In my experience it is rare to come across a book that is entirely without merit; rarer still that I would actually own one. At worst, some books qualify as being almost completely useless, without quite going all the way. Even the stupidest book I’ve ever read, Three Horsemen of the New Apocalypse (1997) , written by the five-foot-tall, super-conceited, ultra-reactionary, Indian-born Anglophile Nirad Chaudhuri, provides some useful insight into how political thinking works in the absence of intelligence. (Chaudhuri is the subject of a chapter in Clive James’ Cultural Amnesia , which I guess makes sense). Luckily, I've been able to extract something, even if it is something small, from all the books I own. L. T. Hobhouse’s Social Evolution and Political Theory (1911), which I ordered via Abebooks late last year, is on the whole not a satisfactory book. This is mainly due to its datedness. The lengthiest chapter is a very mild critique of eugenics that gives the i
In reading and thinking about Adam Gopnik’s A Thousand Small Sanities: The Moral Adventure of Liberalism (2019), I am reminded of a line from Richard Rorty’s review of a very different kind of book, Hans Blumenberg’s The Legitimacy of the Modern Age (1983). Rest assured I don’t have a photographic memory of every review-essay published in the 1980s by The London Review of Books ; I just happen to have read this one a couple of times, mainly because it’s Rorty and he’s never dull. Besides, if you can get through a thunderously difficult (and Germanic) tome such as The Legitimacy of the Modern Age , washing it down with a bit of Rorty doesn’t hurt. Anyway, the line in question was Rorty’s belief that Blumenberg’s treatise (which I’ll avoid a summary of for mental health reasons) championed those ‘whose highest hopes are still those of Mill’. Rorty for one was adamant that however large or small a group there was that regarded Mill as their hero, this group needed a shelf of books tha