Eugene Thacker, professor of Media Studies at the New School for Social Research and enemy of Glenn Beck, has been writing about the philosophical consequences of horror, pessimism, and nihilism for several years. Cosmic Pessimism is his most recent publication in this area, following on the heels of his three-volume work, Horror of Philosophy, which includes In the Dust of This Planet (2011), Starry Speculative Corpse (2015), and Tentacles Longer Than Night (2015), each published by Zero Books. Familiarity with these works would be helpful, but is not essential, for the reader of Cosmic Pessimism. At only 55 pages in length, this short booklet serves as a brief summary of Thacker’s work on philosophy and pessimism, although not in any systematic way. Somewhere between a best-of album, a series of deleted-scenes, and a new work entirely, the summary offered in Cosmic Pessimism is presented in a series of aphorisms, much in the Nietzschean style.

Consequent of its genre, there are no chapters in Cosmic Pessimism, but there are frequently occurring visual interventions by New York artist Keith Tilford. These visual accompaniments helpfully punctuate the movement of the text, each one taking the form of a complex ink blot and mutating throughout the work. The booklet revolves around the maxim: “There is no philosophy of pessimism, only the reverse” (1). Quite straightforwardly, pessimism, being the “nightside of thought” and the doom of extreme disenchantment, is the central figure of Cosmic Pessimism (3). Brief engagements with themes such as doom (“that all things inevitably come to an end”) and gloom (“the stuff of dim, hazy, overcast skies”) dot the bleak landscape of the book, leaving readers with little to hang on to should they desire a consistent underlying argument (20). However, that the argument is difficult to fix upon singularly should not be taken as a criticism. Instead, it seems to be part of Thacker’s strategy to defeat easy summaries, clear arguments, and careful critiques. Thacker proceeds lyrically, and not argumentatively, although his individual arguments are compellingly drawn from experiences common to any postmodern individual. As well, figures such as Schopenhauer and Nietzsche appear throughout the booklet, alongside Buddhist and Greek terms, and small quotations from lesser studied figures like Lev Shestov and Frognall Dibdin.

In summary—if one can successfully provide a summary of a book that resists summary because of its brevity, and furthermore a summary of a book that is a sort of summary of the author’s work to date—it bears keeping in mind the goals of any book review. Having situated the work in relation to others by the same author, and having given interested readers a look into the book itself, there is really not much more to do. This feeling of pointlessness in the face of an artificial conclusion resonates deeply with Thacker’s reflections on the nature of books, appropriately found in what could be called his anti-book. Near the end of Cosmic Pessimism, he writes (after giving several obscure examples) that there are “works designed for incompletion—their very existence renders them dubious” (65). This is one of those works, and it is an enlightening look at the darkness of thought.