Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
"Shines like an electric dream..." So said the usually cynical Village Voice about Robert M. Pirsig's 1974 autobiographical novel - one of the most popular books of the Seventies. Whole courses have been written about ZAMM, along with an excellent guidebook.
Although the title suggests a cross between Easy Rider and when the Beatles found a guru, the author readily admits that his book isn't terribly factual about either Zen or motorcycles. The work can be read on many levels, so many that I'll do several entries on it, starting with the most basic.
Pirsig's protagonist and his son are on a cross-country tour using his old Honda, along with two friends of the family. The protagonist, a technical editor, has a history of mental illness, having gone completely psychotic while working on his doctorate in philosophy. (When Steve Martin said that philosophy can screw you up for life, he was not entirely joking!) Pirsig describes his philosophical inquiries, chiefly regarding a failed attempt to actually define the concept of "Quality," in mini essays interspersed with the journey, during which his son is showing early signs of mental illness himself. To make things even more frightening, the protagonist fears that his own psychosis is returning.
Eventually, however, the father and son reach a form of rapport. The boy in effect assures his dad that his illness is not returning, and the father learns a few badly-needed lessons about how to relate to a kid.
Pirsig picks up on the backlash against ugly technology that characterized the begining of the 70s, as well as the quest for a new philosophy that would serve the decade where old notions did not just work. (Well, they did work for the 11 million or so folks who read Late Great Planet Earth - the best-seller of the decade, but I will be blunt here: that stuff is on the level of the National Enquirer).
Robert Redford at one time contemplated making a film version of ZAMM. Another great fan of the book was NBA coach Phil Jackson.
BTW: To get into a Seventies frame of mind, I wrote a draft of this essay on my old Smith Corona typewriter, although I used a Liquid Paper pen instead of the traditional bottle and brush. The typewriter felt strange. As for the correction pen, I like the old stuff better.
Although the title suggests a cross between Easy Rider and when the Beatles found a guru, the author readily admits that his book isn't terribly factual about either Zen or motorcycles. The work can be read on many levels, so many that I'll do several entries on it, starting with the most basic.
Pirsig's protagonist and his son are on a cross-country tour using his old Honda, along with two friends of the family. The protagonist, a technical editor, has a history of mental illness, having gone completely psychotic while working on his doctorate in philosophy. (When Steve Martin said that philosophy can screw you up for life, he was not entirely joking!) Pirsig describes his philosophical inquiries, chiefly regarding a failed attempt to actually define the concept of "Quality," in mini essays interspersed with the journey, during which his son is showing early signs of mental illness himself. To make things even more frightening, the protagonist fears that his own psychosis is returning.
Eventually, however, the father and son reach a form of rapport. The boy in effect assures his dad that his illness is not returning, and the father learns a few badly-needed lessons about how to relate to a kid.
Pirsig picks up on the backlash against ugly technology that characterized the begining of the 70s, as well as the quest for a new philosophy that would serve the decade where old notions did not just work. (Well, they did work for the 11 million or so folks who read Late Great Planet Earth - the best-seller of the decade, but I will be blunt here: that stuff is on the level of the National Enquirer).
Robert Redford at one time contemplated making a film version of ZAMM. Another great fan of the book was NBA coach Phil Jackson.
BTW: To get into a Seventies frame of mind, I wrote a draft of this essay on my old Smith Corona typewriter, although I used a Liquid Paper pen instead of the traditional bottle and brush. The typewriter felt strange. As for the correction pen, I like the old stuff better.
Labels: insanity, philosophy, Pirsig, Zen
posted by Tony the Tour Guy | 10:18 AM
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