Theodore Roszak (1)Recensioni

Published in 1972, has some interesting texts from that era. Divided into sections: Person, Body, Community, Whole Earth, and Transcendence,

10 stars

I am one for a good, hard-thinking book...but this one was well above my head. There were moments where I felt like I was with it and totally saw the connections between Frankenstein and gendered biases in science...then, pages later, nope.

> « La répression de l’inconscient écologique est la racine la plus profonde
de la folie collective dans la société industrielle ; en retrouver l’accès
est la voie à la santé mentale. »
—Theodore Roszak, The voice of the Earth, New York,
Simon de Schuster, 1992, p.320.

A most fascinating book, which shows (subtly) how a bunch of opportunistic capitalist crooks - by the names of Steve and William - turned the wonderful 'machines of love and grace' devised by geniuses like Douglas Engelbart and Alan Kay, and promoted by supreme idealists like Fred Moore, into just yet another oppressive counterproductive tool to make the rich richer.

12/5/22

https://fromtheheartofeurope.eu/flicker-by-theodore-roszak/

I’d previously read the author’s Tiptree-winning Memoirs of Elizabeth Frankenstein, so I was prepared for some fairly dense prose. I wasn’t expecting to be left until quite a late stage before being able to decide if this was really an sfnal book or not; in the end, I decided that it is – the plot is about an obscure religious cult with cinematic ambitions, and the author’s gradual entanglement therewith. The blurb suggests that it’s a cross between Sunset Boulevard and The Name of the Rose, and I think that is probably fair, though I have not seen Sunset Boulevard.

I’m not a film buff, and my Oscar-winners project has been in part a journey to try and get into the minds of those who are. There are lots of other areas of human endeavour that leave me cold – I cannot get excited about makes of car, for instance, and sports events outside the major championships don’t do all that much for me. Roszak did in fact manage to convey to me what it is to care about films. The book dates from 1991, still a time when films physically existed entirely on celluloid; it’s weird to reflect how thoroughly the practice of digital storage has affected our experience of the cinema.

Anyway, it’s a bit rambling, but I liked the sense of geography (mostly California but with a bit of Europe and elsewhere) and the cult itself was an interesting concept.½

The Tale of Two Different Books

I was first given a copy of this book in the summer of 1993 by one of my good friends that had an interest in film-making as I did. I probably read about 150 pages of it before I went off to college at the University of North Texas in Denton to study in their Radio-Television-Film department.

Unfortunately, being off at college I never got around to finishing the book. So, 27 years later, I found another copy of it and decided to re-read and finish it like my friend (who passed away a few years ago from Lupus) had hoped.

I loved the first 2/3 of it. It was quickly becoming one of my favorite books of all-time. The mystery of Max Castle and his unique film-making abilities, really intrigued me. Then, I felt with the last 1/3, it became a completely different book. The introduction of the Cathars and Simon Dunkle felt like a left-turn that wasn't anywhere as interesting as the first 2/3 of the book. Max Castle became an afterthought, until the final few chapters.

Finally, I really didn't care for the ending, it had no real conclusion in my eyes.½

First published in 1986, and updated in 1993, Roszak's book is now dated in a number of respects – a danger likely to befall any account of contemporary technology. And so, even with the updated edition, this makes some of it quaint and occasionally short-sighted. At the time of writing, there were no social media platforms, no smartphones, and the Internet had merely begun to hint at the way that it would connect people and change the way we live.

It's a good thing then that the core value of the book – and what gives it enduring appeal and relevance – lies in its philosophical underpinning. The "cult of information" that Roszak identifies is one that still informs our present day attitudes to technology, and in fact seeing how deep the historical roots of it go can give us a new appreciation of the scale of the problem.

Roszak's central thesis is that technological enthusiasts have – wittingly or otherwise – confused information with knowledge. But information – bare listing of facts, collection of data – is not knowledge any more than the ingredients that make up a meal constitute sustenance. They must be combined, processed, internalised, broken down, digested – well, I'm sure you understand the process of eating! Until we perform a similar process on information, it can never become knowledge, can never become a useful and nourishing part of us. A key distinction that Roszak makes is therefore between information (data) and ideas. Ideas are what make sense of information, tell us which bits are relevant, how they relate to one another, and so on. So the idea that, by merely introducing it into our lives, a computer or a piece of software can furnish us with knowledge is ridiculous – and yet, as Roszak argues, this is exactly what purveyors of information technology would have us believe.

