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The Meaning of Life: A Reader
Featuring nine new articles chosen by coeditor Steven M. Cahn, the third edition of E. D. Klemke's The Meaning of Life offers twenty-two insightful selections that explore this fascinating topic. The essays are primarily by philosophers but also include materials from literary figures and
religious thinkers. As in previous editions, the readings are organized around three themes. In Part I the articles defend the view that without faith in God, life has no meaning or purpose. In Part II the selections oppose this claim, defending instead a nontheistic, humanistic alternative--that
life can have meaning even in the absence of theistic commitment. In Part III the contributors ask whether the question of the meaning of life is itself meaningful.
The third edition adds substantial essays by Moritz Schlick, Joel Feinberg, and John Kekes as well as selections from the writings of Louis P. Pojman, Emil L. Fackenheim, Robert Nozick, Susan Wolf, and Steven M. Cahn. The only anthology of its kind, The Meaning of A Reader, Third
Edition, is ideal for courses in introduction to philosophy, human nature, and the meaning of life. It also offers general readers an accessible and stimulating introduction to the subject.
religious thinkers. As in previous editions, the readings are organized around three themes. In Part I the articles defend the view that without faith in God, life has no meaning or purpose. In Part II the selections oppose this claim, defending instead a nontheistic, humanistic alternative--that
life can have meaning even in the absence of theistic commitment. In Part III the contributors ask whether the question of the meaning of life is itself meaningful.
The third edition adds substantial essays by Moritz Schlick, Joel Feinberg, and John Kekes as well as selections from the writings of Louis P. Pojman, Emil L. Fackenheim, Robert Nozick, Susan Wolf, and Steven M. Cahn. The only anthology of its kind, The Meaning of A Reader, Third
Edition, is ideal for courses in introduction to philosophy, human nature, and the meaning of life. It also offers general readers an accessible and stimulating introduction to the subject.
258 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1981
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October 8, 2014
Unless you are one of those extremely lucky individuals , like Hugh Hefner, who could afford to amuse himself daily with distracting pleasures every single day of his life--like the ins and outs, ins and outs of this Mexican writer Daniel Sada ("Almost Never") but with a limitless plenitude of variety--you'll be hit at one point or another by what Leo Tolstoy suffered at age fifty: the thing he called an "arrest of life," the point where he looked back at all he had accomplished, what he was currently doing, and what he still hoped to do, and then had asked himself, like in the song: "What's it all about, Alfie?" Or, if not the what of Tolstoy, maybe the why of Albert Camus who wrote that it could happen at any time in the humdrum of one's daily existence:
"Rising, streetcar, four hours in the office or the factory, meal, streetcar, four hours of work, meal, sleep, and Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday and Saturday according to the same rhythm--this path is easily followed most of the time. But one day the "why" arises and everything begins in that weariness tinged with amazement...."
How you grapple with this what and why perplexity is really up to you. Here at goodreads, however, no one plunges into any activity without reading up on the matter first. And this explains why member Emir Never desperately wants to borrow this book from me which, in turn, explains why I am now writing its review even if nowadays I am too lazy and tired to review books (though I continue reading).
Anyway, one sees the rating I gave. Needless to state, I highly recommend this to everyone: to those who are merely curious, to those who seriously inquire, to the suicidal existentialists, to those who feel the hand of God but are not sure, even to those who think that life is just a joke. For this contains a cornucopia in manageable bites of the most incisive, jarring and penetrating viewpoints ever conceived by the human brain about the seemingly unanswerable riddle of existence and meaning divided into the three major responses so far thought of possible, namely:
1. the Theistic Answer - bannered by Tolstoy, proclaiming in various ways the certainty, necessity and inevitability of a God which is the source of life's meaning;
2. the Non-Theistic Alternative - with Albert Camus and Arthur Schopenhauer heading the pack, passionately espousing Man's solitariness in an indifferent universe, some of them finding meaning despite this, some finding nothing but despair; and
3. what I whimsically call the Renegades - the best of whom I consider to be A.J. Ayer who really fucked up my mind. These troublemakers laugh at the two other groups, saying in effect that the what and why questions are themselves ridiculous, absurd, pointless, meaningless and useless (implying, of course, that those who ask are...).
