At the Existentialist Café MP3 CD – Unabridged, October 25, 2016

A beautiful, extremely pleasurable and invigorating read. The best I've read in a long time. It brought back the 'heady' exhilarating times when I first encountered existentialism as an 18 year old freshmen in college in 1970. It was my first encounter with existentialism. But initially not through the philosophical works themselves but through a course in 20th century literature: Sartre, Hesse, Camus, Malraux, de Beauvoir. It was eye-opening for an 18 year old who grew up in what was still a "1950's" suburban life. I was then so fortunate to take small seminars (6 - 8 students) on "Nietzsche", "Being and Time", and "The Later Heidegger" with professors such as Joseph P. Fell ("Emotion in the Theory of Sartre" and "Heidegger and Sartre") and Ernest Keen ("Three Faces of Being: Toward An Existential Clinical Psychology" and " A Primer in Phenomenological Psychology" and "Ultimacy and Triviality In Psychotherapy") . I will always be grateful for what they taught me to see and question.I didn't know of Sarah Blakewell until this book. I don't where she might have been "hiding" but she is a tremendously gifted writer and extremely well-read scholar. I have never seen such complex concepts translated into such accessible explanations. More than that, she is able to poetically convey the mood of the times and the ambience of the existential café - its life, its commitment and its energy. As she herself said, after 30 years of being enthralled with the "ideas", it was the lives that mattered and were most interesting. No, I wasn't there, but she makes you feel as if you had been. Nothing in my ongoing reading of existentialism and phenomenology has touched me as this has. There is so much I lost to the "herd" mentality over the years as a hospital; social worker in constant conflict with ridiculous government regulations, insurance companies' greediness and a mentality regarding technology (specifically computerized records) that dictate that physicians and nurses spend more time at their computers than with patients (Heidegger was right:: the essence of technology is not technology at all but how we relate to the world, the Earth and each other).In conclusion, I hope this has not been too rambling a review. But Bakewell's book has invigorated me to reassess what I do every day, how I do it and why I do it. It is by far the best read, and most motivating read, I've had in years. I recommend it most highly, especially to those like me, who lived through the tumultuous '60's and were inspired by a philosophy of freedom and engagement. May this book bring us back to those heady days of freedom and future that we thought we were destined to have - but unfortunately thought could be achieved without the sacrifice and commitment necessary. And maybe, to some, whose lives are governed by their "life" on the technology of FaceBook, Twitter etc, may they come to understand that technology is not the essence of life, of Being, or anything else. There is no "authenticity" in Facebook....it is a technological "bad faith"I didn't know who Sarah Blakewell was until this but she is marvelously informed and extremely well-read.

