Our ability to pick up and learn new things is of course amazing, but perhaps just as astonishing is how quickly we can manage to fall in love when we least expect it. Over the past month I’ve had cause to experience both to a profound level, and the learning and love all centres around one sixteenth-century philosopher, Michel Eyquem de Montaigne.
A month or so ago I’d never heard the name Montaigne – which is perhaps surprising given the role that history has in my life – but in all honesty he was an unknown to me. Then, through the recent publication of the book you see pictured above, How to Live by Sarah Bakewell (Chatto & Windus), I began to become more knowledgeable of the man, and subsequently my love and respect for him has deepened.
Bakewell’s book itself is wonderful. And although I’ve not done anything more than dip into it over the past few weeks, the author’s presentation of Montaigne in this biography-cum-philosophical meditation, is nothing short of exquisite. What could easily have been dull and boring actually turns out to be quite the opposite, as Bakewell explores the life of the sixteenth-century writer through his own musings and observations, and she does so with much colour and flair.
The lion’s share of the credit for my newly-found connection to Montaigne however, of course comes from the man himself. Known by many as the man who popularised the essay as a literary form (essays in French means attempts or trials), Montaigne’s real talent lies in introspective reflection i.e. talking one’s self. It’s true that the real subject of Montaigne’s essays was usually Montaigne himself. But he possesses an incredible ability for communicating this – in a more general way – and it becomes more of a musing on man himself, rather than straightforward personal memoir. Very readable and very enjoyable.
Of course it’s difficult for me to expand much more on Montaigne than I have, because as I said I didn’t know him a month ago. But since being introduced to him he now seems to pop up everywhere in my reading. For instance he appears quite prominently in one of my other recent purchases, the other book you see in this shot, The Art of the Personal Essay: An Anthology from the Classical Era to the Present (Anchor Books) by Philip Lopate.
Now if I were to rate this essay anthology on a scale of one to ten, I would rate it eleven, even though, as with Bakewell’s Montaigne, I’ve yet to do anything more substantial with it than ‘dip reading’. It’s a beautiful book, filled with the most wonderful of essays, from the classical ‘pen’ of Seneca and Plutarch, right up to modern-day offerings from Annie Dillard and Philip Lopate himself. So far I’ve discovered some wonderful essays, such as Max Beerbohm’s contemplation on the futility of walking (Going Out for a Walk), extracts of Kenko’s fourteenth-century work, Essays in Idleness, and of course, the man of the moment for me, Montaigne, in a remarkable and outspoken account of infant deformity in Of a Monstrous Child. All wonderful essays and all hugely enjoyable.
So in closing dear reader all I will say is this. If you consider essays to be scholarly and stuffy then I think either of these books may make you change your mind. Lopate’s anthology is of course pure essay, while Bakewell’s Montaigne-flavoured creation is more biographical. Regardless, both contain material from the great Montaigne, and that to me at the moment, is the most joyous of their qualities. Onwards now to hunt down a good priced copy of Michel de Montaigne: The Complete Works (Everyman’s Library). Do the joys of reading never end? 
Over to you fellow reader. Are you fan of Montaigne? Have you been a lover of him for ages now? And what about essays in general. Do you consider them to be dull as ditch water or as dazzling as newly cut diamonds? I’d love to hear your thoughts!
About Rob
Thanks for highlighting this collection, Rob. It sounds absolutely intriguing and, as ever, your photograph is stunning.
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Awww Kim;;should have gone to Specsavers?
Warmest
Rob
Like you, I found Sarah Bakewell’s book – in my local library – and ‘fell in love’, I’m not sure whether it’s with Bakewell or with Montaigne. Firstly her book is exquisite: in construction, in the illustrations, in the lack of latinised words ending in ‘ation’, her use of metaphors and analogies. For instance, when she describes what we thought of essays in school, a reworking of others’ thoughts with a boring introduction and a facile conclusion like forks in either end of a cob of sweetcorn (p. 8). Her plan to build the book around the question ‘How to live’ and twenty attempts at an answer, is beautiful in its deftness and rightness for the subject, Montaigne and his work and its on-going life.
Her subject is of course entrancing in his what looks like independence of thought,natural curiosity and the charm of his mildness. I hear from Bakewell and see from Wikipedia that he was influenced by writers before him. He would agree with that himself, when he says that what we think of as judgement or reason is based on custom. The way he withdraws into thinking and writing, with at the same time much work and social life, from the awful civil wars of his time looks like a sane way to cope with bad times.
I first met Montaigne in a book about seven philosophers by a young Englishman with a French name who was writing on philosophical subjects about say five years ago. I’ve racked my brains but can’t think of his name, but I think it began with ‘Bon…’. In that book Montaigne stood out as a reasonable and above all very likeable thinker. So that’s why I pounced on Bakewell’s book when I saw it.
Thanks for your review, I enjoyed it and welcome the opportunity to share my response to the book.
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Margaret,
What a wonderful response both to Sarah Bakewell and to the man, Montaigne himself. I’ve passed on a link to your comments directly to Sarah (if you’re on Twitter you can follow her yourself – @Sarah_Bakewell), and she’s delighted with what you’ve said.
You have a wonderful way with your words Margaret – something which I’m sure Montaigne would approve of – and I’m delighted that you’ve stopped by to offer such a profound opinion both on Montaigne and the author who has brought him to light for both of us.
)
That’s all I have to say for now Margaret, other than to promise you that I’ll be on the lookout for that ‘seven philosophers’ book. It’s sounds exquisite (mainly because the author puts Montaigne on the pedestal he rightly deserves
Take care for now. And I hope we speak again soon
Warmest
Rob
Hey Rob -
thought I’d just post a quick comment pointing you to a work called, “The Autobiography of Michel de Montaigne.” It’s his essays translated and edited by Marvin Lowenthal. He simply translates the work and ORGANIZES it, bringing some coherency to a work that admittedly wanders around a fair bit. He gathers the stray bits from around the essays and puts them together where they can be properly digested, so the bits about his youth are together, his education, his religious beliefs, etc. Quite an extraordinary work. It’s published by David R. Godine, the gold standard. Cheers and happy reading.
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This is all very interesting Dan. Thank you for taking the time to drop by and let me know about Marvin’s book. As soon as I’m done leaving this message for you I’m going to go off and investigate. Certainly it’s good to have a copy of Montaigne that is organised as he wrote it, but this looks to be a valuable add on to have at hand.