| Title | : | The Art of Solitude |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0300250932 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780300250930 |
| Format Type | : | Hardcover |
| Number of Pages | : | 200 |
| Publication | : | Published February 18, 2020 |
This beautiful literary collage documents his multifaceted explorations. Spending time in remote places, appreciating and making art, practicing meditation and participating in retreats, drinking peyote and ayahuasca, and training himself to keep an open, questioning mind have all contributed to Batchelor’s ability to be simultaneously alone and at ease. Mixed in with his personal narrative are inspiring stories from solitude’s devoted practitioners, from the Buddha to Montaigne, and from Vermeer to Agnes Martin.
In a hyperconnected world that is at the same time plagued by social isolation, this book shows how to enjoy the inescapable solitude that is at the heart of human life.
The Art of Solitude Reviews
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"Solitude is a fluid concept, ranging from the depths of loneliness to the saint's mystic rapture."
- Stephen Batchelor, The Art of Solitude
An interesting exploration of solitude. Lots of potential, but I'm not sure Batchelor's experiment (the collaged structure) worked well, so minus one star. Also, a large chunk of this small book is imported from Montaigne, so I'm not sure how much of this is more than an extended greatest hits collected by Batchelor on the topic of solitude. Integrated into his sections on Montaigne, Vermeer, and the Buddha, Batchelor inserts his experiences with solitude, peyote, Ayahuasca, and other hallucinogenics. Those sections seem to capture my entire experience with the book: a bit of insight, accompanied by sweats, nausea, and the need for ginger candy to get the bad taste out of my mouth. OK. Maybe it isn't that bad. It just wasn't that great either.
Reading this makes the experience seem entirely too negative. I wasn't unhappy to re-read a lot of Montaigne. The guy is my JAM. Also, the chapters on Vermeer were pretty damn good too. -
As the single star indicates, this one didn’t work for me. I didn’t like the literary collage format; have read Montaigne so didn’t need Batchelor’s extensive quoting of him and, most especially, I did not agree with his thesis that people use addictions of various kinds (he tosses in everything from sugar to the heaviest narcotic) to ‘manage’ solitude.
I don’t think that solitude needs to be ‘managed’ like it was a bitter pill to be swallowed, and I think he’s irresponsible to tout psychoactive drugs. He expresses this concern himself at one point after a friend dies from an overdose, wondering aloud if being an ‘exemplary’ Buddha and promoting abstinence would have saved his friend’s life. But the concern lasts only a moment before he swallows ayahuasca, which Batchelor refers to as medicine. Oh, please. Rationalize much? -
Este tipo de lecturas son necesarias en mí, me hacen volver a mi origen lector, aquellos momentos en que solo leía este género. Libros de crecimiento personal y divulgación también son mis favoritos dentro de la no ficción.
Elogio de la soledad me está llevando a leer El libro tibetano de la vida y la muerte, pero eso sí un capítulo por día, de esa manera puedo reflexionar y hacer el ejercicio de la introspección tan necesario por estos días pero tan olvidado. -
I can't remember the last time I picked up a book by an Englishman called Stephen. I liked SBs voice, time and willingness to step back.
My spirituality is forever asking for attention. The volume has turned down during pandemic for need, sense and an uncomfortable, tolerated safety. And so it goes
Solitude and psychedelics sound fine by me. -
Delicious. Best read one essay at a time, savoring hand pondering each facet of solitude he shares.
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The renowned Buddhist scholar Stephen Batchelor may have given up the solitary life of a monk years ago, but his latest book shows that he has never lost his enthusiasm for time spent alone. In the thirty-two brief, intimate, and insightful autobiographical sketches that comprise The Art of Solitude, he reports on a wide-ranging series of travels and encounters that he undertook in 2013, while engaged in a year-long sabbatical from his normal teaching and writing duties in observation of his sixtieth birthday. The resulting book is as much a departure from his previous books as the year he draws on for its contents was a departure from his previously routine day-to-day activities.
Four separate aspects of Batchelor’s life experiences, each with its own unique relationship to solitude, claimed his attention over the course of that year – his practice of meditation, his love of art, his admiration for the essays of Montaigne, and his youthful experimentation with psychedelic drugs. Each chapter of the book falls under one of these four distinct themes. Many of the essays dazzle; none disappoints. Readers already acquainted with Batchelor through his other writings, dharma talks, or teaching engagements will be surprised by the depths of his curiosity and comprehension in all four areas.
