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The Unreality of Memory: And Other Essays

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A literary guide to digital anxiety, The Unreality of Memory collects thought-provoking and playful essays on the Internet age’s media-saturated disaster coverage and our addiction to viewing and discussing the world’s ills.

We stare at our phones. We keep multiple tabs open. Our chats and conversations are full of the phrase “Did you see?� The feeling that we’re living in the worst of times seems to be intensifying, alongside a desire to know precisely how bad things have gotten.

Poet and essayist Elisa Gabbert’s The Unreality of Memory consists of a series of lyrical and deeply researched meditations on what our culture of catastrophe has done to public discourse and our own inner lives. In these tender and prophetic essays, she focuses in on our daily preoccupation and favorite pasttime: desperate distraction from disaster by way of a desperate obsession with the disastrous.

Moving from public trauma to personal tragedy, from the Titanic and Chernobyl to illness and loss, The Unreality of Memory alternately rips away the facade of our fascination with destruction and gently identifies itself with the age of rubbernecking. A balm, not a burr, Gabbert’s essays are a hauntingly perceptive analysis of the anxiety intrinsic in our new, digital ways of being, and also a means of reconciling ourselves to this new world.

Includes black-and-white illustrations

8 pages, Audiobook

First published August 11, 2020

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About the author

Elisa Gabbert

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Elisa Gabbert writes the On Poetry column for the New York Times and is the author of six collections of poetry, essays, and criticism, including Normal Distance; The Unreality of Memory & Other Essays; The Word Pretty; L'Heure Bleue, or the Judy Poems; The Self Unstable; and The French Exit.

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Displaying 1 - 30 of 322 reviews
Profile Image for julieta.
1,291 reviews37.9k followers
January 26, 2021
I loved this book! I hadn't read Gabbert, and knew nothing about her, and I found her way of thinking and following those thoughts provoking and just brilliant. This is just great essay writing and will definitely look for more books by her. Truly recommended.
Profile Image for Vincent Scarpa.
644 reviews182 followers
May 2, 2020
A fucking phenomenal collection of essays from one of the most engaging and perceptive thinkers I’ve ever come across. I’m a Gabbert completist and I think this is her best book yet. So, egg on your face if you sleep on it.
Profile Image for Basia.
108 reviews24 followers
May 27, 2020
4.5. This will be a lasting book. Sure, Elisa Gabbert's essay on the next pandemic, published almost two years before our current global sickness, left me windswept and chilled. But so did Gabbert's essays on past/impending disasters and how we respond (or fail to), news overload, insomnia, the pathology of "hysteria," compassion fatigue, and how we see ourselves (or again, how we fail to). Gabbert taps into a wire live with the disorienting buzz of 21st century life, albeit with a sometimes dizzying amount of quotes and references. Still, this is a book I look forward to rereading for its candidness, confessions, questions and surprises.
Profile Image for Liina.
342 reviews310 followers
June 9, 2021
Elisa Gabbert's "The Unreality of Memory" is one of the best books I've read this year and one of the best essay collections I've read in general. We are talking about a non-fiction genre book that is a page-turner and a book where basically all the essays are almost equally strong.
Gabbert starts with natural and "man-made" (think Titanic) disasters. Why they happen, what it means to live next to a volcano that may erupt any moment, how does it psychologically affect us. How do we really, deep down inside feel, when a disaster has brushed past s nearly, for a fleeting moment opening a door to the reality that it could have been us too, in that building, on that plane, on that continent. She waves in hysteria, images of the self, placebo effect, pain perception and probably my favourite parts of the book - compassion fatigue. There is a ton of research and literature quoted but it is never dry and never there just for the sake of the facts.
This book is smart and contemporary in the best sense possible. Giving us all an "aha" moment at least once or twice, probably many times before. Making us recognise ourselves in the situations Gabbert describes, how the modern world scares us, pains us but at the same time makes us numb. And how we are oblivious to it. Highly recommended.
Profile Image for Melissa.
50 reviews
September 13, 2021
This is a good collection of essays, especially those in part 1 on disaster culture. Most of the others fall a bit short for me. While they're interesting enough, they strike me more as research summaries than original essays (as another reviewer noted). It gets tiring to read rehashings of other people's writing - often this comes across as a sort of humblebrag of how much a writer has read (just me?). It's more impressive when a writer puts down their precise thoughts without too many qualifications, buffers and disclaimers, in my opinion. That said, Gabbert's voice is that of a poet's and she turns a good phrase. There is a lot of earnest reaching toward answers here that I found valuable. But at the moment I'm craving original thinking, and this just didn't do it for me overall. I concur with another reviewer here that she (and we all) should get off Twitter.
Profile Image for Suzy.
247 reviews30 followers
November 13, 2020
Essays covering interesting topics like disasters, pandemics, risk perception, memories, hysteria, the self, and compassion fatigue. Full of solid quotes and research, but I wanted Gabbert to make more of her own points. Sometimes it felt like the first time we really heard from her was in the last few paragraphs of an essay, where she would poetically wrap things up and I'd feel slightly confused about what conclusions had been drawn.
I thought her discussions about climate change were great ("Global warming is happening everywhere all the time, which paradoxically makes it hard to see, compared to something with defined edges. [...] How do you fight something you can't comprehend?")
The third part of the collection was the weakest; it completely pivoted to weak, unremarkable essays about how overwhelmed she was by the Trump admin, without adequate discussion of race or privilege.
Profile Image for Elizabeth.
3,283 reviews284 followers
Shelved as 'did-not-finish'
May 3, 2025
DNF at 8%.

