TRANSLATIONS AT THE END OF THE WORLD: Body and...

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F O R U M F O R A N T H R O P O L O G Y A N D C U L T U R E, 2 0 1 9, N O 1 5

TRANSLATIONS AT THE END OF THE WORLD: A Review of ANNA LOWENHAUPT TSING,

GRIB NA KRAYU SVETA: O VOZMOZHNOSTI ZHIZNI NA RUINAKH KAPITALIZMA.

Moscow: Ad Marginem Press, 2017, 376 pp. (Russian transl. of ANNA LOWENHAUPT TSING,

THE MUSHROOM AT THE END OF THE WORLD: ON THE POSSIBILITY OF LIFE IN CAPITALIST RUINS. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2015, 352 pp.)

Alexandra KasatkinaPeter the Great Museum of Anthropology and Ethnography (Kunstkamera), Russian Academy of Sciences

3 Universitetskaya Emb., St Petersburg, Russia National Research University Higher School of Economics

16 Soyuza Pechatnikov Str., St Petersburg, Russia [email protected]

A b s t r a c t: Anna Tsing’s study, The Mushroom at the End of the World, is written in the spirit of posthumanist and feminist anthropology. Identifying serious flaws in the Russian translation of the book, the reviewer still admits its high importance for anthropology in general and Russianspeaking researchers in particular. In her exploration of the social life of a Japanese delicacy, the author offers a valuable response to the challenges that social sciences and humanities face in the age of globalisation and the failure of welfare state projects. The weaknesses of the book noted in the review can from this point of view be seen as strengths, especially if the book is regarded not only as a piece of scholarly research, but also as a work of art that employs literary resources to persuade the reader.

K e y w o r d s: posthumanism, feminist anthropology, multisited ethnography, matsutake, history of capitalism, environmental history.

T o c i t e: Kasatkina A., ‘Translations at the End of the World: A Review of Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing, Grib na krayu sveta: o vozmozhnosti zhizni na ruinakh kapitalizma. Moscow: Ad Marginem Press, 2017, 376 pp. (Russian transl. of Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing, The Mushroom At the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2015, 352 pp.)’, Forum for Anthropology and Culture, 2019, no. 15, pp. 205–215.

d o i: 10.31250/1815-8927-2019-15-15-205-215

U R L: http://anthropologie.kunstkamera.ru/files/pdf/eng015/kasatkina.pdf

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Alexandra Kasatkina Peter the Great Museum of Anthropology and Ethnography (Kunstkamera), Russian Academy of Sciences 3 Universitetskaya Emb., St Petersburg, Russia / National Research University Higher School of Economics 16 Soyuza Pechatnikov Str., St Petersburg, Russia [email protected]

Anna lowenhaupt Tsing, Grib na krayu sveta: o vozmozhnosti zhizni na ruinakh kapitalizma. Moscow: Ad Marginem Press, 2017, 376 pp. (Russian transl. of Anna lowenhaupt Tsing, The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2015, 352 pp.)

Anna Tsing’s study, The Mushroom at the End of the World, is written in the spirit of posthumanist and feminist anthropology. Identifying serious flaws in the Russian translation of the book, the reviewer still admits its high importance for anthropology in general and Russian-speaking researchers in particular. In her exploration of the social life of a Japanese delicacy, the author offers a valuable response to the challenges that social sciences and humanities face in the age of globalisation and the failure of welfare state projects. The weaknesses of the book noted in the review can from this point of view be seen as strengths, especially if the book is regarded not only as a piece of scholarly research, but also as a work of art that employs literary resources to persuade the reader.

Keywords: posthumanism, feminist anthropology, multisited ethnography, matsutake, history of capitalism, environmental history.

Translations at the End of the World

The Mushroom at the End of the World is the first substantial, book-length swallow of spring from the ‘Matsutake Worlds’ research project . Besides the author, Anna Tsing, the research group consists of Timothy Choy, Lieba Faier, Michael Hathaway, Miyako Inoue and Shiho Satsuka — American anthropologists, mostly of Japanese or Chinese origin, from leading universities in the USA and Canada, and also Elaine Gan, an anthropologist and specialist in digital humanities from the University of Aarhus in Denmark . Their common interest is focused on the matsutake mushroom (Tricholoma matsutake), a Japanese delicacy and traditional gift, which has disappeared from the woods of Japan, where it is now imported from the USA, Finland and China . This unassuming, but very fragrant (and expensive) mushroom forms global networks of interaction and co-operation, and, therefore, is a remarkably appropriate subject for a multisited ethnography of the global world [Marcus 1995] .