What then is the verdict? Listen to me and maybe help yourself in the process.
I'd say that the Theistic Approach is the easiest, the most fun and, understandably, the most popular. Just like taking drugs without side effects or problems with the police. No wonder that the communists called religion the opium of the masses: as the addiction had spread, the world would never be free from it anymore. It has an easily digestible answers to the basic questions of the human condition, it gives hope, it promises justice if not here, then in the afterlife. It has the tremendous capacity to relieve pain and, sometimes, loneliness. So Tolstoy, at fifty, had decided to be with his hoi polloi and smoke hashish with them.
As to the Non-Theistic Alternative of the First Kind (irremediable meaninglessness), I treat it like a horror movie: I can't help it if it is there, showing in the cinemas, but I can and do choose not to watch it. I feel it to be a terrible waste of time. For if the end of man is really but despair then I cannot do anything about it. But I can choose to do what I have the power to do: not to despair NOW. Play chess, laugh with friends, celebrate the successes of my children, try out new restaurants with my wife, in and out, in and out while the body still can. Despair can wait when I can already write about it, scare my readers, and earn money at the side if the book sells.
Now about the Non-Theistic Alternative of the Second Kind: his, I think, is the right philosophy to live by. I swear! It is not even new yet quite revelatory, captured succinctly in an old parable, cited by both Tolstoy (elsewhere in his "My Confession" but not found in this volume) and the editor himself E.D. Klemke in his article here, "Living Without Appeal: An Affirmative Philosophy of Life." This ancient story goes like this:
"Once a man from Syria led a camel through the desert; but when he came to a dark abyss, the camel suddenly, with teeth showing and eyes protruding, pushed the unsuspecting paragon of the camel-driving profession into the pit. The clothes of the Syrian were caught by a rosebush, and he was held suspended over the pit, at the bottom of which an enormous dragon was waiting to swallow him. Moreover, two mice were busily engaged in chewing away the roots of the already sagging plant. Yet, in this desperate condition, the Syrian was thralled to the point of utmost contentment by a rose which adorned the bush and wafted its fragrance into his face."
Finding this "most illuminating" Klemke addresses us personally:
"What your situation is, I cannot say. But I know that I am that Syrian, and that I am hanging over the pit. My doom is inevitable and swiftly approaching. If, in these few moments that are yet mine, I can find no rose to respond to, or rather, if I have lost the ability to respond, then I shall moan and curse my fate with a howl of bitter agony. But IF I can, in these last moments, respond to a rose--or to a philosophical argument or theory of physics, or to a Scarlatti sonata, or to the touch of a human hand--I say, if I can so respond and can thereby transform an external and fatal event into a moment of conscious insight and significance, then I shall go down WITHOUT HOPE OR APPEAL YET PASSIONATELY TRIUMPHANT AND WITH JOY."
The point: you yourself, by willing it, can give meaning to your own existence by responding to life and by continuously doing so for as long as you live. Franz Kafka's "The Trial" ends with the principal protagonist, Man, dying like a dog:
"...Then one of them opened his frock coat and out of a sheath that hung from a belt girt round his waistcoat drew a long, thin, double-edged butcher's knife, held it up, and tested the cutting edges in the moonlight. Once more the odious courtesies began, the first handed the knife across K. to the second, who handed it across K. back again to the first. K. now perceived clearly that he was supposed to seize the knife himself, as it traveled from hand to hand above him, and plunge it into his own breast. But he did not do so, he merely turned his head, which was still free to move, and gazed around him. He could not completely rise to the occasion, he could not relieve the officials of all their tasks; the responsibility for this last failure of his lay with him who had not left him the remnant of strength necessary for the deed. His glance fell on the top story of the house adjoining the quarry. With a flicker as of a light going up, the casements of a window there suddenly flew open; a human figure, faint and insubstantial at that distance and that height, leaned abruptly far forward and stretched both arms still farther. Who was it? A friend? A good man? Someone who sympathized? Someone who wanted to help? Was it one person only? Or was it mankind? Was help at hand? Were there arguments in his favor that had been overlooked? Of course there must be. Logic is doubtless unshakable, bit it cannot withstand a man who wants to go on living. Where was the Judge whom he had never seen? Where was the High Court, to which he had never penetrated? He raised his hands and spread out all his fingers.
