The Phaedrus We Were in Those Years

Nothing is more outdated. It fails to rise above the banalization of the search for freedom in those years, even if it swears and swears not to be inspired by that time.
I understood it immediately, before Persing decided to release Phaedrus as his crazy double annihilated by electroshock, but not too much (the blunting of his elucubrations holds up until the moment when the fortunately banal part of his personality is seized by the terror of his son falling into the abyss of madness).

I understood immediately that neither Persing nor Phaedrus were Camus:
… all the science of this earth will not be able to give me anything that can make me certain that this world belongs to me. You describe it to me and teach me to classify it… At the useful end, you let me know that this enchanting and multicolored universe is reduced to the atom and that the atom, in turn, is reduced to the electron… and you explain this world to me with an image… I just have time to despise it, when you already change the theory. So this science, which was supposed to make me know everything, ends in the hypothesis, this lucidity sinks into the metaphor, this uncertainty is resolved in a work of art… (A. Camus The Myth of Sisyphus, Ed. Bompiani, 2017, p. 20).

Reducing all the absurdity of life to the maintenance of the motorcycle (the Quality of the craftsman) and ending with: - I continue to live, more than anything else, by the force of habit” (at the death of his son Chris) saddens me for the time wasted now when I should have done it then, in the early eighties, having enough ahead.

Useless.

However, we cannot simply dismiss the ideas and experiences of those years. They have left an indelible mark on our collective consciousness. The search for freedom, the struggle against absurdity, and the attempt to find meaning in life are universal themes that continue to resonate with us today.

We can learn from the mistakes and successes of the past, and use them to shape a better future. Maybe we can't change the world overnight, but we can start by changing ourselves and our own perspectives.

So, let's not forget the Phaedrus we were in those years, but rather use it as a springboard to launch ourselves into a new era of exploration and discovery.

This was truly a pleasant surprise.

I decided to read this book simply because it is one of the few popular philosophy books.

My expectations were initially low, as the title and summary did not seem to cover the full scope of what this book entails.

However, the author managed to超越 a life philosophy that intersects between metaphysics and ethics.

He also delved into ideas of aesthetics, logic, scientific metaphysics, and engineering and science in general.

The greatest brilliance of this book lies in how it demonstrates the relevance and usefulness of philosophy in normal life.

For reference, the book is written in the form of a log during a motorcycle road trip with his son.

Herein, he speaks of events and his thoughts of the present or of his past.

From simple yet fundamental notions, Pirsig's actions and perhaps even capabilities stand in stark contrast to those of others around him.

In terms of experiencing life, reacting to situations, making decisions and choices, or approaching and solving problems, Pirsig appears to fare better because of his philosophies.

Another interesting aspect is the utility of the analogy of a motorcycle to address quandaries.

I was reminded of other famous analogies such as living in a "mechanical universe", "billiard balls" of causes and effects, and the various ways "water" is used particularly in Taoism.

Pirsig uses the motorcycle as an analogy, starting from its actual use in exploring the world and experiencing life, more broadly as a technology and its influence on society, as a work of science and engineering with systems of causes and effects that are created and altered, and then back again to ethics and experiencing life in the aspect of maintaining a motorcycle.

The point is that, unlike other analogies which are abstract or utilized in limited ways, the analogies to a motorcycle were pragmatic and clear.

On a side note, having driven a motorcycle for years and having gone on road trips in the midwest, I could sympathize with his experiences, observations, and feelings about traveling.

In a way, this is an interesting outlook on what it means to be a modern wanderer and what motorcycle life is like.

I would recommend this book in the following order: 1. anyone wanting to see how philosophy can be applied and influential in normal life (however, most certainly not representative of all that is and can be done with philosophy) 2. anyone who has experience with or is interested in traveling or motorcycles 3. scientists and engineers. (Note how I do not recommend this to artists in particular, despite the book discussing quality)

I leave with my favorite quote from the book:

"But a person who does machining or foundry work or forge work or welding sees'steel' as having no shape at all. Steel can be any shape you want if you are skilled enough, and any shape but the one you want if you are not. Shapes, like this tappet, are what you arrive at, what you give to the steel. Steel has no more shape than this old pile of dirt on the engine here. These shapes are all out of someone's mind. That's important to see. The steel? Hell, even the steel is out of someone's mind. There's no steel in nature. Anyone from the Bronze Age could have told you that. All nature has is a potential for steel."

