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How to Live: A Life of Montaigne in One Question and Twenty Attempts at an Answer

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This is not so much a biography of Michel de Montaigne as it is a biography of his book ... which is a legitimate approach since Montaigne himself described the Essays as a portrait of himself, a model of the author in text form. So, Ms. Bakewell has given us many facts about Montaigne's life as well as chronicling the fortunes of the Essays during his life as well as the endless revisions and re-interpretations that occurred after his death. The story is told in true Montaignian fashion, out of chronological order and with numerous digressions, with chapter headings that consist of twenty hypothetical answers to the book's central question: "How to live?" Unlike Montaigne, the content of each chapter stays (mostly) relevant to the subject in its heading. The back of the book contains a brief timeline, an index, and a list of notes. (Strangely these numbered notes are not indicated in the text, making them essentially useless; but that may just be an idiosyncrasy of the Uncorrected Proof copy which I read.)

I first discovered Montaigne when I happened upon the Essays in the History section of the bookstore. I knew nothing about him, but the dust-jacket blurb described him as the inventor of the essay, literature's first "modern" writer, an affable gentleman who good-naturedly natters on at length about any topic that catches his fancy (his favorite subject being himself). His mind wanders and his pen follows it wherever it happens to go. I bought the book, expecting nothing more than to be entertained, and was amazed to discover how emotionally uplifting it was. Montaigne apparently did not wish to consider himself a "philosopher" yet that's what he seemed to be. Here's an educated, well-read guy with an agreeable, easygoing manner .. completely scatterbrained and yet so WISE .. he seemed to have come to grips with his own mortality and figured out all of life's Big Questions, over 400 years ago. I was impressed. I found him to be intensely relevant and overflowing with thoughts and opinions that made So Much Sense, they perfectly matched my own.

Now Ms. Bakewell's book makes it clear that my Montaigne experience is typical. Many of the great and not-so-great minds of Western civilization (since 1580) have read the Essays and gotten the eerie impression that it was written specifically for them. Many of these stories are told briefly in the book, but the biggest section is devoted to Pascal and Descartes who were strongly influenced in a _negative_ way by Montaigne. Much of their most memorable work was a reaction against him. It's truly the mark of a classic when a book continues to be so influential centuries after the author's death.

_How to Live_ is not "necessary" reading by any means (you can get full enjoyment from the Essays without knowing any of this background information) but it does add some value by shedding light on the collective experience of people reading and reacting to the Essays throughout history. It is written in an approachable, readable style and is very respectful of its subject. I can recommend it as an introduction or a companion to the Essays.

You've heard of hybrid cars? Get ready for the hybrid biography. Sarah Bakewell's luminous HOW TO LIVE is just that -- an inspired collision of biography, philosophy, history, rhetoric, and literary criticism, all sprinkled with a dollop of self-help. That's right, Bakewell shows how seamlessly Michel Eyquem de Montaigne can enter the 21st century and offer advice to the harried reader. Montaigne, after all, was anything BUT harried. Calm, cool, collected, stoic. That was our man in France.

Now most readers undertake a biography because they are interested in the subject. I was more intrigued by the critical buzz Bakewell's book garnered in the press. And so it was that I got to know Montaigne, famous author of the ESSAYS, through Bakewell's unique design of 20 chapters all based on the question "How to Live?" with a different answer. They are, in order, "Don't Worry About Death," "Pay Attention," "Be Born" (Editor's Note: Very funny), "Read A Lot, Forget Most of What You Read, and Be Slow-Witted," "Survive Love and Loss," "Use Little Tricks," "Question Everything," "Keep a Private Room Behind the Shop," "Be Convivial: Live With Others," "Wake From the Sleep of Habit," "Live Temperately," "Do Something No One Has Done Before," "Do a Good Job, But Not TOO Good a Job," "Philosophize Only by Accident," "Reflect on Everything; Regret Nothing," "Be Ordinary and Imperfect" (Editor's Note: Easy!), "Give Up Control," and "Let Life Be Its Own Answer." If those topics intrigue you in any way, so will this book.

