Raging Consciousness

I’m slowly working on an entry about reading. Love in the days of rage a novel by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, illustrates what reading is for me, or at least why I read. I picked the book out of a bargain bin years ago, in a fit of Beat reading, but never made it past the first sentence, which has to be one of the more poorly constructed first sentences in the history of the novel. So the slim book sat on my travelling shelf for years, until recently the subject of Paris 1968 surfaced in my reading. Feenberg devotes a chapter to that historic moment in Questioning Technology and in a blurb on the back cover of Peter Sloterdijk’s Critique of Cynical Reason Jürgen Habermas writes, “Inasmuch as he explains the aftermath of the shattered ideals of 1968 with means he borrows from philosophical history, he gleans from the pile of rubble a piece of truth.” So before devoting the next six months of my reading life to Sloterdijk, I read, over a few nights, Love in the days of Rage.

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