Much of the book tracks the spread of this cult through society - education, business, media, politics, the military, public services. The majority of this material is either still depressingly relevant, or with a twist may be updated for our current situation. For instance, in 1993 the British electrical grid was stil reliant upon an antiquated computer that utilised a programming language that only a single person understood (and whose illness or unexpected demise would... it doesn't bear thinking about). In 1993! And yet there still exist now modern systems that rely on obsolete technology and software (witness the 2017 Wannacry computer virus attack on the NHS that revealed how many of its computers were still running Windows XP...).

Another focus is upon the way in which the spread of computers has seen both the overestimation of the trajectory of computer evolution (which will soon outpace us), and a corresponding undervaling of human thinking (humans are merely machines – and not very good ones). But as Roszak points out, both these claims are in specific ways false. Despite the claims of techno-cultists and AI enthusiasts (which have been predicting superintelligent computers as just around the corner for almost as long as computers have existed), no machine as yet even approaches the level of general intelligence that even an infant possesses. So while there are specialist systems that can beat chess grandmasters, there yet exists no computer with enough "common sense" to get out of the rain (or perform any number of other equivalently simple tasks that we wouldn't think twice about). People are not data processors – we are more than that – and we shouldn't let the prodigous but narrow skills of AI make us forget that.

Datedness aside, there are a couple of places where Roszak overstates his case, or underestimates the potential for computing evolution, but on the whole his points remain insightful and sound. One minor point I would take issue with him on is his estimation of English philosopher Francis Bacon, whom Roszak sees as holding the view that problems can be solved simply by collecting enough data. I think this is not only unfair on Bacon, but false. Bacon did indeed advocate the widspread collection and comparision of experimental data and empirical observation, but it was with a view to improving our powers of induction – that facility of the mind (which Roszak praises) to identify patterns and draw general conclusions. Induction is what makes sense of data, but Bacon concluded that it needed training, for we were too prone to draw conclusions prematurely (a similar point to that made by Daniel Kahneman's "Thinking, Fast and Slow" – which is also on my reading list). This aside, I mostly agree with Roszak's views, and I think his diagnosis of utilitarianism as the quantity-obsessed belief system underpinning the cult of information is spot on.

The book is subtitled "A Neo-Luddite Treatise", and makes the link between the orignal 18th century industrial vandals and the modern counter trend of technological scepticism. Ludditism has received a bad press – mostly from the descendants of the means-of-production-owning forces that won out in that industrial skirmish – as being anti-technology or anti-progress. But in fact Ludditism was concerned with the struggle to preserve human dignity and values in the face of dehumanising technological forces masquerading as "progress". In this sense, it was anti-exploitation and anti-inequality – principles that a Tweeting, emailing, Instagramming Neo-Luddite can get behind without hypocrisy. (Well, OK, not Facebook. Nor Google, maybe. Nor Apple...)

Gareth Southwell is a philosopher, writer and illustrator.

I suspect Roszak's argument will translate as a diatribe to many, if not an outright rant. He recounts the many ways science has permeated urban-industrial cultures, and prevailed as a substitute for all thinking. It will be easy to take offence and assume he is against science altogether. In fact his argument is that science has become Blake's single vision; the problem is not that science is not valid, but that it isn't valid as the only or even dominant mode of thought. Roszak is so intent upon emphasizing his point it's likely a typical reader will mistake his emphasis for the point itself.

Roszak extends his argument from a prior book, The Making of a Counter Culture, postulating that transcendant vision in urban-industrial society (when present at all) has been alienated from its root intent, with political consequences. Both Christianity and Psychology began in consonance with the Old Gnosis, but ended sharply divorced from it, instead embracing what Blake termed single vision. The Romantic Movement re-connected with transcendant vision, which Roszak also refers to as Rhapsodic Intellect, but that perspective remains compartmentalised and minimised within mainstream culture.

