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3.53 AVERAGE
3.53 AVERAGE
Pirsig is very process oriented as well as being a great observer of human behavior. Here he has taken the hobby of biking and used it to draw parellels to life. This is one you can put down for awhile and when you pick it up again, there is an easy flow that allows you to take in the next stage of his journey. Contemporary philosophy extraordinaire.
I will read this once each decade. I think that's necessary.
I went into this book thinking it was cheap philosophy for the uninitiated, and being a complete neophyte myself, I almost fell for it. A quarter of the way in I developed an admiration for the method in which Pirsig delivers his ideas. He approaches philosophic ideas through metaphors that come about naturally in a narrative. The narrative of the 'journey' is as old as time, and writers have long used the physical journey to represent a mental or spiritual journey as well. Pirsig proceeded to break down philosophic ideas with constant reference to his motorcycle, its parts, and its repair. This was entertaining and thought provoking, but only for the first quarter of the book.
As the book goes on, it leaves behind not only its motorcycle maintenance analogy and premise, but also any connection to the journey whatsoever. The vast majority of this narrative has no relation at all to the behemoth passages of philosophic cram that are sandwiched in between. Two unrelated texts are intertwined in a baffling attempt to draw insight from a boring motorcycle trip.
The biggest obstacle to overcome in reading this book is the author's pretense. Pirsig claims multiple times that this is not a work of fiction, that it is autobiographical, and that he is not even bothering to make the story interesting, because it is all fact. This is so clearly false at so many parts. It is a slap in the face for the novelist to tell his audience that he won't even try to make his novel interesting. The climax of the book, in which 'Phaedrus' throws down against the professors of the University of Chicago is painfully contrived. For all his talk about not making characters, Pirsig creates the most two-dimensional, unrealistic Saturday morning cartoon villain out of the UChicago profs. I wouldn't have been surprised if they had curled their moustaches and cackled maniacally. He portrays a dogmatic, completely unintelligent board of philosophers that he is able to outsmart completely just by calling a single passage of Plato an analogy rather than truth.
His pretension is shown in every chapter as he constantly refers to his former self, this Phaedrus, as a brilliant genius, smarter than Aristotle and Plato. It's quite insufferable. Not to mention he doesn't know the actual Greek meaning of the fake name he gives himself, Phaedrus.
Finally, if I have attacked him enough, I would love to share a quote that I thought brilliant.
"A fool can say the sun is shining and that doesn't make it dark out."
I have to attack his arguments for what they are, and not by what I think of him. So here I go. He claims 'Quality' is where science meets the arts, romanticism meets classical intelligence. He claims we all feel it naturally, and recognize it when we see it. He places so much importance on this concept. By his word, I should be able to recognize quality innately, but I believe that I see no quality in this book whatsoever. Furthermore, he spoke at great lengths at how science and art meet in quality, but I disagree. Romanticism and art value quality. Science values objectivity, and he fails to disprove that or show any connection between innate quality and rational objectivity.
As the book goes on, it leaves behind not only its motorcycle maintenance analogy and premise, but also any connection to the journey whatsoever. The vast majority of this narrative has no relation at all to the behemoth passages of philosophic cram that are sandwiched in between. Two unrelated texts are intertwined in a baffling attempt to draw insight from a boring motorcycle trip.
The biggest obstacle to overcome in reading this book is the author's pretense. Pirsig claims multiple times that this is not a work of fiction, that it is autobiographical, and that he is not even bothering to make the story interesting, because it is all fact. This is so clearly false at so many parts. It is a slap in the face for the novelist to tell his audience that he won't even try to make his novel interesting. The climax of the book, in which 'Phaedrus' throws down against the professors of the University of Chicago is painfully contrived. For all his talk about not making characters, Pirsig creates the most two-dimensional, unrealistic Saturday morning cartoon villain out of the UChicago profs. I wouldn't have been surprised if they had curled their moustaches and cackled maniacally. He portrays a dogmatic, completely unintelligent board of philosophers that he is able to outsmart completely just by calling a single passage of Plato an analogy rather than truth.
