418 pages
English language
Published Aug. 13, 1999 by Morrow.
Acclaimed as one of the most exciting books in the history of American letters, this modern epic became an instant bestseller upon publication in 1974, transforming a generation and continuing to inspire millions. A narration of a summer motorcycle trip undertaken by a father and his son, the book becomes a personal and philosophical odyssey into fundamental questions of how to live. The narrator's relationship with his son leads to a powerful self-reckoning the craft of motorcycle maintenance leads to an austerely beautiful process for reconciling science, religion, and humanism. Resonant with the confusions of existence, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance is a touching and transcendent book of life.
Kinda interesting, but far from what I was expecting: a combination of eastern teaching applied to motorcycle riding. So, it stopped speaking to me at some point...
Pretty good book.... started off really strong and held its speed until about 3/4ths of the way into the book. Then it just kinda lost its steam and focused on what I considered to be pretty trivial arguments. The book does show alot of the problems within modern Academic communities, but it doesnt really have any solutions to offer.
the best education in philosophy ive ever read. the story got progressively darker as insanity approached.
Eh. Philosophy doesn't particularly interest me. Nor do aesthetics or art. And I love the rational. As such, empathizing with Pirsig's mission was difficult. But what I found most problematic was not the theory that everything emerges from quality, that the rational and the aesthetic could be merged through quality, and that dialectics muck everything up, but that all this must be done on an individual level. Pirsig's proposal was something along the lines of a metaphysical version of urging everyone to change to energy-efficient light bulbs to stop global warning. And in the same manner, it won't work. To cure the world of its woes and give humans more fulfilling lives, which is what Pirsig says is his aim, you have to organize and mobilize and not make individually-directed entreaties.
Somehow this book, which I found really compelling ten years ago, seemed dead and uninspired on rereading it now. I found the philosophy tiresome and pointless, and honestly had a hard time forcing myself to slog my way through it. I think it had to do with the fact that the essential conflict of the book -- that between classic and romantic ways of thought (or science and art, rationality and emotion, function and form) -- is a non-issue to me, these days. Phaedrus drove himself insane seeking a synthesis between these two modes of thought, but it's a synthesis I achieved myself many years ago.
His over-simplification of the world, in which science is unable to recognize "quality" and art is unable to recognize function, just completely rubs me the wrong way. It's almost insulting, in fact, to someone who happens to be both a poet and an engineer; …
Somehow this book, which I found really compelling ten years ago, seemed dead and uninspired on rereading it now. I found the philosophy tiresome and pointless, and honestly had a hard time forcing myself to slog my way through it. I think it had to do with the fact that the essential conflict of the book -- that between classic and romantic ways of thought (or science and art, rationality and emotion, function and form) -- is a non-issue to me, these days. Phaedrus drove himself insane seeking a synthesis between these two modes of thought, but it's a synthesis I achieved myself many years ago.
His over-simplification of the world, in which science is unable to recognize "quality" and art is unable to recognize function, just completely rubs me the wrong way. It's almost insulting, in fact, to someone who happens to be both a poet and an engineer; he seems to state that I must be able to do only one well. It has always been obvious to me that it is not a duality, but a continuum. Of course, I was never classically trained in philosophy, so I could be missing some subtleties to his arguments.
With such an intensely personal (in fact, autobiographical) book, it may be that you either relate to the narrator, in which case the story becomes very meaningful to you, or you don't. The ending was very abrupt; after so long spent building up to the climax, he just left the reader to attempt to figure out what the resolution was.
Overall, it seemed to me like a book written more for the author than for his readers. Partially, it seemed like he just wanted to exorcise his own demons. Also, he wanted to give a lecture on philosophy, wrapped up in the thin framework of a novel. It was neither entertaining nor enlightening.
Bestimmt schon viermal gelesen und immer wieder etwas Neues entdeckt.
