Read the Damn Book

In How to Read a Book Mortimer Adler says, “You must be able to to say, with reasonable certainty, ‘I understand,’ before you can say any one of the following things: ‘I agree,’ or ‘I disagree,’ or ‘I suspend judgment.’ This is his Rule #9.

I’ve said before how Adler influenced me. His book How to Think About God was the first I encountered in natural theology. Years earlier I read How to Read a Book, which set me straight in philosophical pursuit: taught me how to take seriously different viewpoints and suspend criticism until I had completed my homework — that is, until I had read the damn book.

Finally, Adler taught me — not just the importance of being a Philosophical Generalist — but how impressive they were. I wanted to be like him — great thinker, great writer. The dude, as the Backstreet Boys would say, had got it goin’ on. For years.

Often people write me with dismissive attitudes toward thinkers without having engaged them, without having read the damn book. This comes from all directions. “I know Descartes was wrong, but…” Or, “I know Nietzsche was correct, but…” But how do you KNOW that? Have you read the damn book (or essay, etc) or you are just parroting talking heads, like me?

I loved Descartes, and find myself apologizing for him not infrequently among my philosophical brethren. Obviously, Descartes got things wrong (which says nothing; everybody gets things wrong); what matters is I was enriched by engaging his material. By having read the damn book. In fact, few others philosophical works cased me to stair at the ceiling and stew into the late hours of the night as much as Descartes’ Meditations. Had I dismissed Descartes because thinkers I respected bemoaned the philosophical train wreck he (allegedly) caused, some of my own best thinking would never have developed. Descartes made me wrestle with important ideas.

Descartes, for example, inspired me to see if foundationalism could be secured — that is, to check for myself. It has, of course, become mainstream to say foundationalism has failed — sometimes utterly — though there remain defenders of foundationalism who are not easily dismissed (and you should read their damn books, as well). I remember writing several long, lugubrious essays on radical skepticism, pulling resources from Descartes to see if one could hoist themselves out of these epistemologically-nightmarish scenarios. I doubt I ever succeeded but I know I became a better philosopher in trying. Thanks be to Descartes.

Another example: Spending time with Nietzsche caused me to think deeply about the nature of debunking arguments: that is, what damage plausible genetic or genealogical explanations do to the justification of one’s belief. Again, I disagree with Nietzsche on major issues: his skepticism, his account of Christianity, etc. Nevertheless, he is my frenemy, and there is value in reading him. For example, his Genealogy (almost perfectly) predicts woke-ism. Because ressentiment is a real thing. And it’s happening now.

I know this because I read his damn book.

Looking through the history of philosophy I do not think there is any major thinker I would say is somebody someone could skip. Except John Locke.

Obviously, I kid. John Locke is worth reading, especially for those interested in political philosophy and the influence his ideas had down through history, including America’s founding. Don’t let my humor taint your engagement: maintain as much open-mindedness as you can manage.

Read the damn book.