stefanieallen

IN SHORT: Poorly written, yet interesting piece of philosophy, amaturely, unsuccessfully disguising itself as a road-trip novel. A BIT LONGER: Look at the cover. Have you seen a worse title for such a serious book? Screaming of self-help pulp, zen-lite and cheesy change-your-life-in-15-minutes kind of literature's overpromise. The title issue is the symptom of the whole book. It's a terrible read, but not because of the longish and tough to crack philosophical, metaphysical interludes (well, they make up 60 per cent of the book), dealing with Quality - they ARE an interesting and rewarding read worth the time spent. What kills, are lukewarm passages, depicting emotional and physical Road Trip on a bike. Most of the time I was pissed at Pirsig - his awkward prose, sometimes reaching the lows of Coelho-like triviality, it's over analysed yet nowhere leading father-son relationship and banal dream episodes. Worst of all, in all 500 pages I've found no evidence of even slightest sense of humour. It is exactly the thing he claims to be fighting against - the norms, the dos and don'ts, the boring status quo of philosophy scholasts. He's every bit as formulaic in his rebellion as faceless professors he's attacking. Potentially massive, ocassionally inspiring, often shrug enticing, Pirsig's opus about the Quality, amusingly enough, lacks the quality in his writing.

2022-11-14 17:19