The Book of Dead Philosophers

by: Simon Critchley

Published by: Vintage Books (February release

Reviewed by Muhammed Hassanali

At first glance, a cataloging the deaths of some of the world’s philosophers may seem like grisly entertainment. Most of these fatalities are banal, some are grimly comic, few are fitting (or ironically unfitting), and very few are heroic. In the introduction, Critchley states his opinion that philosophy can teach us a readiness for death without which any conception of contentment (never mind happiness) is illusionary. However as strange as it may seem, the book’s objective through these morbid pages is to uncover the meaning and possibility of happiness. Hence the challenge to readers is to learn from the philosophers’ conduct in life and the circumstances of their deaths.

While the details are fascinating, by focusing on the deaths of the philosophers and not on their overall conception and experience of death, the text misses much. Interestingly, Critchley recognizes and acknowledges this shortcoming when he comments that one of the most difficult aspects of death one endures is not death of self but that of a loved one. This event is not only emotionally trying, but it also tears at our image of self and the meaning we have constructed of our world. The grief that we feel entails not only the loss of a loved one, but also be moans that part of us has been irretrievably lost. These profound and insightful words came close to the beginning; paradoxically (and unfortunately) they have little to do with the book’s content. My paraphrasing fails to do justice to Critchley’s graceful oratory, and it is hoped that the published version retains the eloquence. (Reviewed from uncorrected advance reading copy.)

The book’s objective is to look at how philosophers through the ages have considered death–then where possible, compare theory to practice, and see how they performed when death finally arrives. The disappointment is that we do not hear more from these philosophers on dying. We learn little of how their thoughts on death influenced their lives.

Another disappointment is that the book sacrifices depth for breath. The entry on Xenocrates, for example, does not provide much insight whereas entries on Wittgenstein, Epicurus and Arendt, lack the detail to make them more meaningful.

While the introduction sets out lofty objectives, the remainder of the book delivers too little.

Armchair Interviews agrees.