The Power and the Pain: Transforming Spiritual Hardship into Joy

By Andrew Holecek
Snow Lion Publications

In The Power and the Pain, Andrew Holecek divides chapters of his teachings by the Three Turnings, or teachings, of the dharma, and associates different cycles of suffering with each. Applying Buddhist principles to different hardships and difficulties along the Buddhist Path, he writes to help those cope with obstacles we stumble upon while moving forward.

In “Hardship as Loss of the Feminine” Holecek explains the concepts of masculine and feminine principles in relation to suffering. In Buddhist cosmology, Holecek writes, ladies come first. I took this chapter with the understanding that Holecek writes on Tibetan Buddhist ideologies being transmitted through Western society, and any critique would require an analysis that takes this into consideration.

Holecek uses terminology that is specific to Buddhism, but it is definitely not only for Buddhists. The Three Turnings are presented as a template for hardships that arise on a spiritual path. Holecek makes the point early on that one might enter the path unconsciously, and what I got from that was the idea that these practices would be beneficial for healing the heart and spirit, even if one doesn’t necessarily believe they are on a spiritual path.

Life is never as tidy as going from Point A to Point B to Point C, and it was possible to read select chapters and not feel you were missing anything. I received The Power and the Pain during a most spiritually tiring time in my life. I was going back to school after a five year hiatus, and the kids were on their summer break (and this meant childcare issues, or lack thereof). These challenges were coupled with serious transitions happening at work. Being a non-linear reader, I randomly opened the book to start reading and found this: “If you are wondering where you should go on your path, look into those areas that scare you and you will find your next step.” That seemed pretty right on.

Even though I am not a practicing Buddhist, I found that The Power and the Pain spoke to me as a guide, and I often went back to passages that connected how outside pressures and events can affect one’s spirit, which made the connection click.

Review by Noemi Martinez

Anarchism and Its Aspirations

By Cindy Milstein
AK Press and the Institute for Anarchist Studies

Anarchism and Its Aspirations is a collection of several essays that together offer an introduction to modern anarchist thought and its applications. The title essay, which is the first and longest essay in the book, discusses anarchism’s historical and philosophical roots, as well as its fundamental tenets. The other three essays, “Anarchism’s Promise for Anticapitalist Resistance,” “Democracy is Direct,” and “Reclaim the Cities: From Protest to Popular Power,” attempt to tease out the relevance of anarchism in the contemporary context of state consolidation and the globalization of capital.

The book is geared toward two audiences: first, established anarchists who want to renew their visions for anarchism, and second, readers curious about anarchism who are familiar with the basics of progressive political theory, but unacquainted with anarchist thought in particular. As the author states explicitly, the book attempts to present a rosy view of anarchism–an emphasis on what it strives to be capable of–more than a detailed analysis of its past or present weaknesses or distortions. However, the author does touch on her opinions about the areas in which anarchism has room to grow–in particular, she discusses the importance of getting beyond “protests against” and placing more emphasis on building popular power.

I appreciated the book’s visionary tone, as well as the clear analysis of what anarchism uniquely has to offer to other progressive schools of thought. Among the many aspects of anarchism discussed in the essays, I found the focus on unabashed utopianism particularly compelling. In a world in which even the most progressive of activists often think in terms of strategic compromise, it is refreshing to remember that it is possible to dream bigger dreams–anarchist dreams of pluralism, direct democracy, organizing for mutual aid based on true consensus, and above all, an abundance of resources, love, play, sustainability, and peace for all inhabitants of the planet.

If Anarchism and Its Aspirations has a single flaw, it is its tendency towards slightly dense prose. Overall, it is highly readable, especially given the many layers of history and politics that it explores with depth and nuance. However, a few more anecdotes and applications would have helped this particular reader immensely–the most striking example is the “battle of Seattle,” which is mentioned throughout the book as a watershed moment for modern anarchism, but which is never elucidated, not even via a brief account of the events of November 30, 1999. In this regard, the book occasionally assumes prior knowledge and familiarity (which I, for one, didn’t have) with the internal politics of modern anarchism, which renders some of the book’s detailed political discussion abstract and difficult to follow. In general, I don’t have a problem with finding myself in over my head when I’m reading about something new–in this case, though, the book states that one of its two main aims is to serve as an introduction to anarchism to those who are unfamiliar with it, so I feel that the omission deserves comment.

