Books like The Courage to Be

We humans, for all our accomplishments in science, art, engineering, architecture, and literature, are haunted psychologically by the stark awareness of the reality that we all die. The various individual, group, and collective unconscious ways of trying to deny the reality of death are legion.

Becker stunned me with the way he organized a penetrating discussion of how many domains the effort to deny the reality of death enters. In the process of exploring these roads of travel to deny death, I found myself searching my own efforts to get meaning in my own life and try to prepare for my death.

This book is full of stories, using case studies that include the lives of Walt Whitman, Saint Augustine, and Russian writer Leo Tolstoy—that I found fascinating. Here psychologist William James challenges what he—and I—were both taught: namely, that religions are primarily childish fantasies (the view of Sigmund Freud, founder of psychoanalysis, in The Future of an Illusion). But after James, as a young man, experienced a terrifying depression, he describes his surprise at what felt to him like a spiritual breakthrough that enabled him to recover. James skips questions about dogma and belief, instead identifies a range of different “varieties of religious experience” that, far more than “belief,” can give rise to spiritual insight. 

I first read this book in 1987, when I was a fourth-year medical student. This is the book that really sparked my interest in psychiatry.

It opened my eyes to the possibility that even those in the most disturbed state of mind experience meaningful and understandable human dilemmas. It’s as fresh and relevant today as it was when it was first published six decades ago. A deeply humane text that humanizes the most disenfranchised and lost of our human family.

I love the absolutely authentic atmosphere of this book – the clothes, the music, the booze -- and the exploration of the dark side of the 1920s.

I find some of the characters sympathetic, some repellent, and some impossible to understand, just as in real life. Regardless, I feel that I really get to know them by the end of the book, even if I still don’t understand them. I can’t help but make comparisons with that time period and now, a century later. So much has changed, yet so much remains the same.

I’ll be honest that it can be a depressing read, so I have to be in the right mood for it, but when I am, nothing else will satisfy.

I stumbled upon this one because Trump had it on his desk—go figure. Tillich, a Christian philosopher, explains how fear and anxiety drive people to irrationality. It’s wild because the very ideas he discusses were twisted for Trump’s campaign.

But Tillich’s insights on how fear pushes us to lose our mind—and how to stay courageous when the world seems to have lost its grip—are pure gold. This book is as relevant as ever.

I’ve read a lot of biographies of Simone de Beauvoir.

But this is the one that best brought out her importance as a philosopher, the many ways in which her thought differed from Sartre’s and the ways in which this has been obscured by a posterity that just wants to see her as his sidekick.

One thing that this book did for me that others on Beauvoir didn’t was to reconcile me with the unpleasant aspects of her life and relationships – she was human, she was flawed, but so were her male peers! 

It’s not enough to know that Godot is a modern classic blah-blah-blah. I found that learning why was a crash course in creativity.

This play taught me so many profound lessons/strategies: Inaction is action; you cannot be inactive unless you have an active motivation; silence is brimming with sound; you can write a great play, and your characters can be anything but great; you can make a great philosophical statement through the most mundane of scenes.

Greatness comes with the overall synthesis of all the elements of the theatrical art – dialogue, story, stage, costume, etc. “Godot” is the most incredible name/metaphor. Can be anything, can be nothing.

I directed this play twice, and am still learning from it. I bow down to you, Samuel Beckett.

Christoph Koch, a physicist-turned-neuroscientist, is a colorful character. I’ve spoken with him and heard him speak many times, and he never fails to entertain. Here he explains the neuroscience and philosophy of consciousness, arguing that someday it will all be explained (which I don’t personally believe), while giving a personal take on why the topic interests him and how he got to where he is. For a long time, the C-word was to be avoided in science, but his mentor Francis Crick (co-discoverer of DNA’s structure) helped bring it into the mainstream.

Sartre was not a good philosopher in the classical sense. He wasn’t great at constructing arguments. But what he was unquestionably great at was intuitions. He had them, and they were usually spot on, and as a result he was right about most things. In this large book, we find a sustained development of a single brilliant, intuition: anything you are aware of is not you. You are the awareness rather than anything you are aware of. You are nothingness. One implication of this helped me get through the second half of my first marathon. Experiential unpleasantness is a motive to stop, but not part of me, and it is up to me how I interpret it. My motives can never compel me. I am in this sense free.

Embracing the absurdist nature of this work (which is, of course, a play vs. a novel) is key to both understanding and enjoying it. I personally love how the story holds a mirror up to one of the central themes in Hamlet. The moral question of “should he act?” is replaced by the more existential question: are they (R & G) even capable of acting? Is control of one’s life even an option? 

The destiny vs. free will debate rings strong throughout, resonating with anyone like me who often wonders if outside forces are in charge. With wit and charm, this story can have you contemplating those aspects of your life in which you are more pawn than you’d like to be.