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How to get on well with people, how to deal with violence, how to adjust to losing someone you love - such questions arise in most people's lives. They are all versions of a bigger question: how do you live? How do you do the good or honourable thing, while flourishing and feeling happy? This question obsessed Renaissance writers, none more than Michel Eyquem de Montaigne (1533-92), perhaps the first truly modern individual. A nobleman, public official and wine-grower, he wrote free-roaming explorations of his thought and experience, unlike anything written before. He called them 'essays', meaning 'attempts' or 'tries'. Into them, he put whatever was in his head: his tastes in wine and food, his childhood memories, the way his dog's ears twitched when it was dreaming, as well as the appalling events of the religious civil wars raging around him. "The Essays" was an instant bestseller, and over four hundred years later, Montaigne's honesty and charm still draw people to him. Readers come to him in search of companionship, wisdom and entertainment - and in search of themselves. This book, a spirited and singular biography (and the first full life of Montaigne in English for nearly fifty years), relates the story of his life by way of the questions he posed and the answers he explored. It traces his bizarre upbringing (made to speak only Latin), youthful career and sexual adventures, his travels, and his friendships with the scholar and poet Etienne de La Boetie and with his adopted 'daughter', Marie de Gournay. And as we read, we also meet his readers - who for centuries have found in Montaigne an inexhaustible source of answers to the haunting question, 'how to live?'.… (more)
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The result: 20 attempts at an answer that are categorized under headings such as, "Wake from the sleep
It's a great introduction to some of the history of ideas in the late Renaissance and the centuries that followed. She links Montaigne to his classical predecessors, arguing that while he sought out the works of Seneca and Lucretius and drew on them for ideas about what it meant to live and to live well, so later generations have turned to Montaigne to ask that same question. (Bakewell cites Virginia Woolf's comments about a chain of scholarly minds, which she describes as "a series of self-interested individuals puzzling over their own lives, yet doing it cooperatively. All share a quality that can simply be thought of as 'humanity': the experience of being a thinking, feeling being who must get on with an ordinary human life".
I'd recommend this strongly to anyone with an interest in literary history, ideas, etc. etc. It can be readily picked up and put down, though I'd recommend reading the chapters sequentially, as Bakewell has structured them carefully to create a "flow" of ideas and avoid a jarring, episodic structure.
The multitudes of Montaigne are what makes a guide handy. Her short account of stoic, epicurean and pyrrhonic ideas helps to bridge the gap of centuries. On the historical aspects, she doesn't do quite as well. The puzzle how Montaigne managed to stay outside the fierce religious wars is not revealed. While the French Catholics and Protestants slaughtered each other, Montaigne in was writing his essays in his domain. I can't quite understand how he managed to keep his stoic, pyrrhonic detachment in the face of the brutality of these historic events, probably best told in Conrad Ferdinand Meyer's ballad "Die Füße im Feuer" (Feet in the Fire).
Overall, a magnificent introduction to one of mankind's best minds.
Sarah Bakewell's biography of Montaigne is unconventional, she weaves together the life, what his essays say, and how he has influenced later generations. It is a perfect introduction, and a great motivator to read Montaigne. The sub-title is "How to Live: Twenty Attempts at an Answer". It's strange though, because on the one hand she distills life lessons from the essays, for example chapter titles include Ch 7: How to live? Question everything, Ch 1: How to live? Don't worry about death, Ch.4: How to live? See the world, etc. but on the other hand she says his essays are not meant to be didactic. Perhaps I need to actually read Montaigne to understand this contradiction. In any case I found Bakewell's love affair with Montaigne infectious, he seems like a fascinating person and someone I would like to get to know better.
This is the last book I read in 2010, just before New Year's Eve when we make resolutions for how to live in the new year, a more perfect time to read a book about how to live a good life is hard to imagine, a cap to a wonderful year in reading. I happily take advice from Ch 4: How to live? Read a lot.
So why pick up a biography about someone I
Instead of being a straightforward biography, this book asks the same question that Montaigne himself continually tried to answer--How to live? Each chapter presents an answer based on Montaigne's life and through those answers we learn who he was and what he was. And while it is a biography of the man, it is also a biography of his essays--how they were written/rewritten, gathered, edited, and published. The stories of man and book interweave with a spackling of European history and it all results in a most enjoyable read.
Highly recommended!
Montaigne was a true man of the Renaissance. Carved into the roof of his library were maxims of his Greek and Roman heroes, Cicero, Seneca, Virgil and Socrates et al. His philosophy melded the Hellenic schools of Scepticism, Epicurianism and Stoicism holding key the two key principles that unite them all, eudaimonia, the pursuit of a good life and that of ataraxia, having a tranquillity of the mind. This means not being overcome by extreme emotions, and preparing oneself mentally for all the pitfalls life can offer, meeting them with a level head.
