The title and subtitle should be enough to warn you what you're getting into with this one. Bradatan exploits a rather romantic notion of what it means to be a "philosopher". One who is detached from conventional society. Check. One who has special societal insight because of this detachment that no one else could possibly have. You bet. One who, regardless of any considerations for personal safety & social discretion, cannot shut up about what he "knows". A must. One who allows himself to be sacrificed in order to make(?) or keep making his point by other means, whether ironically or otherwise. You know, just your typical everyday, tenured philosopher... Yeah....hardly. But the glamor of Socrates is hard to distance yourself from when writing a book about philosophers and death. A certain sort of reader will have a like problem not succumbing to the romance of this type of "philosopher". If you're of this sort and aspire to be the gadfly extraordinaire of your hometown then this book is likely written for you. If you're less demonstrative, though more cerebral then this book offers smaller beer than you'd probably care to imbibe. Bradatan does manage to get some distance from the churlish Athenian in the beginning by exploring the stoical philosophy of living & dying a "philosophical" death. Not much new there, but it is maturely discussed. Parts of this book felt uneven to me. This is partly predilection concerning topics chosen, of course, but also an indication of a broken flow of presentation. I rather enjoyed the author's sidestep into cinema with his touching on the philosophical film, The Seventh Seal. I enjoyed the author's sidestep into an exploration of the terrorist as possible martyr must less. Bradatan divides his exploration into layers. The first focuses on what philosophers thought concerning death and its relation to living life. The second explores the philosopher as the flesh which can be killed. He pulls standard figures from the history of martyred philosophers: Hypatia, Boethius, Bruno, More, and of course Socrates. Interestingly enough, these are mostly folk best known for their demise rather than philosophical tomes. Whatever they actually thought, said, or wrote matters much less than how they died. Undoubtedly, a warning for the reader there, too. The author does do a good job picking up More's "lifestyle" contradictions and tackling what they might mean in relation to his eventual "martyrdom". Jan Patočka, the Czech philosopher who died after a rigorous interrogation by Communist authorities, gives a slight feel of modern importance to what Bradatan has to say. Yet, in the end, it's back to Socrates and the romance of the smart guy who just can't shut up. Or, much more annoying, won't... I must admit I was hoping to like this book more than what I did. But I was also hoping to learn more than what I did from it. In an age of the philosopher as media rock star, a book plumping on the philosopher as gadfly unto death has the feel of performance art on page. And a somewhat insincere one, at that. Perhaps, though, this is my Socratic moment...