Kavinay
This is not a book that had to be set on the Discworld. That Terry Pratchett does choose to place the unexpectedly likable Moist von Lipwig within the political climate of Ankh-Morpork is quite the flex. It's an author using his considerable world-building to deepen the humour and vibrancy of a polemic on corporations. Pratchett pulls it off with the Discworld's arsenal of guest star's from the Patrician, the City Watch and even Unseen University chiming in to enhance your return on investment. :)
A surprisingly accessible and engaging read–which is quite a feat when you consider a work combining economics and philosophy. Sandel depicts the problem as more than just commodification that favours the rich. The subtler effect of inserting economic optimization into relationships between people and communities, what Sandel calls corruption, distorts the ability to even frame moral agency. For example, a supply and demand approach of virtue (i.e. don't exhaust your compassion) fundamentally changes the understanding of the good as a practice rather than a resource. The marketizing presupposes the very concept of “ought” to be transactional, thereby paving the way for any one of Sandel's eye-opening case studies from bribing childhood reading to short selling the life spans of strangers.
Everyone can accept that class struggle on behalf of the unwashed masses manifests as strikes and revolutions. But what about the other way? That's the void that Harvey's consistently addresses: the elites fight a class struggle too and their tool is neoliberalism. From Reagan and Thatcher to current globalization tactics, Harvey's point is that the rich fight the poor all the time. However, instead of doing it in the streets, they do it via public policy that regardless of political bent will ultimately favour continued advantage for the ruling class.
To this day, even descendants of colonized peoples refer to westernization as a synonym for modernization. It's a pervasive assumption that Mishra breaks down by articulating how revolutionary forces already existed in the east before Europe descended upon them, propped up elites, suppressed change and thereby entrenched foreign wealth extraction.
Poul Anderson's a great writer and this ages better than most sci-fi that traces back to pulps. It's hard though not to spend nearly every story wondering if the agents cause so much chaos then “why not just eliminate the Time Patrol itself?”
Beringia, the Wanda Tamberly story, is the pick of the bunch.
Nick Roche,John Barber,+1 more
The Bumbl–ur-Cliffjumper story is fantastic. It's the best thing since the IDW reboot followed by the other Galaxies story about the Constructicons. The main series remains plodding and is just puzzling when you consider how the prior two stories point out how much you can cram into a few issues. It makes you wonder why so much of the slow rise of TF book wasn't compartmentalized into distinct character driven series rather than what's become a bit of a slow muddle.
It's weird how quaint this book comes across in 2020. Merlan's account isn't chronological or proscriptive but rather an interesting survey of how Americans are prone to conspiracy due to the nature of their state. The legacy of Cointelpro, MK-Ultra, Tuskegee trials and so on is that even the majority and powerful often see the possible influence of government subterfuge and secret society false flags. It's this bizarre collision of exceptionalism and paranoia that creates a distinctively American brand of conspiracy cultist that both abuses victims and reaps a profitable grift.
“The Sorrows of Odin the Goth”is a classic of science fiction. The other stories vary and can get a bit cringe worthy at times given pulp-era norms (Manse “being kind” to an ancient prostitute he considered ugly). But this is still formative work. Anderson is so crafty that you can easily miss the fact that the Time Patrol itself is cause of almost every crisis it resolves!
There's two important points to make about this book:.
1. Harris is a good writer. His research and narrative work effortlessly guide you through six or so years of epic change.
2. Consoles just have no soul. Harris and his principal sources seem to never question how ultimately the console industry boils down to marketing brinksmanship and how hollow that makes the entire endeavour.
Maybe this isn't really Harris' fault, but the world of 80's-90's consoles (and probably still today) is so hopelessly full of corporate hagiography that we're led to believe everyone previously fabulously rich executive is a genius in this emerging world of video games. Tom Kalinske, Sega of America's president and Harris' messiah in a suit, is treated like a trailblazer for what–thirty years later–really just amounts to edgelord marketing. It's a weird lens on the industry that seems to gloss over how commodified and exploitative these same suits made their arena.
There are no creatives here. This isn't Masters of Doom or any other history of the creative rise of video games, but rather the celebration of corporate gaming. Even Sega's rise is ultimately depressing in that context. Console Wars is a great history... it's just that it's a documentation of the most banal process of extracting wealth from games rather than any form of creativity beyond ad-wizardry.
“Pointillist empire.”
There's a point in the middle of the book where Immerwahr transitions from Puerto Rico and the Phillipines to capitalism abroad. It seems to wander until you realize how badly foreign bases and the soft power of commercial and cultural dominance has resulted in so many own-goals in American foreign policy. Where colonial powers held land and conceded to independence movements, the US model held to strategic military and economic hooks that ultimately kindled insurrection via insurgency. The resulting terrorism hence is a direct and inevitable outcome of America's particular method of exerting imperial control across the globe.