"But the hands of one of the partners were already at K.'s throat, while the other thrust the knife deep into his heart and turned it there twice. With failing eyes K. could still see the two of them immediately before him, cheek leaning against cheek, watching the final act. 'Like a dog!' he said; it was as if the shame of it must outlive him."
Which, in turn, reminded me of some real dogs' death: those of Sir Ernest Shackleton and his team of explorers which had to be killed for food after their ship "Endurance" was trapped, crushed and sunk in the icy hell of the Antarctic. In one harrowing scene two of these dogs--so familiar and beloved that they had been given names--were taken to their place of execution and as they were being led by their master, tails wagging happily like they were going out for a hunt, they had grabbed some bones of dead seals for snacks which they still had in their mouths after their skulls were blasted by a shotgun. So they were like the Syrian in the fable succeeding in grabbing the fragrant rose by his teeth just before he plunges down into the dark abyss.
Clearly then: the Non-Theistic Approach of the First and Second Kinds actually compliment each other. The First Kind says we die like dogs; the Second Kind says we ought to live like dogs. That must be the reason why, even if we stand erect (homo sapiens), we often make love like dogs, imitating their style (in out, in out). Which brings us to the revelation: Man and Dog are one. That is why they are the best of friends.
Seriously, however, it is really what Bertrand Russell here which is my favorite--
"Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and the unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither, in a wayward course, over a deep ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair.
"I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy--ecstasy so great that I would often have sacrificed all the rest of life for a few hours of this joy. I have sought it, next, because it relieves loneliness--that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the rim of the world into the cold unfathomable lifeless abyss. I have sought it, finally, because in the union of love I have seen, in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined. This is what I sought, and though it might seem too good for human life, this is what--at last--I have found.
"With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of men. I have wished to know why the stars shine. And I have tried to apprehend the Pythagorean power by which number holds sway above the flux. A little of this, but not much, I have achieved.
"Love and knowledge, so far as they were possible, led upward toward the heavens. But always pity brought me back to earth. Echoes of cries of pain reverberate in my heart. Children in famine, victims tortured by oppressors, helpless old people a hated burden to their sons, and the whole world of loneliness, poverty, and pain make a mockery of what human life should be. I long to alleviate the evil, but I cannot, and I too suffer.
"This has been my life. I have found it worth living, and would gladly live it again if the chance were offered me."
"Rising, streetcar, four hours in the office or the factory, meal, streetcar, four hours of work, meal, sleep, and Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday and Saturday according to the same rhythm--this path is easily followed most of the time. But one day the "why" arises and everything begins in that weariness tinged with amazement...."
How you grapple with this what and why perplexity is really up to you. Here at goodreads, however, no one plunges into any activity without reading up on the matter first. And this explains why member Emir Never desperately wants to borrow this book from me which, in turn, explains why I am now writing its review even if nowadays I am too lazy and tired to review books (though I continue reading).
Anyway, one sees the rating I gave. Needless to state, I highly recommend this to everyone: to those who are merely curious, to those who seriously inquire, to the suicidal existentialists, to those who feel the hand of God but are not sure, even to those who think that life is just a joke. For this contains a cornucopia in manageable bites of the most incisive, jarring and penetrating viewpoints ever conceived by the human brain about the seemingly unanswerable riddle of existence and meaning divided into the three major responses so far thought of possible, namely:
1. the Theistic Answer - bannered by Tolstoy, proclaiming in various ways the certainty, necessity and inevitability of a God which is the source of life's meaning;
2. the Non-Theistic Alternative - with Albert Camus and Arthur Schopenhauer heading the pack, passionately espousing Man's solitariness in an indifferent universe, some of them finding meaning despite this, some finding nothing but despair; and
3. what I whimsically call the Renegades - the best of whom I consider to be A.J. Ayer who really fucked up my mind. These troublemakers laugh at the two other groups, saying in effect that the what and why questions are themselves ridiculous, absurd, pointless, meaningless and useless (implying, of course, that those who ask are...).
What then is the verdict? Listen to me and maybe help yourself in the process.
