Pirsig was this remarkable guy at the University of Chicago. He had a unique perspective and approach to philosophy that often left his classmates in awe or sometimes a bit frustrated.

His ideas were not the typical run-of-the-mill ones that you would expect to hear in a philosophy class. Instead, he would delve deep into complex and often controversial topics, challenging the status quo and making his classmates think in ways they never had before.

However, his passionate and sometimes outspoken nature also led to some interesting situations. As the link http://www.theonion.com/articles/guy-... might suggest, there were times when his enthusiasm could be a bit overwhelming for some. But despite this, Pirsig's presence in the philosophy class was always felt, and his contributions added a new dimension to the discussions and debates that took place.

He was truly a one-of-a-kind individual who left a lasting impression on those who had the opportunity to study with him at the University of Chicago.

Please provide the article that needs to be rewritten and expanded so that I can help you.

**Controlling the Weariness of Modern Life**

Contro il logorìo della vita moderna.

We should immediately cast aside every doubt. This is not a book for those who expect a Tibetan monk on a motorcycle to explain all of philosophy to them, nor for those who expect useful instructions on starting a motorcycle that has been sitting in the garage since 1965. Whoever among you hopes for one or the other will be disappointed and will yawn throughout. Rather, it is a book that offers a different approach to two things that seem light-years apart but actually aren't.

Even without reading this precious little volume, it had already occurred to me that in one way or another, a small philosopher dwells within each of us. The whole thing is about bringing it out. But where? Between a post on Facebook and two chats? Between the time for shopping and the time for the paintbrush? Between the empty phone calls of stressed friends and the washing machines full of colored clothes? Ummm, difficult.

It might seem like a matter of time. And in the end, it is. Yet, the post-lunch summer swaying on the hammock doesn't necessarily make us enlightened sages. For example, I have always only remedied the lines on the fabric on my face and some pine nuts on my head. So it's not just a matter of free time without distractions.

Months ago, I saw a documentary on TV about a famous runner whose name I don't remember, who had the words "The man who runs is a man who thinks" printed on his shirt. Here's the point. Why does an hour in bed/hammock/sofa produce inertia, while an hour of running produces good intentions, buried memories, and life strategies? Perhaps because, while engaged in reaching a goal, we are forced to listen to ourselves. And not just our physical self that asks for mercy and refuses to do that last kilometer, but also our brain, finally free to make its own associations without external interference, not even those resulting from idleness.

The same goes for a motorcycle trip. And it's not essential that you are alone. Even Pirsig made his on the road trip with his son. The motorcycle is a fantastic means, but it's not suitable for making a living room. Conversations are shouted or mumbled, so if you want to talk, you have to do it internally.

Here is the explanation of the zen-moto binomial that at the beginning might have seemed so dissonant. The spiritual search for ourselves, especially if done with Quality (the capital Q you will only understand by reading the book), is an inverse way of conceiving the world in which we live. Instead of drawing hasty conclusions from a panoramic view, we should start looking inside ourselves and gradually expand the view until we embrace what surrounds us.

I know, it seems like nonsense. In fact, I (try to) write reviews, not books like Pirsig!!! And precisely because he wrote it and not me, those who are looking for a plot will also be satisfied. Painful in this case, a bit like John Nash, if you understand me. But perhaps essential to be able to arrive at an acceptance of the suffering but liberating truth.

It would be nice now to gossip, maybe not only anticipating that it's a true story but also telling you what happened after; instead, I limit myself to advising you to read this book in small doses, and I attach a link as a testimony of the times and reflections that were.

http://ww2.usca.edu/ResearchProjects/...

I began reading this book as I had heard from numerous people, including comedian Tim Allen, that it was excellent. In fact, I even read an entire Tim Allen book titled "I'm Not Really Here" which was sort of about his experience reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintainence. Tim Allen, though perhaps not a highly respected philosopher (maybe not even just respectable), managed to convey some of Robert Pirsig's philosophy without all the inane nonsense. At least Tim Allen's book was humorous.

Admittedly, I took pleasure in the book initially. I could sense that the plot didn't have a specific direction, but I have a penchant for such books. In fact, I even wrote one myself. However, as I persisted, page after page, chapter after chapter, I first grew bored with it and then became irritated. This book essentially consists of three parts, all of which are intertwined at irregular intervals.

First, there is the philosophy aspect. I truly liked this part of the book. The extensive discussions about Phaedrus and his experiences were mostly captivating to me. Phaedrus is the real hero of the story and the only character I truly cared for.