What did I learn? Of course, as expected, a lot about Montaigne's life as that is the main thread. The bonuses for me were things like short but essential lessons in philosophies that influenced Montaigne (Stoics, Epicureans, Skeptics) and in personalities that he in turn influenced or outraged (Pascal, Rousseau, Voltaire, Nietzsche, etc.). Also, there was the history lesson on 16th-century France's religious wars (Catholics v. Protestants). Bloody good. And then there were all the snippets from Montaigne's essays themselves. Some readers may want to read more by tackling the behemoth ESSAYS after this book. Others may feel that this sampler is sufficient unto itself -- after all, you come out more knowledgeable about the man, his approach toward life, his writing style, and even his translators.

Overall, it's an unusually refreshing run at what should have been staidly-boring material. Bakewell's theme is that Montaigne is more interesting and timeless than you think. Her hybrid biography proves the point by meeting the same criteria. If you have any interest in the past, essay-writing, philosophy, religion, politics, and the common man as championed by a most unusual man, HOW TO LIVE is your book.

Sarah Bakewell's book on Michel Eyquem de Montaigne (1533-1592) is worthwhile in large part because Montaigne is not as widely read as he deserves to be; her work may help redress that situation. Wisely, she gives readers to understand that they may see themselves in Montaigne's Essays: She understands the narcissism that pervades our culture. It is fascinating - and rather suggestive - that so many people claim to see themselves in the writings of a thoroughgoing skeptic.

Her theme is "how to live" - a subject on which Montaigne is full of insights, though he never presumes to offer advice. In 20 chapters, Ms. Bakewell explores approaches to life derived from Montaigne, such as "Be ordinary and imperfect," "See the world," "Guard your humanity," "Wake from the sleep of habit," "Let life be its own answer," and perhaps most characteristically for Montaigne, "Question everything." If this smacks of the self-help book, don't be deceived. Montaigne is talking about his life, not yours. If you look in his Essays for tips on living, you will not be alone, though his purpose is to describe, not prescribe.

I will not attempt a discussion of Montaigne's Essays here. They have been well reviewed elsewhere. Suffice it to say that he was a learned and yet highly sympathetic member of the French nobility and man of affairs who gave up his public life and duties to think, read, and write. He is the author of insightful, often delightful, essays on all kinds of things - even cannibals.

Ms. Bakewell is more than a casual student of Montaigne and her lively study is more than just a history of his collection of essays. She offers a clear-eyed though necessarily incomplete view of Montaigne's personality, to the extent it can be made out from this remove. She also spends substantial time on Montaigne's experiences with death, for instance, and this may be valuable to modern readers, many of whom, I suspect, would just as soon avoid that subject altogether. Ms. Bakewell brushes in some of the intellectual, historical, religious, and political background and context with which Montaigne was familiar, as by commenting on Stoicism, Epicureanism and Skepticism, e.g. The reader thereby gets a better understanding of the skeptical tradition to which Montaigne was a major contributor. Finally, there are numerous useful and interesting illustrations, even if they are not generally of the best quality. There's even a picture of a bottle of wine made at the estates near Bordeaux over which Montaigne presided. Oenophiles will note the connection between Chateau d' Yquem, where a spectacular sweet wine is made, and a branch of Montaigne's family from which one of his names originated: Eyquem.

I had hoped for a more substantial discussion of Montaigne's longest and perhaps most important essay, "A Defense of Raymond Sebond," also called "An Apology for Raymond Sebond." It is a somewhat confusing piece for a lay reader to confront. Ms. Bakewell gives it short shrift. And although she relies exclusively on the Frame translation, which is excellent, as long as she was preparing a book on Montaigne for the modern reader, she might have commented on other translations, such as the Screech translation, to give us an idea of their respective strengths and weaknesses. I do disagree with another reviewer's somewhat breezy conclusion that Montaigne is "scatter-brained." Montaigne was one of the first exponents of the so-called stream of consciousness and of course part of what makes him so engaging is following that stream around bends, over rapids and through deep pools. Montaigne would scarcely be considered the father of the essay, let alone one of the great writers of the western tradition, if he were merely scatter-brained. Much more recent writers, notably Virginia Woolf and James Joyce, made use of the stream of consciousness. They are not normally accused of being scatter-brained.

