I picked up William Mitchell’s latest book, Me++: The Cyborg Self and the Networked City yesterday, and am working my way through it. It touches on a number of things I’ve been thinking about, so it’s proving to be a very stimulating read, though I find a few things about Mitchell’s style of writing (or thinking) requires some adjustment on my part– starting with the title. What does it mean? (Of course, someone who wrote a book titled Empire and the Sun really can’t talk.)
I’ve noticed that when I really read a book carefully, the book is much the worse for the wear afterwards: it’s underlined or highlighted, it’s got post-its running through the text and on the inside cover, at least one piece of paper is folded into it, the spine is creased, and often there’s a coffee stain. The jacket may or may not still exist. (Of course, I might look worse for the wear, too.)
There’s an old joke the analyzing comedy being like dissecting a frog: you can do it, but the frog tends to die in the process. The book doesn’t exactly die, but I can never read it– that specific copy, anyway– without being VERY aware of how I responded to it the first time.
More on the book shortly.