Fans pick 92 books like Mortal Questions

In this book, one of the great philosophers of the first half of the 20th century sketches his take on two central philosophical tasks -- explaining what kinds of things exist in reality, and how they are related, and delineating what we can know and how we know it.  In so doing, Russell illustrates the new method of logical and linguistic analysis he used in The Philosophy of Logical Atomism (1918), to lay the foundations of an epistemological and metaphysical system rivaling the great systems of the past. A key transitional figure linking the history of the subject to contemporary concerns, he raised logic and language to central subjects of philosophical study in their own right, without losing sight of their relevance for more traditional philosophical quests.

Naming and Necessity had a profound impact on my understanding of the importance of using proper names in programming (for functions, variables, etc.). I was fascinated by Kripke’s exploration of the usage of names in our day-to-day language. His arguments challenged my thinking and introduced me to new ways of considering reference and meaning.

The clarity and rigor of his analysis pushed me to refine my reasoning skills. Despite being a challenging read, I found it incredibly rewarding.

These dialogues introduce the ideas that gave birth to western philosophy and its contributions to civilization. Providing the foundations of rational thought and theoretical knowledge in multiple domains, Greek philosophers, especially Socrates and Plato, imbued the search for truth with the urgency of both a personal, and a communal, quest for meaning. Just as the advances of Greek mathematics required concepts that are precisely defined or rigorously governed by axioms, so, the dialogues teach, advances in our knowledge of the world, and of ourselves, require well-regulated concepts like truth, knowledge, justice, virtue, and happiness. In these dialogues, we see the birth of philosophy's two great projects--providing concepts needed to advance theoretical knowledge in every domain and charting the path to wisdom in leading a good and meaningful life.

When I wrote Rationality, I mentioned Hume 32 times. He didn’t think of everything, but he explained an astonishing range of topics related to rationality, including causation versus correlation, is versus ought, and individual versus collective self-interest.

His follow-up, An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, explained why we shouldn’t believe in miracles. He explored all of these topics with clarity and wit, putting modern academic writing to shame.

This anthology is widely acknowledged to be a classic in the field.

It was first published in 1981 at which time there were few professional philosophers who took much interest in the meaning of life.

It has since been updated by Steven Cahn so as to include essays on Buddhism and Confucianism and essays on death (and the possible tedium of immortality) by Thomas Nagel, Bernard Williams, John Martin Fischer, Samuel Scheffler, Harry G. Frankfurt, and Susan Wolf.

That the question of the meaning of life is now more widely discussed by philosophers – rather than being dismissed as a meaningless question – may in some measure be due to this anthology.

After the first edition of Psychology for a Better World was published, I was on the search for a symbol or metaphor to capture the drive of so many people to contribute to the common good. It needed to be something that worked in secular settings and would resonate with the big social movements for the environment, justice, and wellbeing. I heard Carse speak about the infinite game on a podcast and immediately bought his book.

The notion is simple – in life, there are at least two kinds of games: finite games in which the object is to win, and the infinite game in which the object is to keep the game in play. That is it, I thought, life is about keeping the game in play. You don’t have to believe anything, but if you want, you can join the infinite game. Carse describes how these games play… show more.

This book vindicates my long-held view that biological objects do not act in isolation but interact with other things to make a living whole. It confirms my opinion that genes are not the master controllers of living things.

Furthermore, it showed me that systems occur at different physical scales (molecules, cells, organs, organisms, populations), that the systems at these scales influence each other, and that no scale is dominant. To understand biological/medical phenomena, including human consciousness, one must look at the (multi-scale) systems, not their individual components, in isolation. 

Finally, I found it a lot of fun to read because it uses hypothetical stories to illustrate points. For example, silicon-based aliens visit Earth but fail to understand why certain things and people behave the way that they do.

I admire this lovely book for making a scientific concept both clear and inspiring to young readers. 

Many explains that we are surrounded all the time by many thousands of kinds of living things. Each one depends on others in a big, beautiful, complicated pattern—a pattern that also makes the world suitable for us. But in too many places we humans are breaking that pattern, and animals and plants are going extinct... Repeated readings will reveal new animals and plants in the colorful illustrations teeming with living things both familiar and exotic.

In this book, David Benatar defends a strong version of antinatalism – the view that it is morally wrong to procreate – and David Wasserman attempts to defend the moral permissibility of procreation.

Like most people, I originally found antinatalism deeply counterintuitive when I first encountered it, but some of Benatar’s arguments are hard to refute. I consider many of Wasserman’s responses reasonable, but as his exchange with Benatar progresses, the caveats and limits on permissible procreation become harder to ignore.

Even if antinatalism is false, this debate left me with the impression that the moral standards for procreation are much stricter than most believe. 

I often joke that Marcus Aurelius is my brother from another mother. Sure, he was a Roman emperor who, if he’d lived, would be 1,900 years old this year, but the things he wrote in Meditations — his book on Stoic philosophy written for himself between 170 and 180 CE — are perfectly on point. I feel like he’s writing from inside my head, struggling with the same challenges I do. Of course, Aurelius is not so much like me as much as he’s like every human on the planet; he just happened to think and express himself in a direct, accessible way. His “epithets” – guiding principles for how he lived his life – inspired me to come up with my own epithets. Maybe they’ll do the same for you.