Christopher Lasch completed this book under “trying circumstances,” which presumably included the knowledge that he was dying from leukemia. Its final sardonic section is entitled “The Dark Night of the Soul,” and contemplates the pitiable plight of modern and secularized man, who denies himself the discipline of religion and is compelled to seek security in the easier and probably falser gods of science or therapy or identity politics. Lasch's last, racking examination of the human condition as it is displayed in the United States is not exactly despairing, because the human agency means that there is always hope, but his subjects are unfulfilled beings in a dysfunctional society. In short, Lasch has not used his farewell address to reprieve his fellow intellectuals of the charges he has previously levelled against them; rather, the indictment has been intensified. In many ways this a perfect Parthian shaft, gathering together and synthesising into one compelling critique the many misgivings that Lasch had long been developing about American life.