His pretension is shown in every chapter as he constantly refers to his former self, this Phaedrus, as a brilliant genius, smarter than Aristotle and Plato. It's quite insufferable. Not to mention he doesn't know the actual Greek meaning of the fake name he gives himself, Phaedrus.
Finally, if I have attacked him enough, I would love to share a quote that I thought brilliant.
"A fool can say the sun is shining and that doesn't make it dark out."
I have to attack his arguments for what they are, and not by what I think of him. So here I go. He claims 'Quality' is where science meets the arts, romanticism meets classical intelligence. He claims we all feel it naturally, and recognize it when we see it. He places so much importance on this concept. By his word, I should be able to recognize quality innately, but I believe that I see no quality in this book whatsoever. Furthermore, he spoke at great lengths at how science and art meet in quality, but I disagree. Romanticism and art value quality. Science values objectivity, and he fails to disprove that or show any connection between innate quality and rational objectivity.
adventurous
challenging
emotional
informative
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
5/10
Este libro ha sido una gran decepción. Lo empecé a leer porque esperaba un libro divulgativo sobre filosofía [hecho novela] lleno de analogías que facilitaran la comprensión de conceptos no tan básicos. Y, en efecto, las primeras 50 páginas del libro siguen esta estructura. Sin embargo, después de un principio prometedor, se convierte en un conglomerado de ideas confusas sin estructura alguna. Parte de esta confusión es generada por el continuo cambio entre los varios conductores de la "novela" que, en mi opinión, no tienen ningún valor añadido más allá de aumentar el número de páginas del libro. Como consecuencia, de cada 100 páginas, sólo 10 tienen cierto interés.
Esperaba que el libro se centrara en el Zen, pero nada más alejado de la realidad. El autor describe su propia filosofía que gira en torno a la "Calidad" y cómo se relaciona esta con el sujeto y el objeto. Ni esta filosofía es explicada de una manera clara ya que nos llega a través de una serie de flashbacks del personaje principal de la historia. En las últimas 90 páginas del libro, el autor discute visión de los clásicos filósofos griegos (Socrates, Platón y Aristótoles) y la dialectica, y su enfrentamiento con las ideas sofistas y la retórica. Esta parte es bastante interesante en comparación con el resto del libro pero tiene apenas una conexión lejana con el tema del que supuestamente trata el libro.
En general, de las tres tramas del libro: el viaje en moto del protagonista con su hijo en el presente, el pasado confuso del protagonista y sus ideas sobre la "Calidad", la primera es la más interesante y evocadora y es lo que le otorga las 2-3 estrellas.
Hablando de calidad, la traducción al español de esta edición es bastante mediocre.
* END of RANT *
Este libro ha sido una gran decepción. Lo empecé a leer porque esperaba un libro divulgativo sobre filosofía [hecho novela] lleno de analogías que facilitaran la comprensión de conceptos no tan básicos. Y, en efecto, las primeras 50 páginas del libro siguen esta estructura. Sin embargo, después de un principio prometedor, se convierte en un conglomerado de ideas confusas sin estructura alguna. Parte de esta confusión es generada por el continuo cambio entre los varios conductores de la "novela" que, en mi opinión, no tienen ningún valor añadido más allá de aumentar el número de páginas del libro. Como consecuencia, de cada 100 páginas, sólo 10 tienen cierto interés.
Esperaba que el libro se centrara en el Zen, pero nada más alejado de la realidad. El autor describe su propia filosofía que gira en torno a la "Calidad" y cómo se relaciona esta con el sujeto y el objeto. Ni esta filosofía es explicada de una manera clara ya que nos llega a través de una serie de flashbacks del personaje principal de la historia. En las últimas 90 páginas del libro, el autor discute visión de los clásicos filósofos griegos (Socrates, Platón y Aristótoles) y la dialectica, y su enfrentamiento con las ideas sofistas y la retórica. Esta parte es bastante interesante en comparación con el resto del libro pero tiene apenas una conexión lejana con el tema del que supuestamente trata el libro.