Yes, to no one's surprise, I didn't finish another book club book.

This was beautifully written but the first few essays are heartbreaking and I was sobbing on my way to work or as I tried to read before bed.

Turns out there is no "right time" to read a book that discusses some of the most horrifying events of my lifetime and before.

I am not in the right place to take this in.

Great book club discussion tho!
Profile Image for Maya Sophia.
307 reviews16 followers
January 18, 2021
Just an absolutely fantastic collection of essays. I loved how it was written, I loved how Gabbert synthesized so many different disciplines, and her arguments were clear and well supported. I find things on the nature of mind and perspective to be so fascinating and so this was just right up my alley. My favorite essays were all five in the first part about disaster and our ability (or rather lack thereof) to conceptualize disaster (thanks for reminding me of The Big One, which as a Seattleite I do my best to completely ignore), The Little Room, and The Vanity Project.
Profile Image for Matt.
198 reviews41 followers
August 31, 2020
What pretty much every review has said about this book, that it feels borderline prescient, doesn't quite do it justice. To poorly paraphrase from Don Delillo's Paris Review interview, when he was asked why his writing has often been dubbed as prophetic/prescient, his response was along the lines of "I pay attention to world affairs every day;" he studies history, he pays attention. Elisa Gabbert is someone who pays attention, who does her due diligence with every topic she explores. She is neither a scientist nor a psychologist, but she has proved throughout her young career to be an excellent thinker and skilled researcher. This is her second essay collection; she has three books of poetry to her credit as well. What you get from a poet who writes prose equally well is the ability to make connections between the exterior and interior world of humanity that others would not think of, and that is the unique accomplishment of this book that makes it great.

The book starts with an essay called "Magnificent Desolation," and it covers in about 20 pages a broad spectrum of manmade disasters, ranging from the sinking of the Titanic, to 9/11, to Chernobyl. It's the broadest, most meandering essay in the collection, but it is the perfect opener because of the way it broaches the themes that weave through the remainder of the book. The final two essays of Part 1 (the book is divided into 3 parts), address global warming and pandemics, and they are perhaps the essays that make this book seem so tailor-made for our current situation. They make mention of what scientists call "slow violence," things that are happening on such a large scale (global warming, pandemic) that we can't see them with our naked eye, and psychologically our tendency is to disregard it while simultaneously feeling unnerved.

My two favorite essays in the collection are back-to-back in Part 2: “Vanity Project� and “Witches and Whiplash.� The former addresses the topic of reflections and how we identify ourselves by how we recognize ourselves in the mirror, and the various ways in which mental disorders such as dementia distort our ability to recognize ourselves, and what we lose because of it. It’s an essay I’ve thought about off and on for years since it was originally published in 2016, and have probably read 6 or 7 times. I’m not entirely sure what draws me to it, partly because of what draws me to Gabbert’s writing overall. She doesn’t try to go over your head at all; she writes as though having a conversation over dinner. She shows just the right amount of personality, like one of your smartest, funniest friends who is trying to explain something important to you. I have regularly had the sensation while reading Gabbert that I have had similar thoughts, but was not able to put them to words. That’s another significant aspect of her writing talent, her subject matter is completely relatable, but nobody else can put it into words like she can. The other essay, “Witches and Whiplash,� which covers the history of “hysteria,� conversion disorder, the centuries-long witch hunts of Europe vs. the Salem witch trials, collective emotion (what drives groups of people to blame plights on smaller things, like witches, instead of bigger things, like the environment), and so forth. I am not doing it justice with this description; it’s a great essay.

Despite their bleak subject matter, these essays soothed me in their analysis of the way humans process, have processed, and may continue to process man-made disasters. There are repetitions of certain details throughout the essays partly to remind us that some things are just too big for us to process adequately. Much of what we refuse to let in is blocked out in order to protect our incredibly fragile sense of self, which can also be lost in an instant. But instead of giving us more reasons to be afraid, Gabbert instead pushes towards the conclusion that none of us are alone in these loneliest of times.
Profile Image for Mary.
419 reviews20 followers
March 31, 2020
It’s so unfortunate that the release date of Elisa Gabbert’s collection of essays “The Unreality of Memory� is August 11, 2020, because as I was reading the ARC in March 2020, I never felt so strongly how appropriate a book was for the current zeitgeist; I was overwhelmed and even a little unsettled by how prescient and eerily of-the-moment her words were. When I requested “The Unreality of Memory,� I knew nothing about Elisa Gabbert or her work; I was simply intrigued by the promise of “provocative, searching essays on disaster culture, climate anxiety, and our mounting collective sense of doom.� And of course I didn’t foresee that the kind of worldwide pandemic that Gabbert describes in an essay called “The Great Mortality� was imminently upon us. But as I sped through the book’s earlier essays about disasters such as the Titanic, the Challenger and Columbia space shuttles, and Chernobyl, I was carried along on Gabbert’s page-turning prose straight to our current disaster, the Covid-19 pandemic. Referring to the book “Pandemic� by Connie Goldsmith, Gabbert notes that “Goldsmith lays out how five global trends—climate change, disruption of animal habitats, increased air travel, crowding and megacities, and overuse and misuse of antibiotics—all increase the risk of a pandemic� and quotes Goldsmith as saying that “Scientists do not yet know what will cause the next pandemic. It could be a new bacterium that resists all available medications. Or it could be a mutated virus to which people have no immunity. What scientists and epidemiologists do know is that human activity is largely responsible for the spread of disease.� Never for me has a book been more perfectly suited to the moment I read it in than this one.

