on October 19, 2012
It's great to reprint classics, but this "book" seems to have been "published" by a 10-year-old working from his bedroom in Kentucky. Not only is there no typesetting to speak of in this volume (it appears that public domain copy was simply poured into a Word doc), but there isn't a single YEAR mentioned anywhere in this book, aside from the reference to being "Made in the USA in 2012." The original date of Bergson's publication isn't mentioned (1911), the year that he revised it isn't mentioned, the translator's note isn't dated--in all, a completely bizarre manifestation. Save your money and read this essay on the internet. It's free. You can even print out what you find online and read it that way. You won't be doing anything different than what the manufacturer of this "book" has done.
I tend to like how Bergson writes and find his analyses worth mulling over, even in English when the subtleties can occasionally be rendered deformed by a translator. I came away from this book philosophically appreciating even more John Cleese's premise that "All comedy is a function of the wrong time, the wrong place and the wrong size."