What may well surprise, however, is the puzzling fashion in which Batchelor has structured the book. To be properly prepared for what lies ahead, the reader needs to pay careful attention to the author’s preamble. In this introductory note, Batchelor explains how, inspired by a collection of four eight-verse poems he had recently translated from an ancient Buddhist text, he decided to follow the pattern of the poetry by writing eight chapters for each of his four themes of solitude. Thus, the four sections of eight verses each (for a total of 32 verses) in the poem he had translated would be matched by a corresponding structure of four topics of eight chapters each (for a total of 32 chapters) in the book he would write.
Then he added one further structural twist. Batchelor chose not to group his chapters by these four main topics, but instead to sequence them randomly. He would follow only one rule, that no two successive chapters could belong to the same topic. As he further explains in his preamble, he wanted to apply to his book the same “principle of noncontiguity” that he employs in his artistic pastime of constructing collages out of random discarded pieces of paper, cloth, and plastic that he happens upon in his various walks and wanderings. In his own words, “no two pieces from the same material can be adjacent to each other in the final composition, ensuring that each piece of the collage is maximally differentiated from the pieces around it. This enables every piece to stand out vividly in its own ‘solitude’ from the matrix of which it is also an integral part.”
Unfortunately, while the abstract relationship of this noncontiguity principle to the book’s unifying theme of solitude is clear, the concrete differences in perceptual and intellectual intake between a viewer’s experience of standing before a completed collage and a reader’s experience of sitting down with a book one page at a time are much too distinct to warrant Batchelor’s applying the principle alike in the two separate mediums.
For me, the “maximal differentiation” of each chapter from its immediate predecessor and its immediate successor was a bit unsettling. Perhaps I am too much of a serial processor by nature, but I required a second reading – this time sequencing the chapters according to which of the four main topics they fall under (a task made much easier by the bibliography, which is conveniently organized by those four topics). And, a task I found quite rewarding; re-reading Batchelor always is.
In spite of its structural challenges, The Art of Solitude ranks as a worthy addition to Batchelor’s growing bibliography. The insights he offers in this collection – about his deep appreciation of classic and modern art, about the subtle hints of Buddhism he finds in Montaigne’s philosophy of life, and most especially about his own practice of mindfulness meditation – are among the most personal and profound he has yet to publish. True to its title, it stands alone among his other books.
So, the question is not whether you should read The Art of Solitude, but how you should read it. Best, I think, to devise your own approach. You might read it one chapter a day, perhaps as a part of your daily meditation practice. Or, you might read it in your own random order, opening it to any particular page and then just reading the particular essay it happens to contain. Or, you might read it straight through from beginning to end, and you just might find yourself captivated by the noncontiguity that I found so disruptive.
I rather suspect that the collage-maker in Batchelor would appreciate, and approve of, such an array of random reading strategies being brought by his readers to this deliberately random collage of a book. -
Batchelor treats solitude as an aid to a quiet and still inwardness. He finds it in a collage of (in my order of interest) Montaigne, meditation, art, drugs.
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What's here is lovely and incisive, for the most part.
In the opening, Batchelor claims the book is a collage - 32 unrelated musings on what it means to practice solitude. It's an exciting concept, but the reality is that the book is structured much more conventionally than we're led to believe.
About a quarter of the unrelated musings are a series of reflections on Montaigne's life of solitude, another quarter are Batchelor's psychedelic experiences, another quarter are his Buddhist training/meditation experiences, and the final quarter are truly eccentric, drawing from historical figures and Batchelor's childhood memories to modern artists.
I was most engaged when I found the reflections to be truly unique, rather than a summary of nearly identical Montaigne writings/ayahuasca trips. Maybe I'm not engaging with the nuances of each chapter enough, but I left feeling hungry for a more interdisciplinary/imaginative exploration of the concept of solitude. -
I like Stephen Batchelor’s books, and I have read most of his more recent books, and when I saw this one in the library, I borrowed it immediately without even looking through it.
Stephen writes very well, and I particularly enjoy the autobiographical stories that he tells. This is a bit surprising to me, because I initially looked at his books because of his approach to Buddhism. In this book I was fascinated by his story of taking aychuasca – though it doesn’t sound like much fun. I was interested in the parts about Montaigne – I hadn’t looked at Montaigne before, but as a result of this book I have bought a book of his essays.
