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Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values Paperback – August 2, 2005
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A penetrating examination of how we live and how to live better
A narration of a summer motorcycle trip undertaken by a father and his son, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance becomes a personal and philosophical odyssey into fundamental questions on how to live. The narrator's relationship with his son leads to a powerful self-reckoning; the craft of motorcycle maintenance leads to an austerely beautiful process for reconciling science, religion, and humanism. Resonant with the confusions of existence, this classic is a touching and transcendent book of life.
This new edition contains an interview with Pirsig and letters and documents detailing how this extraordinary book came to be.
- Length
464
Pages
- Language
EN
English
- PublisherMariner Books Classics
- Publication date
2005
August 2
- Dimensions
5.3 x 1.1 x 8.0
inches
- ISBN-100060839872
- ISBN-13978-0060839871
- Lexile measure1040L
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Editorial Reviews
Review
“An unforgettable trip.” — Time
“Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance sold millions of copies and made Pirsig a reluctant hero to generations of intellectual wanderers…Zen was an instant classic — a work of literature that captured the spirit of its time and retained its appeal long after the hippie movement had faded.” — Washington Post
“A touchstone. … Pirsig’s plunge into the grand philosophical questions of Western culture remained near the top of the bestseller lists for a decade and helped define the post-hippie 1970s landscape.” — New York Times
“The truly great road trip novel. … Many former angsty teens will surely fondly recall their own dog-eared, heavily underlined copies of Pirsig’s book, and the initial joy that accompanied reading something that felt so specifically personal and yet so urgently universal. … Zen’s ongoing reprints, its devoted fan base, and the countless road trips and pseudo-spiritual journeys it’s inspired are indicative of the book’s ongoing appeal.” — GQ
“Inspired college classes, academic conferences and a legion of 'Pirsig pilgrims' who retrace the anguished, cross-country motorcycle trip at the heart of his novel.” — Los Angeles Times
“Profoundly important...full of insights into our most perplexing contemporary dilemmas.” — New York Times
“The book is inspired, original. . . . The analogies with Moby-Dick are patent.” — The New Yorker
“It is filled with beauty. . .a finely made whole that seems to emanate from a very special grace.” — Baltimore Sun
“A miracle . . . sparkles like an electric dream.” — The Village Voice
From the Back Cover
A penetrating examination of how we live and how to live better
A narration of a summer motorcycle trip undertaken by a father and his son, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance becomes a personal and philosophical odyssey into fundamental questions on how to live. The narrator's relationship with his son leads to a powerful self-reckoning; the craft of motorcycle maintenance leads to an austerely beautiful process for reconciling science, religion, and humanism. Resonant with the confusions of existence, this classic is a touching and transcendent book of life.
This new edition contains an interview with Pirsig and letters and documents detailing how this extraordinary book came to be.
About the Author
Robert M. Pirsig (1928–2017) is the author of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, which has sold more than five-million copies since its publication in 1974, and Lila, a finalist for the 1992 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. He graduated from the University of Minnesota (B.A., 1950; M.A., 1958) and attended Benares Hindu University in India, where he studied Eastern philosophy, and the University of Chicago, where he pursued a PhD in philosophy. Pirsig’s motorcycle resides in the Smithsonian Institution.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
An Inquiry Into ValuesBy Pirsig, Robert M.Perennial
ISBN: 0060839872Chapter One
I can see by my watch without taking my hand from the left grip of the cycle, that it is eight-thirty in the morning. The wind, even at sixty miles an hour, is warm and humid. When it's this hot and muggy at eight-thirty, I'm wondering what it's going to be like in the afternoon.In the wind are pungent odors from the marshes by the road. We are in an area of the Central Plains filled with thousands of duck hunting sloughs, heading northwest from Minneapolis toward the Dakotas. This highway is an old concrete two-laner that hasn't had much traffic since a four-laner went in parallel to it several years ago. When we pass a marsh the air suddenly becomes cooler. Then, when we are past, it suddenly warms up again.
