The Where's Luke? Book Review: Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

I need to apologize before I start writing this, because this "review" is going to suck ass. I read this book over a year ago and I should have posted about it back then, but I didn't. But now that I have read Atlas Shrugged and posted about it and its philosophy, I'm reminded of another book that was fairly enlightening, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I'm reminded of this book now because it's also a philosophical treatise in the form of a novel. And just as with Atlas Shrugged, about two thirds of the way through this book, I decided that I was in the midst of a really interesting experience and I should try to hold on to some of the ideas. At the same time, the book I wrote about prior to Atlas Shrugged was On The Road, which is also about a road trip, several road trips actually, and was ultimately a poorly realized philosophical statement. Immediately after I wrote about On The Road I thought about writing abotu Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, but I never did. But seeing as how ZAMM really kindof integrates my previous two book review endeavors, this is a good time to write it.

Anyhow, the book is ostensibly about a dude who's on a cross country motorcycle trip with his son. They begin the trip with some friends of the dad's and finish it alone. As far as plot goes, that's the whole story. Interspersed throughout the novel are some in depth analyses of how people view the world and the pros and cons of each. The narrator talks about his travelling companion who refuses to even think about the maintenance of his motorcycle and leaves it to a mechanic which eventually causes trouble for him. The narrator prefers to get to know his motorcycle and listen to its sounds and explore the various connections and such and so he can then make most of the minor repairs that are necessary along the way. This is a thinly veiled analogy to the world at large and what he calls a "romantic" view of life (don't think about maintenance) and a "classical" view of life (get to know your motorcycle). This stuff is pretty interesting and you get an idea of the basic framework of this guy's ideas.

Then about half way through the book he starts to flash back more and more to when he was a professor of rhetoric and he started on a quest for discovering the nature of what he calls "quality". At this point the people they were travelling with have either gotten to where they were going or have gone another way and it's just the son and the narrator. The book becomes much less about the journey and much more about these flashbacks and the idea of quality. There's a lot more stuff that comes out about this guy that you may or may not want to know if you plan on reading the book, so I'll leave it out. Anyway, at this point the guy kindof starts building the framework of a philosophy based on the idea of quality.

To say that this is a philosophy would be wrong. What this guy is doing is looking at all the existing philosophies from a new perspective and overlaying a framework into how to look at the world. I don't have too firm a grasp on it at this point to put into words since I read this so long ago. The main idea, though, is that he builds on this idea of quality while at the same time telling what I understand is an autobiographical story. Autobiographical in the sense that the guy actually did take a motorcycle trip with his son and he was a professor of rhetoric and everything else that happened actually did happen.

What's novel, then, are the machinations of this guy's thought process and his ideas about the way things are. In this respect, this book is eight million times more successful than On The Road. There's deep analysis of things that happen and the guy is interested in the whys and hows, what motivates people, how people react to him, and so forth. This stuff is really interesting.

Anyhow, while I was reading this book, the first couple hundred pages I kindof read through and it was holding my attention and then all of a sudden this book smacks you in the face and you can't put it down. It's broken into four sections and sections III and IV I read about twice as fast as sections I and II because it just got ridiculously interesting as he goes through the ideas of quality, looks at existing eastern and western philosophy, and tells the story of how he came to terms with his search for quality. Even if I had written this post in a timely fashion, I wouldn't really have words to describe the tone of the fourth part of the book other than fascinating.

I'll just end with this. After it was written this book was turned down by 121 publishers before finally being published. The woman who finally decided to publish it wrote a note to her boss (I'm paraphrasing, but I'm prtty close) that said, "I don't know how much it will sell, but this is quite probably a work of genius. I think we have to publish it." I agree with that.

The New York Times Where's Luke? Book Review: Atlas Shrugged

First of all, I apologize for not having posted much recently. I've been in the midst of a genuinely enlightening experience and, as such, I pushed off all non-essential activities in order to complete it. The enlightening experience in this case happens to be the reading of this book, Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand. Now, you may be asking, if you know about Ayn Rand and her accompanying philosophy, "Since you have read 'Atlas Shrugged' and you say it was an enlightening experience, you have now become an objectivist, haven't you?" The answer is no. I would hope that one wouldn't make such a decision based on reading only one book. And a novel at that. But anyway, let me backtrack a minute in order for us all to be on the same page (pun war, anyone?).

I'm not going to tell you the story of this book, but the main premise is that all the people of ability in America go on strike. America is turning slowly into a socialist state and everything kinda sucks. That's basically the whole plot anyway, except it's clearly a lot more intricate in order to make up an 1100 page book. The plot of the book acts as a backdrop for Ayn Rand to espouse her philosophy, which is known as objectivism. As a whole, objectivism makes up an entire philisophy complete with ideas on the nature of existence, human nature, how people should conduct themselves and so on. As the book unfolds, the philosophy unfolds, until it finally reaches a climax in which the philosophy is spilled out in a metaphoric orgasm of rhetoric.

In reading this book, I was struck by two things. First, I have never read a book which has set out to accomplish something in particular and has accomplished it so clearly and without doubt. The basic premise, the philosophy, and the plot of the novel all mesh in together seamlessly. The introduction of her ideas and the logical arguments leading up to them just fall like dominoes as she makes each progressive point. It's astounding to see the whole thing come together and to see the direct line of logic that flows from page 1 to page 1100.

The second thing that struck me was how closely Ayn Rand's philosophy matched with my own personal philosophy. I don't believe I've ever really heard anything I would consider to be a personal philosophy put into words, and it really consolidated my ideas about the way things are. I wouldn't say there is a one to one correlation between the two, and I'm not particularly interested in the entire philosophy at this point, but I'm intrigued to read more about it.

