There's something paradoxical about trying to give a retrospective review of a work that never claimed to be forward-looking. Whoever undertakes this review is a bit like Orpheus, who turns too early to look at Eurydice, and as a result sends her into the realm of the shadows forever. To those who appeal to this retrospective view, the work seems as if it predated itself and foresaw its end from the beginning, as if it were consistent and complete, as if it had always existed. Therefore, I can only speak of it in terms of simulation, a bit like Borges recreating a lost civilization from the fragments of a library1. It means, that I have practically no opportunity to ask myself the question of the degree of sociological truth of my writings - a question which, however, I would find extremely difficult to answer. Perhaps it is most helpful to imagine yourself as a traveler who came across these writings as an unknown manuscript and tried, in the absence of other documents, to reconstruct the society described in them.
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