Incidentally, it is becoming more common for scholars who want to appeal to a broad audience to put notes at the end of the book, listed by page number, without printing the corresponding numbers in the text. I do not agree that the notes are therefore useless. This practice simultaneously meets the needs of students and scholars, who want the notes, and of general readers who hate being distracted by them. William Lee Miller, a distinguished historian at the University of Virginia, handles his notes in the same way in his excellent study of Lincoln, "President Lincoln: The Duty of a Statesman."

A beautifully written and researched book on Montaigne; his life (1533-1592) and times, as well as on his reputation and the intellectual influences over the centuries of his seminal work, "Essays."

Montaigne is said (p.66) to have liked biographers "who went beyond the external events of a life and tried to reconstruct a person's inner world from the evidence." If he were alive today, I think he would be quite pleased with his new biographer, Sarah Bakewell.

Ms. Bakewell's unconventional but elegant work, "How To Live: A Life of Montaigne" should be bought, read, and kept for one's library.

I seem to be in the minority in not being enthralled by this, but so be it.

First, trivial as it may be, I have to say my copy of this volume has the absolutely worst cover design of any book I can remember seeing. It doesn't look like the picture on this site. Rather, it looks like a an academic journal, all in black and white, covered with small-lettered "questions" the book supposedly "answers." But this is just an aside, and we can't judge books by their covers.

Or can we? In terms of what's inside, the cover is both revealing and deceptive. I've read a fair amount of Montaigne and enjoy his Essays a lot. Brilliant man, far ahead of his time. Should be required reading, if anything should be. But I see little reason to read this presentation of his ideas unless one has already read the Essays and is very interested in digging beneath his writings, obtaining the fruits of Sarah Bakewell's scholarship, and, especially, studying Ms. Bakewell's own personal philosophical musings. The Essays themselves are far more insightful and enjoyable; this volume is a very academic exercise in discussing a surprisingly small portion of what he actually said and placing it in historical perspective. Bakewell talks a lot about Montaigne, to be sure, but she also goes on and on about what are essentially her own views and speculations about anything she feels has any arguable relationship to the writer, the times he lived in, and the people he may have known. With all due respect, she's knowledgeable about him, but is not in Montaigne's league in terms of wisdom or writing skill. The book's style brought me back, not pleasantly, to my days writing term papers, trying to fill thirty or forty pages with things that might sound intelligent enough to get a decent grade. But not necessarily worth saying, let alone buying. Ms. Bakewell similarly seems intent upon saying whatever she can say about Montaigne and tying it together in only a very loose fashion, just short of stream of consciousness. It reads like a jazzed-up dissertation.

The title and almost pop psychology, "question and answer" style of presentation seem calculated to appeal to a wider audience beyond academics and scholarly types already interested in Montaigne, but the "questions" are really never answered, nor does the author even really attempt to cobble together a coherent answer from Montaigne's writings. Rather, the "questions" are a gimmick, jumping-off points for a series of essays by the author amalgamating bits and pieces of Montaigne's writings, a little history, and a soupcon of the author's own notions. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but the book seems to promise something it never seriously tries to deliver: a great writer's thoughts on specific issues that arise in the course of life. And Montaigne's own writings are similar; he often didn't try very hard to stick to the purported subjects of his essays, but wandered around at his leisure. He just did it better.

Many of my criticisms may not be relevant to a decision whether to purchase this book if the reader is primarily interested in a rambling biography that is as much about Bakewell as Montaigne. To that extent, it isn't a bad read. If the reader is primarily interested in discovering what Montaigne actually wrote and appreciating his timeless wisdom in itself, I don't recommend it. In short, if you already enjoy Montaigne and his writings and are curious about their historical and biographical context, this is worth exploring. Otherwise, it's not a good introduction; his Essays are very accessible and more rewarding.