En general, de las tres tramas del libro: el viaje en moto del protagonista con su hijo en el presente, el pasado confuso del protagonista y sus ideas sobre la "Calidad", la primera es la más interesante y evocadora y es lo que le otorga las 2-3 estrellas.
Hablando de calidad, la traducción al español de esta edición es bastante mediocre.
* END of RANT *
adventurous
challenging
dark
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I'm not a person that reads a lot, in particular philosophy books. I have a hard time sticking to a book and finishing it. I read it, finished, and enjoyed it.
Something clicked for me about this book. Maybe it's rare that this happens given the reviews.
In my opinion, the author only "rambles" if you're expecting a very shallow book that just gives you the punchline right away. This book is about the journey, not the destination.
If you're someone familiar with long trips and having deep thoughts in silence this book may resonate. If you're someone who can't sit still and has to be blasting to All That She Wants while driving to fill the silence, maybe not.
I didn't find it dense in language at all. I actually found it very approachable in lingo. It explores deep topics that are hard to break down with very standard language. If you let it, it will make you think "huh, yeah, how do you actually define that?" or "interesting, I couldn't have said it in a more specific way".
It's not about motorcycle maintenance, but at the same time it is. If you ever broke a rusty bolt trying to get it out, you'll find many pages relatable.
If you just see things at the value of the word, and are expecting the book to walk you through the whole thought process, it's not for you. If you're curious about how you define quality, would like to read about how different people think about some things like maintaining a motorcycle, and would like to follow a troubled but very smart author through their long moto trip, you may enjoy this.
Something clicked for me about this book. Maybe it's rare that this happens given the reviews.
In my opinion, the author only "rambles" if you're expecting a very shallow book that just gives you the punchline right away. This book is about the journey, not the destination.
If you're someone familiar with long trips and having deep thoughts in silence this book may resonate. If you're someone who can't sit still and has to be blasting to All That She Wants while driving to fill the silence, maybe not.
I didn't find it dense in language at all. I actually found it very approachable in lingo. It explores deep topics that are hard to break down with very standard language. If you let it, it will make you think "huh, yeah, how do you actually define that?" or "interesting, I couldn't have said it in a more specific way".
It's not about motorcycle maintenance, but at the same time it is. If you ever broke a rusty bolt trying to get it out, you'll find many pages relatable.
If you just see things at the value of the word, and are expecting the book to walk you through the whole thought process, it's not for you. If you're curious about how you define quality, would like to read about how different people think about some things like maintaining a motorcycle, and would like to follow a troubled but very smart author through their long moto trip, you may enjoy this.
I really did not enjoy this book.
I think the author/narrator is really self-righteous with all his talk of figuring out the universe. He is a really distant to all the other characters in the book, even his own son which he has unwittingly dragged out into the middle of god knows where to supposedly teach him a lesson about life but instead he seems to just bark harsh commands at the poor kid when he interrupts his pointless meanderings. Overall I think he is a really unlikeable narrator. I know he quite clearly indicates that the point of the book isn’t character development but really it IS because he is trying to develop/enlighten the reader. His robotic indifference to anything but his own musings makes me want to slap him in the face to wake him up a bit.
He sets himself up as an objective observer and philosopher – enhanced more from the premise that he’s not really re-telling his ideas but those of ‘Phaedrus’ – but really he is a completely ‘square’ ‘classical’ snob and dismisses a lot of the romantic views and characters throughout the book.
The way he explains his idea that quality as something separate to objectivity and subjectivity just sounds like a load of nonsense (the term ‘quality’ in itself doesn’t seem like a very appropriate term either). He starts off on an intriguing track about quality being intrinsic in every person and being undefinable and the beauty in this process even when looked at from classical perspective but then goes on and pulls it apart anyway. It is completely hypocritical to say that quality shouldn’t be subjected to the ‘knife’ of classical analysis and then to go ahead and cut it up into tiny little pieces regardless.
