This collection of essays is a good introduction to Natasha Lennard's work for those unfamiliar with her journalism on protest and the limits of liberThis collection of essays is a good introduction to Natasha Lennard's work for those unfamiliar with her journalism on protest and the limits of liberalism. If you're familiar with her work, this slim collection contains mostly(?) previously published work, but it's still worth reading, and it moves quickly.
Tash and I ran in the same circles during Occupy, and I've been reading her work since the olden days of 2011, when terms like "antifa" were unlikely to be discussed by the mainstream media. Much has changed in the political landscape since then but the basic contours of her writing remain the same- the failures of liberalism, the connections between liberalism and fascism, the overreach of the state and the ways that radical protest makes this overreach visible. Also covered, sex and politics, suicidal ideation, ghosts.
As much as I'm mostly in tune with the political project that these writings support, and as glad as I am that there is a voice like this making its way to readers outside of the rarified circles of NYC anarchists, I'm always left a little cold by Lennard's writing. Perhaps just because I'm so familiar with the world that leads to this type of journalism and I'm wanting something a little deeper, something more... essayistic? As an example, she begins the essay "Being Numerous" by talking about a photo from a small action during Occupy. At first glance, it's a mass of protestors charging at a fence that's blocking off a public park, facing off with the cops on the other side, but at further glance, it's clear that only a very few of the protestors are actually trying to do something about the fence, most of them have their smartphones out to record the action. This is fascinating to me, something I would love to hear Lennard thoughts on- how has technology changed protest, our presence at protests, our participation, what we want from it. For surveillance was everywhere, on all sides; we were filmed by cops, livestreamers of indeterminate politics, by fellow protestors, by mysterious cameras on buildings. But the essay goes on to discuss the Snowden revelations about the extent of government surveillance, and it's a good synthesis of those issues and the ways they've been discussed since 2014 or so, but I didn't learn anything new from this piece, in the end. I suppose I wanted something else from this piece because there are more than a few journalists who can write on government surveillance, on the California ideology, etc, but there are few who are as deeply involved with radical politics as Lennard is, and it seems that somewhere out there, there are real insights that perhaps only she could come up with. But they aren't here.
It was also interesting that this book ended with the essay on suicide. One of her other writerly habits is a strong reliance on critical theorists and the vocabulary of theory (see the ghost essay), but this last essay find Lennard grappling with the limits of theory. Without any Big Names to fall back on, she's forced to reckon more deeply with her own experience, and it's one of the more powerful pieces in the book.
I haven't been able to formulate any kind of review for Zink's previous two novels, and this book is no exception. I really like Zink and will read alI haven't been able to formulate any kind of review for Zink's previous two novels, and this book is no exception. I really like Zink and will read all of her books, I embrace their flaws. Nicotine was a bizarro-world take on the Greater NYC anarchist scene by someone who I think did have to a lot to do with squats in Philly in the 90s and has since mostly lived in Germany, so sometimes it's right on the money and sometimes you are like "I don't think Zink has had an extended conversation with an American under 30 since maybe 2005." Berlin is full of Americans under 30 being ridiculous, though Nell Zink seems smart enough to avoid them.
So, this isn't really a review. I do have a question I want to throw out into the Goodreads universe. Zink is famously championed by Jonathan Franzen, and she wrote the Wallcreeper partly to mess with him about some stuff in Freedom, like the birdwatching themes and some ridiculous sex scenes. Nicotine was published a year after Franzen's Purity, which is also about a young woman with some family issues living in an anarchist squat. Is Nicotine another riff on a Franzen novel?! I guess I'm going to have to read Purity now, which is like four times as long and seems even more packed with Franzen's trademark casual contempt for women....more