When I was in high school (that was in 1957, roughly), I read a memoir about a man who was dying of cancer. At one point in the story, the author (his wife) mentioned that he kept by his bedside a copy of Montaigne's essays, and that he found inspiration--as he had most of his life--in reading the works of that early essayist. Indeed, she said, he derived courage and resolve from Montaigne as he faced his inevitable death. I was quick to find a copy of Montaigne at our library and to begin to read many of his essays, fascinated with the variety of subject matter and fluidity of the movement of Montaigne's mind, as he hopped from topic to topic (or seemed to) and offered many entirely unexpected insights and pleasures. Though I would not swear that I have read every one of Montaigne's essays, I still have two copies (different translators) of them, and I have even tried to read them in Montaigne's archaic French--not as hard as one might think. But I also admit that Montaigne has not been prominent in my reading for a number of years.

This fascinating and challenging book has not only renewed my interest in Montaigne, but it has shown me how much I missed, even though I was a fairly persistent and attentive reader. Sarah Bakewell weaves together material about Montaigne's life with pertinent commentary on his essays, their myriad topics and well-focused worldview. Certainly if I had not been familiar with Montaigne before, this book would stimulate me to read more of him, perhaps to make him a constant companion, as he was for the subject of the memoir I read as a teenager, more than 50 years ago. Bakewell's is an admirable achievement, and I will recommend it enthusiastically to many friends.

My prior knowledge of Montaigne was extremely limited. I have read about Montaigne, but never actually read Montaigne. This book has had the (intended) effect of goading me into reading the man's own writing. The early going has been a little tough, but completely worthwhile. Montaigne is a tremendously rewarding writer, and in How to Live, Sarah Bakewell demonstrates just how rewarding his Essays can be. She not only gives us an excellent biography of the man himself, but also a history of his Essays, the amazing effect they have had upon generations of great writers and thinkers, and the effect they can have upon you. Bakewell has accomplished a feat of scholarship here: one rarely finds such a tremendously literate and wise book that is so approachable. She writes in a straightforward and pleasing manner, and although her subject is 400 years in his grave, she makes him seem like a neighbor and a friend.

Some books are written for a narrow audience, with built in limitations. How to Live is written for everybody, and it is a great pity that it probably won't end up on a bestsellers list. Montaigne's writing is so very good that if you read it, you will want to share it with your friends. That is what Ms. Bakewell has done. I am glad that she shared it with me.

This book is not light reading, and it is not a page turner. If you are looking for entertainment or a light weekend read, this is not a good choice. If you want to learn about the birth of a literary form, the history of a great writer, and read some sound philosophy about a way to live, I recommend this book highly. It can serve as an excellent introduction to Montaigne's writing.

The title quote is from novelist Gustave Flaubert, advising a friend who was wondering how to approach Montaigne (pp 10-11).

Allow me to put your mind at rest about one thing first: This is not a self-help book. I know "How to Live" sounds like something in that category, but be assured that this book is of a much better quality and nature, a
scholarly work on Michel Eyquem de Montaigne (1533-1592), French essayist and philosopher.

Essayist? Yes...he is the one that coined the word, from French "essai," meaning test, try, attempt, etc. Philosopher? He was an excellent observer of himself and his surroundings, from the very simple to the absurdly complex, and wrote what we know as the "Essays," his life's work.

Sarah Bakewell has performed a wonderful service in putting together some chapters which may be described as essays of her own. The book is really a history of the life of Montaigne and the life of his written work. The impression one gets of the man and his work is that there were inconsistencies, contradictions, rambling, self-centeredness, possibly false modesty, and scores of other possible criticisms. Yet, there is a tremendous amount of wisdom in his thoughts, statements, and observations. It is impossible to really give an example of his wisdom that would appeal to everyone at every stage of life, but it is likely that anything he said would hit a chord with anyone at some point, if they are thoughtful.