Now, approach all of reality and life akin to this.

Edit 11/24/2021:

The favorite quote I shared is not necessarily a unique concept though. In philosophy, the term is called "potentiality", and it has a long history of very similar examples being given for such.

This book was published the year before I went to Uni.

At that time, I was studying Philosophy at the university and came across this book during one of my courses.

It was an extremely interesting and thought-provoking read that really made me think deeply about various philosophical concepts.

Now, years later, I have decided to re-read it and I find that it still has the same impact on me.

Memories of Hume, Kant, and Hegel from my lectures linger in my mind, but what really strikes me this time is the brilliant interweaving of the simple story of a dad and his son on a motorcycle journey.

The author's mental breakdown and ECT treatments, as well as the tragic murder of his son just a few months before his 23rd birthday, add an immense layer of sadness to the story.

I simply couldn't remain unfocused from this real and profound sadness.

This is truly a very powerful novel, and I have now decided to hand it over to my Dad, who started reading it years ago but didn't finish it. I hope he will also be able to appreciate its beauty and depth.

What a wonderful book! "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" impressed me so strongly that it's difficult for me to write about it. Robert Pirsig's novel is extremely powerful and philosophical. It's a tough read, but it definitely deserves it!

In it, the journey of a father and son on a motorcycle through America is described, but it also contains many valuable thoughts and ideas. The book definitely challenges my thinking. I highly recommend "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" to every reader. And here are the paths recommended by the author:

"The paths without end destinations and advertisements are better, paths where the forests and meadows, vegetable gardens and fields can almost be touched by hand, where the children wave at you as you pass by them, where people look out from their verandas to see who it is, where when stopping for directions and information, the answer shows a tendency to be longer than necessary, where people ask where you're from and how long you've been traveling..."

I may have been too young when I read this, but I really loathed it.

My wife and I were grappling with the challenges of raising twins, and one of them had serious medical problems.

Here was this person, full of hot air, who had deserted his wife and children, yet was lecturing me about "quality".

At least, that's how I recall it.

Perhaps I should give it a second chance and take a closer look.

It's possible that my perspective has changed over the years, and I might now be able to see something valuable in what was written.

After all, our experiences and understanding grow as we age, and it could be that I was too quick to dismiss it back then.

So, I'll try to approach it with an open mind and see if I can gain a new appreciation for it.

Well, that's me done.

I'm officially giving up. I feel as if I've been engaged in a truly shitty marathon, slogging through treacle for weeks on end.

I even made an attempt to limit my reading to just my breaks at work in an effort to split it up, but alas, it was to no avail. Just no.

Oh my god, where should I even begin? This is a book about Zen penned by the most pretentious, self-obsessed, obnoxious, and egocentric man this side of Trump!

Not only does he haul his poor traumatized son across the country, all the while indulging in introverted and nonsensical ruminations, but he also comes across as an insufferable bore when it comes to all things "motorbikey" to his poor, well-meaning friends. They quickly realize that they can only endure spending a limited amount of time in this a-hole's company before sensibly buggering off to greener pastures.

Granted, he has clearly suffered from some sort of mental illness, but quite frankly, I couldn't care less. Pirsig or Phaedrus or just plain old boring twadge fails to evoke any feelings of empathy within me whatsoever.

The book drones on and on about Quality, Quality, Quality. You know what is most definitely NOT Quality? This book, written by a total gobshite. It's a waste of some perfectly happy trees. Psh.

I first read Robert Pirsig’s ZEN AND THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE in 1975. It was assigned reading in a political theory course at my university. I don't remember what the professor said about it, but I knew it wouldn't be taken seriously in the philosophy department.

The social sciences were different in the 1970s. Standards had been loose for decades. Many students, including myself, took a poli-sci course to balance more difficult courses and make the semester easier. I don't remember if that was my thinking when I chose this political theory course, but it seems likely. I got a good grade, but I learned very little political theory. More importantly, I had no idea why MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE was required reading in this course.

I re-read it last year. A copy of the 25th Anniversary edition had been on my shelf for a few years. When I started reading, it was like reading it for the first time. It seemed new and strange. You probably know that it's really two books in one. I enjoyed the first part, which is a story about a father and son on a motorcycle trip. The second part, Pirsig's speculations on philosophical subjects, left me completely puzzled.