Single vision is a diminished consciousness because its urban-industrial context alienates us from a broader environment, and because its attendant psychic worldview is flattened, finding reality only in appearances. A robust consciousness would find reality behind appearances, but the Freudian reality principle characterising modern culture denies that. "When, therefore, our powers of proprioception dim, it is more than a personal misfortune. It is also the foreclosure of our [collective] ability to know nature from the inside out." [90]

Rhapsodic Intellect's veridical experience persuades of its truth, and engages multiple dimensions of human experience. Ironically, Roszak suggests that it was precisely such a layered and engaging view which persuaded people to embrace science, and subsequently evolved into that urban-industrial culture which rejects its own origins. [173] That is, veridical experience is authentic and a better basis for culture, yet is no fixed or ultimate endpoint, for -- perhaps like our taste for sugar -- it can lead us in unhealthy directions. This weakness he explains as an "innate psychology" among humans, the need for an ethical purpose, and which science appealed to early in its evolution. People lost sight of the central fact that science can provide no purpose, instead is only ever a tool or means, and the allure of that means lies at the root of our cultural failing. The solution must be to establish a sound foundation for human endeavour, and link science (and our other myriad means of knowing) to that root.

Roszak ends with a discussion of the cultural concept of returning to heaven, or apocatastasis: reversing the path we've taken, revitalising society through rhapsodic intellect. He states explicitly such a cultural turn-around would be exceedingly difficult, but doesn't spend much time on attempting to persuade whether it's likely or exhorting the reader to make the attempt. I find it eye-opening to learn there is even a cultural tradition of such an existential turn, that the scenarios have been considered sufficiently seriously to be passed on as a concept (apocatastasis, or Buddha's Paravritti).

//

Goethe: Newtonian objectivity effectively manipulated natural phenomena, demonstrating how Nature can be made to behave, as opposed to disclosing how it works. It's not that science is false, so much as that one meaning (ecology, morphology) is exchanged for another (possibility, and a preference for control leading to artificial environments). Science becomes a means of torturing reality in order to provide answers, yielding answers which perhaps are true but also are manipulated and distorted.

Roszak argues the root of meaning (for transcendant symbols, but perhaps implicitly for all language) is the lived experience, and that such human experience is both subjective (varies with individual context) and universal (though it varies, we all have it). Symbols then are palimpsests or layered receptacles, containing layers of often contradictory information, unified in that all are meanings. Dream as the exemplar today, with puns and homonyms and associations hinting at the layers; in pre-modern culture, symbols did similar work as dreams.

Palimpsest model of meaning suggests Chapman's understanding of requirements for a politics rests upon a consistency that isn't so strict in transcendant meaning. Perhaps it could be adapted: each layer will only cohere with other meanings (or other symbols) in limited ways, but that then presents a view of the sorts of "filters" or subsets that work together in a politics, and not a position claiming a person might not live multiple, even contradictory politics, hopping from one layer or subset of layers to another, as specific interests become more of a priority or relevant to a new context.

Takes 10 minutes to read...basically a quixotic dismissal of the synthesis of 'Reversionary' tropes found in mid '60s counterculture with the 'Technophile', as personified by Buckminster Fuller, in the same era. Some memorable lines about 'entire generations swallowing computers like dope.' Reads like an elegy. Pass.

Ecopsychology provides a powerful new dimension to the environmental movement, suggesting that by living in greater harmony with the natural world we should not only help to save our planet from ultimate destruction but also improve our mental health and be happier and more fulfilled human beings. – Jane Goodall

„Eines Nachts vor dem Einschlafen hörte ich, wie Claire neben mir über ihrer letzten Zigarette sinnierte: „Seit das Kino zu einer ernsten Sache für mich geworden ist – seit dem Abend, an dem ich mit meiner Mutter Les Enfants du Paradis gesehen habe -, weiß ich, da ist was, ganz tief drin. Etwas, was mehr ist als der Glamour und der Zauber. Eine Kraft. Wenn dich etwas so berühren, dich so packen kann … Ich bin immer wieder hingegangen, siebenmal habe ich mir den Film angesehen. Ich war noch jung, aber ich wusste, dass die zivilisierte Welt in Schutt und Asche lag. Und da war dieses Werk, so rein, so zart, so unvergleichlich schön. Wie eine Blume auf einem Schlachtfeld. Für mich war es eine Art intellektueller Ekstase. Doch schon damals habe ich gespürt, dass man diese Macht auch missbrauchen kann…“ Langes Schweigen, dann: „Stell dir vor, Jonny, du bist dabei, wie das Feuer erfunden wird. Stell dir vor, irgendein Genie bringt dir die erste lodernde Fackel! Was für ein Geschenk! Und dann, stell dir vor, du siehst – im selben Augenblick – die zerstörten Städte, die verkohlten Leichen, die brennenden Schlachtfelder. Was würdest du tun, Jonny, was würdet du tun? Du würdest das Feuer löschen. Und den Erfinder töten.“



