120714: now this is more like what i expected. written in foucault's era, just after his death. so early work, lived assessment, caricatures in beginning. have a hard time reading this without thinking of the other foucault, especially may. perhaps would have been better to read this first, but then i might not have been interested in more. critical, in tone as much as content, wonder why the author wrote this. he might be an 'analytic' sort of phil, certainly not sympathetic with f's reasoning, f's sources, f's techniques. this makes me wonder why i have no trouble reading of this, a lot of trouble reading wittgenstein. f has provocative ideas, rather inexact histories, elaborate and extreme ideas of how institutions, practices, ways of thought, shift from one unconscious characterization of the real to the next...
but what exercises the author seems to be that f writes well. and does not lay out his arguments, definitions, histories, in any sort of linear pattern, with any clear causal relationships. he writes well, he seduces by rhetoric, he follows one vague overarching scheme- 'archaeology', 'genealogy'- from one concern to the next. even from the little read of his life, can see where merquior is mistaken, even from the little read describing f's selective tendency with history, get the sense merquior is mistaken. i am not a professional, i am not looking for some valid way of living in the universe, i do not think i am target demographic for this. i did enjoy reading it, however in error it seems sometimes. as in may's book, as in the background here, i enjoy the stimulus, the thoughts, but no real interest in defending it. i leave that to the 30 years of others since his death...
only reason it is on brazillit: written by a Brazilian diplomat...