Book Review: The Philosopher at the End of the Universe

Here is a book that on first impressions one might set aside as being of little intellectual value. There are a number of initial signs that might lead to this conclusion, perhaps the double-spaced big print pages with jazzy chapter headings such as 'Killer Cyborgs; a DIY guide' or 'Aliens r us' or perhaps the author ranking alongside Arnold Schwarzenegger alongside Wittgenstein, Freid and Popper as one of Austria's philosophical giants, or maybe the opening sentence announcing its hope to offend you. Were you to be deterred by one such signal, and write this book off as superficial pop, you would be making a grave error; Rowlands clearly states, 'For all its lack of sobriety this is a philosophy book', and he is far from wrong. This book is an incisive, wide-ranging and profound introduction to the majority of the Western world's most difficult 'bad-assed' philosophical quandaries. What's more it achieves this via the novel route of science fiction movies, which it uses eloquently to clarify a wide range of ideas.

Giving someone an insight into the concept of true Cartesian scepticism is going to require at lengthy explanation at best, and even then all but the most astute or informed listeners are only going to have an understanding of the philosophy, and probably little insight into the magnitude and relevance of the issue for everyday life. However, sit someone down in front of the Wachowski brothers' 1999 movie 'The Matrix', and, presuming they pay some attention, they'll soon being ooh'ing and aah'ing over the possibility and consequences of the total deception of the senses. This is the crux of Rowlands' book, that sci-fi films, (or sci-phi films as Rowlands would have it) create perfect analogies of philosophical problems, and that these often serve us far better than any amount of theory and/or explanation. Throughout the book he cites science fiction movies that instantly give one an understanding of an issue. Most notably is Arnold Schwarzenegger's 'Total Recall' which offers up a crystal clear statement on the problem of identity strewn through apparently 'mindless' violence and clunky acting. The book is so successful in using films to translate philosophy that one is left wondering, especially if one, such as I, has already slogged their way through a first degree in the subject, why these films are not made essential reference material for students of metaphysics.

Not every chapter is equally stunning. From the middle of the book and onwards towards the end the book starts to lose a little of its jaw-dropping concision; one starts to get the feeling that in certain chapters Rowlands is crow-baring the film into the idea, or the idea into the film. This is particularly so with his use of Darth Vader to explore the idea of tangible and absolute evil; semi-aware fans of the films might well be left wondering if Rowlands actually watched the last movie, in which Vader shows us that his planet-destroying mania was the effects of his parenting. Not surprisingly with this omission he does not address the implications of developmental determinism in Vader's early life.

Rowlands writes the book in what would appear to be a deliberately crass style. One is left with the feeling that he is trying to upset those that might scoff at the very idea of using what might be considered lowbrow to convey highbrow. At times he is openly derogatory about what he considers to be intellectual snobbery. This crass language succeeds in conveying the point, however, as his definition of faticity shows: 'You are an ugly geek, with a laughably small penis and an IQ of 73, too bad mate, it's your facticity.'

There are definitely those people that would turn their nose up at this book, and it is probably best if their noses stay skyward. Much as I feel that this book is an excellent explanation of many philosophical ideas, Rowland's style is designed to do little other for these people than repulse them.

Without a doubt there is a generation that this book is best suited for; If you are a lover of action flics such as Terminator, Aliens or Blade Runner then this book will transport the metaphysics from abstraction to comprehension faster than a hyperspace jump. For those who do not enjoy these films, or who have not and will not see them, then the cinematic angle will perhaps even serve to impede their understanding.

Regrettably this book appears to be crying out for a chapter on the givens of existence that is just not there; without a doubt there is a science-fiction film out there that brilliantly places existentialism within the nutshell, but it is not mentioned. However several key elements of the existential arsenal are touched upon. Perhaps the best of all these is the exploration of facticity through the film Frankenstein. This rather superb chapter compares the birth of Frankenstein with our own sense of being thrown into the world, and looks with considerable depth at the absurdity of our own sense of speciousness in relation to the irrelevance of our lives. Indeed, absurdity is something that is explored wunderfully by the book as a whole.

The one thing that this book does not seek to do is answer any questions, it simply states the argument, and as such manages to bypass the endless contradictory dribble that is the fate of most texts that claim to have a definitive conclusion. At times Rowlands seems a little too dedicated to promoting the hopelessness of a philosophical quandary, and when reading such portions of the book it is worth reminding yourself that at the outset, Rowlands stated that he fully intends to 'offend' people with the ideas presented in this book, and that a solution is exactly what he is not looking for.

This book will prove something of a minefield for any therapist that has foolishly begun to feel at home or comfortable with the philosophical building blocks of his practice, and it is because of this that any such practitioner should be prepared to accept the challenges that this book lays down. Certain chapters of the book take metaphysical assumptions that are intrinsic to the existential viewpoint, exposes them and then tears the ground out from under them before leaving them out in the cold without a strand of logic to cling to. Most notably is the concept of freedom, an idea that existentialism cannot breathe without, which Rowlands, as always with the help of many a philosopher before him, uproots and categorically proves to be an impossibility through the film Minority Report. Another example is his discussion of Total Recall, which proves that existential concept of a 'lack of self' in fact relies upon far more of a sense of self than one might previously have realised.

Every practising therapist should be prepared to leap into the rabbit warren of problems that this book throws up; the alternative is to 'take the blue pill', and operate on a level where authenticity, and thereby insight, rarely strays. That is not to say that the assumptions made by existentialism are not good ones, but that they are assumptions, and there is perhaps not a soul that could give evidence otherwise. Only from understanding this absurdity can one dodge the bullets of complacency and close-mindedness. One can almost hear Laurence Fishburn's voice in the existentialist training ground of The Matrix saying: 'you think that's a choice you're making?'

As an introduction to metaphysics to anyone that even remotely likes their science-fiction this book is beyond perfect, and for anyone that has a vague interest in films and moves in philosophical circles then this book will serve as an excellent clarifier and will doubtless bring new and startling angles on topics about which one may well have become complacent.

All in all the book is witty and to the point, the only downside being that sometimes you feel like you are being pestered by a bee that the author has in his bonnet concerning academia that you probably care little for.

Ciaran o'Connor