Das Kino. Auf die Leinwand gebannte Träume oder Alpträume. Visionen, die sich vor unseren Augen entfalten während wir im Dunkeln sitzend auf die hell erleuchtete Leinwand starren.

Für den jungen Martin Scorsese war der Besuch eines Kinos wie der Gang in die Kirche. Eine geradezu spirituelle Erfahrung.

Für die meisten Menschen bedeutet ein Film jedoch nicht viel mehr als ein paar Stunden (anspruchsloser) Unterhaltung.

Was genau sich dabei in unserem Gehirn abspielt während wir uns einen Film ansehen, damit beschäftigen wir uns kaum. Wie genau nimmt unser Denkorgan die gezeigten Bilder auf? Und worauf basiert eigentlich die Kunstform des Lichtspiels?

Vermutlich erinnern sich einige an die Szene aus Fight Club, wo Brad Pitt erklärt wie er Bilder aus Pornofilmen in Schneewittchen und ähnlicher Familienunterhaltung unterbringt.

Für Pitts anarchistischen Filmvorführer Tyler Durden ist dies ein bloßer Akt der Rebellion.

Für die düstere Sekte, mit denen uns Theodore Roszak in Schattenlichter bekannt macht, ist es viel mehr: eine Glaubensfrage.

Es steckt eine Energie in den Bildern, eine Kraft, die das Unterbewusste ansprechen kann. Leni Riefenstahl hat sich diese Macht in ihren Propagandafilmen zu Nutze gemacht ebenso wie heutige Werbefilmer. Insofern ist die Idee gar nicht so abwegig, dass auch religiöse Sekten sich der Macht der bewegten Bilder bedienen, um ihre Botschaften zu transportieren.

Der junge Filmstudent Jonathan Gates stößt durch Zufall auf das Werk des deutschen Experimentalfilmers Max Castle (eigentlich Max von Kastell). Auf den ersten Blick ist Castle nicht viel mehr als ein herkömmlicher Produzent billiger B-Filme, anspruchsloser Vampirfilme und auf oberflächlichen Schock abzielender Gruselstreifen. Doch das handwerkliche Können des Mannes ist dennoch beachtlich. Und bald findet Gates heraus, dass Castle über eine ganz außergewöhnliche Technik verfügte, die es ihm ermöglichte Filme innerhalb eines Filmes zu verstecken und dadurch geheime Botschaften zu transportieren. Offenbar war Castle Mitglied einer uralten Sekte, einer religiösen Vereinigung, älter als das Christentum, welche das Leben als unrein und abstoßend betrachtet und als ihre Waffe zur Manipulation der Menschen Filme gebraucht.

Bei seinen Recherchen findet Gates heraus, dass die Sekte auch heute (das heißt damals in den 1960-er, 70-er Jahren) existiert und ihren Propagandaauftrag nicht aufgegeben hat. Die irdische Existenz ist böse und schmerzhaft und ihr Ziel ist es, den Menschen einen Ekel vor dem Leben, einen tiefen Abscheu vor der physischen Existenz zu vermitteln.

Auch die mittelalterlichen Katharer, welche damals von der katholischen Kirche verfolgt und in Kreuzzügen ausgerottet wurden gehörten ihnen an, aber seitdem hat die "Glaubensgemeinschaft" wesentlich subtilere Methoden entwickelt.

Dass es diese Urchristen waren, die den Film erfanden und dass es schon im Mittelalter Daumnekino gab, das aber von der offiziellen Kirche als Teufelswerk verurteilt wurde - das sind nur einige faszinierende Elemente des Buches.

