At the time of his death in February 2016, Italian writer and philosopher Umberto Eco had finished work on Chronicles of a Liquid Society; in fact, Italian publication was moved up from May 2016 to mere days after Eco’s passing. The book is a selection of pieces from the column in L’Espresso magazine which Eco began writing in 1985; as he explains in the foreword, “between 2000 and 2015 I had written more than 400 articles — roughly twenty-six a year — and felt that some of these could be salvaged.”
That self-effacing remark sets the tone for a remarkable collection, intellectually rigorous but accessible, thought-provoking but frequently funny, historically immersed but preternaturally aware of the world outside. The book is framed as an examination of “the liquid society,” our “nascent present” which has arisen in the waning of postmodernism. The liquid society is characterized by a collapse of states and political ideologies under the weight of “supranational entities,” leading to a lack of certainty in the law, in the role of the individual, and an increase in consumption and compulsive visibility.
While the selected essays rarely tie directly back to the theme (the titular liquid society essay is from 2015, one of the later in the volume), they each support the analysis and characterization. Thus, Eco writes of “a world where people will be ready to do anything to be seen on television — or whatever will have replaced television by then” in an essay from 2002, well before Snapchat and Instagram, and an essay on Twitter from 2013 seems chillingly prescient. Also chilling is his analysis of the resurgence of fascism and racism, a recurring theme across the 15-year span of essays.
Don’t be misled, though: it’s not all politics and social analysis. Among many other topics (the semiotics of porn-star dental work? George Orwell’s Big Brother and the TV show?) Eco writes lovingly of books, and scornfully of those who would limit readers. And there is something wonderful about the amusingly belittling analyses of conspiracy theories and theorists, from the man who created, in Foucault’s Pendulum, perhaps the greatest, and most convincing, conspiracy in all of literature.
Chronicles of a Liquid Society, for all of its weight and intellectual significance, is full of moments like that, small self-aware glimpses that feel like the bemused twinkling of an eye. It is difficult to believe that there will be no further books from Umberto Eco — the man was almost dizzyingly prolific — but as the final book to directly bear his hand, Chronicles of a Liquid Society is a wonderful reminder of a great writer, thinker, and human being. He is missed.
Robert Wiersema’s latest book is Black Feathers.