I'm happy to be riding back into this country. It is a kind of nowhere, famous for nothing at all and has an appeal because of just that. Tensions disappear along old roads like this. We bump along the beat-up concrete between the cattails and stretches of meadow and then more cattails and marsh grass. Here and there is a stretch of open water and if you look closely you can see wild ducks at the edge of the cattails. And turtles. . . . There's a red-winged blackbird.
I whack Chris's knee and point to it, "What!" he hollers.
"Blackbird!"
He says something I don't hear. "What?" I holler back. He grabs the back of my helmet and hollers up, "I've seen lots of those, Dad!"
"Oh!" I holler back. Then I nod. At age eleven you don't get very impressed with red-winged blackbirds.
You have to get older for that. For me this is all mixed with memories that he doesn't have. Cold mornings long ago when the marsh grass had turned brown and cattails were waving in the northwest wind. The pungent smell then was from muck stirred up by hip boots while we were getting in position for the sun to come up and the duck season to open. Or winters when the sloughs were frozen over and dead and I could walk across the ice and snow between the dead cat-tails and see nothing but grey skies and dead things and cold. The blackbirds were gone then. But now in July they're back and everything is at its alivest and every foot of these sloughs is humming and cricking and buzzing and chirping, a whole community of millions of living things living out their lives in a kind of benign continuum.
You see things vacationing on a motorcycle in a way that is completely different from any other. In a car you're always in a compartment, and because you're used to it you don't realize that through that car window everything you see is just more TV. You're a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame.
On a cycle the frame is gone. You're completely in contact with it all. You're in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming. That concrete whizzing by five inches below your foot is the real thing, the same stuff you walk on, it's right there, so blurred you can't focus on it, yet you can put your foot down and touch it anytime, and the whole thing, the whole experience, is never removed from immediate consciousness.
Chris and I are traveling to Montana with some friends riding up ahead, and maybe headed farther than that. Plans are deliberately indefinite, more to travel than to arrive anywhere. We are just vacationing. Secondary roads are preferred. Paved county roads are the best, state highways are next. Freeways are the worst. We want to make good time, but for us now this is measured with emphasis on "good" rather than "time" and when you make that shift in emphasis the whole approach changes. Twisting hilly roads are long in terms of seconds but are much more enjoyable on a cycle where you bank into turns and don't get swung from side to side in any compartment. Roads with little traffic are more enjoyable, as well as safer. Roads free of drive-ins and billboards are better, roads where groves and meadows and orchards and lawns come almost to the shoulder, where kids wave to you when you ride by, where people look from their porches to see who it is, where when you stop to ask directions or information the answer tends to be longer than you want rather than short, where people ask where you're from and how long you've been riding.It was some years ago that my wife and I and our friends first began to catch on to these roads. We took them once in a while for variety or for a shortcut to another main highway, and each time the scenery was grand and we left the road with a feeling of relaxation and enjoyment. We did this time after time before realizing what should have been obvious: these roads are truly different from the main ones. The whole pace of life and personality of the people who live along them are different. They're not going anywhere.
Continues...Excerpted from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenanceby Pirsig, Robert M. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Product details
- Publisher : Mariner Books Classics; 1R edition (August 2, 2005)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 464 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0060839872
- ISBN-13 : 978-0060839871
- Lexile measure : 1040L
- Item Weight : 12.8 ounces
- Dimensions : 5.31 x 1.05 x 8 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #6,194 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #3 in Zen Philosophy (Books)
- #8 in Travel Writing Reference
- #9 in Travelogues & Travel Essays
- Customer Reviews:
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About the author

Robert M. Pirsig was born in 1928 in Minneapolis, Minnesota. He holds degrees in chemistry, philosophy, and journalism and also studied Oriental philosophy at Benares Hindu University in India. He is the author of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and Lila.
Photo by Ian Glendinning, en:User:IanGlendinning [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/), CC BY 2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.5), CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0) or CC BY 1.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/1.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.