To say that this is a pandemic book, however, is to grossly shortchange it. Gabbert is curious about so many things—psychology, witchcraft, the concept of pain, compassion fatigue—that each of her essays on these varied subjects is bracingly intelligent and insightful. I found myself highlighting practically half the book, but these quotes in particular are staying with me in this moment:

“I feel this way all the time now. Nothing is safe. Everything’s fine.�

“To be clear, I do worry that civilization is doomed. (The word “worry� seems inadequate; I almost wrote “believe.�) But I’m not sure the doom will occur like a moment, like an event, like a disaster. Like the impact of a bomb or an asteroid. I wonder if the way the world gets worse will barely outpace the rate at which we get used to it.�

And maybe most of all, the final words of the book: � [A]s long as there are books and a couch to read them on, we’ll be okay, we can be happy.�

Many thanks to NetGalley and Farrar, Straus and Giroux for providing me with an ARC of this title in return for my honest review. I will recommend it to absolutely everyone.
Profile Image for Areeb Ahmad (Bankrupt_Bookworm).
749 reviews252 followers
September 10, 2021
"Often, when something bad happens, I have a strange, instinctual desire for things to get even worse—I think of a terrible outcome and then wish for it. I recognize the pattern, but I don’t understand it. It’s as though my mind is running simulations and can’t help but prefer the most dramatic option—as though, in that eventuality, I could enjoy it from the outside.�



I knew this book was going to be special as soon as I read the first few pages. Gabbert's writing is extremely engaging, refreshing, breathtaking. Her language packs a lot of clarity, erudite without being overbearing. All these essays, written between 2016-2018 with a 2019 epilogue, look at disasters, how humans as a species have handled it. She is focused on modernity's precipitation of an anxiety of existence, how the proliferation of digital communities, the settlement of a "global village", lead to a Jungian state of collective unease where catastrophe mapping is now a shared group activity.

Part I is close to the running examination of disaster culture & " The Great Mortality" perceptively talks about possible pandemics, predicting one didn't exist when it was written. Part II becomes narrower on illnesses both real & imagined. "Witches and Whiplash", on the history of hysteria and conversion disorders, is perhaps the best piece in the book. Lastly, Part III looks at media, empathy and its exhaustion, privilege and compassion fatigue. "I'm So Tired" is where Gabbert shows the sharpest mirror. Throughout, she emphasizes on how perception and memory intertwine and affect each other, how our reality is distinctly unreal.

I was dismayed by Gabbert's uncritical portrayal of Barack Obama. I have noticed that otherwise astute critical thinkers have a blind spot when it comes to him and if they are not totally venerating him, they are brushing away of his flaws with minimal noise. His being Black, and adopting a genteel public persona, and dare I say the guise of an educated elite, does not change that he was very like his predecessors, one more quintessential US President of the past couple decades. Also, "In Our Midst" discusses the famous 1954 Robbers Cave State Park experiment, based on Lord of the Flies, but doesn't mention its flaws or how it was criticized later. It is the bedrock of this essay so I was puzzled by the absence.

These criticisms aside, this is easily one of the best essay collections I have read in my life, and will definitely be going on my Fave Nonfiction of 2021 list. Gabbert is a brilliant thinker and I heavily recommend her work.




(I received a finished copy from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.)
Profile Image for Varsha Ravi.
462 reviews134 followers
July 14, 2021
The Unreality of Memory is a phenomenal essay collection, perhaps the best one I’ve read. Startlingly clear-eyed and so acutely perceptive, Gabbert’s essays hold up a mirror for our collective humanity to reflect on some of the most pertinent questions that plague our age of digital anxiety. Divided into three parts unified thematically, you could say this essay collection examines disaster culture, how we respond to crisis and tragedy, personal and global, interweaving meticulous research and case studies from both historical and contemporary thinkers.

In the first part, touching on major man-made disasters in recent history including Chernobyl, the atomic bomb, Auschwitz, the cold war, 9/11, Titanic, and so on, she examines the spectacle of disaster and the innate human responses in the face of it. Particularly now with being all the more interconnected with social media, the bigger the spectacle, the more media can sensationalise it. As an observer or a bystander she makes a statement of how ‘horror and awe are not incompatible, but intertwined.� She confronts the kind of perverse thrill that disasters happening in the world can momentarily create in comparison with equally deadly invisible threats that may be harder to see such as climate change and global warming that are all the more catastrophic in the long run. One of my favourite essays from the first part was the last one, The Great Mortality which offered commentary of a kind of sobering, sombre eventuality that we are heading towards, collective inaction in anticipation of the worst that’s yet to come, ‘employing folly as a strategy�. Part Two delves into memory and madness, looking at women’s hysteria, witch trials of the past, psychosomatic illnesses, medical mysteries, self-preservation, and vanity. In Part Three, it comes almost full circle in that the essays mostly examine the tiredness to the constant influx of threats, micro and macro in scale and the ‘compassion fatigue� that sets in. The well of empathy running dry and an incapacity to process what deserves more attention in the grand scheme of things.

