Navel-gazing, or the art of self-reflection, hit its high point on the Internet around the turn of the century. Then, every third blog you came across was an exploration of an individual’s daily habits and thoughts. Letting strangers have a glimpse of their lives didn’t bother the authors, because either they wanted the attention or they sincerely wanted to know themselves better. Both options played a role, I’m sure.
In the 16th century, Montaigne was the ultimate navel-gazer. His only aspiration was to learn how to live, the proper way to conduct one’s life. He set out to discover this by writing essays, pieces that are about one subject but would meander or jump to another thought. His goal wasn’t order, but to present life as it is so that he (and the reader) could learn from it. Many readers claim that when they read Montaigne, they feel that he’s writing about them on a personal level. It’s because he was honest with himself, and that we’re all connected, we all feel the same things, experience the same joys and griefs. Many, though, try to rein in their thoughts and feelings, creating a systemic narrative. That’s not life, which really can be compared to a game of Pong. Sometimes you move in a straight line, sometimes you move diagonally. A lot of the time you move back as far as you move forward, and the speed of it all is random. Montaigne knew this and embraced it.
In How to Live: Or A Life of Montaigne in One Question and Twenty Attempts at an Answer, Sarah Bakewell offers readers a portrait of a man clearly ahead of his time. Even now, Montaigne’s raw honesty would be frown upon or mocked. One only likes a mirror when it’s there to please.
Bakewell organizes the book in 20 chapters, each with such headings as “Q: How to live? Question everything” and “Q: How to live? Give up control.” Each chapter covers a period of Montaigne’s life while at the same time exploring the topic at hand. It’s a clever progression. Throughout the book, you learn a lot about French history, nobility, and philosophy, both Montaigne’s accidental attempts at it and Greek and Roman thoughts.
It’s clear that Bakewell loves Montaigne. The writing is at times energetic, humorous, and balanced, much like her subject’s essays. If you’ve never read any Montaigne, you’ll be inspired to after finishing this book. You may even be inspired to contemplate your own existence, perhaps begin a journal or create a blog. If anything, you’ll definitely think about not only how to live, but what it means to live.
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