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A review by wannabekingpin
A Confession by Leo Tolstoy
4.0
all reviews in one place:
night mode reading ;
skaitom nakties rezimu
About the Book: In this short biographical work of philosophy author describes his life nuances that one way or another steered him away from faith. How it affected and even eroded his life, what were the consequences of that, and how he sought after the meaning of life via this prism of faithlessness or godlessness, however you want to call it. He found answers through very deep digging and process of elimination, and, depending on how you view this book, they’re interesting.
My Opinion: I am not religious, at all. But this book, as I said, depending on how you view it, can be very good. Basically, Leo Tolstoy lost the meaning of life and went out to find it again. On his way, deducting answers that didn’t fit the bigger picture, he managed to find a path: life can only be defined around one self, for only your life is in your hands in such a sense that you can only be responsible for your own actions and choices. Taking this in, the answer to the age old question “why ware we here?” becomes clearer: because we are, they say. We are, because we are. So if we indeed are just because, and our life can only be defined around ourselves, does that not clearly point to what’s the meaning of life, after all? If you are just to be, and your being is defined by you, then your meaning of life is… Whatever you make it to be.
It’s a pleasant thought, and a nice short read to that. A 4 out of 5; though I think I need a new scale or system when rating biographies or otherwise biographical works.
night mode reading ;
skaitom nakties rezimu
About the Book: In this short biographical work of philosophy author describes his life nuances that one way or another steered him away from faith. How it affected and even eroded his life, what were the consequences of that, and how he sought after the meaning of life via this prism of faithlessness or godlessness, however you want to call it. He found answers through very deep digging and process of elimination, and, depending on how you view this book, they’re interesting.
My Opinion: I am not religious, at all. But this book, as I said, depending on how you view it, can be very good. Basically, Leo Tolstoy lost the meaning of life and went out to find it again. On his way, deducting answers that didn’t fit the bigger picture, he managed to find a path: life can only be defined around one self, for only your life is in your hands in such a sense that you can only be responsible for your own actions and choices. Taking this in, the answer to the age old question “why ware we here?” becomes clearer: because we are, they say. We are, because we are. So if we indeed are just because, and our life can only be defined around ourselves, does that not clearly point to what’s the meaning of life, after all? If you are just to be, and your being is defined by you, then your meaning of life is… Whatever you make it to be.
It’s a pleasant thought, and a nice short read to that. A 4 out of 5; though I think I need a new scale or system when rating biographies or otherwise biographical works.