Pirsig calls his speculations a Chatauqua. They are presented as the father's internal monologue during the trip. I didn't understand much of it last year, but when I listened to it on Audible while driving, I was able to focus on the larger patterns. Pirsig tries to reconcile dichotomies like technology/no technology and classical/romantic. He also discusses the mind/body problem and the truth versus good dichotomy.

His solution to the truth versus good dichotomy is original. He argues that Quality is preeminent and harmonizes the true and the good. He also refuses to define Quality because he thinks it comes before dialectic. I'm not sure if I believe him, but it's interesting. If you have the time and motivation, you can read his book LILA: AN INQUIRY INTO MORALS to learn more. And if you know why a professor of political science would assign MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE to undergrads in a political theory course, please let me know.

Well, this book is not for everyone.

I have indeed heard people claim that they found it overblown, pretentious, and pointless. However, I adored it.

As I read it, what I perused and my life experiences formed a didactic and captivating dialectic with the book's content.

The book itself weaves Pirsig's account of a motorcycle road trip with his son and friends together with the story of his personal and professional struggles in developing his philosophy of "the metaphysics of quality".

There is also some philosophy history, though this is to expound Pirsig's arguments, so he selectively chooses the stories and interpretations he tells. This is fine as it's not intended to be a primer on classical or any other kind of philosophy.

I don't have an extensive philosophy background, but the little I knew helped, I think.

Not that they're related to the book, but I have a couple of stories about it. I assume most people interested in this type of book are already quite familiar with it.

So, I won't say too much other than that I couldn't put it down and I wholeheartedly recommend it.

While I don't agree with Pirsig's entire viewpoint, most of it rang true, and even that which didn't was still an excellent impetus for introspection.

I got a copy at a used bookstore on a trip to San Francisco with my girlfriend and a mutual friend.

At first, I was browsing and found a cool coffee table book on phrenology. The lady at the counter chatted with me for a while.

Encouraged by the chat, I asked if they had a book I'd been looking for, "The Secret Teaching of All Ages" by Manly P. Hall.

At this, the warmth left her face. There was an ominous, movie-beginning-like silence. She informed me she didn't sell that book as she was a Christian.

When I asked for further clarification, she said the book contained "a secret spell to undo the universe" and she didn't want to be part of helping anyone do that.

Well, things got awkward. Avoiding eye contact, I saw a copy of "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" in a stack of books.

I tried to help myself, but she swatted my hand away and sent someone to get me a copy off the shelf. She said it was by far the most popular title they sold.

I didn't read the book until almost a year later, on a rail trip to and through Hokkaido with Vinny.

The book got water damaged during our hike up and down Rishi-fuji-zan when I was reading Pirsig's mountain climbing allegory.

A lot of what he said about "when you can't move forward, you move sideways" resonated with my sometimes aimless wanderings over the past couple of years.

In conclusion, you'll really like this book, unless you think it's as interminable, rambling, and obtuse as this review.

If, like Robert Pirsig and me, you've found on your rude awakening from the Sleep of Innocence down many a subtle corridor of life's nightmare "to an overwhelming conclusion," that living is not at all what it once seemed, this Incredible Handbook will be Required Reading for you.

I just can't put it any more simply!

But I’ll try again, by fleshing in some of the details… you see, Robert took his young son on a cross-country trek many years ago.

Heavily influenced by America’s restless Beat Generation, Robert was - of course - very mechanically-minded and practical, but he sensed deep down that Modern America is LOST.

And, as he and his son motored in their trek out West, Paul Simon was singing:

And a moon rose over an open field -
I'm lost, I said. I'm empty and aching and I don't know why -
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike -
They've ALL come to look for America!

So, in an important segue from his prized motorbike and its constantly watchful maintenance, he strives to arrive at the ROOT of his generation’s anxiety over our current drift into meaninglessness.

He delves into much fecund source material for his musings, ancient and modern, and then - as if we’re there in his head, watching his thoughts arise and vanish like so many clouds in the sky - it HITS him!

We have lost ALL CONCEPT OF TRUE VALUE!

Wow. So true.