On the whole, though, Anarchism and Its Aspirations succeeds in painting a hopeful portrait of the relevance and utility of an anarchist framework in the context of the contemporary struggle for revolutionary social change.

Review by Ri J. Turner

The Promise of Happiness

By Sara Ahmed
Duke University Press

In the introduction to her new book The Promise of Happiness, Sara Ahmed asks readers a provocative question: “Do we consent to happiness? And what are we consenting to, if or when we consent to happiness?” Ahmed takes on the elusive topic of happiness not to define it, but to look at how it works. Amazingly, this book does not get trapped in abstraction. Sara Ahmed approaches her critique of happiness with explicitly feminist, anti-racist, and queer analysis, always attentive to the historical moment in which she’s writing. She moves through what she calls an “archive of happiness,” comprised of novels, philosophical treatises, films, utopian proposals, and dystopian visions that all deal in some way with happiness.

In the first chapter, the author reads older European philosophical and psychological accounts of happiness, many of them concerned with the family as a site of happiness. This history of ideas sets the groundwork for the ways in which happiness is constructed in contemporary times. Ahmed introduces the figure of the “affect alien” as a person who challenges the happy family ideal. This figure takes shape in the next three chapters in the form of “feminist killjoys,” “unhappy queers,” and “melancholy migrants.”

These chapters demonstrate how happiness gets used as a form of social control. In looking at how feminists challenge the notion that people are naturally happiest in rigid gender roles, Ahmed writes, “The struggle over happiness forms the political horizon in which feminist claims are made.” Her reading of the classic novel The Well of Loneliness considers how an unhappy ending for a queer main character opens up a possibility for social critique that a “happy” one might not. In her reading of the film Bend It Like Beckham, Ahmed asks why certain kinds of rebellion (say, against one’s immigrant parents) get celebrated in mainstream film while other kinds (say, against British imperialism) don’t. She also recasts the age-old parental plea of “I just want you to be happy,” as a way in which a child is obligated to be happy in order to make the parent happy (a kind of debt).

In concluding chapters, Ahmed cleverly turns her gaze to the future by looking at the varied promises of happiness presented in speculative fiction. Dystopian visions, such as Ursula LeGuin’s short story “The People Who Walked Away from Omelas,” can show how insidiously the happiness of the majority might be used to justify cruelty toward the marginalized. Ahmed acknowledges that positioning happiness as a goal has disturbing implications. She suggests a new approach to living: “...if we no longer presume happiness is our telos, unhappiness would register as more than what gets in the way. When we are no longer sure of what gets in the way, then ‘the way’ itself becomes a question.” In her conclusion, Ahmed uses the word hap (itself so much more buoyant in sound than the heavy happiness) as a way to work through new ideas at the level of language.

Ahmed writes in her introduction, “To kill joy... is to open a life, to make room for possibility, for chance. My aim in this book is to make room.” I think Sara Ahmed succeeds in her project. Fresh in its premises and elegant in its follow-through, with plenty of incisive questions to move it along, The Promise of Happiness offers new lenses on an emotion rarely challenged. I suggest you make room for it on your shelf.

Review by Vani Natarajan

Stance: Ideas about Emotion, Style, and Meaning for the Study of Expressive Culture

By Harris M. Berger
Wesleyan University Press

My critical theory class from university seemed far away when I started reading Harris M. Berger’s study, Stance. In that course, Reception Theory was probably the most difficult one to grasp, with the most theoretically abstract readings, readings for the most part founded in philosophy. Realistically, the world does not know enough about the brain or perception, and cultural context varies considerably from person to person. Joe can like or dislike something but Jane’s tastes are different; subjectivity is the key to this experience, and thus Berger is attempting to explain a very complex phenomenon. To look at subjectivity through reason, what Berger is attempting to do, seems a daunting task.

Harris M. Berger approaches these questions with gusto, however, and for that I must give him credit. His grasp of key intellectuals and their theories are evident in the text. The purpose of his analysis is to explore the larger issues associated with a person‘s “lived experience,” of diverse phenomenon, and especially music. Music is central to Berger’s work as a professor of music and performance studies in Texas.