The ‘Matsutake Worlds’ project, begun in 2007, proclaims various forms of co-operation not only in the subject of its research, but also in its

206FORUM FOR ANTHROPOLOGY AND CULTURE 2019 No 15

basic methodological principle [Choy et al . 2009a; 2009b] . The division of labour in the project is based on the regional principle: some of the people are doing research in Japan, and others in China . Anna Tsing, who has field experience in Borneo [Tsing 1993; 2011], has taken on the task of working with immigrants from Southeast Asia (Laos and Cambodia) who pick matsutake on the Pacific Coast of the USA, and as a result has become a real ‘multilocal ethnographer’ . Following the mushroom supply chains, she has been in Finnish Lapland, the Chinese province of Yunnan and in Japan itself . It is not surprising that her book, that includes all the project’s main locales, is the first in its series of publications . The project is extending into other media like a rhizome, including the Internet1 and cinema,2 and is thus experimenting not only with multiple sites, but also with multiple modalities — which may be the two main tendencies in current ethnographical experimentation .

The book under review is one of those still rare cases when the latest developments in world social anthropology reach the Russian-speaking reader with very little delay (the book was published by Princeton UP in 2015) . However, the author has not been very fortunate in her Russian translation . But who would have known? The person responsible is Shashi Martynova, a translator, editor and publisher with experience of translating popular scientific works in the exact and natural sciences . However, the book on matsutake engages in dialogue with current tendencies of thought in the humanities (Gilles Deleuze, Bruno Latour, John Law, Donna Haraway, and others), and this dialogue is carried on first and foremost through the use of terms which are only occasionally explained . Thus Tsing mentions that she does not derive her term assemblage from Latour (p . 41), but she does not write anything, for example about the term encounter (soprikosnovenie ‘contact’ in Martynova’s translation), which in English has resonances both of Goffman’s ‘encounters’ (cf . [Korbut 2017: 358]) and of the colonial contacts that formed the science of anthropology (cf . the influential collection Anthropology and the Colonial Encounter, ed . by T . Asad, 1995) . A reader who is familiar with the literature must recognise these terms, and others, for himself / herself . Unfortunately, reading the Russian translation affords no such possibility: many important terms have been lost in translation .3

At the same time the translator demonstrates her love for an effective phrase and carefully transplants the text into her native soil with

1 Matsutake Worlds Live. <https://people.ucsc.edu/~atsing/migrated/matsutake/index.html>.2 Sara Dosa’s film The Last Season (2014) was shot using material from the project participants’ research.3 There is a detailed critical examination of fragments of the translation by the anonymous creator of

the webpage <http://themushroom-endoftheworld.surge.sh/>.

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ma the help of expressions such as kavardak and derzhatsya naosobitsu.1

However, beside these colourful words there are plenty of frankly lame translations, such as: ‘Here I wish to shed light on the question, how great historical disturbances can open up possibilities for comparatively stable ecosystems of evergreen extensive peasant forests’ (p . 242)2 — one can just hear the voiceover on a blockbuster from the video salons of the early 1990s . Smaller examples: mirovoy sever (‘the world North’) (the accepted term is ‘the global North’), mandarin (‘Mandarin’) (rendered literally for the language of northern China [but the word usually means a mandarin orange in Russian . — Trans .]), the rare porubki instead of the more usual vyrubki ‘clearings’, etc . (pp . 16, 28 and elsewhere) . Clumsy calques are overgrown with flowery constructions like festoons of lichen on a crooked stump, and in the end the boundaries of the genre of the book are completely blurred in the translation . What is this? Research at the cutting edge of scholarship that is feeling for a new language to describe phenomena that are still not completely clear and embedded in discourse, or simply a badly written popular book?