„Flicker“ (so der Originaltitel) genießt seit seinem Erscheinen 1991 einen gewissen Kultstatus; nicht umsonst plante kein geringerer als Regisseur Darren Aronofsky eine Zeit lang eine Verfilmung des Werks. Wie dieser Film ausgesehen hätte, darüber lässt sich nur spekulieren. Aber das Buch eignet sich nicht unbedingt für eine Adaption. Es ist eher wie eine interessante filmhistorische Dokumentation mit ein paar Einsprengseln von Horror und Thriller, welche weitgehend ineffektiv verpuffen.

Irgendwo hier steckt eine fesselnde Geschichte über Religion, Fanatismus, Gut und Böse, menschliches Leiden und den Umgang damit. Aber sie ist begraben unter einem Wust redundanter Informationen.

Hätte Herr Roszak es verstanden, sich kurz zu fassen, wäre „Flicker“ vielleicht tatsächlich ein fesselnder Thriller geworden. Aber so wie es ist leidet das Buch an seiner ungeheuren Geschwätzigkeit. Hunderte Seiten müssen vergehen bis überhaupt etwas von Bedeutung geschieht. Zumindest die erste Hälfte ist, dank des filmhistorischen Wissens, welches der Autor ausbreitet, interessant. Aber spätestens ab der Mitte fragt man sich: Wann geht es denn endlich los?

Den Roman mit den Thrillern Dan Browns zu vergleichen, wie es der Klappentext tut, ist einfach nur lächerlich, denn in Schattenlichter passiert so gut wie gar nichts. Es wird lediglich eine vielversprechende Idee vorgestellt, aus der aber dann keine Geschichte, keine überzeugende Handlung entsteht.

Seiner faszinierenden Prämisse wird Schattenlichter kaum gerecht.

Gäbe es bei Büchern ähnlich wie bei Filmen Remakes, dann währe Schattenlichter ein erstklassiger Kandidat für eine Neuerzählung.

First of all, let me say that this novel is well written (although a bit repetitive). The male author produces a very believable female voice which is distinct from the voice of the persnickety “editor” – not many authors can do that.

Readers of many books, for example Marion Zimmer Bradley’s “Mists of Avalon” will be familiar with the Druidic concept of “The Great Marriage”, “Marriage With the Land”, or “The Sacred Marriage” as Dan Brown calls it in “The DaVinci Code”. In this novel, Baroness Frankenstein, mother of Victor and adopted mother of Elizabeth tries to indoctrinate her pre-teen step-siblings into the Druidic mysteries / tantric sex rites / alchemical ceremonies to further “The Great Work” of “The Chymical Marriage”. So, the author describes in great detail how these two kids are encouraged and instructed in how to perform these esoteric sex acts while the adult teachers look on. Somehow this was supposed to further alchemical outcomes, like producing the philosopher’s stone, but I never understood that part.

Elizabeth’s journal tells how she was systematically brainwashed and raped over and over again at the direction of her mother. Think this description is too harsh, that it was in the name of religion and divine mysteries? Just imagine that the leader was the father instead. Not many books offend me, but this one did.

A horror novel for pretentious film buffs. Unfortunately, I tend to dislike books about movies. (Or movies about movies for that matter, although somehow I like books (and movies) about books).
Anyway: A film critic rediscovers the lost work of an obscure German horror director who was lost at sea during WWII, and although his work is generally dismissed as pulp, he finds a plethora of mysterious techniques at use in the work, making use of subliminal techniques to accentuate the horror of the stories. He's fascinated, and makes the director the main subject of his academic studies - but to his lover, the films are nothing but evil.
Gradually, his research draws him into some strange circles, as he discovers unsavory details - and a weird cult descended from medieval heretics which may still be influential today...
Strangely (and I'm sure the author would be dismayed to hear) I found the book to be a lot like the imaginary subliminal movies he speaks of: it was undeniably compelling reading, but I'm not sure I liked it, and I definitely disagreed with it. It strongly condemns pop culture (movies, music, etc) that is dark, trashy and nihilistic and waxes nostalgic about the faux-innocent works of a 'golden' past as being 'Good.' ("Singin' In the Rain is the ultimate anti-fascist film.") Lots of random criticisms of stuff I like and lame cardboard stereotypes of punk rockers... which led to me both thinking that, for a so-called 'scholar' the author really lacks social understanding, and also just made me want to go find him, waggle my tongue at him and say, "I am what you hate and fear!"