I'd say that the Theistic Approach is the easiest, the most fun and, understandably, the most popular. Just like taking drugs without side effects or problems with the police. No wonder that the communists called religion the opium of the masses: as the addiction had spread, the world would never be free from it anymore. It has an easily digestible answers to the basic questions of the human condition, it gives hope, it promises justice if not here, then in the afterlife. It has the tremendous capacity to relieve pain and, sometimes, loneliness. So Tolstoy, at fifty, had decided to be with his hoi polloi and smoke hashish with them.
As to the Non-Theistic Alternative of the First Kind (irremediable meaninglessness), I treat it like a horror movie: I can't help it if it is there, showing in the cinemas, but I can and do choose not to watch it. I feel it to be a terrible waste of time. For if the end of man is really but despair then I cannot do anything about it. But I can choose to do what I have the power to do: not to despair NOW. Play chess, laugh with friends, celebrate the successes of my children, try out new restaurants with my wife, in and out, in and out while the body still can. Despair can wait when I can already write about it, scare my readers, and earn money at the side if the book sells.
Now about the Non-Theistic Alternative of the Second Kind: his, I think, is the right philosophy to live by. I swear! It is not even new yet quite revelatory, captured succinctly in an old parable, cited by both Tolstoy (elsewhere in his "My Confession" but not found in this volume) and the editor himself E.D. Klemke in his article here, "Living Without Appeal: An Affirmative Philosophy of Life." This ancient story goes like this:
"Once a man from Syria led a camel through the desert; but when he came to a dark abyss, the camel suddenly, with teeth showing and eyes protruding, pushed the unsuspecting paragon of the camel-driving profession into the pit. The clothes of the Syrian were caught by a rosebush, and he was held suspended over the pit, at the bottom of which an enormous dragon was waiting to swallow him. Moreover, two mice were busily engaged in chewing away the roots of the already sagging plant. Yet, in this desperate condition, the Syrian was thralled to the point of utmost contentment by a rose which adorned the bush and wafted its fragrance into his face."
Finding this "most illuminating" Klemke addresses us personally:
"What your situation is, I cannot say. But I know that I am that Syrian, and that I am hanging over the pit. My doom is inevitable and swiftly approaching. If, in these few moments that are yet mine, I can find no rose to respond to, or rather, if I have lost the ability to respond, then I shall moan and curse my fate with a howl of bitter agony. But IF I can, in these last moments, respond to a rose--or to a philosophical argument or theory of physics, or to a Scarlatti sonata, or to the touch of a human hand--I say, if I can so respond and can thereby transform an external and fatal event into a moment of conscious insight and significance, then I shall go down WITHOUT HOPE OR APPEAL YET PASSIONATELY TRIUMPHANT AND WITH JOY."
The point: you yourself, by willing it, can give meaning to your own existence by responding to life and by continuously doing so for as long as you live. Franz Kafka's "The Trial" ends with the principal protagonist, Man, dying like a dog:
"...Then one of them opened his frock coat and out of a sheath that hung from a belt girt round his waistcoat drew a long, thin, double-edged butcher's knife, held it up, and tested the cutting edges in the moonlight. Once more the odious courtesies began, the first handed the knife across K. to the second, who handed it across K. back again to the first. K. now perceived clearly that he was supposed to seize the knife himself, as it traveled from hand to hand above him, and plunge it into his own breast. But he did not do so, he merely turned his head, which was still free to move, and gazed around him. He could not completely rise to the occasion, he could not relieve the officials of all their tasks; the responsibility for this last failure of his lay with him who had not left him the remnant of strength necessary for the deed. His glance fell on the top story of the house adjoining the quarry. With a flicker as of a light going up, the casements of a window there suddenly flew open; a human figure, faint and insubstantial at that distance and that height, leaned abruptly far forward and stretched both arms still farther. Who was it? A friend? A good man? Someone who sympathized? Someone who wanted to help? Was it one person only? Or was it mankind? Was help at hand? Were there arguments in his favor that had been overlooked? Of course there must be. Logic is doubtless unshakable, bit it cannot withstand a man who wants to go on living. Where was the Judge whom he had never seen? Where was the High Court, to which he had never penetrated? He raised his hands and spread out all his fingers.