Second, the motorcycle maintainence section. Despite not understanding most of it, it was factual and to the point, and somehow intrigued me just by the way it was written. At one point, I even contemplated buying a motorcycle, simply inspired by this book.

Finally, the main story. It's about the narrator (Pirsig himself) and his son, Chris, on a motorcycle journey across the country with some friends. Chris, who is 11 or 12, is mostly just annoying, and the interactions between Pirsig and his son make me believe that Pirsig is a lousy father. He always seems angry at Chris for no particular reason, and Chris often cries as a result. I wonder what Chris thought when he read this book. It's no surprise to me that the author's wife left him shortly after its publication (Wikipedia: [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_P...]).

The main issue I have with this book is the abrupt way he switches between topics. I have no problem with a rapidly changing story as long as the transitions are smooth. Here, Pirsig would get me excited during a Phaedrus segment, and then suddenly dump me back into him and Chris doing something dull. Then we'd plod along through that for a while, and suddenly he'd see something that reminded him of Phaedrus, and we'd enter another Phaedrus segment that wasn't a continuation of the previous one.

I abandoned the book shortly after the halfway point when Phaedrus started repeating everything over and over and going nowhere. Sure, I'd like to know what ultimately led to his commitment to an asylum, but I don't want to read any more of this repetitive and bland drivel to find out. Okay, you can't define "quality," I understand that, so move on to something else. I feel like Pirsig is taunting me by saying, "I've got a point...but I'll never tell you what it is!" and I despise being taunted, especially while reading. If this were a movie, I might tough it out and wait for it to end since I know it'll be over soon. But reading, while often more enjoyable, is more time-consuming, and no one can deny that. After wasting weeks of my life reading Robert Jordan's "The Shadow Rising," I've learned my lesson. Life is too short to waste on bad books. There's a wealth of great stuff out there, and I'm going to go and discover it.

Pirsig is full of shit.

Throughout the whole first half of the book, I found myself constantly wondering when he was going to put an end to his rather prosaic attempts at philosophizing and simply return to the topic of motorcycle maintenance.

His digressions into the realm of philosophy seemed to me to be overly convoluted and lacking in real depth.

I was much more interested in learning about the practical aspects of taking care of a motorcycle, rather than being bombarded with his seemingly endless musings on life, the universe, and everything.

Perhaps if he had spent less time pontificating and more time sharing his knowledge and experiences of motorcycle repair, I would have found the book to be more engaging and useful.

As it stands, however, I was left feeling rather frustrated and disappointed by the first half of the book.

When I'm asked what is my favorite book, I often pause for a moment and reply, "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance." My reply always gets a laugh.

Some people have heard of the book, and some have even tried reading it, but no one I've mentioned it to has expressed a similar level of admiration for it, and no one I've recommended it to has ever read it through to completion.

It's obviously not a book for everyone.

Why do I love it so much? Pirsig was trying to teach writing on a college level, and he struggled with traditional ways of teaching. One day the casual remark of an associate at the college---"I hope you are teaching Quality to your students"---sets off a train of thought that leads Pirsig to try some innovative methods of teaching in his classroom and eventually helps Pirsig form some new connections between two old systems of thought.

Here are some of my favorite quotes from the book:

"And what is good, Phaedrus,

And what is not good—

Need we ask anyone to tell us these things?”

"Care and Quality are internal and external aspects of the same thing. A person who sees Quality and feels it as he works is a person who cares. A person who cares about what he sees and does is a person who’s bound to have some characteristic of quality.”

"The place to improve the world is first in one's own heart and head and hands, and then work outward from there.”

"When analytic thought, the knife, is applied to experience, something is always killed in the process.”

"We’re in such a hurry most of the time we never get much chance to talk. The result is a kind of endless day-to-day shallowness, a monotony that leaves a person wondering years later where all the time went and sorry that it’s all gone. ”

"Peace of mind produces right values, right values produce right thoughts. Right thoughts produce right actions and right actions produce work which will be a material reflection for others to see of the serenity at the center of it all.”

"You’ve got to live right, too. It’s the way you live that predisposes you to avoid the traps and see the right facts. You want to know how to paint a perfect painting? It’s easy. Make yourself perfect and then just paint naturally. That’s the way all the experts do it. The making of a painting or the fixing of a motorcycle isn’t separate from the rest of your existence. If you’re a sloppy thinker the six days of the week you aren’t working on your machine, what trap avoidance, what gimmicks, can make you all of a sudden sharp on the seventh? It all goes together... The real cycle you're working in is a cycle called yourself. The machine that appears to be "out there" and the person that appears to be "in here" are not two separate things. They grow toward Quality or fall away from Quality together."