In all that I’ve touched on in this review, I’m barely scratching the surface. I’m in awe of Gabbert’s intelligence, her capacity to examine from both a historical and a contemporary lens and cogently present her analysis, pen thought to paper in such a compelling collection of essays. I cannot recommend this enough, it is a companion piece to comprehend and contextualise our disaster-ridden times, relatable, wise, and unpretentiously brilliant.
Profile Image for Alex.
125 reviews
August 14, 2021
This was an interesting (and depressing) read, even more so because these essays - many of which are about how we handle natural disasters and widespread catastrophes - were written in pre-COVID times. They resonate strongly in 2021.

Structurally, I had a difficult time with the essays, which is probably why it took me so long to finish such a short collection. Gabbert clearly did a ton of research (I'm undecided how I feel about her including little windows into her research process in the middle of some of the essays - I love learning about an artist's process, but I might prefer separation between the process and the finished product), but most of the essays feel like a dump of loosely-connected facts and anecdotes without any strong conclusions. The information she chooses to include is certainly fascinating (and gruesome at times, occasionally bordering on gratuitous, which is interesting, given that part of this collection is devoted to the evils of sensationalized media), but I think what I liked most about it was that the bibliography added a handful of books to my reading list.
Profile Image for Jimmy.
513 reviews883 followers
January 3, 2022
I said I was writing about disasters. “What about disasters?� she asked, and I wasn’t sure how to answer. My mother stepped in with a much better elevator pitch: "Isn’t it more about how we think about disasters?"
I had a very similar experience reading this book. After the first few essays, I thought the common thread was disasters and the end of the world. The doom and gloom of that type of topic is familiar to me, scary yet comforting at the same time. I thought I'd give it a chance since I loved her . But as I read on, I noticed that Elisa Gabbert's main concern wasn't exactly the end of the world, but how the end of the world made people feel. Now this, I thought, was a much more interesting question to examine. How do we deal with the fact that all this crap is happening and that we are likely living in the last epoch of human history?

The following are brief summaries/rough notes & quotes from each chapter:

Magnificent Desolation: Examines our conflicting and confusing emotions when witnessing disasters. And how hubris as an explanation for disasters oftentimes misses the mark.
"Horror and awe are not incompatible; they are intertwined."

"Hubris, or something else? Disasters always feel like a thing of the past. We want to believe that better technology, better engineering will save us. That the more information we have, the safer we can make our technology. But we can never have all the information. In creating new technology to address known problems, we unavoidably create new problems, new unknowns. Progress changes the parameters of possibility. This is something we strive for—to innovate past the event horizon of what we can imagine."
Doomsday Pattern: disaster capital = how intrigued are we by it? how dramatic is it? etc.
"There have been many more deaths, orders of magnitude more, from accidents in the fossil-fuel industries than in nuclear energy. But I can’t think of a particular accident with as much disaster capital as Chernobyl."
Threats:
"Normalization is incredibly normal, a way of coping with terror by resetting our default values."

"We believe we need to worry about the right problems, even if we can’t solve them."

"Millions of people who live in areas vulnerable to megathrust tsunamis don’t even have the choice to worry or not; they don’t know the threat exists to begin with."
Big and Slow: disasters & scale / our ability to "see" reality
We must find a way to turn them into “arresting stories� (in Nixon’s terms), told “in a distinctive manner� (in Moeller’s)—suggesting that the right response to unending wars and a rapidly warming planet is a shift in aesthetics. Perhaps it is. Perhaps we have to make the real threats fascinating. But how, if we lack the cognitive capacity to see them?

Hyperspace is in part an exercise in conceptualizing spatial dimensions beyond the usual three. As Kaku explains, "The growing realization among scientists today is that any three-dimensional theory is ‘too small� to describe the forces that govern our universe." Extra dimensions give us "‘enough room� to explain the fundamental forces.""

There’s something misleading about these exercises, though, as well as the idea of higher dimensions creating “more room”—they make it seem like the fourth and fifth dimensions, and so on, are larger somehow, more outside. But where? As high up or far down as you can imagine is still in the third dimension. But counterintuitively, some theoretical physicists think higher dimensions are smaller, not bigger, than the ones we perceive. The physicist Peter Freund says we can’t see them because they are “‘curled up� into a tiny ball so small that they can no longer be detected.

The economist Leopold Kohr believed most social dysfunction was the result of “the cult of bigness,� the unexamined assumption that growth is always good.

Don’t be upset when a teacup breaks, because its breaking was inevitable; therefore, it was already broken. Is the world already broken? I wonder if humanity is not “too big to fail,� but too big not to.
The Great Mortality: on global pandemics
(What does desire feel like to an ant?)

you might think that the period following the plague years would be one of great austerity. If anything, the opposite is the case. Survivors of the plague did not become ascetic. Instead, they may have sensed a baffling meaninglessness to their being spared—survivor’s guilt being a kind of miserable apprehension of one’s own good luck. [...] People embraced “a more disordered and shameful life,� and “behavior grew more reckless and callous, as it often does after a period of violence and suffering.� You could also say not much had changed at all, though a third of the world had died

persistence of the normal is strong.
The Little Room (Or, The Unreality of Memory):
Since the judge decided then that the historical facticity of the Holocaust would be argued in court, the deniers were seen as having won the battle no matter what the verdict. Both sides believed the impact of the extensive media coverage would be significant and, for different reasons, did not trust the journalists.
Witches and Whiplash
It's as if the accident provides an excuse to express the buried trauma.

