Philosophy is something we all use every day. Each time we make the case for one course of action over another or consult ourselves to make a moral choice. Every time we discuss politics or ideas with a work colleague, or debate with our mother whose version of a childhood story is the true one. Every time we try to win an argument with our spouse about which of us was responsible for calling the guy to fix the dishwasher (and which of us should now wash up since nobody did make the call). Every time we mull over a major or a mundane decision, from whether parenthood is the right choice for us to whether or not we should lie to the person currently looking us in the eye – we are using philosophy. Often we don’t realise this, so we aren’t using it all that well, skipping steps after the premise and jumping straight to a conclusion (without being able to show the rough work of how we got there).
It can be an intimidating area to dip a toe in, as well as a generally undervalued one. Of course, it doesn’t help that so many philosophers historically have been gawking, crotchety types who looked as though they didn’t own a comb and would smell weird if they sat next to you on the bus. Some philosophy can make for bone-dry reading, so if you’re interested in immersing more, it’s best not to start out with the drier lads. If you’re not already a philosophy enthusiast, don’t start at Kant with his stern brow and intractable prose (though he’s great) or Nietzsche, with his bizarre moustache, fondness for drinking milk and tendency to accidentally freak out girls he encountered (though he too was a great philosopher). You don’t have to be a philosopher to enjoy philosophy, and reading it doesn’t have to feel like trying to swallow a generous mouthful of cream crackers when you’re dehydrated.
Philosophy can be entertaining, even thrilling reading, helping us to consider the world we live in – and ourselves – in new ways. It can also help us to become better at critical thinking (and winning arguments about the dishwasher guy). Here’s a handful of philosophical reads that aren’t dry, hefty or tedious. Quite the opposite:
The Consolations of Philosophy, Alain de Botton
This is the first book I always recommend to start with philosophy for recreational reading. De Botton is a lovely writer, taking six of philosophy’s greatest thinkers and considering how their ideas meaningfully affect our lives. Among others, you’ll find Michel de Montaigne on feeling inadequate, and Stoic philosopher Seneca on frustration and anger.
Thinking to Some Purpose, Susan Stebbing
Stebbing’s little volume from 1939 is what we might think of now as a critical-thinking cheat sheet. We’re not taught how to think critically at school, and while we usually tend to know what we think, we often don’t have a rigorous means of getting there. Stebbing helps us to critique our own thinking by identifying logical fallacies and recognise what she calls “potted thinking” – what psychologist Daniel Kahneman considered our tendency, when asked a difficult question, to answer an easier one instead without noticing the substitution.
Harrison Bergeron, Kurt Vonnegut
Science fiction is philosophical thought experiment in narrative form, and a wonderful way to explore philosophical questions and ideas. Vonnegut’s dystopian short story from 1961 imagines a world in which equality of outcome replaces equality of opportunity, raising interesting questions about what equality should ideally look like and how we might think about it.
Trying Out One’s New Sword, from Heart and Mind, Mary Midgley
While the rest of the book is drier and more philosophical in the traditional sense, chapter five is a delight that anyone can enjoy. In a thoroughly entertaining way, Midgley explores whether it’s acceptable to judge other cultures by the standards of our own. This subject is relevant to so many modern debates and it’s a nice short read, but rigorously argued. Midgley brought a deep, relatable humanity to her philosophical writing.
Animal Farm, George Orwell
While 1984 is usually the Orwell work most lionised, and for good reason, Animal Farm is a shorter and less trying read but no less engaging or thought-provoking. In our polarised ideological climate, it’s a perpetually relevant book, exploring the relationship between the ends we desire and the means we determine best to reach them. It reminds us of the crucial importance of questioning authority and the systems in which we all live. And it features a pig named Napoleon – what more could anyone need?
[ Five (and a bit) steps to a better life: What philosophy tells usOpens in new window ]
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