But one might still imagine that even this sort of translation strategy might turn out well . There are two ways for new terms to cross the language barrier . One is analytical, via a careful professional translation, provided with academic commentaries and explanations of the history of the words and ideas . The other is poetic, using images that convey the meaning of the terms directly to the reader, through the imagination, bypassing archaeological investigations and intellectual understanding . And in the case of a book on matsutake this is not such a bad thing . In English-language scholar-ship Anna Tsing’s book is part of the seething posthumanist mainstream . Among us, however, recent translations of Latour and Law notwithstanding, this book still seems isolated . Some works that the author’s language evokes have not yet been translated into Russian, and at best are known to Russian anthropologists in English or French . The native Russian tradition of transplanting the ideas of posthumanism into the soil of empirical social research is still at a formative stage . And, most importantly, the material that Tsing is working with does of itself create images which are exceptionally convenient for explaining certain thoughts . Thus she has no need to mention Deleuze and his rhizome, because her protagonist is a fungus . Such an apprehension of philosophical language through the gentle mediation of images is in some ways even more organic . And perhaps, in our hurried, calculating age, when there is not much

1 Highly colloquial expressions meaning ‘confusion’ and ‘to keep one’s distance’ [Trans.].2 Perhaps the translator is hardly to be blamed here, as the passage reads in the original ‘Here I want

to spotlight the question of how great historical disturbances may open possibilities for the com-paratively stable ecosystem of the ever-young and open peasant forest’ [Trans.].


hope of waiting for academically verified translations of the novelties of philosophical and anthropological literature, a literary translation is the best compromise .

It is a peculiarity of the protagonist of the book under review, the matsutake mushroom, that it grows in places where forests have been cleared by human activity, in exhausted soils where only particular species of pine can survive, and with these the matsutake has a symbiotic relationship . As the fungus digests its nutrients, it forms a chemical environment which creates the soil; the pine tree lives on this soil; the pine tree provides nutrients for the fungus; people pick the fungus and put it into circulation in diverse exchange relationships, some generalised, some balanced, where there are mushroom-pickers, foresters, buyers, wholesalers, retailers, and customers, and thereby the existence is maintained not only of the forest ecosystem, but of the global capitalist economy . Thus the matsutake (assisted, of course, by Tsing, who is the translator, and it must be said that translation — in Latour’s sense — is the key means of establishing connections in the book) shows people how it is possible to survive on the ruins of capitalism, in conditions when the utopia of progress has collapsed and vagueness, unreliability and precarity have triumphed .

The viewpoint of posthumanist anthropology allows the researcher to see in her global field not stable, isolated phenomena, commonalities and biological species, but fluid alliances with blurred and mobile boundaries, which change over time, and also depending on the observer’s point of view . Therefore her mycorrhiza passes freely between the fungal kingdom and human society, where, as a metaphor, it helps us to see the social connections of the modern world in a new way . And the confusion between species demonstrated by fungi and bacteria reminds us of the conventional nature of all other boundaries .

The structure of the book tries to avoid the hierarchical order of a subject narration . The author calls her brainchild ‘a riot of short chapters’: it is not just another rhizome connecting ‘a thousand plateaus’ [Deleuze, Guattari 1987], but the fruiting bodies of fungi that have appeared after rain and that the reader can collect in his / her basket . True to the spirit of the postmodern ethnography of the 1980s, Tsing has done her best to ensure that the form of her book helps to convey its message, and the photographs and illustrations (and here one must give the Russian publishers their due, they have carefully preserved the layout of the text) create atmosphere, add air and aromas (the mushroom, after all, is recognised by its smell, and it is no accident that the prologue is entitled ‘Autumn Aroma’, that is, the aroma of matsutake) . The book is made up of four parts, interspersed with interludes which are


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ma entitled ‘Smelling’, ‘Tracking’ and ‘Dancing’, and, as they address

different channels of perception, allow us to immerse ourselves in different forms of experience and ways of understanding as an alternative to analytical reading .

The title of the first part, ‘What’s left?’, is the question of what remains to be done when the potential for ‘narrative progress’ has dried up and the chaos of ruins and indefiniteness, which used to be safely pushed to the margins, is approaching ever closer to the well-regulated and orderly areas of the world . The author addresses this question not only to humanity as a whole, but to scholars in particular: what new forms of knowledge do we need in order to get a grip on what is happening among the ruins of progress and make sense of it? Her answer is that what we need are the ‘arts of noticing’ for which anthropologists are celebrated, fond as they are of making mountains out of molehills drawing grand conclusions from small details . The book under review proposes reloading social anthropology, renewing the lost links between anthropologists and natural scientists, this time on the basis of the stories (transformed in the translation into mysterious skazy (‘tellings’)) that are told also by non-human actors (fungi, bacteria, trees, etc .) .