Rats, Scaer notes, when given shocks in a certain part of a maze, will tend to return to that part of the maze, “leading to reenactment of the shock.� He adds, “The familiar is more rewarding to the rats than the unknown.�

But while they are frozen, all the chemical activation associated with fight or flight persists. If the animal survives, once it’s safe it will need to “discharge� this energy through shaking or trembling. He noted that humans also freeze in the face of threats, but rarely do they go through the discharge stage—likely because, as Scaer puts it, “dramatic shaking all over is ‘unseemly� or ‘hysterical,� and tends to be suppressed in advanced Western cultures.� It’s like the fight-or-flight process can’t play itself out and so gets stuck.

“Another example, Fromm writes, is “going berserk,� which is “found among the Teutonic tribes (berserk means ‘bear shirt�).� He explains: “This was an initiation rite in which the male youth was induced into a state of identification with a bear. The initiated would attack people, trying to bite them, not speaking but simply making noises like a bear� It is rage for the sake of rage.�

There’s a debate among psychologists about whether emotions are real, biologically innate things, or whether emotion is a concept that humans made up, like money.� I felt shocked by that, and still feel shocked. Don’t even infants have emotions? If our emotions are a construct, what part of our conscious experience is not?
Sleep No More probably my favorite chapter, insightful
I hate the term “date rape.� If you murder someone on a date, it’s not called “date murder.�

The anesthesiologist Daniel Carr believes that “the memory of pain—the body’s memory of pain, that is—can be more damaging than the original experience.� He cites experiments showing that shocking a giant sea slug in the same place you shocked it previously causes a more complicated pain response—implying more pain—than the original shock.

"To seem to feel pain just is to be in pain.� But the converse isn’t true: Not seeming to feel pain doesn’t mean you aren’t in pain.

Poet Sandra Simonds responded "Happiness is basically irrelevant to my life. I am not even convinced happiness is ethical.� I think about this all the time.

Jennifer Michael Hecht argues that “the basic modern assumptions about how to be happy are nonsense.� Euphoria is one form of happiness, but “we devalue euphoria in our drugs� because we value productivity.�

“Happiness� is not well defined. In addition to euphoria, Hecht points out, the word can mean “a good day� or “a happy life.� These different kinds of happiness “are often at odds.� Too many good days (weekends or vacation days, for most people) could prevent you from having a happy (long, fulfilling, stable) life. But “modern expert advice is hopelessly devoted to ‘happy life� happiness,� Hecht writes, at the expense of euphoric moments or simple happy days. It’s a question of perspective, or perhaps resolution—how zoomed in you are when examining your life.
True Crime

We don’t just look to the media for facts, we look to it for narratives.

“We want to lead lives that are interesting, exciting, fulfilling, and happy, and we want to lead lives that are morally good.� Increasingly, however, access to information will make this difficult, if not impossible—we will have to choose between happiness and morality.
I'm So Tired: political apathy, compassion fatigue, etc.

In Our Midst: Us vs. them mentality.
What in the world are we supposed to care about, and how much? Do our loyalties belong with our friends first—be it our literal friends or, as Schmitt believed, our nation-state? Or do we, as Emmanuel Levinas suggested, have “infinite responsibility� toward the other, any and every other?

“Rather than confront global suffering, we may cull our feeds, or stop watching the news. Or, worse, we may make of the suffering other an enemy, turning apathy to antipathy. These unspoken algorithms by which we manage our empathy—they are almost innocent, almost “self-care.� (We’re not committing atrocities, just refusing to witness them.) But layered together, they have the shade of evil.�

The title is based on the Javanese term mata kelap, or “dark eye,� equivalent to what the Malaysians call amok. In English, “running amok� suggests wild and disruptive but essentially harmless behavior; I picture toddlers at a birthday party. The original term is more specific, per van der Post: 'It is a phenomenon where a human being who has behaved respectably in the collective sense, obeying all the mores and the collective ethos of a particular culture and people, suddenly at the age of about 35 or 40 finds all this respectability too much—and takes a dagger and murders everyone around before being overpowered.'

Societal mores are in place not to maintain the natural order but to enforce unnatural order.

meaning—in the form of engagement with evil—is a basic human need.
Epilogue: The Unreality of Time
“McTaggart does not use “unreality� in the same way I do, to describe a quality of seeming unrealness in something I assume to be real. Instead, his paper sets out to prove that time literally does not exist.�

viewers didn’t actually notice if they were a little out of sync, but there was “an asymmetry”—the sound can lag the video by up to 125 milliseconds before people notice something’s wrong, but if the sound leads the video by more than 45 milliseconds, they know it’s off.

I wonder if the way the world gets worse will barely outpace the rate at which we get used to it.

In the blind and deaf world of the tick, the important signals are temperature and the odor of butyric acid. For the black ghost knifefish, it’s electrical fields. For the echo-locating bat, it’s air-compression waves. The small subset of the world that an animal is able to detect is its Umwelt. The bigger reality, whatever that might mean, is called the Umgebung.� The Umgebung is the unknown unknown, the unperceived unperceived.

The we responsible for climate change is a fictional construct, one that’s distorting and dangerous,� writes Genevieve Guenther

"Most people are good.� That sentence gives me pause. “Most People Are Good� is also the name of a country song I hate: I believe this world ain’t half as bad as it looks, the guy croons in the chorus. The more I think of it, the more I disagree. I don’t think most people are good, or bad, for that matter. I think people are neutral. From a distance, they look almost interchangeable. It seems to me that “good people� can become “bad people� when provided the opportunity within an existing power structure—to claim and exert power at a deadly cost to others and get away with it. It is not an act of empathy for me to say that Trump is not inherently evil, but “we� have created opportunities for him to be evil.