Not as much of a fan of this book as some people, but it did pull me in. A subtle horror novel about the technology behind making films. If you like books about conspiracies, you'll probably liike this one. Watch out for the subliminal messages - they're everywhere!

How the 60s and 70s changed the way America looked at Capitalism and war. It also sought to let everyone know something more about the hippies than what had been shown on TV at the time.

Not too bad on its own merits, I guess, but it doesn't mesh well with the original novel. There isn't a single mention of Justine or her death, despite how anguished Elizabeth seemed to be over it in "Frankenstein." There isn't even a single mention of Victor's little brother, William, who was strangled by the Monster. In this novel, the Monster apparently didn't kill anyone. There is also not a single mention of Victor's boyhood friend, Clerval.

Those were three important figures in the original novel, all killed by the Monster, and NONE of them figure in this novel... not even a single mention of their names. The author mentions Victor's other brother, but not the one that died. I found that disappointing.

http://nwhyte.livejournal.com/2324190.html

Won the 1995 Tiptree Award. I wasn't quite sure what to expect; it's not terribly closely related to Shelley's own Frankenstein (and I'm baffled by the numerous online reviews whining that it's not a "sequel" - most of the book is set before the action of the original novel, so if anything it would be a prequel; but in reality it is an extended meditation on the character of Elizabeth Frankenstein and what might have shaped her life and Victor's to their date with destiny. It provides an unexpected background of the creation of the monster in the obsession of the senior Baroness Frankenstein with alchemy, and her manipulation of Elizabeth (who is presented as Victor's adopted sister, as well as his eventual wife) and Victor as part of her own grand plan, which inevitably grinds to a halt against Victor's interest in science rather than alchemy, though he shares the goal of creating a new form of life (and indeed is more successful). Poor Elizabeth is nastily manipulated by everyone, though I was amused by the outraged scholarly apparatus purportedly provided by an older Robert Walton (who, as everyone forgets, is the narrator of the framing story in Shelley). Inevitably one must compare with Mists of Avalon, which is the same sort of book (reframing of familiar legendary material through perspective of an alternative, more female-centred and largely fictional belief system). I think Roszak is a bit more disciplined than Bradley, but is also drawing on a smaller canvas which may make that easier.

I originally picked up this book because Roszak's FLICKER is one of the best books I have ever read...I am still in awe of it. Incidentally, I am also a huge fan of Shelley's FRANKENSTEIN after reading it for school and falling in love with the haunting story of man and monster. You would think this book was tailor-made for me, consider its feminist take on a classic tale as it attempts to shed light on the story of Elizabeth Lavenza, Frankenstein's paramour. In reality, the book ends up being kind of okay. The writing, as I said before, is stellar and crisp, almost as precise as a scalpel, and because of this Elizabeth does feel like a fully-realized counterpart to the famous Dr. Frankenstein. However, the book doesn't really follow the original FRANKENSTEIN narrative so closely which was of some disappointment to me. No mention of Justine or other plot points that chilled me to the bone from the original novel left me a bit deflated, but I hoped Roszak would have something better in store because of this. But instead of transcending the original (a daunting task, admittedly), a new world of witchcraft the author introduces with meticulous detail manages to feel excessive and insufficient at the same time. The issue of sexuality, while strongly utilized, felt a bit "much" by the end. I'm no prude, but I felt like a lot of the sexual content could have been pared down for the same effect. I think it's safe to say that this book isn't sexy so much as graphic graphic GRAPHIC. The most exciting pages were the last fifty, which is such a shame because they should come so much earlier in the story than they do. Those final pages made this book worthwhile, but just barely as a devout Roszak and FRANKENSTEIN fan.

Here is a critique of information technology from a humanistic perspective, focusing on the way the "data-processing model of thinking," a quantitative, ultimately binary, model of the mind on which computers are based, threatens to replace ideas as the dominant mode of thought in education, politics, and social life generally. This result of the mystifying effect of computers comes from the aura of certainty and mathematical precision bestowed on them by tech-enthusiasts.