In summary, this book is amazing. If you have a couple of free months. I would suggest you read it.

PS - After this period of inactivity, it's clear that my personal guarantee is not in any danger of being violated.

Book Review: The Places In Between (Rory Stewart: Harcourt, 2006)

The title of this post is a misnomer, because I have no intention of "reviewing" this book in any meaningful way. If you want to read a review, check out this one. It is very good, and so is the book.

No, the purpose of this post is to share my two favorite lines from the book, which I just finished today. The author - who walked across Afghanistan, alone, in 2002 just after the American-led invasion - gives an incredibly raw and unadorned portrayal of that "fascinating, unfortunate country." These two lines capture it perfectly:

"Qasim left the room without speaking. I smiled at the man with the red lips but he just continued to stare. I took out my notebook and sketched Abdul Haq, who was sleeping on his back with his rifle across his thighs, his large chest slowly rising and falling. He had a clear, honest face. I found my fondness for him difficult to reconcile with what I knew of his enthusiasm for killing people and making small children cry," p. 79.

and

"The next day I went to watch the Buzkashi game taking place on a series of fields - some fallow, some plowed and planted - just to the east of the empty Buddha niches. Buzkashi a form of polo played with a dead goat instead of a ball," p. 262

Damn. Road trip, anyone?

Things That Are Overrated: On The Road

I struggled for a moment trying to decide wether to put this in the overrated category, or just to make an arbitrary post about the book, but since my general conclusion was that the book is fairly overrated, I decided to use the pre-existing theme of the blog. I read this book last week, which also speaks to the lack of posting for those few days, for several reasons. Obviously it's highly regarded, so I figured it would be good. Also I'm into the classics, and this seemed like one of them. It's also just a good pop culture reference and I take my pop culture responsibilities seriously.

I'm not really certain where to begin. This book is one of the more influential works of the 20th century. There are plenty of songs and books, poems and movies that owe their existence to On The Road, but I can't really say that I connected to it. I think when the book was released it was met with praise about there being an underlying truth to it that transcends the time it was written in, but I don't think that's the case. I think the book immediately influenced people in the time it was written, but today it's pretty dated. Additionally, I'm not really in love with the prose that seems to be the defining trait of this novel.

A (very) short summary. This guy Sal is trying to make it as a writer and his not being tied down to a job or anything allows him to go all over the country to visit acquaintances who are spread all over. He hithchikes, takes buses, drives, and eventually works his way all over the country. At the same time this other dude, Dean, accompanies him a lot of the time. They rarely have a specific agenda other than to go around, listen to jazz, and pick up girls. There's a bit more to it, but that's the gist.

The summary is necessary in pointing out that the book is essentially autobiographical. Jack Kerouac sat down to write the book with the idea that he was telling his wife about his life in the years before he met her. The original manuscript had the real names of the people he encountered and everything, and were later changed during editing. I mention this because this wasn't a story that was created. There's no particular genius in just telling about things you did. With that being said, presenting that material in a way that's insightful or that leads to larger conclusions about life would certainly be a worthwile venture. But this isn't that. There is no analysis, there is no grand conclusion, it's all just exposition. This type of work could lead one to really analyze each scenario and decide what lessons one might have learned, especially given that the plot has essentially written itself.

As a result, the whole thing is really just kindof empty. The only time the prose really sings is in three separate sections when he's describing himself watching live jazz performances. Those sections are loaded with purple prose and captivating metaphors and are easily the highlight of the book. Outside of that, he might as well just be telling you about last night's episode of American Idol.

Now I think maybe the point of the book is that the whole thing is kindof empty. The book, life, and everything else. It is the defining work of the "beat" generation, so named because, in one respect, they are beaten down by life, and have, in one way or another, lost their way. But I didn't get the beaten down by life thing from the book. What I got instead was that this was a book about a bunch of losers who shirked thier responsibilities and allowed themselves to be easily swayed by thier ids, and drugs, and one guy who they all knew was a loser, but who was fun to be around until he no longer needed them at which point he would leave without a second thought.

There's an underlying sadness in this book. The main character, Sal, apparently a thinly veiled version of Kerouac himself, has no goals, no ideals, no plans, and no ideas of his own. And this is a book about a lost soul, in the same way that The Catcher In The Rye is about a lost soul, but it's completely different. These two books remind me of each other in the aforementioned lost soul wandering around looking for meaning type of way, but at the same time, On The Road is a far inferior version. What is great about The Catcher In The Rye is that there is a definite universality in the Holden character. We are not exactly the same as him, but we can identify with him and his journey. The style that Catcher is written in is similar to this one, though it is interspersed with Holden's interesting philosophy on life. And even though he's a lost soul, and even though he may never find his way, we at least know that he's striving toward something. The Sal character in on the road doesn't offer any of that. The one thing I know he's passionate about is jazz. Other than that, I can't say anything more about him other than the fact that he took these various road trips.

This is really where the book falls short for me. There is no underlying anything, other than sadness. I wish there was more beneath the surface and there really just isn't here. It's just a retelling of events. If we gave MMG 6 beers, he could recount an On The Road type of story about a fraternity party or a ski trip.

In conclusion, this book is overrated. It feels dated to me and the references feel stale. The Catcher In The Rye is just as old, but doesn't feel dated, and offers more than just a surface story. What's missing in On The Road, then, is that universal element, that timeless piece, the marrow.