Having just finished Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, I’ve now cracked open my first taste of Cioran—History and Utopia. You might reasonably ask why. Why these two? And what, if anything, do they have in common? Better yet—what do the three of us have in common?
Recently, I finished writing a novella titled Propensity (currently gathering metaphorical dust on the release runway). Out of curiosity—or narcissism—I fed it to AI and asked whose style it resembled. Among the usual suspects were two names I hadn’t yet read: Ishiguro and Cioran. I’d read the others and understood the links. These two, though, were unknown quantities. So I gave them a go.
Ishiguro is perhaps best known for The Remains of the Day, which, like Never Let Me Go, got the Hollywood treatment. I chose the latter, arbitrarily. I even asked ChatGPT to compare both books with their cinematic counterparts. The AI was less than charitable, describing Hollywood’s adaptations as bastardised and bowdlerised—flattened into tidy narratives for American palates too dim to digest ambiguity. On this, we agree.
What struck me about Never Let Me Go was its richly textured mundanity. That’s apparently where AI saw the resemblance to Propensity. I’m not here to write a book report—partly because I detest spoilers, and partly because summaries miss the point. It took about seven chapters before anything ‘happened’, and then it kept happening. What had at first seemed like a neurotic, wandering narrative from the maddeningly passive Kathy H. suddenly hooked me. The reveals began to unfold. It’s a book that resists retelling. It demands firsthand experience. A vibe. A tone. A slow, aching dread.
Which brings me neatly to Cioran.
History and Utopia is a collection of essays penned in French (not his mother tongue, but you’d never guess it) while Cioran was holed up in postwar Paris. I opted for the English translation—unapologetically—and was instantly drawn in. His prose? Electric. His wit? Acidic. If Ishiguro was a comparison of style, then Cioran was one of spirit. Snark, pessimism, fatalistic shrugs toward civilisation—finally, someone speaking my language.
Unlike the cardboard cut-outs of Cold War polemics we get from most Western writers of the era, Cioran’s take is layered, uncomfortably self-aware, and written by someone who actually fled political chaos. There’s no naïve idealism here, no facile hero-villain binaries. Just a deeply weary intellect peering into the abyss and refusing to blink. It’s not just what he says, but the tone—the curled-lip sneer at utopian pretensions and historical self-delusions. If I earned even a drop of that comparison, I’ll take it.
Both Ishiguro and Cioran delivered what I didn’t know I needed: the reminder that some writers aren’t there to tell you a story. They’re there to infect you with an atmosphere. An idea. A quiet existential panic you can’t shake.
I’ve gotten what I came for from these two, though I suspect I’ll be returning, especially to Cioran. Philosophically, he’s my kind of bastard. I doubt this’ll be my last post on his work.
Philosophics 
What a coincidence. I’ve recently started in on Cioran for the first time as well. He was significantly influenced by Nietzsche by the way.
You mentioned that you fed your novella to AI and Ishiguro-&-Cioran came up. I am assuming this is a program you have installed on your pc. Could you also feed my recent post (Good vs Evil as One & the Same) to this AI program to see what authors pop up?
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The blog post in question, “Good vs Evil as One & the Same” by Philosopher Muse, is a veritable Molotov cocktail of metaphysical musings, theological provocations, and apocalyptic reveries. It’s a piece that doesn’t so much tiptoe around sacred cows as it does set them ablaze and dance in the ashes.([Philosopher Muse][1])
Nietzschean Echoes and the Transvaluation of Values
The post’s central thesis—that good and evil are not diametrically opposed but rather two sides of the same coin—resonates deeply with Friedrich Nietzsche’s critique of traditional morality. In *Beyond Good and Evil*, Nietzsche dismantles the binary moral framework, arguing that such dichotomies are simplistic and fail to capture the complexity of human impulses . The blog post mirrors this sentiment, suggesting that the constructs of good and evil are fluid, context-dependent, and often serve the interests of those in power.([Wikipedia][2])
Cioran’s Nihilistic Whispers
The invocation of Emil Cioran sets a tone of existential despair and philosophical nihilism. Cioran, known for his bleak outlook on human existence, often explored the futility of life and the illusion of meaning. The blog post channels this perspective, portraying history as a cycle of destruction and rebirth, where moral absolutes are illusory, and chaos is the only constant.
Theological Subversions and Apocalyptic Imagery
By quoting biblical passages that depict a wrathful, vengeful deity, the author challenges the conventional portrayal of a benevolent God. This subversion aligns with critiques found in theological debates, such as the Euthyphro dilemma, which questions whether something is good because God commands it or if God commands it because it is good . The blog post seems to suggest that divine morality is as arbitrary and capricious as human morality, further blurring the lines between good and evil.([Wikipedia][3])
Buddhist Non-Dualism and the Interpenetration of Opposites
Interestingly, the post’s assertion that good and evil are intertwined echoes the Buddhist concept of non-duality, particularly as articulated by the Chinese philosopher Zhiyi. Zhiyi posited that all phenomena are interdependent and that distinctions like good and evil are relative, not absolute . This perspective adds a layer of philosophical depth to the blog post, suggesting that the dichotomy of good versus evil is a human construct imposed upon a reality that defies such simplistic categorization.([Wikipedia][4])
A Schopenhauerian Pessimism
The blog’s bleak outlook on human nature and society also brings to mind Arthur Schopenhauer’s philosophy. Schopenhauer viewed human desire as a source of suffering and believed that life oscillated between pain and boredom. The blog’s depiction of war as the natural state of affairs and its cynicism towards societal structures reflect this pessimistic worldview.([Philosopher Muse][5])
Conclusion: A Philosophical Molotov Cocktail
In sum, “Good vs Evil as One & the Same” is a provocative amalgamation of Nietzschean critique, Cioranian nihilism, theological subversion, Buddhist non-dualism, and Schopenhauerian pessimism. It’s a piece that challenges readers to question their moral assumptions and confront the unsettling possibility that the boundaries between good and evil are not as clear-cut as they might seem. Whether one agrees with its conclusions or not, the blog post serves as a compelling invitation to delve deeper into the murky waters of moral philosophy.([Philosopher Muse][1])
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I also ran it through Google’s NotebookLM, which creates a podcast about the topic. I have been using this on my posts for a while now. It’s about 12:30 minutes long. It’s not always spot on, but it’s usually interesting. Have a listen.
https://notebooklm.google.com/notebook/28368557-ca24-4efd-96dc-3339193fc49e/audio
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