Because it is hopelessly out of date when it comes to "contemporary" developments (1986 edition), the book is hit-or-miss. I would have liked to have seen either a deeper discussion of the philosophical argument or merely have the several chapters that ventured into highly specific cases cut out. Overall a disappointing follow-up to [b:Where the Wasteland Ends|22564|Where the Wasteland Ends Politics and Transcendence in Postindustrial Society|Theodore Roszak|http://www.goodreads.com/assets/nocover/60x80.png|1265619], but the dispersed gems of wisdom it contains make up for its problems.

The author at one point calls this work a "history and sociology of consciousness." While that might be a grandiose claim, it is closer to the mark than the other references to it I have encountered, which characterize it, for example, as "Roszak's diatribe," and the work of a "New Left cultural historian." This book is much larger in scope and more significant than these readers seem willing to recognize. What strikes me most about it is the almost unrecognizable cultural context of 1971-72, when Roszak was writing, compared to the world we now know and compared to the rest of the twentieth century.

Roszak is a harsh critic of science. So much so that I doubt any dedicated professional scientist would be able to get through the whole book without some form of sedation. This kind of iconoclasm is no longer admissible in polite society. But I found every point he makes to be reasonable, in the broadest sense. And that is ultimately all he is advocating for: the broadening of our idea of reason to include intuition, imagination, awe, and the mythic heritage of our species. He writes:

When scientists think about nature or society or people, they are really thinking about a vast collection of contrived schemes and models which are indispensable to the research their profession respects as worthwhile.

There are so many other ways one can look at the world and so many successful cultural alternatives--successful even by the standards of science--that it is immediately clear how impoverished and unreasonable this "Reality Principle" bestowed to us by Bacon and Newton is. This narrow worldview--this "single vision," as William Blake described it--of the universe we inhabit began with Judeo-Christian religion, which subordinated the primal experience of nature itself as sacred to a legalistic super-natural conception of the divine that, at its Protestant extreme, rejects all mysticism; it was further desacralized and made dominant through the Scientific Revolution; and it is the foundation of our science, our technics, and the "wasteland" that has become of our spirit and our external environment alike.

In the late 1960s, Roszak had reason to hope that the most hopeful elements of the counter culture might prevail, but, by the time his book was published, that glimmer was already waning. His target audience, once deemed large enough to merit a Bantam mass-market paperback, seemed to have virtually disappeared by the turn of the next decade. The spiritual awakening he predicted amounted to nothing more than the "New Age" consumer lifestyle, a disgrace to the ancient wisdom it purports to sell. Now, after 40 years, as people once again are assembling publicly to express their desires for a life not prefabricated by the purveyors of single vision, maybe there is a real chance for the awakening he envisioned.
(edited 8/10/19)

I'm two thirds of the way through this book and have found it overall thought provoking and interesting. There's a wide selection of essays. However one author actually made me quite angry. He, (Terrance O'Connor) seemed to belittle people's personal problems in relation to the crisis facing the earth. I think this rather foolish if you're a therapist. I agree some people may get caught up in petty problems but there are others who have been damaged or traumatised and who can greatly benefit from therapy without bringing in the crisis of the planet. So I regarded his essay with a certain degree of distain. Stupid man.
There's a danger too, that these "superior" 'ecopsychologists' will just exit up their own intellectual arses.

I'm going to come back to this, so in the meantime, may I just say, holy shit. This book was so, so funny and intriguing and bizarre and gross and wonderful. And the most fitting return to print after my recent glut of All Movies All The Time.

I have given this book about as lukewarm a three-star rating as I can, because I felt ambivalent about it the whole time I was reading it. The story concerns a gay, Jewish, rather apathetic, very self-involved, mediocre novelist who is paid an outrageous sum to speak at a Bible college in Minnesota. When he arrives, he finds himself in the midst of openly homophobic, anti-intellectual, misogynistic Bible thumpers, and before he can escape, he is trapped by a raging blizzard. The tone alternates between preachy and trying too hard to be funny, and there are really no sympathetic characters. But the writing is engaging, so the book ended up being a vague disappointment with a lot of potential.½