The general capacity to feel pain is part of being human, yet it is subject to a number of seeming paradoxes. For one, we alone must endure the pain in our own bodies, yet we readily observe pain in others and expect that they suffer from it as we do. Furthermore, while we fear pain and condemn those who wantonly inflict it, violence in all its forms and meanings fascinates us. It is these, and other, paradoxes that Arne Johan Vetlesen, professor of philosophy at the University of Oslo, discusses in his recent book ‘A Philosophy of Pain’. The diversity of phenomena and contexts through which pain manifests itself inevitably leads to a certain degree of eclecticism. The result, writes reviewer Chuanfei Chin, is less an analysis of pain and a model of its ‘circulation’ in society, but a more or less loosely woven tapestry of observations — one that may not be strong enough to bear the weight of the author’s ambitious project, but one whose patterns nonetheless stimulate the reader.
River of Smoke follows Sea of Poppies, as the second instalment of Amitav Ghosh’s Ibis trilogy. Whereas the first book illustrated the rich details of opium production from its harvest to its packaging in earthenware balls for shipment, this second volume follows the path of the opium to its trade in Canton. The heterogeneous world of the Indian Ocean trading community is again clearly illustrated, with discursions into botany, painting, and the varied food available in each port. The subaltern can indeed speak in these books: characters who are of the “elite” are not the focus, rather those lower on the ladder, more directly affected by all aspects of the drug trade. As in Sea of Poppies, much of the dialogue is in various dialects — in this book, the pidgin of the Canton trading port — thus weaving a rich tapestry of the cosmopolitan diversity of colonial ports at the time. After production and trade, asks reviewer Katrina Gulliver, will the final book in the trilogy focus on opium’s end users?
Love and Evil are the driving forces of most, if not all, plots of dramatic and fictional literature. Yet, in discussions of aesthetics, evil has often been given short shrift. In his ‘Ästhetik des Bösen’ (Beck, Munich 2010), Peter-André Alt embarks on an in-depth study of the aesthetics of evil. From the Biblical myths of Lucifer’s and Adam’s Fall, through the 19th-century’s fascination with the social construct of the ‘criminal mind’, to the genocidal horrors of the 20th century, Alt ploughs his way through (mainly literary) material of intimidating scope and completeness. Yet, writes reviewer Hans-Dieter Gelfert, Alt’s attempt to rectify the omission of evil in discussions of European literary history is hindered by a strangely parochial blindness to outside (esp. British) influences on Continental Europe’s fascination with the topic.
Nilüfer Göle’s book “Interpénétrations: L’Islam et l’Europe”, recently translated as “Islam in Europe: The Lure of Fundamentalism and the Allure of Cosmopolitanism”, makes a strong case that Islam must be acknowledged as having become part of the fabric of European modernity. As reviewer Mohammed Khallouk points out, the experience and lifestyle of a generation of young Muslim women in Europe occupies a central place in Göle’s argument. While the values they adopt in their personal lives may differ from those of their (non-Muslim) peers, their non-confrontational fusion of Western modernity and Muslim spirituality showcases what a self-confident multireligious Europe might look like.
Comments policy: ‘No comments.’ (Don’t take it personally.) Details here.
When do images and words become so powerful that they warrant punishment, or should be considered morally reprehensible? In this essay, Bruce Fleming, Professor of English at the U.S. Naval Academy Annapolis, reflects on the policing of speech and the increasing polarization of public debate in the United States. In an unlikely pairing, he contrasts Sarah Palin’s ‘America by Heart: Reflections on Family, Faith, and Flag’ with John Searle’s ‘Making the Social World’. What could a political memoir and mission statement of a presidential wannabe have to do with a scholarly work by a Berkeley philosophy professor? Read more to find out.
Follows us on Twitter: http://twitter.com/TheBerlinReview
In his book ‘Mumbai Fables’ (Princeton 2010), Gyan Prakash unfolds the rich tapestry of the city’s cultural history. From the grand colonial architecture to more recent land reclamation projects, he traces the spatial dimensions of the city and their cultural meanings. Like all great cities, Mumbai has more than one fable in its story. But for all of Mumbai’s historical glamour, the situation of shanty-town dwellers is not overlooked — even though reviewer Katrina Gulliver has some doubts about whether the plotline of a comic book (to which Prakash devotes considerable space) is the right literary device.
With the ambitious title of his most recent book, “Nietzsche, Psychology and First Philosophy”, Robert B. Pippin is setting himself a formidable task: to evaluate, and contribute to, one of the core debates that have surrounded Nietzsche’s oeuvre from the very beginning. Yet, writes reviewer Kristof Fenyvesi, while Pippin’s status as a major Nietzsche scholar is undoubted, there simply aren’t enough new ideas in this slim volume to fulfill the promise of its title. If there were only a handful of analyses on Nietzsche and psychology, and if Pippin had not previously published nearly every important thought contained in this book, then this little volume would certainly have the charm of novelty. However, as things stand it is simply too short for a monographic survey of Nietzsche’s relation to psychology, and too long to serve as a useful introduction or commentary.
A major portion of the poetry of Günter Eich (1907-1972) has, at last, been made accessible to an English-speaking readership in a new translation by Michael Hofmann. The judicious selection of poems gathered in the volume (‘Angina Days’, Princeton 2010) allows the reader to follow Eich’s development as a poet in detail. It is a journey which accompanies and reflects upon the personal, political and social issues of his time, the Cold War, rearmament, the German “Economic Miracle”, the Vietnam War, the suffering of the poor and oppressed. In his detailed review for The Berlin Review of Books, reviewer Axel Vieregg, himself a notable Eich scholar, offers annotations and footnotes, in an attempt to clarify some of Eich’s concerns that might otherwise be overlooked.