The majestic rhythms of the narratives of progress focus attention on the natural line of evolution and distract it from the diversity of subjects and temporalities . Tsing sees her book as a polyphonic story where one may follow several lines at once and thus receive multidimensional experience and understanding . It is from this perspective, when particular value is set on polyphony, that the author solves the problem of scale, which is as old as anthropology itself . ‘Scaling’, the ability to retain properties while changing scale, is a necessary condition for inclusion both in capitalist exchange circulation and in the cycle of modern knowledge (p . 52) . Modern scholarship will only agree to pay attention to small details and localities if this helps it to answer big questions .1 The question of how it is possible to change the scale without losing sight of the multiplicity of details is one that has occupied both anthropologists and researchers in other branches of the humanities in recent decades . Many of them have hoped to find the answer by using digital technology (for a detailed survey of these attempts see: [Orlova 2018]) . Tsing does not look for digital panaceas or any others against the reduction of scale, and gives no evaluations (p . 64) . As an attentive anthropologist, a collector and teller of stories, she brings both these manners of thinking and existing to the surface of her text, puts them side by side and shows what consequences their interaction might lead to .

1 The title of Thomas H. Eriksen’s textbook of anthropology, Small Places, Large Issues, regularly reissued since 1995, is typical.


One such consequence is that matsutake is the trigger of global chain reactions in which different forms of labour and kinds of object coexist, both ‘scalable’ and ‘unscalable’ . The second part of the book, ‘After Progress: Salvage Accumulation’ is devoted to these curious chains that link the mushroom-pickers in the USA with the people who eat the mushrooms in Japan . The word ‘salvage’ is translated as utilizatsiya [which in Russian has connotations of ‘using up’ something that might otherwise go to waste . — Trans .], which seems felicitous, despite the loss of the connotations of rescue and shipwreck (and, probably, the concomitant shade of irony) . For Tsing salvage is also a kind of translation (of different forms of life, economic activity and sociality) into unified capitalist objects accessible to automated logistics and accounting and vice versa . The translation of trophy mushrooms into goods and thence into gifts (in Japan matsutake is above all an expensive gift, a mediator in establishing a relationship) is undertaken by middlemen: buyers, sorters, importers, wholesalers and commercial agents . While describing the work of the chain of translation / salvage between the USA and Japan that she has reconstructed, Tsing illuminates in passing questions from the fields of the study of migration, gifts and exchanges, and even the formation of modern global markets, in which, as she believes, a crucial role was played by the activity of Japanese entrepreneurs in the conditions of postwar sanctions . It is in this section that the author displays her rich field material about mushroom-pickers in Oregon, where she discovers an astonishing variety of cultures and motivations: Yao, Hmong and Lao who have fled the wars and disturbances in Indo-China, white veterans in search of the forest romanticism of the frontier, Japanese Americans carried away with the construction of their ‘Japaneseness’…

The third part is called ‘Disturbed Beginnings: Unintentional Design’ . At the beginning of the twentieth century J . von Uexküll described how various non-human beings perceive the world [von Uexküll 1909] . Starting with his discovery of multiple sensory worlds, Tsing proposes examining the history of the destruction of commercial forests (and the appearance of matsutake) in Japan, the USA and China from the multiple perspectives of their diverse participants (people, corporations and countries, but also trees, insects and fungi) and puts this assemblage together on the basis of the landscape . Taking the position of an ecologist for whom disturbance is not harmful, but a neutral dynamic, change (pp . 207–8), she expands the concept of history: every living being, engaged in survival in its own sensory world, creates its own history in its own rhythm . The great temporal cycles of the trees, for whom the Ice Age in Lapland was not so long ago, like the irregular rhythms of the matsutake harvests, come out in opposition to the short cycles that people and foresters find convenient (pp . 227–8) .


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ma Still, the possibilities for anthropologists to obtain information from

non-human beings are limited . The main sources used by the author in this part of her book are publications and conversations with those who are professionally educated in the techniques of reading non-human worlds: foresters and biologists . But she has been able to learn something directly from the trees: while human history is at pains to stress the differences between the Meiji Period in Japan and Chinese industrialisation in the 1950s and 60s, for the trees there is no difference — in both countries during these periods trees were cut down in vast numbers to meet the needs of the armed forces and industry (p . 246) .

The author describes the collapse of commercial forestry as a chain of failed experiments with unplanned results . The short chapter devoted to the misfortunes of the forests of Oregon is entitled ‘Serendipity’ . This word, untranslatable into Russian, is derived from an Old Persian toponym and means a particular epistemological regime of chance, unplanned discovery in the course of dealing with completely different tasks . This regime applies not only to the foresters of Oregon, who, deprived of the lion’s share of their federal funding and falling thus by the wayside of the narrative of progress, unexpectedly noticed both the connection between Pinus contorta and matsutake and the interests of the mushroom-pickers (p . 262) . Anna Tsing herself acts in the same way on her research path, and so do all anthropologists who honestly watch and listen to what the field is telling them .