I don't get the sense that the author knows much about eastern philosophy at all. He even admits that his time spent in India was a waste and that he didn't really get anything out of the teachings. Every time he discusses Lao-Tzu or Aristotle or Plato it’s in a really condescending way. It’s almost as if he wants to take credit for every theory that he verbalises. It made me feel like there was no point reading any other philosophy book because nothing but his ideas were relevant.
What I really think the story does is gives someone with a classical mind 'permission' to see the world also from a romantic point of view and likewise encourages a romantic person to see the beauty in the harmony of underlying form; that they don't have to be polar opposites. However, the way it’s explained utterly destroys the whole beauty and simplicity of the idea.
I don’t know, maybe I’m just a so called ‘romantic’ but the whole thing is just overly analytical and not very ‘zen’ at all.
P.S. I’m glad that I read the afterword! I can’t believe it took this guy 535 pages to show any kind of resemblance to a human being and to actually connect with the quality that he’s been rambling incoherently about for the whole book! It’s sad that it took something as tragic as the death of his son to finally give him some perspective. I don’t think this can be counted as a ‘conclusion’ to his essay on quality because its more of an afterthought, but I think it provides more enlightenment than any of the cold meanderings of his analytical mind which precede it. Probably the only worthwhile part of the whole book.
I think the author/narrator is really self-righteous with all his talk of figuring out the universe. He is a really distant to all the other characters in the book, even his own son which he has unwittingly dragged out into the middle of god knows where to supposedly teach him a lesson about life but instead he seems to just bark harsh commands at the poor kid when he interrupts his pointless meanderings. Overall I think he is a really unlikeable narrator. I know he quite clearly indicates that the point of the book isn’t character development but really it IS because he is trying to develop/enlighten the reader. His robotic indifference to anything but his own musings makes me want to slap him in the face to wake him up a bit.
He sets himself up as an objective observer and philosopher – enhanced more from the premise that he’s not really re-telling his ideas but those of ‘Phaedrus’ – but really he is a completely ‘square’ ‘classical’ snob and dismisses a lot of the romantic views and characters throughout the book.
The way he explains his idea that quality as something separate to objectivity and subjectivity just sounds like a load of nonsense (the term ‘quality’ in itself doesn’t seem like a very appropriate term either). He starts off on an intriguing track about quality being intrinsic in every person and being undefinable and the beauty in this process even when looked at from classical perspective but then goes on and pulls it apart anyway. It is completely hypocritical to say that quality shouldn’t be subjected to the ‘knife’ of classical analysis and then to go ahead and cut it up into tiny little pieces regardless.
I don't get the sense that the author knows much about eastern philosophy at all. He even admits that his time spent in India was a waste and that he didn't really get anything out of the teachings. Every time he discusses Lao-Tzu or Aristotle or Plato it’s in a really condescending way. It’s almost as if he wants to take credit for every theory that he verbalises. It made me feel like there was no point reading any other philosophy book because nothing but his ideas were relevant.
What I really think the story does is gives someone with a classical mind 'permission' to see the world also from a romantic point of view and likewise encourages a romantic person to see the beauty in the harmony of underlying form; that they don't have to be polar opposites. However, the way it’s explained utterly destroys the whole beauty and simplicity of the idea.
I don’t know, maybe I’m just a so called ‘romantic’ but the whole thing is just overly analytical and not very ‘zen’ at all.
P.S. I’m glad that I read the afterword! I can’t believe it took this guy 535 pages to show any kind of resemblance to a human being and to actually connect with the quality that he’s been rambling incoherently about for the whole book! It’s sad that it took something as tragic as the death of his son to finally give him some perspective. I don’t think this can be counted as a ‘conclusion’ to his essay on quality because its more of an afterthought, but I think it provides more enlightenment than any of the cold meanderings of his analytical mind which precede it. Probably the only worthwhile part of the whole book.
I don't feel like I was able to grasp the reason this book was written. Philosophy is hard enough to define but the rambling of a man who is a little insane was nearly impossible to follow.