One character reminded another that a “revolution� is simply a turn of the wheel; it doesn’t break the power structure, it just changes who is on top. I think about that all the time.
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February 14, 2021
I was baffled and frustrated by this book. Overall, the author seems very well-read, but these essays didn't bring additional insight to the sources and at times seemed unclear, imprecise, and unformed at best, and misleading at worst.

This was the quote that led me to put the book down*:
"It made me think of a conversation I had years ago with an ex-boyfriend, a physics major, who told me that temperature is not as simple a concept as it seems. It is not synonymous with heat or energy, he said. Temperature, essentially, is what thermometers measure. I never really understood this, but I think about it often. Or maybe I should say, what I think about is the elegant way the construction reduces what we understand."
- I would be happy to have a more in-depth probing of this thought - how is temperature reflective of energy? What does it mean to our thinking when we narrowly consider the world based on what we can measure? How does this influence and limit us? Maybe advocates of this collection would say that's what this book does. But to me, this quote stands for the book itself - notes on topics that other people have thought about a lot, and works that the author has read, but has never really understood.

My comments are likely nit-picky, but I could not stop thinking this way at every turn in the book:

"An Associated Press photo dubbed “The Falling Man� captures one of these jumpers: a man “falling,� as if at ease, upside down and in parallel with the vertical grid of the tower. (It’s a trick of photography; other photos in the series show him tumbling haphazardly, out of control.)"
- Is it a "trick" of photography to show a single still/image? Maybe this was the case when photography was first invented, but I think it's an accepted feature of the medium now.

After a long and thoughtful quote from Theodor Adorno about "survivor's guilt, sometimes known as concentration-camp syndrome" (which, already, is a strange framing):
"This syndrome, along with post-traumatic stress disorder, goes some way toward explaining why so many Holocaust survivors have committed suicide."
- DOES IT?? And wait, how many/what fraction of Holocaust survivors committed suicide??? Why is this statement here, and then immediately abandoned?

Writing about reactions to 9/11:
"Jonathan Franzen wrote: Unless you were a very good person indeed, you were probably, like me, experiencing the collision of several incompatible worlds inside your head. Besides the horror and sadness of what you were watching, you might also have felt a childish disappointment over the disruption of your day, or a selfish worry about the impact on your finances, or admiration for an attack so brilliantly conceived and so flawlessly executed, or, worst of all, an awed appreciation of the visual spectacle it produced. I find Franzen’s moral hierarchy here questionable, that “worst of all� most puzzling. Because to me, more than worry, or admiration (!), the most natural and undeniable of reactions would seem to be awe."
- I find the author's writing here puzzling - even if "the most natural and undeniable of reactions would seem to be awe," that is not, to me, contrary to the fact that it the reaction can be terrible. And my reading of Franzen's comment is not that the response was just "awe" but "awed appreciation."

The author alludes to and then says "As a whole, Alexievich’s book is stunning, but difficult to take." I mean, I can't disagree with that, but it's also an incredible book, and of course a book about Chernobyl should be difficult to take!! I would send a reader to that book rather than the essay in this collection.

"(Seattle’s weather in July is uncharacteristically perfect: The sun was streaming through the tall windows; it wouldn’t set, and then gorgeously, until after 9:00 p.m.)"
- wait, why is this uncharacteristic? Is this based on the idea that Seattle is always rainy or has "bad" weather? But... it's not usually rainy there in the summer... so why is this uncharacteristic?

"With diseases, prevention is better than cure—there’s no cure for polio, so we need the vaccine. "
What does this mean? What is "better" in this context - at a public health level? Is it "better" to prevent HIV infection than to cure it? Wouldn't both be valuable? If there is a "cure" available for something, is prevention still better?

"More to the point, I can’t imagine a scientist or philosopher in the twenty-first century worrying about the eventual fate of the greater universe. A different kind of heat death—global warming—is a far more imminent existential threat."
- Really? The author can't imagine this? I guess this is not meant literally, but this seems very short-sighted. Clearly there's lots of thought on non-imminent existential threats. This just made me think about an excellent book on this very topic: .

"The United States spent huge sums of money on a campaign to eliminate malaria in the so-called Third World—an act of charity, in a way, since malaria was not a threat in affluent countries."
- Yikes. This is broken down a little bit afterward but... eek.


There ARE a few nuggets in the book that I liked, mainly gleanings from other works. I was enjoying this passage:

"William Wordsworth’s long poem The Prelude, in which the poet recalls rowing a boat, at first in peace and then with dread, under a “craggy ridge� that appears at first “an elfin pinnace� but seems to grow and even chase him as he rows away. This impression is due, Morton writes, “to a strange parallax effect in which more of a suitably massive object is revealed as one goes farther away from it.�

and then it's soon followed by a mention of a really cool-looking book, , with a cover described as "like a science museum diorama by Thomas Kinkaid."
This genuinely confused me - I wondered who Thomas Kinkaid was - someone who made cool dioramas?? Sounds neat! Well the only Thomas Kinkaid I could find was this guy: so I guess it's supposed to be Thomas Kinkade but...why would the cover look like one of his works? I guess because there are sunbeams in it? But it's a huge iceberg, not a cozy house or trail or anything associated with Kinkade... This last issue is obviously petty, but clearly this book was just not for me.