"But the hands of one of the partners were already at K.'s throat, while the other thrust the knife deep into his heart and turned it there twice. With failing eyes K. could still see the two of them immediately before him, cheek leaning against cheek, watching the final act. 'Like a dog!' he said; it was as if the shame of it must outlive him."
Which, in turn, reminded me of some real dogs' death: those of Sir Ernest Shackleton and his team of explorers which had to be killed for food after their ship "Endurance" was trapped, crushed and sunk in the icy hell of the Antarctic. In one harrowing scene two of these dogs--so familiar and beloved that they had been given names--were taken to their place of execution and as they were being led by their master, tails wagging happily like they were going out for a hunt, they had grabbed some bones of dead seals for snacks which they still had in their mouths after their skulls were blasted by a shotgun. So they were like the Syrian in the fable succeeding in grabbing the fragrant rose by his teeth just before he plunges down into the dark abyss.
Clearly then: the Non-Theistic Approach of the First and Second Kinds actually compliment each other. The First Kind says we die like dogs; the Second Kind says we ought to live like dogs. That must be the reason why, even if we stand erect (homo sapiens), we often make love like dogs, imitating their style (in out, in out). Which brings us to the revelation: Man and Dog are one. That is why they are the best of friends.
Seriously, however, it is really what Bertrand Russell here which is my favorite--
"Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and the unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither, in a wayward course, over a deep ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair.
"I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy--ecstasy so great that I would often have sacrificed all the rest of life for a few hours of this joy. I have sought it, next, because it relieves loneliness--that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the rim of the world into the cold unfathomable lifeless abyss. I have sought it, finally, because in the union of love I have seen, in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined. This is what I sought, and though it might seem too good for human life, this is what--at last--I have found.
"With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of men. I have wished to know why the stars shine. And I have tried to apprehend the Pythagorean power by which number holds sway above the flux. A little of this, but not much, I have achieved.
"Love and knowledge, so far as they were possible, led upward toward the heavens. But always pity brought me back to earth. Echoes of cries of pain reverberate in my heart. Children in famine, victims tortured by oppressors, helpless old people a hated burden to their sons, and the whole world of loneliness, poverty, and pain make a mockery of what human life should be. I long to alleviate the evil, but I cannot, and I too suffer.
"This has been my life. I have found it worth living, and would gladly live it again if the chance were offered me."
November 10, 2025
Talking about this with other people has been one of the greatest joys, but sometimes reading it makes me want to rip my hair out. Individual writers’ fault though. I don’t have much experience with anthologies generally (so far), but it was a bit disappointing to see an anthology that is so white-man-dominated, despite how deeply interesting. I have more language to describe thoughts but have no clearer direction on the meaning of life
August 13, 2014
This book has been a journey for me - A remarkable one!
Prior to reading this book, I was naively searching for answers to the existential questions. Yes, I am claiming that I have put these questions to rest now - for good!
"Meaning of life" is a universal question but the answer to it is personal. There is no right or wrong way of leading one's life, it all comes down to what we want out of it. The essays in the book took me through the process of coming to this conclusion. Such a conclusion, in retrospect, sound elegantly simple but I understand it completely now compared to just knowing it previously.
It was my desperation to get something out of this book or whether this book was truly life-changing, I will leave that for you to decide.
Highly Recommended!
Prior to reading this book, I was naively searching for answers to the existential questions. Yes, I am claiming that I have put these questions to rest now - for good!
"Meaning of life" is a universal question but the answer to it is personal. There is no right or wrong way of leading one's life, it all comes down to what we want out of it. The essays in the book took me through the process of coming to this conclusion. Such a conclusion, in retrospect, sound elegantly simple but I understand it completely now compared to just knowing it previously.
It was my desperation to get something out of this book or whether this book was truly life-changing, I will leave that for you to decide.
Highly Recommended!
Read
October 15, 2009A bit of a silly book, not b/c of its proposed subject matter but b/c each of the essays in all three sections (religious answer, atheistic answer, and questioning the question) is too brief to fully construct a significant argument. Camus' essay is not his best, nor is Tolstoy's. For such a fragmented approach as this, the best essay here is probably Bertrand Russell's one-page epilogue, which seems to avoid the larger philosophical question anyhow.
