25 April 2009
one or two new books, some speculation and a curious kind of realism
This week saw the launch not only of Owen's brilliant book but also the much-delayed appearance (tee hee, intra-funny, sort of) of Logics of Worlds. The book launch for Owen and David Stubbs was, in all honesty, the literary event of the season. (Obviously I haven't been to any other literary events of this season or any other, apart, perhaps, from one of Tariq Goddard's launches a few years back, and some boring-arse academic ones. But it's still true.) Everyone was super-sexy, of course, especially Laura 'Savage Messiah' Oldfield-Ford (who later proved that she is perhaps the best dancer in London), China with his post-handsome tentacular thing going on and the magnificent king of immaterial pranksters, Stewart Home (who wrote his own groovy report here). I accidentally managed to miss talking to several dozen people I should have said hello to and more, but then I was busy looking for my phone, which I later found in the bin (perhaps I had thrown in there in a strange fit of unsocial sociability). Let's all live in a big literary house and have convoluted and complicated discussions about books and politics and things, heh heh heh...
After about thirty seconds of top-quality sleep, I then got the train to Bristol for the 2nd (annual?) speculative realism conference at UWE. Here are some photos (they're crap because I can't take people, as you probably know). Cheers to John and Iain for organising the event.
Graham Harman, Ray Brassier, Iain Hamilton Grant and Alberto Toscano pretending to be Quentin Meillassoux (not doing a very good job, seeing as he decided to critique him a bit instead. Good paper though. I wasn't really sleeping into my hands at that point, even if it might have looked like that. Or if I was, it wasn't because the paper wasn't brilliant. Forgive me!).
Iain speaks to a Jo(h)n haecceity.
Spectral Realism, or, how not to take a picture indoors.
I decided not to make my usual telegraphic notes on this occasion. Hopefully someone else will put up a proper report - I'm still way too behind on the material to say anything cogent about After Finitude or the responses to it. The more time marches on, the more I get pulled back to the middle of the 19th century...
Here are some more pictures of Bristol (ah, this is more like it):
An old hotel by Temple Meads station.
They should hold the 'Spectral Realism' conference here.
A tribute to Brunel, engineer of the Great Western Railway.
Rede and Gerede.
Trying to make Bristol utopian. I'll have to come back and try harder. I've promised Owen a south-west tour this summer, not least because he's never seen a cow, or something, so expect more pictures of mud and sticks soon. Back to work next week. That's not the kind of realism we need too much of, I think.
After about thirty seconds of top-quality sleep, I then got the train to Bristol for the 2nd (annual?) speculative realism conference at UWE. Here are some photos (they're crap because I can't take people, as you probably know). Cheers to John and Iain for organising the event.
Graham Harman, Ray Brassier, Iain Hamilton Grant and Alberto Toscano pretending to be Quentin Meillassoux (not doing a very good job, seeing as he decided to critique him a bit instead. Good paper though. I wasn't really sleeping into my hands at that point, even if it might have looked like that. Or if I was, it wasn't because the paper wasn't brilliant. Forgive me!).
Iain speaks to a Jo(h)n haecceity.
Spectral Realism, or, how not to take a picture indoors.
I decided not to make my usual telegraphic notes on this occasion. Hopefully someone else will put up a proper report - I'm still way too behind on the material to say anything cogent about After Finitude or the responses to it. The more time marches on, the more I get pulled back to the middle of the 19th century...
Here are some more pictures of Bristol (ah, this is more like it):
An old hotel by Temple Meads station.
They should hold the 'Spectral Realism' conference here.
A tribute to Brunel, engineer of the Great Western Railway.
Rede and Gerede.
Trying to make Bristol utopian. I'll have to come back and try harder. I've promised Owen a south-west tour this summer, not least because he's never seen a cow, or something, so expect more pictures of mud and sticks soon. Back to work next week. That's not the kind of realism we need too much of, I think.