*after seeing other reviews mention how prescient this book was (having been written prior to COVID19) and that it quoted Dr. Fauci, I did have to read the rest of that essay!
Profile Image for s..
63 reviews143 followers
August 31, 2021
what an excellent and important and scarily perceptive book
Profile Image for Chad.
571 reviews14 followers
February 6, 2021
Fantastic group of essays focusing on our cultural obsession with disasters; climate anxiety; compassion fatigue; and mostly, how we live in a day and age where social media doomscrolling has taken over our psyche and distorted our sense of history and reality. Just about all of these essays were written during 2016-19 including one about pandemics and viruses which was simultaneously fascinating and terrifying to read given our present circumstances living in the age of coronavirus.

Gabbert’s writing is a perfect mix of personal experience and secondary sources, I found The Unreality of Memory to be a superb read with a lot of food for thought. 5/5
Profile Image for Jay Sandover.
Author1 book179 followers
February 12, 2021
Chapter after chapter of honest grappling with fascinating contemporary subjects. 4.5 stars.
Profile Image for cynthia lu.
57 reviews
July 13, 2022
often times when i read essay collections i find them scattered; each essay is informational but lacking a place in the collection. the unreality of memory was different. gabbert masterfully draws through lines between each essay—each thought—in this collection; she manipulates this human way of thinking to write an engaging yet confusing collection.

my only issue with this book is the *effort* it took to get into it—each time i picked it up it felt like a chore for 10 minutes, and then i dissolved into the writing (especially at the conclusion of each essay—that was where pedantic analysis melted into prophetic conclusions, albeit ones that lead to more pedantic analysis. i can see how this could be frustrating; i can also see how simplified analysis would make these essays infinitely more shallow and less meditative). it was difficult, and effortful, and not exactly fun.

notably: this feeling of effort disappeared in the last few essays, which were absolutely captivating. the humanity in them was palpable. for instance: "if ethical systems are incoherent, which i believe they are, wherefore my moral certainty? perhaps i should write instead about my own participation in evil: my complicity and complacency as an american, and my entitlement. i ignore the evils that support my quality of life, to which i've become accustomed. we've arranged to make the evils that benefit us invisible."

sidenote the cover of this book is SO SEXY u should get it and read it for the sole purpose of looking cool while u read it
Profile Image for Bridget H.
125 reviews9 followers
January 20, 2021
This collection of essays felt like a taxonomy of worries that already keep me awake at night, so naturally, I read The Unreality of Memory right before bed. My boyfriend would see my face and ask with concern, "What are you reading about now?" Catastrophic climate events (superstorms, tidal waves, something called a caldera which WILL haunt me forever), disastrous manmade accidents (the Titanic, Chernobyl), and plagues (this particular essay was somehow penned in a pre-Covid world). I actually felt a sense of relief when I reached the essays in the second half of the book that focused on comparatively soothing topics like memory, insomnia, the effects of trauma on the body, and the 2016 election. Despite all of this, Gabbert, who is intensely perceptive and able to conjure some killer prose, does not seem like the type of person who becomes immobilized or nihilistic by the encroaching end of the world. (She does seem like she would be fun to awfulize with at a party, but we are birds of a feather). Instead her work seems like an essential first step, not even in combatting climate change, but in recognizing its reality-altering effects. By mining our long history, she imagines a resilient (although unimaginably different) future in spite of impending catastrophe. And so despite finishing this book with several newly adopted lifelong fears and anxieties, I resolve to do the same.
Profile Image for Mark Leidner.
Author13 books137 followers
November 21, 2020
Most riveting books are about one thing. This one is rare in that it is riveting and about many things. Yet all the subjects into which it delves—slow-mo disasters like climate change whose scale boggles comprehension, the avatar of a self, the library of deceptions to which viruses and chemicals subject our senses—are all also only one thing: the möbius strip of a consciousness threading through/threaded by reality. Given all of the above, the writing is crystalline, economical, unpretentious, and thoroughly researched. I also usually have no stomach for disaster porn/books about horrible things—unless these themes are conveyed through the emotional distance of fiction—because I feel like I’m already panicked about everything already, but this book’s candid, methodical perspective on human woe was actually uplifting. I felt humbled rather than depressed by many of the observations. Awe at the mystery, etc, rather than panicked about the outcomes. There has always been something uplifting about the sheer cosmic depth of our ignorance, the kind of ignorance that scientific curiosity reveals rather than tries to cover up or compensate for � that is the unexpectedly positive feeling i got from this book.
Profile Image for M. Pierce Joyce.
93 reviews8 followers
March 21, 2021
The essays in this book deftly confront some of the dark questions, feelings and delusions we all (to echo the epilogue, it feels somewhat irresponsible to say "we all," but I believe the expression is generally comprehensible within the context) have been thrust into in the telecommunications-mediated 21st century.

Why does one feel excitement in a tragedy? Can one care too much; is this dangerous? What is evil? Is civilization doomed? How real is the experience of memory, pain or even time?

It is interesting to see the emergence of somewhat unified depictions of 11.8.16 (see also, "Red Pill" by Hari Kunzru) in the publishing cycle and refreshing/surprising to read about heeding Dr. Fauci's warnings in a pre-COVID context. COVID is never mentioned in the book, but the thinking & attitudes that it characterizes are so relevant that it is better left unmentioned.