February 8, 2015
Some great essays but nonetheless a disappointing anthology. Many great anthologies--those by Louis Pojman, for instance--provide a precis before each essay which helps us to understand those essays within larger traditions. None of that here, just the essays themselves.
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February 14, 2022Kai Nielsen p.244 No matter how bad his own life was, there wd always remain something he cd to help alleviate the sum total of human suffering. This certainly has value.
246. If people find x worthwhile they generally prefer, approve of, enjoy or admire x on reflection.
4. Karl Popper: there are those who think that life is valueless because it comes to an end. They fail to see that the opposite argument might also be proposed: that if there were no end to life, life wd have no value; that it is, in part, the ever-present danger of losing it which helps to bring home to us the value of life.
Schopenhauer, On the vanity of existence p. 68. You could base a theory that the greatest wisdom consists in enjoying the present and making this enjoyment the goal of life, because the present is all that is real.
69. Though we live all our lives inexpectation of better things, we often at the same time long regretfully for what is past. The present, on the pther hand, is regarded as something quite temporary and serving only as the road to our goal. That is why most men discover when they look back in their life that they have the whole time been living ad interim, and are surprised to see that which they let go by so unregarded and unenjoyed was precisely their life, was precisely that in expectation of which they lived.
81. Julian Huxley, The creed of a scientific humanist: …the evolution of the human brain. This at one bound altered the perspective of evolution. Experience cd now be handed down from generation to generation; deliberate purpose cd
Be substituted for the blind sifting of selection; change cd be speeded up ten-thousandfold. In man evolution cd become conscious.
216 It is interesting to compare the some oracular utterances of a philosopher whom we know to have been deeply influenced by Tolstoi. In The Tractatus, Wittgenstein writes: There is indeed the inexpressible. This shows itself; it is the mystical.
AJ Ayer. The claims of philosophy p.221 The history of philosophy, as it is taught in the textbooks, is largely a parade of pontiffs.
246. If people find x worthwhile they generally prefer, approve of, enjoy or admire x on reflection.
4. Karl Popper: there are those who think that life is valueless because it comes to an end. They fail to see that the opposite argument might also be proposed: that if there were no end to life, life wd have no value; that it is, in part, the ever-present danger of losing it which helps to bring home to us the value of life.
Schopenhauer, On the vanity of existence p. 68. You could base a theory that the greatest wisdom consists in enjoying the present and making this enjoyment the goal of life, because the present is all that is real.
69. Though we live all our lives inexpectation of better things, we often at the same time long regretfully for what is past. The present, on the pther hand, is regarded as something quite temporary and serving only as the road to our goal. That is why most men discover when they look back in their life that they have the whole time been living ad interim, and are surprised to see that which they let go by so unregarded and unenjoyed was precisely their life, was precisely that in expectation of which they lived.
81. Julian Huxley, The creed of a scientific humanist: …the evolution of the human brain. This at one bound altered the perspective of evolution. Experience cd now be handed down from generation to generation; deliberate purpose cd
Be substituted for the blind sifting of selection; change cd be speeded up ten-thousandfold. In man evolution cd become conscious.
216 It is interesting to compare the some oracular utterances of a philosopher whom we know to have been deeply influenced by Tolstoi. In The Tractatus, Wittgenstein writes: There is indeed the inexpressible. This shows itself; it is the mystical.
AJ Ayer. The claims of philosophy p.221 The history of philosophy, as it is taught in the textbooks, is largely a parade of pontiffs.
September 4, 2018
If you want to try something a bit different, and perhaps one could argue controversial, I would highly recommend this book! It gave me insights and perspectives on my life that I never thought possible. For instance, what is our purpose? Why are we doing all of life’s processes if one day our life will end? But of course this depends upon individual perspective and what we truly value in our lifetime. If you’re a deep thinker and enjoy philosophising about life, it’s a must read!