Bakewell's unconventional approach to biography pays off as one can see how fond she is of her subject, a trait which is quite contagious. Whilst Montaigne's philosophy can appear to be cold and unemotional, you can see that he is trying to save us from emotional pain, perhaps of the kind he underwent himself when he lost the closest friend of his life, his soul mate Etienne de la Boetie to the plague. But the highest compliment that can be paid to this book is that it makes you want turn to its source, the Essays themselves and for that reason alone I feel I can highly recommend this book.
[How to Live, A life of Montaigne in one question and twenty attempts at an answer] by Sarah Bakewell.
Reading the Complete essays I had to wait a long time before I came across that
“As soon as I arrived I spelled out my character faithfully and truly, just as I know myself to be – no memory, no concentration, no experience, no drive; no hatred either, no ambition, no covetousness, no ferocity – so that they should be told, and therefore know, what to expect from my service”
(Montaigne, Michel. The Complete Essays (p. 1137). Penguin Books Ltd. Kindle Edition.)
This quote is in the essay/chapter “ on restraining your will and covers Montaigne’s two periods as Mayor of Bordeaux. It comes from book three page 1,137 out of a total page count of 1,269 pages and so as a reader you have to be pretty keen to read through the whole lot. I was helped by M. A. Screech’s excellent translation that somehow brings the 16th century text alive and readable for 21st century readers. He aids the reader by an excellent main introduction; a heading to each new chapter and over 250 pages of notes.
The essays vary wildly in length for example the first chapter of book 1 “We reach the same end by discrepant means” is four pages long whereas “An Apology for Raymond Sebond” clocks in at nearly 200 pages almost a book in itself. Montaigne was a Renaissance man and so his store of knowledge, his ideas on philosophy were mostly generated by his love for antiquity. The majority of his anecdotes come from classical literature, with many quotes in Latin and Screech translates these for us immediately following the quotation so the flow of the essays is not interrupted. Montaigne spent 20 years ruminating and adding to his work and each edition during his lifetime had amendments (usually additions to the original text) Screech incorporates these into the main body of the text with a symbol (A, A1, B, or C) to denote their origin. This all seems to work pretty smoothly.
There is no substitute to reading the essays themselves, they are a unique experience. Montaigne writes exclusively about himself, but without a hint of pride, boastfulness or grandeur, he is aiming at self knowledge with the belief that if he can get some of it down on paper then he will also be writing about most other people as well, because he believed that the similarities vastly outweighed the differences. From Montaigne we understand that the way people see and feel about issues and about themselves change with age, with new experiences, or even depending on how they felt that particular day, but there is a basic thread running throughout our lives that Montaigne wishes to expose. Perhaps that is why so many readers through the centuries have seen themselves in Montaigne’s essays. Montaigne writes about day to day events, about travel, about education about death, about work, about being in the moment, about sex, about melancholy, about anger and about a natural theology. All the time he sets down how he feels about the subject that is concerning him and links it back to the wisdom (or otherwise) of antiquity. He can be humorous, serious, thoughtful, but never didactic; his search for truth makes his honesty almost painful at times. He exposes himself so that others can see themselves and I think you need a certain amount of courage to do that.
Montaigne’s world seems equally divided between 16th century France and classical Rome and some readers might find too much classicism in the essays, but this grounds the author as a typical renaissance man. A man of his times that can communicate forward to current times. Not to be missed especially with M A Screech’s excellent translation and introductions. 5 stars.
Sarah Bakewell’s [How to Live, A life of Montaigne] is written for contemporary readers almost like an overnight sensation - wham bam thank you mame - This is Montaigne she shouts, don’t miss out - you too will find yourself in my/this book. In her first chapter she nails her colours too the mast:
“Since it is a twenty-first-century book it is inevitably pervaded by a twenty-first-century Montaigne . As one of his favourite adages had it, there is no escaping our perspective: we can walk on our own legs and sit only on our own bum.”
So Bakewell sets about picking out the bits of Montaigne that she thinks will appeal to her 21st century audience, which unsurprisingly misses some of what Montaigne was about.
Having read the essays myself I asked myself the following questions before picking up Sarah Bakewell’s book:
1) Does the book add anything to the reading of the essays.
2) Does it supply any additional information.
3) Is it a substitute for reading Montaigne
4) How accurate is it with reference to the text?
Well lets start with the positives: Bakewell’s book is subtitled A Life of Montaigne and she does fill in some background information. She has good chapters on the religious wars that for most of his life threatened to engulf Montaigne, she tells us about Montaigne's family and private life and how he worked, she tells us about the printing history of the book; its reception at the time and then through the subsequent centuries and so in this respect it answers questions 1) and 2). I found Bakewell’s writing lively and interesting; of course she cannot help but add her own thoughts on Montaigne’s situation but I found nothing too jarring here. She even attempts to provide her readers with a bit of grounding in Hellenistic philosophy and although I found this chapter a little glib it was better than nothing.