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One of the complaints I see here is that there isn't much of the title's Zen nor much motorcycle maintenance, either -- and I note that the author says something about this in his introduction, so it must be true, right? -- yet I believe there is plenty of both. If the reader is expecting an introduction to Zen or a How To manual on motorcycle maintenance, those will not be found. It's not even the author sharing his enjoyment of either of the two fields with his audience. But the themes that run throughout the book explore many of the same ideas the Buddha did, and several concepts important to motorcycle maintenance that will not be found in manuals are discussed throughout the work. But the title really represents the duality that Pirsig puts under his microscope: Zen represents the hippie "go with the flow" attitude that is contrasted to the "slice and dice" schemes of technology, via motorcycle maintenance. And in the end, the title doesn't say just motorcycle maintenance; it's the "Art " that's critical, because one thing the book is aiming for is to show us that the science of technology is an art -- or at least should be an art -- and that the two ways of looking at life don't need to be in opposition, but can be quite naturally blended, to the benefit of all concerned.
It might seem like the novel is caught in its time, with language about those who see things as "groovy" vs. "the squares" but the dichotomy between the two has been under discussion in various forms for centuries: romanticism vs. empiricism, passion vs. logic, science vs. religion. The same split is found today underlying two sides of the debate over climate change. If the book is not approached as being literally about Zen and motorcycle maintenance, but as using these as stand-ins for concepts that can be much larger -- or even much smaller -- there is a lot to be gained here.
Another complaint is that the protagonist is not sympathetic, but that's because this isn't a novel written from the romantic side, nor, really, the empirical side -- it's not even a novel, though it reads a lot like one -- it is a true-enough tale of relationships between two related men, and a father and a son, and a road trip that carries with it time for plenty of slow discussion of philosophy. The book takes its time putting the pieces together, and the author isn't trying to win our love -- if you can approach the book on its own terms rather than with a whole load of expectations about what it should do and how it should do it, you may get something out of it -- but to truly enjoy it, you've got to go with the flow, you know?
I know I get a lot out of it every time I read it. I love road stories, and this one is paced just like a real long-distance trip, with long stretches of time to think things through interspersed with short breaks for taking care of the business of life. That what's going on in the environment, relationships, and other encounters reflects what's being thought through in the long stretches is a small bonus. The writing is clean and evocative, enjoyable. For the most part, the carefully constructed introduction to all the elements needed to understand the philosophy is gentle enough to be clear and not overly taxing, at least until the deepest parts, which can be hard to follow (and for good reason). The elements of psychological mystery captivate me each time.
I first read ZAMM the year it was released, in the mid-70s, and have read it at least every five years since then, and each time I thoroughly enjoy it. The first time through, I could not follow the philosophy all the way down into the descent into madness it brought on. Five years later -- with time for the ideas to be examined through my own life -- I got it, even agreed with it. This time, this reading, is the first time I ended up doubting the validity of the greatest philosophical insights the story offers. Ironically, it's my deepening understanding of Buddhism that changed my mind.
There really is a lot of Buddhism in this book, and not specifically Zen, either, but the deepest themes common to all forms of Buddhism. The questions about the wisdom of dividing the world up into a duality of the physical vs. the mental, of seeing ourselves as somehow separate from everything else, these were explored by the Buddha, too, though the framework he used to discuss these ideas was -- obviously -- nothing to do with motorcycles. In Dependent Arising he, too, considers how it comes to be that we split the world in two. "Name and form" he calls this split, and later thinkers have described what he was talking about as the same subject-object division that Pirsig is mulling over in ZAMM. The Buddha, though, says that it is "desire for existence" -- not quality -- that, to borrow Pirsig's phrase, "is the generator of everything we know". I tend to agree with the Buddha because I can see in our lives, and through our sciences, what that desire for existence is and why it drives us to divide the world up the way we do, and exactly how it leads us into trouble. I can't say the same for Pirsig's metaphysics, but that doesn't stop me from deep enjoyment of the book. I hope to have another half-dozen five-yearly reads, if I'm lucky, and -- who knows -- maybe I will come around again to see it the way he does.