These quotes not only offer profound insights into life and work but also inspire me to look at the world from a different perspective. The book as a whole is a journey of self-discovery and philosophical exploration that has had a lasting impact on me. I believe that anyone who takes the time to read and understand it will find something of value within its pages.

I continuously read this book, with a growing sense of desperation as I delved deeper, longing for some genuine insights and revelations.

Why on earth had so many individuals recommended it? Why did people claim that it had transformed their lives?

Throughout more than 400 pages, all the book awkwardly attempts to pose is: "Are my priorities in order within this consciousness-muddled, consumerist culture?"

The protagonist's response: "I don't know. I'm going crazy."

It seems like a combination of pop philosophy and a second-rate imitation of "On the Road".

Rather than providing profound and thought-provoking content, it falls short and leaves the reader feeling disappointed and unfulfilled.

Perhaps the expectations were set too high due to the numerous recommendations, but in reality, this book fails to live up to the hype.

It lacks the depth and substance that one would hope for in a work that is supposed to offer life-changing perspectives.

Overall, it is a mediocre attempt that fails to make a lasting impression.

Boring.

I attempted to read this a long time ago.

It really didn't hold my interest.

Moreover, you can also take a look at this review.

Maybe it will provide you with a different perspective or more details about the book.

I'm not sure if others will have the same experience as I did, but for me, it was a rather dull read.

I had high hopes for it initially, but unfortunately, it didn't live up to my expectations.

Hopefully, you'll have a better encounter with it than I did.

I first read “ZAMM” around 40 years ago. I was completely astounded by its profound layers of erudition. It delved into the realm of foundational philosophy, starting from Greek antiquity. The Zen & Motorcycle Maintenance parts were peripheral digressions that ran parallel to the “Chautauqua's” deep philosophical rabbit holes of thought. Here, “Phaedrus”, the narrator, or perhaps Pirsig himself, worked out the kinks of a revolutionary reset of Cartesian duality. Quality became the all-pervading impetus to formed reality, replacing the old paradigm.

Pirsig/Phaedrus traced the concept of excellence back to the pre-Socratics and followed it up to the break with Plato/Aristotle. Rationality usurped mythos as the lynchpin to the paradigm of mind/matter, and truth was derived from science. There was another duality in the story, the father/son divide, which Pirsig realized was a vestige of hope for recognition. Both were prone to mental disturbance, and Pirsig had undergone electro-convulsive shock therapy. The sequel, “Lila”, added more aspects to his “Metaphysics of Quality”.

However, Nietzsche was not mentioned, which I think is wrong. Nietzsche's “The Birth of Tragedy” presented a similar argument a century before, against the Apollonian vs Dionysian split and citing reason/science as the superseding paradigm. His “Will to Power” was equivalent to Quality. I fantasize that Pirsig's “Phaedrus” is really the ghost of Nietzsche/Zarathustra, come to pester our blinkered consciousness. “Quality of Metaphysics” is a way back to a more harmonious world, away from the shackles of science/technology not aligned with art/aesthetic/spirit/soul/mythos. As Elizabeth Barrett Browning said, all beauties are reflections of one archetypal beauty. Forty years later, I am still open to wonder at the possibilities of excellence.

I truly have no clue as to what rating to give this book. At the start, I was convinced I adored it and stayed up late into the night reading the first 100 pages. However, the next 100 pages proved to be rather dull, and I could barely bring myself to pick it up. I managed to read the last 200 or so pages today, mainly because I was engaged in a significant amount of traveling and waiting around.

On one hand, I found Pirsig to be exactly as I had heard before: self-absorbed, a bit of a jerk, and overly preachy. I suppose he展现了这些特质 in this work. And there were definitely parts that were extremely tedious for me. There is an abundance of discussion about 'Quality' and what exactly 'Quality' is. The travel sections, with Pirsig and his son, the mountains, the coffee, and the driving, were truly amazing. But then the philosophy seemed to get in the way of that. At times, I felt as if they were two separate books: his adventure with his son (which would have been remarkable on its own) and then his Zen book, his exploration into values.