One of the beautiful aspects of his personality, in my opinion, was his realization of what humans share with other animals, the idea that we are part of the same family. Almost everyone over 450 years ago in his milieu
would have assumed that humans were completely set apart from the animal kingdom or nature in general. Humans were to be thought of as divinely appointed to rule and judge over nature, not be part of nature.

Montaigne saw through this. Descartes later had a problem with Montaigne's view. Descartes saw animals as automatons without thought or feeling.

"When I play with my cat, who knows if I am not a pastime to her more than she is to me? We entertain each other with reciprocal monkey tricks. If I have my time to begin or to refuse, so has she hers." -- Montaigne

He had an entire section that dealt with stories of animals performing acts of sacrifice, bravery, altruism, and other forms of goodness thought only in the realm of humanity. Modern science has confirmed that good and evil are not only human traits again and again, so Montaigne was onto something, and well ahead of his time.

My first introduction to him was in regard to his skepticism, but he had some devotion to various ancient philosophies, such as Stoicism, Epicureanism, as well as Skepticism. He was also supposedly a good Catholic, but if one takes much of what he wrote into account, it seems unlikely that he was a "true believer" in any sense. He also tried to play himself off in his writings as slow of intellect, with major memory problems, though he did not come off that way to people that knew him. There is every sign of unparalleled shrewdness.

Perhaps a few quotes regarding his religious thoughts may be of help:

"How many things served us yesterday for articles of faith, which today are fables to us?"

"Philosophy is doubt."

"To know much is often the cause of doubting more."

"Nothing is so firmly believed as what we least know."

"Man is certainly stark mad. He cannot make a flea, and yet he will be making gods by the dozen."

"It is setting a high value upon our opinions to roast men and women alive on account of them."

"Men of simple understanding, little inquisitive and little instructed, make good Christians."

During the time in which Montaigne lived, though, skepticism was an important part of Catholic faith, the focus being on us not knowing how so many things work, so faith becomes so much more important. Those views gradually changed, presumably as the skepticism focused more on the faith itself.

This book is worth five stars, not least for the desire it has created in me to read and study the "Essays" of Montaigne, but also for learning much of his personal life, habits, and views.

I came to this book, I must admit, completely unfamiliar with Montaigne. Yes, I had heard of him and thought of him as a philosopher, but could not have told you what century he lived in or what he is known for. So, I thought this would be an easy and accessible way to learn, without actually reading all the essays. And I was right. I now have a good sense of who Montaigne was, his life and times, and the significance of his work, both in his age and ever since. And the writing is fun and easy to absorb. Nonetheless, I think the book would be better appreciated by Montaigne fans and, while it is a biography of the man and his writings, it does not try to replace those writings. This is no Montaigne Cliff Notes; it is far better than that. Thus, one feels a bit the dilettante reading the book without reading the essays, but my interests are what they are, and the essays will not, I'm afraid, be the next thing on my reading list. I am pleased now to know, though, that advised of this, Montaigne would merely have shrugged, said "eh bien," and toasted my next literary adventure whatever it might be.

On the surface Montainge led an unexciting life. But he chronicled it, in all it meandering glory in his essays, a book which has been almost continually, if not continually in print since the late 16th Century. It continues to delight and intrigue readers with the author's attempt to write about what he knows best -- himself.

But this poses a problem for the biographer. How do you make a semi-uneventful life and one which the subject examined himself into an interesting and readable book? Bakewell answers this question with a unique approach that of posing the same question, How to Live? 20 times, giving different answers each time and using those answers as the framework for a biography not just of Montaigne but of his book, its life, and the people it has influenced.

Bakewell has an astonishing range of knowledge and puts it to good use. Not only did I learn more than I had known about the politics of the time (the French civil wars over religion), but I also learned about several types of Greek philosophy unknown to me, Bordeaux politics, and lots more.

I delighted in her portrait of Montaigne and of the many people he influenced from Shakespeare to today.

I'm ready to go out and reread Montaigne, except that my translation is not the newest.