The fourth part, ‘In the Middle of Things’, does not so much sum up, as design the end of the book, which remains open to all winds and all ways . Having dealt with the big stories, the author sketches some more local assemblages in different countries where forests, fungi and people come into contact, forming new commonalities .

The book under review begins and ends with quotations from the recently deceased Ursula Le Guin . Unlike her father, A . L . Kroe-ber, Le Guin did not become an anthropologist, but a writer . In her imaginary worlds she experimented with various ecological and cultural models, and inspired many people, not only in the USA but around the world, to choose anthropology as a profession . This book’s title, The Mushroom at the End of the World, resonates with that of Le Guin’s collection of essays Dancing at the Edge of the World (1989) . Changing ‘edge’ to ‘end’ introduces an ambiguity — the ends of the earth or the end of the world? Space or time? The apocalypse or the terra incognita of the periphery? There is room for both in the book about matsutake .

It seems that it was ‘the carrier bag theory of fiction’ proposed by Le Guin in her essay of the same name that inspired the author of the book under review while she was working on it . In Le Guin’s


terms the world where the mushroom-pickers described by Tsing live, is, of course, the feminine world of the shopping bag, and not the masculine world of the spear and knife . This world is moved not by the thunderous march of progress, nor by the struggle for a better life, but by constant seekings in different directions, contacts, the pulsations of incipient and decaying alliances . Attention to different lines of movement and the refusal to divide them into central and peripheral, openness to chance finds and the assembling of ‘a riot of chapters’ in free contact with each other without any sort of single subject, and even without a beginning and an end — this all comes together as a particular sort of ‘carrier bag ethnography’, ultimately derived from the research methods of the feminist anthropologists Donna Haraway and Marilyn Strathern (p . 43) .

Tsing stresses that her book is not only about the theory and practice of co-operation, it was created through co-operation . Six pages of the prologue are taken up with describing networks of mutual support and expressions of gratitude . This co-operation, however, has specific and eloquent limits: there are only anthropologists in the ‘Matsutake Worlds’ project, no mycologists, no foresters, no ecologists . The voices of these last are heard at second hand in the book, either from their publications or from the author’s interviews with them . This means that, even riding the new wave of interest in the natural sciences, anthropology remains on its home turf . The anthropologist continues to work on meanings, inter-pretations and translations, and the biologist is more of a source and ‘field partner’ (the result of the search for a politer term for an ‘informant’ in those new fields which are too close to the researcher) than a colleague in the project . As in other, similar projects, the two-sided nature of this collaboration is questionable: what do biologists think when an anthropologist starts talking about forest landscapes, species boundaries and the travels of fungus spores, and applies biological metaphors to the description of a society? Do these discussions give them anything new?

The book has had a mixed reception in the Western scholarly community, and reviewers have engaged in polemic around it . Thus one reviewer points out that Tsing justifies and naturalises precarity, and so, without noticing, supports the neoliberal rejection of projects for universal well-being [Britton-Purdy 2015] . Another replies that it is not a question of a new utopia of prosperity, but of survival in the conditions that exist, that is, at least the author is not glorifying precarity [Centemeri 2017] . I would also point out that while she proposes recognising the state of precarity as an inevitability of our modern life, Tsing sees the potential in it for a significant epistemological and ethical leap, a transition to another regime of contact with the world, based on attention to the possibilities


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ma for collaboration and commonality, a regime which she suggests that

we could learn from the matsutake and the people who gather it .

It is harder to argue with the observation that the author exaggerates her own originality and pays too little attention to her predecessors, above all the well-established philosophical tradition of criticising the rhetoric of progress and exaltation of man above nature [Anderson 2015: 215] . And indeed, disdaining the ‘shoulders of giants’ is a frequent feature of scholarly publications in an age when the rules of the market have taken over the academic world, so that innovation and breakthroughs have become a more or less com-pulsory trope even for established researchers . At the same time it does happen that there are reasons for the absence of a literature survey that have nothing to do with self-promotion . Behind every idea or term there stretches a long train of meanings and connotations from the previous contexts in which it was used . Sometimes this is useful to both author and reader . But sometimes it is worth dragging oneself away from the dusty shelves of the library and going out into the fresh air, into the woods, for example, so as to see something new (or see something old in a new way) . The book under review is not overloaded with theory, and in the Russian translation this effect is even stronger . The narrative hardly deviates from the field, and the material collected by the author is enmeshed in a fine but firm net of metaphors where, as in the interspecies mass of the mycelium, it is hard to separate scientific reasoning from ethno-graphic description . Whether this effect is worth risking the book’s reputation for and deviating from the academic canon is up to the reader to decide .