Despite the boring bits, I also discovered today, as I neared the end, that it was gradually having an oddly profound impact on me. I had a similar experience with Kerouac's 'On the Road'. Did I enjoy it? Well, in a sense, yes. But I also found it boring, a little repetitive, and many other things. Yet, somewhere within all that, I felt that it was achieving something, whatever that might be, something was getting through and making me feel something. I'm not entirely sure what. I had hoped that this book would change my life, but sadly, it hasn't. I'm still glad I read it. I give the 'Afterworld' five stars as well. Perhaps it's an odd opinion to have, but there it is. I found it touching and heartbreaking, solely because of what is revealed.

Since it's a book about a road trip and philosophy, there are some excellent quotes scattered throughout the 400 or 500 pages. Here are just a few, but there are many more.
'We're in such a hurry most of the time we never get much chance to talk. The result is a kind of endless day-to-day shallowness, a monotony that leaves a person wondering years later where all the time went and sorry that it's all gone.'
'Sometimes it's a little better to travel than to arrive.'
\\"Nonrepresentative art is one of the root experiences I'm talking about. Some people still condemn it because it doesn't make \\"sense\\". But what's really wrong is not the art but the \\"sense\\", the classical reason, which can't grasp it. People keep looking for branch extensions of reason that will cover art's more recent occurrences, but the answers aren't in the branches, they're at the roots.\\"
'The explanation, I suppose, is that the physical distance between people has nothing to do with loneliness. It's a psychic distance, and in Montana and Idaho the physical distances are big but the psychic distances between people are small, and here it's reversed.'
This quote is particularly meaningful to me, as it pertains to writing.
'I tell him getting stuck is the commonest trouble of all. Usually, I say, your mind gets stuck when you're trying to do too many things at once. What you have to do is try not to force the words to come. That just gets you more stuck. What you have to do now is separate out the things and do them one at a time. You're trying to think of what to say and what to say first at the same time and that's too hard. So separate them out. Just make a list of all the things you want to say in any old order. Then later we'll figure out the right order.'
There are also some wonderful descriptions of the landscape, including trees, birds, roads, and sleeping bags, but I can't write them all down. I did enjoy a great deal of Pirsig's writing. This rating may very well change. I have no idea what I think anymore.

I'm not precisely certain about the impulse that compels an elderly man to desire re-reading a book that was first read during adolescence. Perhaps it isn't so much the experience of the book itself that one endeavors to recapture, but rather the experience of being youthful and reading a book with the same thrilling sense of discovery, of realizing that one has encountered someone expressing what one feels yet couldn't articulate oneself.

I'm glad to state that there are still numerous aspects of this book that I don't understand now, just as I didn't then. The father-son relationship of the two motorcycle travelers appears to be more significant now than it was before. The description of the landscape and how it enhances the thoughts and moods of the travelers has gained new meaning. I have a slightly better understanding of the "peace of mind" that precedes and is a part of the appreciation and creation of Quality. I felt a profound connection to the "insanity" of one of the characters. I view the book as more complete and less anti-reason and anti-establishment than I did when I was eighteen.

However, a great deal of what the book says about living with Quality still eludes my comprehension, even as I recognize its truth at some deep, ineffable level. There is also more sadness. There is a painfully honest portrayal of pretentiousness and a hardness of heart in the narrator, which is impossible not to recognize in the reader's own self. Back then, it was easy to believe that I could do better - not so much anymore. Still, there is some peace and perhaps a modicum of Quality in this realization as well.

I truly despised this book. Despised it with a passion. I'm extremely disappointed that no stars isn't an actual rating option. This is by far the least favorite book I have ever read, and I have done a significant amount of reading over the years.

The issue lies in the fact that it was written by someone who seemingly believes he is the ultimate gift to the field of philosophy. If you don't concur with his views, then, according to him, you're simply an imbecile. This isn't a productive exploration of ideas; rather, it's a one-sided presentation of why Pirsig is "right." However, since this is a discussion about philosophy, it should be open to debate. (But, as far as Pirsig is concerned, it isn't.)

I did find some enjoyment in the story about the main character's family, particularly his son Chris. The problem is that the narrative is constantly disrupted by numerous pages of what I can only characterize as pompous and nonsensical psychobabble. I can understand how this book might be an enjoyable and ego-boosting experience for someone who shares exactly the same views as Pirsig. That's great for them. But if you're seeking a philosophical discussion that goes beyond arguments like "I'm right because I said so," then this book is not for you.