Huge thanks to Steven for alerting me to this titanic work of creative nonfiction.
Profile Image for Emily.
1,268 reviews57 followers
September 26, 2020
This essay collection is smart and timely as hell. At times I felt like I couldn’t keep up with Gabbert’s thinking!

It’s astonishing how prescient her writing seems- there’s an entire essay about the next pandemic 😱 Reading about how we think about disasters was distressing at times, but as I sank into the book, I found it more and more fascinating. There are tons of fantastic pieces in this collection, and it feels super relevant for These Unprecedented Times!

Definitely pick up a copy and do some hard thinking. It’s worth it.
Profile Image for kennedy clark.
78 reviews43 followers
January 16, 2022
Seriously would have finished this in one setting if I didn’t force myself to slow down. So wonderful!
Profile Image for Kiely.
486 reviews4 followers
June 28, 2022
“For years, I’ve believed there are two kinds of happiness. On the one hand, there’s the happiness of stability� on the other, there’s the happiness of intense experience: dizzying highs and crushing lows in quick succession� As we get older, as the pressures of conformity increase and the lows take their toll, we strive for the first kind of happiness. But we continue to prefer our painful memories� stable life may be happier, but unstable life is more interesting. It’s as though being happy on a day-to-day basis doesn’t make us happy overall.
Believing this scares me, as much as the news scares me. I worry that, despite the wages of stress on my body� my blood pressure is higher, my gums are receding� I’ll look back on this whole awful year [2016] with /nostalgia/. “Nostalgia,� etymologically, means “homesickness,� or “return-home pain,� � again, the significance of place. I also find the “pain� part of the word (algos, as in fibromyalgia), the longing part, bleeds over into the “return-home� part� I’m not just nostalgic for my past, I’m nostalgic for my pain. My own past suffering can be a great source of comfort. Why is that? Because it’s over? Or because it’s a badge of honor?�


I absolutely adored this book. The sentiment in the above quote scares me with how relevant it is to my own experiences of nostalgia � knowing that a time was bad and horrifying and scary, but still wanting to back there, in a small part of your consciousness. Throughout the beginning of quarantine in 2020, I wrote a journal entry every day, partially to make sure I did NOT romanticize that period of time in the future. I was sad, I was lonely, we had a hard time getting food, I read and watched movies and did nothing else, I missed my job and my friends and my coworkers and my parents� and yet, I still find myself thinking, at odd times: “I wish I could experience lockdown again.� (?????) I wax philosophic about the emotional trauma I went through in graduate school, I bring it up to my family over and over, half jokingly and half because I sort of /like/ talking about the pain I went through. As Gabbert so eloquently and simply repeats in “Witches and Whiplash,� one of my favorite essays in the collection: Pain is an emotion.
Many people before me have said that it’s very very strange that Gabbert released a book about disasters with a full chapter about pandemics /during/ the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, but most of the book was written between 2016-18. She said in one interview that she cannot tell the future (lol) and it was just dumb (bad) luck that things happened the way they did, but it just drives home the fact that many scientists knew a pandemic would happen eventually because of the various facets of human life in the 21st century, they just didn’t know when or how. It was startling and eerie to read Gabbert’s writing about the various risk factors for a pandemic, and even quoting Dr. Fauci before he became a household name!, when we are now right smack in the middle of one. Gabbert talks about how, at the end of the Black Death in the Middle Ages, people just went back to living their normal lives afterward even though a third to a half of the human population had died: “The persistence of the normal is strong,� she quotes from the scholar Barbara Tuchman. Sound familiar?
There is so much more I could say about this book: how Gabbert opened up so many ideas to me, taught me about so many things, aligned with my interests in nuclear disasters and the Titanic and witch trials in Europe and the US, and thoughts about what to personally do about climate change short of just ignoring it and how journalists are potentially amoral. Gabbert finishes the book without many answers, and finishes many of her essays the same way, too; how is /she/ going to change climate change, or the nationalism and fascism lurking in the far-right American psyche, or the sensationalism of the 24-hour news cycle? Gabbert presents us with some hope, though: horrible disasters have happened before, and they will happen again, and we are not the first people to have experienced horrible things on simultaneously a global, national, local, and personal scale. There is collective power in numbers, and as long as we work towards the right things, we should be able to bring about change. Or, at least, she hopes.
This book dazzled me. I’ll be thinking about it for a long time to come.
41 reviews2 followers
October 30, 2020
I feel as if people will read this book with the light on in their car instead of going inside a parents house during a trip home. I did just that.

This book presents a highly intuitive (2018 buzzword) approach to essays and (never) erroneous information. Erroneous is a fun word to use because I use it to describe conversations with newfound sexual partners. See essay regarding witchcraft.

The majority of this book I read while riding the excercise bike. I wear monochromatic sweatsuits. A site to see? Not like Zion or a west coast sunset; but more comparable to seeing a license plate that says in all capitalized letters “DROP OUT.� Would this license plate be more/less fragile if the written word was in French? Idk, nor do I care.

Also, I can’t stop thinking about how/when people choose to wear either white/navy/black t shirts as their go-to. I forgot gray. I didn’t manage to not converse about AOC tonight. Tonight I was happy to answer. 2020!

The collection of essays regarding the vitality of sleep deprivation and visual vanity of oneself are amongst the best collection of thoughts put together on paper.

Gabbert is a star. Without looking up her pedigree I can merely assume her education/experience has been worth every penny and painful experience.


Required reading of the highest pedigree.
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