Scott Samuelson Reading
Prairie Lights — Thursday, May 1 at 7 p.m. (Free)
Philosophy is a dense topic, and Kirkwood philosophy instructor (and longtime Little Village contributor) Scott Samuelson knows this better than most. With his new book, The Deepest Human Life: An Introduction to Philosophy for Everyone, he seeks to tear philosophy away from the oft-impenetrable world of academia and reintroduce it to those who need it most: people like you and me, he argues.
Throughout the book, Samuelson intertwines philosophical tenants with intimate stories from his own life in Iowa City, demonstrating that philosophy is a tangible, enriching component of our daily lives and not just a field of study. By adding a much-needed human element to a seemingly daunting, impersonal topic, Samuelson effectively demonstrates how the examined life is, indeed, an enriched life.
Samuelson will read from The Deepest Human Life at Prairie Lights this Thursday at 7 p.m. In the mean time, he spoke with Little Village about the response his book has received thus far, the nuances of his writing process and why philosophy is so often relegated to the world of academia.
Little Village: Philosophy is an arguably dense, broad topic for the layman, whereas The Deepest Human Life seeks, in part, to make philosophy more accessible to the non-academia crowd. Is writing in this style more difficult than writing for an informed audience? Is there a certain kind of strategy involved?
Scott Samuelson: What was difficult for me was finding a style. I was trained as an academic philosopher, but I never liked the style of academia. It took me a while to get that style out of my system. I wasn’t particularly interested in writing solely for an “informed” audience. My guide and hero is William James, the great American philosopher, who is also a master stylist. As he puts it, “The philosophy which is so important in each of us is not a technical matter; it is our more or less dumb sense of what life honestly and deeply means.”
Your book uses personal stories and anecdotes to help convey certain philosophical tenants. What made you decide to pursue a piece of non-fiction with this sort of personal connection? Were there any unforeseen challenges?
We sometimes have this idea that philosophy should get out of the world and simply reflect it accurately, but I’m committed to the idea that philosophy is of a piece with life. So I don’t see a stark division between ideas and how those ideas play out. Stories don’t just explain but deepen philosophy. In fact, it was the idea of connecting stories to ideas that inspired the book.
What has been the response to your book thus far? Have you heard from any of those that you’ve written about, specifically?
So far the response has been heartening. Writing a book is a bit like throwing a bottled message out to sea: You really hope someone gets it. The people I write about have been very gracious. And I’ve gotten some letters from readers who have talked about the book’s value and the value of philosophy in their lives. I was particularly grateful that I got a copy out to one of my former students whose story I tell in the book: She was on hospice care for a while. She’s a fighter.
You argue that philosophy, in a sense, is an approach to life. Why do you think such a core tenant of our lives, our humanity so to speak, is so often relegated to academia?
I’m happy that philosophy has a place in academia, but I’d hate to see it imprisoned there. I’m not sure who’s relegating it anywhere. But I do know that there’s a certain strain of philosophy that loses touch with life. That’s too bad, not just for the non-specialists but for the specialists. How can we know the truth of an idea unless we see how it plays out? There are certain people who just don’t get philosophy, and a surprising number of them have gotten jobs teaching philosophy. Thank God there are people inside and outside of academia who keep seeking out the real thing.
Why do you think it’s important that one lives an examined life? Is there an underlying goal here — the pursuit of knowledge? Happiness? Rather, is this beside the point?
The pursuit of knowledge is a good in itself. To think and converse about philosophical matters is — particularly for someone like me — a great joy. I can only gossip and talk about the weather for so long. But I think that examining our lives goes beyond its intrinsic pleasure: It’s decisive for leading a meaningful life. Let’s not make the examined life into some heady thing. When people have a brush with death, they often end up examining their lives. They ask, “Is what I’m doing really meaningful? Am I doing right by those who are important to me? What am I supposed to be doing?” In other words, all the central questions of philosophy. Maybe when you seriously ask those questions of yourself you find that you’re already doing right by yourself and others. Great, now you can invest yourself in those pursuits more heartily. Or, as is often the case, you find that you could be doing much better. Great, now you can start getting on the right track. Either way, the examination adds meaning and value to your life.
For those that attend your reading this Thursday, is there a particular message or sentiment you hope to convey? With the excerpts you’ll be choosing, what’s the sort of impact you hope to impart on these people?
I hope to delight, instruct and move. We’ll see if I can pull it off.
