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A review by raincorbyn
The Confessions of J. J. Rousseau - Complete by Jean-Jacques Rousseau
2.0
It would be easy to rip on Rousseau as a human, and so I will.
“There are moments when a man is seized by a sort of madness and should not be judged by his actions,” writes the Enlightenment’s most influential philosopher, in a borderline fraudulent memoir clearly designed to influence others’ judgment of him as a person. Makes you want to scream.
The Confessions is at times a great read, once understood as a deeply dishonest spin-job by one of history’s most influential creeps, narcissists, and grifters. You cringe reading his confession/brags of his vanity and willingness to ruin others for the smallest crumbs of attention, advancement, and validation. Then remember that this is the dude so many view as one of the great moral thinkers, and you die a little.
He confesses to much genuinely shocking skullduggery we can only assume did occur, “balanced” with boasts that are highly contested by those around him. He is considered to have plagiarized music from Rameau and his breakout essay from Diderot, and his claims to have saved at least two towns from invasion by mailing letters on time are incredible.
His celebrated Discourse on the Arts and Sciences, he admits to pulling out of his ass to be contrarian, having no actual opinion on the subject, but knowing a hot clickbait title when he thinks of one. When he got the praise he hoped for, he rode the wave of “just make stuff up and see what sticks” for his whole life, which generated countless enemies in his time, and devotees to the present day.
His life on the run from his own bad choices is amusing at times, and exasperating at others. Year after year, he seizes on any angle he can for attention of any sort, and slimes his way into fathering centuries of solipsism, cruelty, and alternative facts.
Rousseau is that guy at the dive bar whose entrance leads to groans and eyerolls, and whose exit is usually a physical expulsion at the hands of staff or clients, but in the meantime, draws a crowd because people can’t believe the audacity of this bitch. Bit of a shame he is such a celebrated thinker, but let this bozo's success diminish all of our impostor syndrome.
“There are moments when a man is seized by a sort of madness and should not be judged by his actions,” writes the Enlightenment’s most influential philosopher, in a borderline fraudulent memoir clearly designed to influence others’ judgment of him as a person. Makes you want to scream.
The Confessions is at times a great read, once understood as a deeply dishonest spin-job by one of history’s most influential creeps, narcissists, and grifters. You cringe reading his confession/brags of his vanity and willingness to ruin others for the smallest crumbs of attention, advancement, and validation. Then remember that this is the dude so many view as one of the great moral thinkers, and you die a little.
He confesses to much genuinely shocking skullduggery we can only assume did occur, “balanced” with boasts that are highly contested by those around him. He is considered to have plagiarized music from Rameau and his breakout essay from Diderot, and his claims to have saved at least two towns from invasion by mailing letters on time are incredible.
His celebrated Discourse on the Arts and Sciences, he admits to pulling out of his ass to be contrarian, having no actual opinion on the subject, but knowing a hot clickbait title when he thinks of one. When he got the praise he hoped for, he rode the wave of “just make stuff up and see what sticks” for his whole life, which generated countless enemies in his time, and devotees to the present day.
His life on the run from his own bad choices is amusing at times, and exasperating at others. Year after year, he seizes on any angle he can for attention of any sort, and slimes his way into fathering centuries of solipsism, cruelty, and alternative facts.
Rousseau is that guy at the dive bar whose entrance leads to groans and eyerolls, and whose exit is usually a physical expulsion at the hands of staff or clients, but in the meantime, draws a crowd because people can’t believe the audacity of this bitch. Bit of a shame he is such a celebrated thinker, but let this bozo's success diminish all of our impostor syndrome.