The straightforward simplicity of these well-intentioned musings might be helpful for young adults with spiritual longings...
A TV producer embarks upon a transcontinental quest for spiritual enlightenment with a childhood friend.
When Richard (his last name is never given) e-mailed out of the blue, both men lived on the West Coast—the author in Los Angeles, Richard in Oregon—but had rarely seen each other since they attended high school in New Jersey 30 years ago. The few times they met while Jackson was climbing the career ladder in documentary films, Richard seemed to be drifting, stubborn to a fault and obsessed with upholding his counterculture standards. Nonetheless, he persuaded the author to drive back East to reconnect with their past. With little in common besides their high-school experiences and lapsed Catholicism, the two were unlikely traveling companions. Their expectations for the journey’s particulars diverged at every turn. Richard was returning in part to unload the emotional baggage of a brutal childhood. Jackson, who was striving to articulate the parameters of his beliefs, sought the mystical renewal of a pilgrimage amid the small towns and truck-stop diners along their route. Richard preferred not to question his private spirituality and hated to stop driving for any reason. The car he had lovingly chosen for their journey, a ’69 Volkswagen Beetle, conspired against them both with unnerving regularity. Plagued by mysterious engine problems, they were frequently forced to detour in search of mechanics and parts in remote towns throughout the Midwest. Along the way, Jackson considered such pressing philosophical dilemmas as what happens when we die, why science can’t reveal life’s meaning and whether commitment to bettering the human community could replace religion as a source of moral guidance. His dull but serviceable prose offers little insightful analysis, and its flourishes are confined to clunky extended metaphors and stale truisms.
The straightforward simplicity of these well-intentioned musings might be helpful for young adults with spiritual longings who are suspicious of organized religion. Mature readers would do better rereading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.Pub Date: April 1, 2008
ISBN: 978-0-9794463-0-6
Page Count: 332
Publisher: End Run Press
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 2008
A very welcome instance of philosophy that can help readers live a good life.
A teacher and scholar of Buddhism offers a formally varied account of the available rewards of solitude.
“As Mother Ayahuasca takes me in her arms, I realize that last night I vomited up my attachment to Buddhism. In passing out, I died. In coming to, I was, so to speak, reborn. I no longer have to fight these battles, I repeat to myself. I am no longer a combatant in the dharma wars. It feels as if the course of my life has shifted onto another vector, like a train shunted off its familiar track onto a new trajectory.” Readers of Batchelor’s previous books (Secular Buddhism: Imagining the Dharma in an Uncertain World, 2017, etc.) will recognize in this passage the culmination of his decadeslong shift away from the religious commitments of Buddhism toward an ecumenical and homegrown philosophy of life. Writing in a variety of modes—memoir, history, collage, essay, biography, and meditation instruction—the author doesn’t argue for his approach to solitude as much as offer it for contemplation. Essentially, Batchelor implies that if you read what Buddha said here and what Montaigne said there, and if you consider something the author has noticed, and if you reflect on your own experience, you have the possibility to improve the quality of your life. For introspective readers, it’s easy to hear in this approach a direct response to Pascal’s claim that “all of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” Batchelor wants to relieve us of this inability by offering his example of how to do just that. “Solitude is an art. Mental training is needed to refine and stabilize it,” he writes. “When you practice solitude, you dedicate yourself to the care of the soul.” Whatever a soul is, the author goes a long way toward soothing it.
A very welcome instance of philosophy that can help readers live a good life.Pub Date: Feb. 18, 2020
ISBN: 978-0-300-25093-0
Page Count: 200
Publisher: Yale Univ.
Review Posted Online: Nov. 24, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 15, 2019
BOOK REVIEW
An erudite and artful, though frustratingly restrained, look at Old Testament stories.
The Book of Genesis as imagined by a veteran voice of underground comics.
R. Crumb’s pass at the opening chapters of the Bible isn’t nearly the act of heresy the comic artist’s reputation might suggest. In fact, the creator of Fritz the Cat and Mr. Natural is fastidiously respectful. Crumb took pains to preserve every word of Genesis—drawing from numerous source texts, but mainly Robert Alter’s translation, The Five Books of Moses (2004)—and he clearly did his homework on the clothing, shelter and landscapes that surrounded Noah, Abraham and Isaac. This dedication to faithful representation makes the book, as Crumb writes in his introduction, a “straight illustration job, with no intention to ridicule or make visual jokes.” But his efforts are in their own way irreverent, and Crumb feels no particular need to deify even the most divine characters. God Himself is not much taller than Adam and Eve, and instead of omnisciently imparting orders and judgment He stands beside them in Eden, speaking to them directly. Jacob wrestles not with an angel, as is so often depicted in paintings, but with a man who looks not much different from himself. The women are uniformly Crumbian, voluptuous Earth goddesses who are both sexualized and strong-willed. (The endnotes offer a close study of the kinds of power women wielded in Genesis.) The downside of fitting all the text in is that many pages are packed tight with small panels, and too rarely—as with the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah—does Crumb expand his lens and treat signature events dramatically. Even the Flood is fairly restrained, though the exodus of the animals from the Ark is beautifully detailed. The author’s respect for Genesis is admirable, but it may leave readers wishing he had taken a few more chances with his interpretation, as when he draws the serpent in the Garden of Eden as a provocative half-man/half-lizard. On the whole, though, the book is largely a tribute to Crumb’s immense talents as a draftsman and stubborn adherence to the script.
An erudite and artful, though frustratingly restrained, look at Old Testament stories.Pub Date: Oct. 19, 2009
ISBN: 978-0-393-06102-4
Page Count: 224
Publisher: Norton
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2009
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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