Reviewed in the United States on November 3, 2023
As a philosophical treatise it is nearly a complete failure, with concepts that are often contradictory, and maddeningly ambiguous at best. Make no mistake about it: the book is a rhetorical device intended to convey the author’s opinions on the intellectual state of the world and his ideas on the direction our lives should take (toward the indefinable ‘Quality’). The result is a soaring narrative that attempts to do no less than reconcile the fundamental conflicts between Eastern and Western philosophies and answer The Question (of Life, the Universe, and Everything). In pursuing such a lofty goal, ZAMM shows glimmers of clarity and insight, but the essay-interspersed-with-novella format leaves many key concepts half-formed and ill-explained. To add to the frustration, there is an underlying conflict between the narrator and Phaedrus (and even past versions of Phaedrus) where each has his own ideas, often contradictory ones, that are never really reconciled. After finishing ZAMM I felt massively intellectually dissatisfied. Attempting to grapple with the ideas presented in the book at any depth brings more uncertainty than certainty, and many more questions than the book has answers for.
But, there is also something unmistakably satisfying about ZAMM that has nothing to do with the use of logic and reason to make airtight philosophical arguments. Indeed, rather than rely on Reason to make its point, ZAMM spends a large chunk discrediting the capital R Reason that other philosophical treatises rely on. I think the reason for this satisfaction (and the reason for the book’s popularity) is what Pirsig himself acknowledges in the afterword, that the book offered an expanded version of “success” that went beyond the materialism that still seems to define American culture today. To the average American reader it feels and seems a profound book because it offers an alternative motive for life (Quality) that doesn’t feel shallow or inherited. And it can do this because it doesn’t need or want the shackles of traditional Reason that have prevented philosophy from giving such a satisfying answer to the question of Life.
This satisfaction is why my feelings are so conflicted. The abstract Quality of Pirsig feels right, especially when the vast majority of Western analogues are of materialism. But is it right, or am I doing the same thing that Pirsig does with ZAMM, and arranging my facts to make it feel right? Does ZAMM feel satisfying because I’m an American, burned out on materialism, aching for some other analogue to fill the void? These are questions that can’t be answered, and certainly can’t be addressed by the book. And herein lies the ultimate problem with a philosophical book that alternatively rejects Reason and simultaneously tries to appeal to it: there is no resolution. It may feel right, but ultimately that’s all you have with this book: a feeling. And maybe that’s enough.
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The claims that he is arrogant and superior do not hold up either. We all treat others badly at times and well at other times, and the so called arrogance people accuse Pirsig of is nothing of the sort. He is simply honest enough not to pretend he is always a good person. More honesty like this from the holier than thou critics would be welcome, instead of displaying even more arrogant dismissal than they accuse Pirsig of.
Forget the details of the journey itself. It's not about that. This is one man's story about how he tried desperately to understand what led him to lose his mind in the first place, all those years ago, reasoning that if he cannot work out how he lost his mind he cannot prevent it happening again. I cannot find any fault with that since it is only by understanding past mistakes that we can fix them, or not make them again.
This process is hampered by the lasting effects of the disgusting shock treatment he was forced to undergo, which has left gaps in his memory, damaged his mind and personality and now, thankfully, has been outlawed as the barbaric butchery it really is.
It's also about his attempts to rediscover his relationship with his son and his fears for his future, since he has missed his son growing up due to his incarceration in a mental institution, where he was faced with people who would rather burn out his brain than be of any real help to him.
For anyone, including myself, who has not been through this reprehensible process, they are not really in a position to criticise his thinking. The negative reviews seem to forget that he went through this terrible treatment, which they have not been through, and fail to take into account that the fact he can think at all after such a horror is an achievement, let alone to the depth in this book, and treat his views as if they came from an able bodied person with a sound mind.
If I, or anyone else, had ever been through such an ordeal I doubt if they would always be good to others either. His criticisms of his friends come from the realisation that details matter, and failing to pay attention to them can lead you to make mistakes, something he does not want others to do as he knows how painful the consequences of doing so can be. At no time does he come across as all knowing or smug in his opinions, and where he treats others badly he is honest enough to say so - as a warning to others, not as an attempt to say he is better than them. If he did not care about his friends he would not care about the mistakes they are making, but he does care. Deeply.
Far from being arrogant and superior, what really comes through is Pirsig's genuine fear of losing his mind again, the terror of a second bout of insanity. It's a palpable fear that anyone who has never had doubts about themselves simply cannot comprehend, and it is heartbreaking to read the story of someone that the system has not only failed but actively tried to silence in his hour of need. The mind is the most precious possession we have. If we lose that, we lose everything, none of our other possessions or achievements mean a thing. Not one damn thing.