But this one pivotal thought for him - as Auden said so wisely - “opens a lane to the Land of the Dead.”

Yes, dark thoughts indeed. And they will have severe repercussions for both him and his young son.

Writing this book, in fact, politely roto-tilled the marrow of his soul - and, as Auden this time more incautiously muttered (and later rescinded), will “harrow the House of The Dead."

And if these Undead Souls haunt you forever after reading it, don't blame those who warned you.

For your Quest for Peace will henceforth be like a wrestling match with an Angel, as with Jacob, onward to your long ever-afterwards disabled sojourn on our weary planet.

Fight or Flight - and we MUST choose to Fight.

For we must not be cowed, as Pirsig - alas! - seems to have been.

But WAS his Spirit in fact conquered?

No!

It was merely SLEEPING in its legacy to his son, who then musta vowed to NEVER rest until, Youthful Bodhisvatta that he then became, he had saved all beings from a similar confusion over life's meaning.

He was at that time studying Zen meditation at the SF Zen Centre.

You've GOT to bite off MUCH more of life than you can chew, Robert seems to have said to him in His brain.

And when you have chewed and digested it, Roar like a Lion -

As you gratefully await your own peaceful destiny, joining the running stream of humanity -

And then, if you truly Value your fellow sojourners only for themselves - in the Spirit of Love - you will be Freed At Last from Samsara’s Tinselly Valuelessness…

“Gone, gone, gone BEYOND,” as the great Sutra says - into pure Eternity.

I am fascinated by Eastern philosophy, as well as any oracular books and authors who are considered to preach it.

However, I don't understand a single line or experience of such authors who try to wash the consciousness with thoughts that can be expressed completely freely and without attaching a label - East, philosophy.

I was also disappointed with "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance". It was boring. The passages that talked about the structure of the motorcycle itself were interesting to me, but the comparisons with philosophical terms and moods seemed rather far-fetched and excessive. This book is nothing special to me.

I expected the journey to be romantic, sexy, and intertwined with interesting thoughts to get lost in.

There were some attempts to show an obvious connection between two generations, but I didn't really understand what it was...

The book is a story about the journey of two people, but it is told and seen only through the eyes of one hero.

The other one didn't exist. I didn't discover him, and I didn't see him. Egocentrism everywhere.

...

You know, just to give you some perspective, I was somewhere in the middle of Act III when I recognized a horrible habit of mine. I have this tendency to constantly check how many pages are in the current chapter that I'm reading. It seems like, possibly multiple times in a single page, I'd double check how many pages I had left until I finished it or how many pages left until the next act.

Pirsig said:

To the untrained eye ego-climbing and selfless climbing may appear identical. Both kinds of climbers place one foot in front of the other. Both breathe in and out at the same rate. Both stop when tired. Both go forward when rested. But what a difference! The ego-climber is like an instrument that's out of adjustment. He puts his foot down an instant too soon or too late. He's likely to miss a beautiful passage of sunlight through the trees. He goes on when the sloppiness of his step shows he's tired. He rests at odd times. He looks up the trail trying to see what's ahead even when he knows what's ahead because he just looked a second before. He goes too fast or too slow for the conditions and when he talks his talk is forever about somewhere else, something else. He's here but he's not here. He rejects the here, is unhappy with it, wants to be farther up the trail but when he gets there will be just as unhappy because then it will be "here." What he's looking for, what he wants, is all around him, but he doesn't want that because it is all around him. Every step's an effort, both physically and spiritually, because he imagines his goal to be external and distant.

The last time I read something which dropped my jaw more than this was in Beck's "Everyday Zen", when she talked about the "Superstructure".

... and I don't think I scanned ahead more than twice the remaining 200+ pages.

If you can stand the sometimes really hard sections, you'll be completely rewarded by the ending. And it'll make the tough sections more meaningful, too.

In some sense, maybe that's exactly what Zen is.

As the book personally relates to myself, he defined a central term that I've used a lot over the past few years - being "pro".

Readers of the book will know what "pro" is and why, my attempts at being both "pro" and having substance are completely at odds. It's as if I'm constantly torn between the two, not sure which way to lean. But perhaps that's part of the journey of self-discovery and growth. Maybe through this internal struggle, I'll eventually find a balance and truly understand what it means to be both "pro" and have substance.