There is a witticism by Steven Wright, you have probably heard it, which goes "I have an existential map. It has ‘You are here’ written all over it."This bit of wit is much admired. It is quoted endlessly on the internet, it has been printed on tee shirts. But when I heard this joke for the first time, years ago, I could only say to myself “I don’t get it.”It is not that I find Steven Wright impenetrable. When he said “I tried some spot remover on my dog, and now he’s gone,” I got that one right off. But the existential map thing went right by me.It seemed obvious that this was due to the fact that I knew next to nothing about existentialism. My knowledge of this philosophy was limited to a smidgeon of Kierkegaard and half a teaspoon of Sartre.Perhaps, I thought, I should read a book. But not “Being and Nothingness.” I was not, after all, in pursuit of a complete understanding of existentialism. If I were ever to make a claim to such a thing, a legion of (possibly French) philosophy majors would spring up out of the earth and assure me in no uncertain terms that I am delusional and should stop parading my ignorance. And I have it from D. J. Soccio, author of “Archetypes of Wisdom,” that “too many people talk about existentialism as if it were a clearly defined school of philosophy. It is not.”In “At the Existentialist Café,” author Sarah Bakewell does offer her own, personal, definition of existentialism, but does so from a sort of hunkered down position, perhaps anticipating a human wave assault by French philosophy majors.My goal in reading Ms. Bakewell’s book was modest. I just wanted to learn enough about existentialism to get Steven Wright’s joke. To this day people will, from time to time, repeat this quip to me, and then laugh in a prompting, “ain’t that a beaut?” fashion. I have always valued my honor too highly to even pretend to smile in reply. In particular, I remember one young lady who repeated the lines to me so charmingly, so beautifully, and then looked at me in anticipation, the moment seeming to suggest that if we could share an appreciation of this one thing, then perhaps we could share other things. What she got from me in response was a look that was probably a good match for the face on a “Have a Day” button. I suppose our budding relationship died in that moment. It was to this lady (I have long since forgotten her name) that I dedicated my reading of “At the Existentialist Café.”The book started off quite well. At a bar in Paris in 1932 we meet elegant, brilliant Simone de Beauvoir and dwarfish, wall-eyed, hunchbacked (well, actually just “round shouldered”), dumpy Jean-Paul Sartre. Beauvoir had taken up with Sartre after a flirtation with Maurice Merleau-Ponty, who, while a wonderful person, was just too contently bourgeois: “Oh, how untormented he was! His tranquility offended me.”I do most of my reading in bed, before I fall asleep at night, or after waking up, as I frequently do, long before I actually need to get out of bed. This later reading time is good for judging a book. If a book is good it will make it difficult to get out of bed. Reading the opening of “At the Existentialist Café” made me want to stay in bed, and in Paris, and forget about my own day’s existential challenges. But then a dark cloud appeared. Sarah Bakewell began talking about how existentialism is now passé, and has been subjected to severe criticism by adherents of other philosophies (if you can imagine such a thing). What did this mean for my quest? What if Steven Wright’s immortal lines referenced not existentialism per se, but a critique of existentialism by, say, a deconstructionalist? Would I now have to read a book on deconstuctionalism? As if.Bakewell introduces the reader to the Phenomenology of Husserl, that sent Sartre rushing to Berlin to learn more, and the “Dasein” of small, beady-eyed philosopher and Nazi Party member Martin Heidegger. These become major parts of the foundation of Sartre’s existentialism.Sartre does mescaline, has a very bad trip, and writes his novel “Nausea,” which makes him famous. WW II comes, Sartre lands in German POW camp, gets out, returns to now occupied Paris, where, Simone de Beauvoir at his side, he writes his magnum opus, “Being and Nothingness.” He writes some of it, anyway, he never does finish it. Apparently this is okay. Philosophy majors seem to be quite forgiving about this sort of thing. They are probably familiar with what it is like to lose a train of thought. Sartre and Beauvoir meet and bond with Albert Camus and Jean Genet.At the war’s end, Sartre exhorts his readers “to decide what kind of world they want, and make it happen.” The Church puts all of his works on its Index of Prohibited Books. Simone de Beauvoir’s “The Second Sex” also makes the Index. Marxists decide that existentialism needs crushing. “Such attacks only enhanced existentialism’s appeal for the young and rebellious.”Sartre gets hooked on amphetamines, scribbles incessantly, becomes an apologist for Soviet communism, loses all his friends, supports independence for Algeria, which gets his apartment bombed. He is troubled by the Soviet invasions of Hungary and Czechoslovakia, but praises Mao and Pol Pot. Sartre’s old schoolmate Raymond Aron damns him for being “merciless towards the failings of the democracies but ready to tolerate the worst crimes as long as they are committed in the names of the proper doctrines.”Sarah Bakewell theorizes that the aging, drugged-up Sartre pushed himself past his limits in his attempts to harmonize existentialism with totalitarian communism, as the two are inherently incompatible. Sartre felt that the condition of the wretched of the earth required this struggle on his part.Students of existentialism, “sick of pretending,” seek to uncover and express their authentic selves, and want the freedom to do so, despite any expectations that society may have for them. They reject what self-proclaimed existentialist Norman Mailer called “a slow death by conformity, with every creative and rebellious instinct stifled.” 1955’s “The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit” becomes the existentialist novel of the day. Existentialism feeds feminism, gay rights, anti-racist and anti-colonial struggles.The disparate and bitterly quarreling existentialist philosophers were united by, at least, “the ability to put experience into words and the fierce desire to do so – to the limits of human ability.”Sarah Bakewell concludes “existentialist ideas and attitudes have imbedded themselves so deeply into modern culture that we hardly think of them as existentialist at all.”And I did, finally, get Wright.

Pithy takes on some key philosophers of existentialism, for example, a good section on Heidegger. Some of the history on such figures as Sartre somewhat less interesting but informative. As a whole, this was a worthwhile read. Recommended for those curious about existentialism.M T Philipps, author of ‘Keeping Calm’

To me as a psychologist, this book is the most graspable book about philosophical subject I have ever read . Making the subject personable by being biographical , is, in my opinion, sheer genius . I find philosophy to be overly abstract. Bringing Sartre & Beauvoir to life added a layer of depth & understanding that was enriching & enhancing . I highly recommend this book.