So far so good, but then doubts started to creep in, surely she was going to say something more about Montaigne’s classical references, especially after she had told us that Montaigne was made to converse in Latin from his first attempts at speech until he was sent away to school. Surely she was going to “home in” on the near 200 page essay where Montaigne expounds his ideas on a natural theology. It was important enough for him to write such a long chapter, so there should be some commentary from Bakewell. Montaigne had a deep respect for nature in which he saw Gods handiwork, this is an underlying theme throughout the essays and is nailed down in his “Apology for Raymond Sebond. Bakewell rightly highlights Montaigne’s preoccupation with death and his own approach to death, but picks out the chapter where he describes his own near death experience after a hunting accident and makes this a sort of watershed for all subsequent thoughts. Then there is her claim that Montaigne had never been a soldier ………………..
So does Bakewell see her book as a sort of substitute for reading Montaigne’s essays, she never says it is, but I can imagine that many readers will read this book and think that they have read Montaigne. They would be wrong, because reading Bakewells comments on Montaigne would be like reading a commentary on Moby-Dick which claimed the main theme of that book was a mans obsession with killing a white whale. So I cannot recommend this book as a critique of Montaigne and it falls short in being A Life, however it is an entertaining read and if it leads people to dip into the real thing then it cannot be all bad 3.5 stars.
Twenty self-contained chapters provide not only factual information about his life, they also provide insight into his development of a plan
While Montaigne's essays may appear intimidating to the non-specialist reader, Blakewell's twenty chapters are easily accessible.
This is a well-written biography worthy of scholarly perusal and an intriguing and pleasant guide for the layperson.
I was surprised to learn that Montaigne started writing pretty late in life—not until after he’d reach the ripe old age of 39—completing 107 essays before his death at the end of the 16th century. I
I also remember his writing—it had style, it felt far beyond its time. What sets Montaigne apart from other memoirists of his day was how he didn’t drone on about accomplishments. He didn't bray with authority. His work seems like it could be the precursor of the style of essay writing you see today—self-indulgently navel-gazing and personal, while at the same time contemplative and universal. It made Montaigne so ... flawed, funny, deep. He was thoroughly modern and even timeless in that respect.
Sarah Bakewell in How to Live explores how and why Montaigne’s writing has withstood judgment so merrily and endured so much cultural and social transformation and change over the centuries. He has that special skill to seem like he is speaking directly to you.
"Readers approach him from their private perspectives, contributing their own experience of life. … The Essays is thus much more than a book. It is a centuries-long conversation between Montaigne and all those who have got to know him: a conversation which changes through history, while starting out afresh almost every time with that cry of “How did he know all that about me?” Mostly it remains a two-person encounter between writer and reader. But sidelong chat goes on among the readers too; consciously or not, each generation approaches Montaigne with expectations derived from its contemporaries and predecessors. As the story goes on, the scene becomes more crowded. It turns from a private dinner party to a great lively banquet, with Montaigne as an unwitting master of ceremonies."
Bakewell extracts twenty-one lessons to ponder, weaving a nonlinear biographical history of Montaigne into the core ideas of his collective work. The idea that a pretty ho-hum life could be so inspiring—makes for surprisingly fascinating reading.
M. basically asks ’what is it to be human?’ without asking it outright in a way that would have been pedantic and stiff. He was a student of life, but not in some cold, scientific way but as one who’s simply writing a blog. He’s constantly watching people, colleagues and neighbors, even the animals—his cat, most memorably. He is the patron saint of bloggers and cultural curation. He would have made an amazing podcast guest or documentary filmmaker. He explored things as banal as feelings: What was it like to be pissed off or excited or ashamed? Or to have an out of body experience? To feel bored and lazy? To be completely anxious and accepting of one’s faults and shortcomings?
Ultimately, what Bakewell does so well in this book is honing in on Montaigne’s ability to illuminate the ordinary life:
"I set forth a humble and inglorious life; that does not matter. You can tie up all moral philosophy with a common and private life just as well as with a life of richer stuff. Indeed, that is just what a common and private life is: a life of the richest stuff imaginable."
How to Live is filled with tidbits of wisdom, the kind based on a conviction and faith in human nature, of who we really are.
It was not her intention, but the result of reading her book for me was to make me much less interested in reading Montaigne himself. Although Montaigne may speak to everyone, she claims, what she cited and described left me gasping for intellectual breath, as in, no oxygen.
But I should probably get around to reading Montaigne. Or maybe not. Montaigne would say, "Whatever."
Yet at the same time, I found myself slightly annoyed with the book. The twenty answers she chooses can seem excessively vague, little more than excuses to write about various biographical details of Montaigne's life. The digressions into French political history and the cultural response to his writing, although clearly pertinent to her subject matter, frequently seemed like little more than distractions.
I don't want to sound too critical, because I do think that the author does a wonderfully informative job of describing a subject I find quite captivating. This is really just another situation in which I have once again set my expectations too high, having judged the book by its overly-long title. I suspect my appreciation for her work would be much greater if I had approached it as merely preparatory material for reading Montaigne myself, rather than as direct access to some mysterious font of wisdom.