The Spell of the Sensuous by David Abram is a magnificent book, beautifully written and powerfully argued. More importantly, it is intellectually ambitious, attempting to give the reader unique insight into the human condition. I will do what I can to reduce its "point" to a few sentences and then offer some personal thoughts.
Abram contends that humanity is alienated from its role within nature, as a feature of nature, not an arbiter of nature. He posits that this alienation is deeply wounding and that it is sourced, broadly speaking, in the human predilection for abstraction. He traces abstraction to the ancient Greek alphabet, whose letters do not represent anything (the Greek alphabet's semitic precursor does, in fact, represent things). He then ties this abstraction to Plato's idealism, wherein the world of appearances (our world) is devalued against the world of ideal forms, and he moves on to the whole Cartesian/scientific revolution wherein what we "know" is limited to our capacity to count, to measure, to quantify and replicate with exactitude.
He then introduces Husserl and Merleau-Ponty, two 20th century phenomenologists, who reacted against the premise that our interior ratiocination is the foundation of reality. Their thinking trended toward exploring the ways in which we do not, in fact, think alone but can only think in relation to our physical circumstances (let us amend that to say our "natural circumstances.) Husserl and Merleau-Ponty would go further, suggesting that the tree about which we think participates in our thinking, likewise the wind, etc. This is an assault on the solipsistic dead-end of philosophy as an exercise in proposing reality as a metaphysical construct.
Going beyond Husserl and Merleau-Ponty (and of course Descartes), Abrams then engages in a far reaching anthropological assessment of ways in which humanity has existed in the context of its animal nature, i.e., how it has made use of rituals and myths and beliefs that tie humanity to the earth from which it has arisen, literally the physical places, the currents of the oceans, and the winds.
Generally considering such beliefs as primitive, modern humanity (let's say the last 2500 years) has done everything in its power to divorce itself from the caprices of the natural world. As a consequence, it has trashed the earth, the seas, and the skies. This, of course, is indisputable. Our rationally developed science has told us that again and again, and many of us know it firsthand, having flown over West Virginia or lived in smoggy Los Angeles or picked our way through the plastic-strewn beaches for a dip in the oily waters of the Gulf Coast.
Abrams' book does not resolve the tensions and disasters it describes. The notion of "undoing" modern civilization is a thought too big to think. There is no way to unlearn the ancient Greek alphabet and its successor formulations. The digital world takes us further into abstraction even as it ingeniously offers us virtual realities. Abrams does not say so--he is more hopeful--but to read his book is to conclude that the evolution of humanity inevitably leads to its extinction. Marx's version of alienation, extensive as it is, encompasses far less than Abrams's version. He gets at our disenchantment, our anxiety, our internecine hostilities, our materialistic sterility and highly productive modes of self-destruction.
But the question is whether you would want to hear this news or ignore it, whether you would want to think about it or pretend that there is nothing to think about.
Oddly I found E.O. Wilson's "Consilience" much more depressing. His concept of the unity of knowledge, good and bad, hinges so much on the rational that it is asphyxiating. In the end, Wilson gives me a sense that we're material shaped in one way and eventually will be shaped in another and that's that because the laws of physics and chemistry and biology say so. Abrams probes and elevates a counterpoint to the rational (and abstract) by suggesting that the human experience can be much enlarged by accepting its limitations. Certain familiar winds matter, certain moments spent daydreaming matter, certain hikes matter, certain encounters with fish matter, the oceans and the skies matter. We are, in fact, much more wedded to our natural environment than we might suspect, down to the way in which we breathe. In sum, "experience" matters, which is why everything idiosyncratic and unique in our lives stands out for us and probably nothing more than childhood memories which encompass what might be called phenomenological encounters with reality that are not at all metaphysical or transcendent or abstract but are, in fact, keys to our unrehearsed, unprogrammed, unmediated, individual "selves," participating in time and space without knowing how to measure either.