“The best book I’ve read on art and pain since Maggie Nelson’s Art of Cruelty, and a worthy successor to that work.” – Joanna Walsh, author of Girl Online
“Snow writes with such kinetic, sensory power here, alongside her characteristic, roving intelligence, that I felt I’d (somewhat queasily) witnessed, as well as read, this gripping exploration of pain and performance. Which As You Know Means Violence is as smart, fearless and funny as its many sensitively drawn subjects. Brilliant.” – Olivia Sudjic, author of Asylum Road
”With her sharp insight and ferocious sense of fun, Philippa Snow is the rare critic with the daring necessary to juxtapose Jackass and feminist body art, to probe their entangled strains of suffering and liberation. These essays are feats of intellectual agility that feel eye-opening, risky, and all too relevant to our half-mad moment.” – Alexandra Kleeman, author of You Too Can Have a Body Like Mine
“A scintillating look at bodily harm in art and society, from Buster Keaton to Jackass, which puts the late 90s and 2000s in its rightful place as a historically and culturally important moment while showing how capitalist society is forever a sado-masochistic death cult. Snow is witty, funny and sharp as a knife.” – Camilla Grudova, author of The Doll’s Alphabet
“It is a true pleasure to become immersed in writing that is capable of connecting so many dots with such dexterity and grace.” – Natasha Stagg, author of Sleeveless: Fashion, Image, Media, New York 2011-2019.
“Snow has somehow created an enjoyable—indelible- book-length meditation on pain. Most notable is its critical analysis of hurt in the culture industry at large.” – Stephanie La Cava, author of I Fear My Pain Interests You.
“Provocative and intensely readable, humane and beautifully drawn parallels between subjects of violence and their disposition to harm. Absolutely captivating.” – Alice Ash, author of Paradise Block
“This gripping, brainy, fascinating and often hilarious book took me on the wildest of rides through art and the body, literature, pop culture, sensation, gender, class, mortality, theory – what else even is there? The sense that Philippa Snow had an absolute blast writing this is palpable and contagious; reading Which As You Know Means Violence left me with a giddy gratitude for this strange human life.” – Michelle Tea
“A brilliant, bracing and often funny debut, Philippa Snow’s Which As You Know Means Violence casts a compassionate but rigorous critical lens on self harm as art and art as accident. The smartest book I’ve read all year, and one I will return to for years to come.” – Allie Rowbottom, author of Jell-O Girls and Aesthetica.
“Philippa’s writing makes me feel like I am rolling around in the mud wearing pearls. You are in the muck of glamour! I can think of few people writing now who give ‘the great feminine’ the kind of gritty and glorious thinking it deserves, which is what Philippa does.” – Rachel Seville Tashjian
“Which As You Know Means Violence is a surprisingly moving, life-affirming book, in part because it’s about life, art, performance, being pushed to its limits. Here, we discuss the current landscape for criticism, subconscious creativity, and the value of humour.” – Holly Connolly, AnOther Magazine.
“No one gets celebrity better than writer, critic and i-D contributor Philippa Snow. Her first book [is] a thrilling work of cultural criticism about the peculiar place aestheticised violence occupies in contemporary art and culture.” – iD Magazine
“I reread Snow’s essays in an afternoon and wished for more. If we’re lucky, perhaps she’ll pull a Sontag and offer a second set.” – Nikki-Shaner Bradford, BookForum Magazine.
“Snow’s ability to move from niche performance art to the messianic iconography of millennial Americana is one of the book’s greatest strengths.” – Bryony White, Elephant Magazine.
“Svelte and smart analysis… Snow has a witty and sleek style, approaching the subjects of life, art and performance pushed to their extremes with sensitivity and care. This is a book about pain and hurt that, somehow, is both provocative and immensely pleasurable to read.” – Anna Cafolla, The Face
“A short, sharp stiletto of a book that gets to the point of how our inner pains become public across the highs and lows of (un)popular culture.” – Adam Steiner, Louder Than War
“I wish I could write like Philippa Snow. Every essay she writes does exactly what she’s trying to get it to do; every text she writes about is transformed, new; and it’s funny, it’s all so funny and sad and right. For goodness’ sake, buy this book.” – Phillip Maciak, LA Review of Books
“A searing meditation on violence, pain and the nature of art under patriarchal, racialised capitalism. Snow’s essential empathy is at its most apparent; for all the withering one-liners & theoretical zeal that propel her writing, this is at base a book about pain, death & creativity, the basic fabric of life… This is the most nakedly, vividly human book I’ve read in some time.” —
Loud and Quiet Magazine
“What I like most about Snow’s monograph is her assertion of grace.” — Review31
The White Review — Best Books of 2022
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