March 19, 2017
I'm not sure this is a book you can finish, as there is simply too much to which to return. It's also impossible to write a review about such a compendium, but to say that it was organized well, with many, many worthwhile essays. Here are the essays I think are indispensable for asking the Big Question:
Tolstoy's My Confession, Swenson's The Dignity of Human Life, Schopenhauer's On the Sufferings of the World, Russell's A Free Man's Worship, Schlick's On the Meaning of Life, Edwards's The Meaning and Value of Life, Taylor's The Meaning of Life, Nagel's The Absurd, and Klemke's Living Without Appeal: An Affirmative Philosophy of Life.
You can clarify the question and deepen the search, but I'm not sure you can find the answer.
Tolstoy's My Confession, Swenson's The Dignity of Human Life, Schopenhauer's On the Sufferings of the World, Russell's A Free Man's Worship, Schlick's On the Meaning of Life, Edwards's The Meaning and Value of Life, Taylor's The Meaning of Life, Nagel's The Absurd, and Klemke's Living Without Appeal: An Affirmative Philosophy of Life.
You can clarify the question and deepen the search, but I'm not sure you can find the answer.
December 11, 2020
A good selection of essays (though too homogeneous for my classes). For many of the essays the meat of the argument is edited out -- so for a class where argument structure is one of the learning outcomes this book wasn't a great choice.
June 4, 2020
I favoured John Keke’s pluralistic approach
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January 29, 2025short lived philosphy era of first year
December 3, 2025
read for philosophy class but really cool
February 12, 2024
The fourth edition of this book collects together a number of fine essays that offer diverse perspectives on the question of life’s meaning. I’d recommend it to anyone who wanted to quickly get a broad overview of the topic. That said, if I were to edit a fifth edition, I’d make a lot of changes. I’d cut out the essays by Paul Edwards and Christine Vitrano. I’d replace everything in the first part (“the theistic answer”), except the extracts from Tolstoy, swapping the essays on monotheism and meaning with more thought-provoking pieces by John Cottingham and Richard Swinburne. I’d expand the extracts from Albert Camus and Robert Nozick—the best bits are left out! I’d add pieces by Alan H. Goldman, David Benatar, Guy Kahane, and Rivka Weinberg to the second section (“the nontheistic alternative”); pieces by R. W. Hepburn, Joshua W. Seachris, and T. J. Mawson to the third section (“questioning the question”); and extracts from chapter 14 of Shelly Kagan’s Death to the final section (“the end of life”). I’d be pretty happy with the resulting anthology.
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September 16, 2010Schopenhauer is such a pessimistic author, yet his pessimism made me strike the light and emphasis on the good that is found in this world... in a weird way it emphasized how much i love my life and how much i should appreciate it... it made me see the smaller things in life in a more magnified and bigger picture...
December 5, 2015
My Confession, Leo Tolstoy
On the Sufferings of the World, Arthur Schopenhauer
A Free Man's Worship, Bertrand Russell
The Meaning of Life, Kurt Baier
The Claims of Philosophy, A.J. Ayer
The Meanings of the Questions of Life, John Wisdom
Meaning in Life, Susan Wolf
Meaningless Lives?, Steven M. Cahn
On the Sufferings of the World, Arthur Schopenhauer
A Free Man's Worship, Bertrand Russell
The Meaning of Life, Kurt Baier
The Claims of Philosophy, A.J. Ayer
The Meanings of the Questions of Life, John Wisdom
Meaning in Life, Susan Wolf
Meaningless Lives?, Steven M. Cahn
November 10, 2014
I read this as part of my undergraduate independent study. Klemke compiled a good collection of essays to read. It seems to me I read some of Klemke's writings for this study too.
October 23, 2012
Really good introductory articles provide insight into fascinating minds. I urge everyone to read this book.
November 8, 2014
I wrote essays on Arthur Schopenhauer and Philip Quinn using this text.
March 20, 2014
There are some great essays in here, notably Thomas Nagel's "The Absurd." Other essays were much less interesting.
January 23, 2015
This book is proof that a compelling philosophical argument can utterly fail at filling anyone's actual sails. Interesting for intellectual reasons. But the essays are mostly dated, as well. Nah.
August 30, 2016
A wonderful introductory book to the vast amount of literature that's been written on this subject.
November 26, 2019
Textbook for PHIL1750. A great anthology of perspectives from different authors on the meaning of life. Very comprehensive. Though sometimes philosophers like Camus are difficult to understand.
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