Robert M. Pirsig, whose "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance," a dense and discursive novel of ideas, became an unlikely publishing phenomenon in the mid-1970s and a touchstone in the waning days of the counterculture, died on Monday at his home in South Berwick, Me. He was 88.
According to the New York Times.
This was one of those books that more or less defined an era. I would recommend it, but I know from experience that it does not resonate the way it did in the '70's. A philosophy professor I knew said he used to use the novel to introduce philosophy, but one year, in the early '80's it just stopped working. Nonetheless, it is worth a read, even though,
In a foreword to the book, Mr. Pirsig told readers that despite its title, "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" should "in no way be associated with that great body of factual information relating to orthodox Zen Buddhist practice."
He added, "It's not very factual on motorcycles either."
But it does have a rather long discussion of Plato's Phaedrus and quite a lot about a certain motorcycle shop in Miles City, Montana. And the novel is much better than the movie, which of course was never made. Open roads, and may your handlebars never come loose, Robert!
(Score: 2) by LoRdTAW on Tuesday April 25 2017, @08:30PM (3 children)
Q: Why is Ethanol-fueled so salty?
A: His drugs wore off.
(Score: 2, Informative) by Azuma Hazuki on Tuesday April 25 2017, @08:35PM (2 children)
That's why? I thought it was the improbable, nay, incredible amount of RWNJ dicks he's got crammed into every orifice, pocket, and pore...
I am "that girl" your mother warned you about...
(Score: -1, Flamebait) by Anonymous Coward on Tuesday April 25 2017, @08:57PM
... wow so I thought those were blackheads but as it turns out they're micronigger cocks!
(Score: 2) by LoRdTAW on Tuesday April 25 2017, @10:24PM
Without a doubt suffering from depression and possibly some form of mild autism. And I'm not trying to be insulting either. I have similar issues myself and can relate to his outbursts, not the content but the desire to do it in the first place. His outbursts are his form of relief. I don't like it (his outbursts) but I get it.