I thought it lacked a coherent and specific thesis. It contained a bundle of interesting ideas, none of which seemed particularly attributable to the author, but which were, nevertheless, well cited. I'm not entirely certain what R Shorto's real point was, and this is a short book so you'd think that it would be easy to determine, but I believe that he became sidetracked along his...
more I thought it lacked a coherent and specific thesis. It contained a bundle of interesting ideas, none of which seemed particularly attributable to the author, but which were, nevertheless, well cited. I'm not entirely certain what R Shorto's real point was, and this is a short book so you'd think that it would be easy to determine, but I believe that he became sidetracked along his trail of quotes and anecdotes, and fundamentally corners himself into defending a rather watered down and over expansive "Descartes --> modernity!" trope that is so prevalent as to have become a meme. This isn't anything revolutionary- so the book becomes a little like an undergrad paper fleshed out with a gimmicky detective spin concerning the whereabouts and origins of Descartes' putative skull. This story is interesting in of itself, but I suppose the circumstantiality of the "facts" and their arrangement requires something more than history. This "something," the thesis (that is, "Descartes = modernity") occupies twenty pages in the introduction, another thirty in the conclusion, and pops up every ten pages or so throughout as Shorto strives to shove his interesting factoids, suppositions, etc, into said idea. The problem is that it rarely works; the conclusion should seem evident from the author's description of the evidence- yet, in this book, the relationship is either reversed, with the possibility of the conclusion justifying the evidence, or, worse, evidence and conclusion juxtaposed without any explicit or implicit relationship. Unfortunately most of the book followed the latter pattern. I believe that Shorto should have dropped his philosophical agenda and focused entirely on reconstructing history, for these sections shine with enthusiasm and warrant, while the abstract manifesto hovers, detached, overhead. Come to think of it, the book is thus dualistic- there is history, fact, and philosophy, logic. The two occupy a similar space, but whatever connects them eludes. In this case, as in Descartes', such separation becomes a problem.
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