encyclopedic anthropological - but undetached - ruminations on the (domestication of the) nuclear age: reads like a deconstructed (or notes & drafts toward a) Pynchon novel, but w/ its occasional Pynchonian irreverence undercut by a generally earnest tone, a key if superficially superfluous kitchen sink realist(ish) plot, plus a hefty dose of humanist warmth, a passion that's alternately outraged & wearily resigned, Millet's narrative voice avoids direct judgement, channeling her indignation, sorrow, disbelief through characters, but is subtly but clearly, movingly incapable of detachment from the book's content, themes; at times infuriating for various reasons including but not exclusive to plotting, w/ an ending that is either irrelevant to the rest of the book or despairingly on-the-nose w/r/t its themes, the book it seems to me has grown scarily increasingly relevant over the years since its publication - while the technology described per se might be dated, the book's anthropological ruminations on historical & cultural truths have frightening implications on contemporary military technology vis-a-vis U.S. foreign policy in particular - & humins & human nature in general.
No comments:
Post a Comment