A review by zoracious
Cyclonopedia: Complicity with Anonymous Materials, by Reza Negarestani
2.0
Allow me to get on my soapbox for bit: A book's difficulty is not directly proportional to its brilliance. Some difficult books are pure drivel, and some simple looking books are pure genius. This particular book requires a lot of work, and a great deal of patience. For this, it is to be both admired and alternately thrown against a wall.
Part of the unusual nature of the book is the way that it is written. It starts out as a somewhat typical story would - meaning that it contains characters and the semblance of a plot. But once it gets those things out of the way (and discards them almost completely), it proceeds in somewhat essay/manifesto form. There are people mentioned in the rest of the book ('novel' is not the correct word here), but these people are secondary to the elements and ideas the book feels is more important. It takes a kind of HP Lovecraft / Deleuze and Guattari view of communication, and if you aren't familiar with either, then you should take a look at them. Danielewski's House of Leaves (which I was optimistic this would evoke, but it didn't) starts with the dedication page saying "This is not for you." Still, Danielewski can be said to be a bit kinder to the reader (while scaring the wits out of them) than Negarestani is here.
To get an idea of where the author is going, look up stuff on Hyperstition. The book is clever, and it challenges the way we are to read books and regard the world, ideas of capitalism, Islam, monotheism and our dependence on oil (for starters). For these things it should be lauded. But that can only take us so far. This book is oddly immersive in a way I've experienced with other books (many which regarded story as more central than declarative treatise), and its presentation of ideas on oil, the Middle East, desertification, etc. are fascinating - sometimes funny, other times creepy (in the good way). There is amusing word play and a very densely packed set of esoteric ideas. But to suggest that this book is wholly enjoyable to read would be misleading.
One of my friends called this book a "glorified essay that goes on ad infinitum." This book hinges on strict non-fiction that may or may not be fiction, (which I should note is not completely a criticism). I do not want to call this a gimmick, but it is excruciating. If the need to communicate such unique ideas is so important, why do it in a way that alienates readers or makes them work so hard to comprehend them? Those who would revert to the argument that this is a different way of thinking (one that would privilege the Middle East way of thinking) are definitely on the right track, except that this book is written in English and thus his intended audience comes under question (if it hadn't already).
I would suggest that this would best be enjoyed by someone familiar with Deleuze and Guattari, Lovecraft, Koontz (yes, Koontz is thrown in there), Žižek, philosophy (Western philosophy in general would be helpful but Middle Eastern and Iranian philosophy would be better), general knowledge of ideas in Islam and Wahhabism, Middle East politics and history, and the general ideas and background of Western monotheism, not to mention the history of conquest as it relates to Western versus Eastern epistemologies and economies. A little Indo-Iranian linguistic archeology would be nice too if you'd like. That would all help. Well, it wouldn't hurt, anyway. Not that you have to know all these to get the gist of what is going on, but it seems like a lot of the winks that Negarestani makes at the reader - if we are to assume he acknowledges him or her - are done at the assumption of a backbone knowledge of these and other things.
The marketing of the book emphasizes its story elements in a way that the book doesn't deliver on. If the back cover interests you I would suggest you pick a random page in the middle of the book and start reading to see what the book is really like before forming your impressions. It could have had great potential for something else that just isn't quite here.
Part of the unusual nature of the book is the way that it is written. It starts out as a somewhat typical story would - meaning that it contains characters and the semblance of a plot. But once it gets those things out of the way (and discards them almost completely), it proceeds in somewhat essay/manifesto form. There are people mentioned in the rest of the book ('novel' is not the correct word here), but these people are secondary to the elements and ideas the book feels is more important. It takes a kind of HP Lovecraft / Deleuze and Guattari view of communication, and if you aren't familiar with either, then you should take a look at them. Danielewski's House of Leaves (which I was optimistic this would evoke, but it didn't) starts with the dedication page saying "This is not for you." Still, Danielewski can be said to be a bit kinder to the reader (while scaring the wits out of them) than Negarestani is here.
To get an idea of where the author is going, look up stuff on Hyperstition. The book is clever, and it challenges the way we are to read books and regard the world, ideas of capitalism, Islam, monotheism and our dependence on oil (for starters). For these things it should be lauded. But that can only take us so far. This book is oddly immersive in a way I've experienced with other books (many which regarded story as more central than declarative treatise), and its presentation of ideas on oil, the Middle East, desertification, etc. are fascinating - sometimes funny, other times creepy (in the good way). There is amusing word play and a very densely packed set of esoteric ideas. But to suggest that this book is wholly enjoyable to read would be misleading.
One of my friends called this book a "glorified essay that goes on ad infinitum." This book hinges on strict non-fiction that may or may not be fiction, (which I should note is not completely a criticism). I do not want to call this a gimmick, but it is excruciating. If the need to communicate such unique ideas is so important, why do it in a way that alienates readers or makes them work so hard to comprehend them? Those who would revert to the argument that this is a different way of thinking (one that would privilege the Middle East way of thinking) are definitely on the right track, except that this book is written in English and thus his intended audience comes under question (if it hadn't already).
I would suggest that this would best be enjoyed by someone familiar with Deleuze and Guattari, Lovecraft, Koontz (yes, Koontz is thrown in there), Žižek, philosophy (Western philosophy in general would be helpful but Middle Eastern and Iranian philosophy would be better), general knowledge of ideas in Islam and Wahhabism, Middle East politics and history, and the general ideas and background of Western monotheism, not to mention the history of conquest as it relates to Western versus Eastern epistemologies and economies. A little Indo-Iranian linguistic archeology would be nice too if you'd like. That would all help. Well, it wouldn't hurt, anyway. Not that you have to know all these to get the gist of what is going on, but it seems like a lot of the winks that Negarestani makes at the reader - if we are to assume he acknowledges him or her - are done at the assumption of a backbone knowledge of these and other things.
The marketing of the book emphasizes its story elements in a way that the book doesn't deliver on. If the back cover interests you I would suggest you pick a random page in the middle of the book and start reading to see what the book is really like before forming your impressions. It could have had great potential for something else that just isn't quite here.