Luckily for readers, the author is not just diligent about defining the terms he uses but also writes with acuity and finesse. For example, for him “stance is the manner in which the person grapples with a text, performance, practice, or item of expressive culture to bring it into experience.” Stance is a much more elegant word than posture, position or interpretation but all three refer to the work that is done in the reception of an occurrence. Berger is also generous with examples in an attempt to contextualize some of the more complicated passages. The narration of some of his own experiences is quite fascinating, and the first-person perspective, although it contrasts with the very formal philosophical discussion, alleviates our experience of the book.

A word of warning: I believe that Berger’s study would be almost impenetrable to someone who is not an academic (or very well versed in philosophy) because of its philosophical nature and Berger’s phenomenological approach. For neophytes, phenomenology is defined by the Oxford English Dictionary as “an approach that concentrates on the study of consciousness and the objects of direct experience.” For this reason, Berger’s book needs to be read with leisure and much concentration. However, if one is willing to make the effort, Berger’s study contains many insights into the multifaceted nature of what Berger calls the “lived experience.”

Review by Sophie M. Lavoie

The Subtle Body: The Story of Yoga in America

By Stefanie Syman
Farrar, Straus and Giroux

If you assume, as I did, that yoga came to the United States via the Maharishi in the 1970s, you’ll be surprised again and again as you read Stefanie Syman’s The Subtle Body. This intensively researched history reveals an unexpected American familiarity with yoga as early as the late eighteenth century, and a steady underground pursuit of yoga’s fundamental nature that burst into a national obsession in the past decade.

The Transcendentalists may be credited with bringing interest in the Eastern philosophies to polite Western society. It cannot be said, however, that Emerson and friends had a firm grasp on what yoga was or, for that matter, any interest in the discipline. Nevertheless, the study of The Bhagavad Gita led to a slow blossoming of yogic practices, and by the late nineteenth century, yoga was a key component of a spiritual retreat in Maine. It was there that Swami Vivekananda instructed his flock of mostly female followers in the practice of yoga, even delving into “Kundaline” and meditation. The part of the general public that was aware of the goings-on viewed the whole situation with a suspicious eye. Was it quackery or pagan religion? The same question issues from a large portion of the population to this day.

Though not a focus of Syman’s book, it is interesting to note that women were (and remain) the bulk of yogic followers and supporters. From the conversion of Woodrow Wilson’s daughter to Garbo and Swanson, women flocked to yoga and Hinduism, either in search of spiritual enlightenment or weight loss and beauty.

The Subtle Body is a hearty volume, better suited for the serious student of yoga than for the dilettante. Syman balances her research with profound characterization of the key players and delivers an exceptionally fast-paced but thorough history of Eastern spiritual and physical paths as they blended into and assimilated Western culture.

Review by Deborah Adams

Philosophy: An Innovative Introduction: Fictive Narrative, Primary Texts, and Responsive Writing

By Michael Boylan and Charles Johnson
Westview Press

I was interested in Philosophy: An Innovative Introduction because I so thoroughly enjoyed Steven Church’s Theoretical Killings. Church’s book could appear to be a group of essays on many aspects of philosophy, but actually is as innovative as it is entertaining, ranging from the formally philological to rampant pop-culture rampages. If Theoretical Killings is a fun amusement park ride of the life of the mind, Philosophy: An Innovative Introduction is a more informative museum installation, with relevant interactive exercises at every turn. Muriel Rukeyser stated that, "The universe is made up of stories, not atoms." Applicable to the study of ethics and humanities as well as philosophy, the book utilizes a strong manifestation of ‘fictive narrative philosophy’—a perspective that respects the role of story in philosophical discussion.

Boylan and Johnson’s work innovatively seeks to engage by taking historical figures from dusty pages to serve as protagonists of life’s travails and intrigues. Aristotle, Plato, Kant, Hume, Murdoch, and King are included. Short stories are juxtaposed with excerpts from original texts. Students gain comprehension through indirect argument in the stories and via direct, deductive sections. Each group of readings is followed by study questions and essay suggestions as an aid to an understanding and construction of creative arguments. This is a work of relative diversity for its genre, with the Buddha accompanying Plato and Arendt balancing Aquinas. The attempts to humanize these historical figures can be inadvertently amusing—readers learn of Kant’s dinner menu and Marx’s choice of color in neckties—but the overall quality of the fiction is of the caliber indicated by Johnson’s MacArthur Fellowship and National Book Award. Recommended for both classroom and informal study.

Review by Erika Mikkalo