It is unlikely that anyone who remembers the chapter on fungi from the school biology textbook will find anything new about mycology in a book about matsutake on the ruins of capitalism . At the same time specialists on forestry and Japanese history are sure to find inaccuracies, if not errors, and might even be doubtful about some of the author’s conclusions . But it still seems that this game of juxtaposing stories from different ends of the earth and areas of knowledge so as to follow the chains of co-operation and translation that run through them is worth the candle . After all, it involves not only risk, but also the refreshing attraction of working with multi-sited processes in the modern global world, crossing the boundaries of countries, disciplines and biological species . This work is never finished: there will always be corrections to be made as new information becomes available, the theory will be refined and elaborated until, like Deleuze’s flower, which, because of its relationships with the wasp, becomes something else .

In spite of the dubious quality of the translation, even in Russian The Mushroom at the End of the World is an attractively made book


and a well-thought-out art object (a term that, with its ironic echo of the ubiquitous fashion for conceptual art, is far more suitable here than ‘work of art’ with its fundamental connotations) . It is hard to resist the charm of this text, and perhaps one should not . Especially if, like the author, you like to wander through the forests with a basket in autumn and breathe in the scents of decay .

References

Anderson E . N ., ‘“The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins” by Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing, 2015, Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ . XII+331 pp .’, Ethnobiology Letters, 2015, vol . 6, no . 1, pp . 214–5 .

Britton-Purdy J ., ‘The Mushroom That Explains the World: An Anthro-pologist Tries to Understand Capitalism by Studying a Japanese Delicacy’, The New Republic, 18 October 2015 . <https://newrepublic .com/article/123059/foraging-meaning> .

Centemeri L ., ‘Review de Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing, The Mushroom at the End of the World . On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins, Princeton, Princeton University Press, 2015, pp . 331’, Tecnoscienza: Italian Journal of Science & Technology Studies, 2017, vol . 8, no . 1, pp . 159–62 .

Choy T . K ., Faier L ., Hathaway M . J ., Inoue M ., Shiho S ., Tsing A ., ‘A New Form of Collaboration in Cultural Anthropology: Matsutake Worlds’, American Ethnologist, 2009а, vol . 36, no . 2, pp . 380–403 .

Choy T ., Faier L ., Hathaway M ., Inoue M ., Shiho S ., Tsing A ., ‘Strong Collaboration as a Method for Multi-Sited Ethnography: On Mycorrhizal Relations’, Falzon M .-A . (ed .), MultiSited Ethnography: Theory, Praxis and Locality in Contemporary Research . Aldershot, Hants, UK: Ashgate, 2009b, pp . 197–214 .

Deleuze G ., Guattari F ., A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia . Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1987, XIX+610 pp .

Korbut A ., ‘Ot perevodchika’ [From the Translator], Goffman E ., Povedenie v publichnykh mestakh: zametki o sotsialnoy organizatsii sborishch [Behaviour in Public Places: Notes on the Social Organisation of Gatherings] . Moscow: Elementarnye formy, 2017, рр . 355–64 . (In Russian) .

Marcus G ., ‘Ethnography in / of the World System: The Emergence of Multi-Sited Ethnography’, Annual Review of Anthropology, 1995, vol . 24, pp . 95–117 .

Orlova G . A ., ‘Vremya zummirovat: tsifrovoe chtenie v poiskakh masshtaba’ [Time to Zoom In / Zoom Out: Digital Reading in Search of Scale], Novoe literaturnoe obozrenie, 2018, no . 2(150) . <https://www .nlobooks .ru/magazines/novoe_literaturnoe_obozrenie/150_nlo_2_2018/article/19564/> . (In Russian) .

Tsing A . L ., In the Realm of the Diamond Queen: Marginality in an OutOfTheWay Place . Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993, 368 pp .


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ma Tsing A . L ., Friction: An Ethnography of Global Connection . Princeton, NJ:

Princeton University Press, 2011, 344 pp .von Uexküll J ., Umwelt und Innenwelt der Tiere . Berlin: Verlag von Julius

Springer, 1909, 264 SS .

Translated by Ralph Cleminson

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