprised to love a book was War and Peace.

Lose It!

Lose It! by Charles Teague and Anahad O’Connor, 1/5

I love the Lose It! website (it’s helped me lose 30+ pounds) but this book has little to recommend itself.  The info it provides is shallow and repetitive.  The whole eat-a-normal-hamburger-every-day-instead-of-a-supersized-cheesy-one-and-you’ll-save-enough-calories-in-a-year-to-lose-5-pounds method of weight loss is not very convincing or motivating to me.  The only reason to buy this book would be to support the free app and website.  Everything you need to know can be found on the website, in the forums.

Ghostwritten

Ghostwritten by David Mitchell, 3/5

Sadly, this book is not written by British comedian David Mitchell, but by a less funny and much less sarcastic man of the same name.  Nevertheless, I persevered in my reading because these very personal stories, narrated from the viewpoint of nine different individuals, are well-written, with a voyeuristic appeal.  I admire how Mitchell gently weaves the accounts together, letting the reader discover the characters and events in common between them, instead of belaboring the connections.  The main reason I didn’t give this book a higher rating is that I am unable to understand what the point of the whole thing is (and it’s not just that I’m too thick to “get” it – other reviewers seem equally unenlightened and even the book jacket was very vague in its description).  The novel has the effect of a garment, beautifully embroidered and carefully sewn together, that cannot be worn because its random openings and panels don’t fit the human body.

The Third Eye

The Third Eye: The Renowned Story of One Man’s Spiritual Journey on the Road to Self-Awareness by T. Lobsang Rampa, 1/5

I quit.  The author’s forward to the second edition, with its fishy protestations of innocence and honesty made me suspicious initially.  26 pages containing bizarre descriptions of Tibetan culture later, I finally Wikipedia-d the book and learned that T. Lobsang Rampa is actually Cryil Henry Hoskin, a very British, very crazy man who must have suffered an immensely boring life before becoming the host of a Tibetan monk’s spirit.  I could think up more scathing things to say, but really, a man who has had a book dictated to him by his Siamese cat (Living with the Lama) obviously needs no further comment.