In this way we learn about the orientation of Leninist leadership towards sex and love: which at first is liberal in response to demands for equality and communitarian ambitions but relatively quickly, sex is recognised as the powerful and dangerous force that it can be.
Sex is particularly dangerous because of its energy consuming qualities, energies which are necessarily diverted away from collective activities.
Ideally all energies should be focused on the proletarian revolution.
Thus, again, the book elucidates a repression of desire, sex, love, at the hands of a controlling regime who clearly see the (counter-)revolutionary potential in these forces.
Here the discussion moves into the realms of desire, linking this with architecture, music, performance and other cultural products (including language).
Thus love and revolution become interchangeable, both are hard work and require dedication and commitment to a cause.
In the closing pages of the book, revolution is elevated still further and in its idealised all-encompassing form is equated by Horvat to the godly realms of devotion.
The main problem is that, while ambitious in scope, the argument falls down due to a lack of theorisation of love throughout the book; while elsewhere, there has been considerable thought given to the nature and scope of love: see for example Hardt and Negri (2009), May (2011), Langford (1999), Evans (2003), Secomb (2007).
The question, however, is to what extent are we really living in an age of ‘cold intimacies’ and ‘liquid love’?
For the counter to this argument that love (sex) has become non-revolutionary and at the same time frivolous (‘fuck bodies’), is sustained evidence of the remaining importance of (same- and opposite-sex) marriage, intimate, monogamous relationships, love and commitment (see for example, Carter, 2012; Gabb and Fink, 2015; van Hooff, 2013).
Girls who have open, honest conversations with parents about love, sex, and relationships, heartbreak, dating, etc.