Clarissa's Blog

Bu huge popular demand, here’s the video of my talk on democracy:

Everybody here on the blog knows all this because I wrote about it a lot. But just in case we have brand-new readers, this is a very basic introduction into the subject.

Curiously, there’s one thing he didn’t mention. It starts with nay and ends with toe.

There’s this oft-repeated liberal argument that perfectly encapsulates the tension between the nation-state and the post-nation state. The argument is that it’s unfair for small rural states to have the same number of senators as states with gigantic multimillion cities.

The US Constitution was written for a nation-state. Solid stage of capitalism. Land is important.

The post-nation state operates with a different logic. Land is meaningless. People are a commodity. It’s the fluid stage of capitalism. Whoever drags more people somewhere else wins. Don’t like the lack of opportunities? Move! Learn to code! There is no state to watch out for you. U-Haul is your state. The state exists to serve the interests of the fluid capital. If you need to be punished to benefit Pfizer, you will be punished.

Of course, the people who are more easily transportable will be more likely to adopt the narratives that are post-national in nature. Those who haven’t managed to make themselves conveniently transportable should be denied representation.

I just finished my big talk on why support for democracy is dying worldwide, and this was a small part of what I said.

I’m hearing that Russia defaulted on its foreign debt. Is it true? Can anybody confirm? Or is the UD Treasury going to give them a helping hand again?

When I’m reading something (which is about 84% of my awake time), I really don’t like it when people interrupt my reading to ask what I’m reading.

Reading is an intimate process that only bears talking about when one decided one is ready to talk about it.

I was in a big event today, with 600 people in attendance. Indoors. The event was an awards ceremony, and it was completely spoiled by the absence of music. It feels really weird to walk in complete silence to the stage across a large ballroom.

“Why is there no music?” I asked one of the organizers.

“Because of COVID,” he replied seriously.

You know how some books are announced as fast-paced, keeping you on the edge of your seat, and breathless? Natural Law is the exact opposite. It’s very unhurried. The narrator is in absolutely no rush whatsoever to get anywhere. As a result, reading the novel becomes a powerful experience because it forces you to slow down, take a deep breath, and stop rushing. It’s almost meditative in nature.

The story is good, too. A deadbeat dad, an eccentric mom, and 4 kids who try to build their own lives in the midst of extreme familial dysfunction.

Still, the novel doesn’t live up to its potential. The reason why it’s not a work of art is the first-person narrator. His name is Ángel, and he is, indeed, so angelical, so excruciatingly perfect, so dauntingly flawless that you want to hit him over the head two minutes into the 500-page narrative of his unmarred perfection. The novel traces Ángel’s life from early childhood to adulthood but it isn’t a Bildungsroman because there’s no Bildung. Ángel remains exactly the same at every stage of his life. The same, terribly annoying and completely robotic individual. The author tried to humanize Ángel by giving him a love interest but that didn’t work either. Ángel’s constant protestations that he loves Irene fall flat because of his placidly indifferent reaction to Irene’s extreme promiscuity, drug addiction, and a penchant for humiliating Ángel.

Natural Law is set during Spain’s transition to democracy, a time of extraordinary change in every aspect of people’s lives. You can see how those changes impact everybody in the novel (except, of course, the Android Ángel) and think about what it means to live in a time of epochal changes. This has become a crucial question, and we all are answering it whether we want to or not.