Far from being pompous, it comes across as a desperate attempt to keep his sanity by someone who is absolutely terrified of the alternative. Does a man who lives in permanent fear of losing his mind again really come across as arrogant and superior? Would they be so desperate to avoid previous pitfalls as he is? Really? Think about that for a moment. Wouldn't someone who genuinely thought themselves to be superior think their mind was just fine? People like that never think they are wrong, yet Pirsig questions himself every step of the way. Pride comes before a fall, and that's the message here. Whether you agree with my conclusions or not don't make the same mistakes I did, that is what he is saying. Enthusiasm for a subject and the desire to study it is a good thing, but not when it leads to obsession and mental illness.
As for those who have criticised it for not being about Zen or Motorcycle Maintenance - oh dear - he explicitly says it isn't at the start of the book, so criticising something for being what it explicitly says it is not is just stupid. It's like criticising Football because it's not about Tennis. It's just a title. Lots of books have titles which have little to do with their content, or have only the most tenuous connection to it, so why pick on this one? It's exactly the kind of lazy thinking the book tries to discourage, clearly lost on such "critics", whose lazy putting down of this book would not pass muster as a grade school philosophy essay.
Similarly, those who criticise him for being wrong about Plato, Buddhism or anything else are missing the point. Philosophy by its nature is qualitative and subjective, so it's all about opinion and discussion of different ideas, even those one does not agree with, as opposed to merely rejecting out of hand anything you don't like the sound of. It's about consideration of the things we take for granted, which everyone could benefit from doing more of. Most of the criticisms I have ever seen are from people quibbling over semantics, without any real substance to them. For me, if he makes any mistakes at all, it is by trying to quantify what is by its very nature qualitative. It's like trying to get a definitive definition of "what is art". It will always be different things to different people, that's the point. Yet somewhere in all of that we all have our own ideas about what quality is, and this is what he investigates.
So he thrashes out a system for thinking that works for him. It may not work for you or me, and that's fine too. It's what philosophy is about, not criticising any particular idea, but using it to develop ideas of your own.
It's not about whether you agree with him or not. It's not about whether his personal philosophy agrees with yours or not. It's a testament to the fact that someone who has been treated so shabbily by the so called mental health authorities has anything left to think with, after what they did to him. Pirsig comes up with a way of reconciling his past with his present and his future, and shares that with the rest of us. If it helps others, great. If it doesn't, ok. Nobody is forced to read it and even if they are, they are not forced to accept it. They are merely asked to understand it.
Open your mind when you read this and accept that it is not compulsory for the rest of the world to share his opinion, or yours. This is a story of how one man struggled to get over himself and his obsessions. A lesson his critics, and indeed many of us, have yet to learn.
Recommended to anyone who does not treat their own thoughts as any kind of ultimate truth.
Each reader will bring something of themself to the book, and so the quality of this experience will be influenced both by the book and also by the reader. When you look at it like this, it is obvious that how much you like this book will depend on yourself as much as on the book itself. However, since people's reactions to it seem generally to tend towards the extremes, it seems probable that you too will either have a great, or a terrible experience.
In order to help you make an informed judgement on this, a few observations, in which I will attempt to approach as near to objectivity as possible:
- It is not a 'hippy bible', as one earlier contributer suggested. It is a book about philosophy which blends discussions about the nature of peoples interactions with the world around them with a story of a road trip taken by a father and son.
- It is entirely rational. There's no new-age mysticism, no real discussion of sprituality - rather a critique on how you look at things and interact with them.
- It is fairly intellectual, but necessarily so. The author has a very clear, conversational style of writing, and the ideas he attempts to express are not difficult, but nonetheless the reader is required to think during the reading process.
I suggest that you read this book. It has certainly influenced my thinking on the world, probably more than any other single book I've read. However, if you really hate it as much as the contributor 'blowski', I certainly would suggest that you stop reading before you get two thirds of the way through. No point in getting as mad as he did about it.


