There are a lot of other bits to this quite short book –a painting by Vemeer, Stephen’s time in a monastery in Korea, a retreat with Goenka, a time as a young man meditating on his own in the hills behind Dharamsala, jhana retreats with Leigh Brashington. Not to mention his translation of four verses from the Sutta Nipata, chapter of the eights. So many different things that I tended to forget the title of the book which mentions solitude.
Writing this review made me think about just what Stephen means by solitude. He doesn’t just mean being alone, it is ‘a way of being that needs to be cultivated’.
When I have read Stephen’s books, they have often turned out to be different from what I was expecting. His book ‘Buddhism without beliefs’, has a great title, but I think the book doesn’t quite live up to the title. And I was expecting his books on secular Buddhism to give a complete system of Buddhist practice, whereas in my opinion they don’t really do that. But I think that Stephen has very interesting comments and approaches to Buddhism, and he has a distinct voice that is worth while listening to. -
Fascinating sequence of short essays which explores Buddhism and connections to hallucinogen experiments. Batchelor has been amazing places and experienced what few seekers ever have the chance to. I've been really bad about reading since the holidays and I hope this marks a turning point.
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“Listen carefully, and notice how listening is not just an opening of the mind but an opening of the heart, a vital concern or care for the world, the source of what we call compassion or love.”
Affirmed my introvertedness and kindled a love for Vermeer. -
Skemmtilegt safn af smá-esseyjum sem tengjast allar í gegnum einveruhugtakið en snerta á því frá mörgum mismunandi sjónarhornum; gegnum búddisma, ofskynjunarlyf, heimspeki, list og Montaigne svo fátt eitt sé nefnt, mæli alveg með
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My cup of tea.
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a “collage” that i read as short essays, 3.75. appreciated the philosophical explorations on solitude
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I’d prefer reading Montaigne
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I’ve written before of how certain works sometimes fail to “wow” me immediately upon reading them, but then, as I go about my days, their concepts and themes grow on me and begin to influence my worldview. I’ve also remarked on the opposite, the way in which some books immediately dazzle me but then lose their effect over time. This book was particularly exciting because it brought new life to my experience with this intellectual phenomenon through its many references to works, authors, and themes that have massively influenced my view of the world and myself—I can only imagine how it’s own contents will age over time within me (At present, I’m leaning towards its influence either sustaining or growing).
Perhaps I’m letting this catalyst heighten my present praise of this book, but I can say with a good deal of certainty that this isn’t, at the very least, entirely the case. I find it very fitting that an interdisciplinary work such as this would evoke such reflections of interiority, especially considering the fact that interiority is one of the concepts which Bachelor examines. From my reading, I found these sorts of constructions to be at least partially intentional on the author’s part. He of course didn’t write the book specifically for me, but the connection that I felt with some (not all—such as, for example, his affinity for psychedelics) of his writing suggested he was writing for people like me or people who share similar mindsets. I’ve felt this connection before, most strongly among my favorite authors, and it’s always been incredibly refreshing and invigorating.
I do have a good deal of familiarity with the works, thinkers, and themes that Bachelor draws from, which can reasonably be said to enrich my experience with the primary material itself—but can the same not be said of any work? Sure, their are certain novels that can be picked up and understood by most that understand the language in which it’s written but have no other background knowledge, but I think that far more often it is the case that our prior knowledge and experiences play the central role in our understanding of a work. I’ve found this much to be true in a unique but uniform way throughout all genres and works. Maybe this is a point that most people wouldn’t disagree with me on, or perhaps they would only take issue with my characterization or the extent to which I attribute its effects, but then again I guess that’s exactly what I was hoping that tug at through this tangent. Regardless, it feels like I’ve always been drawn to this concept and the questions that arise from it.
Hopefully that wasn’t too over the top. If it was unbearable, I offer my sincerest apologies.
Now, finally, to the book... the writing was good, not extraordinary. In other words, it was enjoyable but not really worthy of praise in its own respect. I think its lack of structure really worked in its favor and served to support its themes. Even though it lacked a formal/traditional structure, I still found the work itself to be coherent and complete. As noted above, I thought the wide array of interdisciplinary and cultural allusions were top notch, and I particularly enjoyed the bits on Montaigne, Huxley, and Emerson. “The Art of Solitude” is a strong four stars. -
There is more to solitude than just being alone. Solitude provides time and space to develop the inner calm and autonomy needed to engage effectively and creatively with the world.
The inner world of secret self consciousness, in which each of us lives a second life apart and within ourselves alone.
The sole end of solitude is for one to live more at leisure and at ease by oneself.
We have to remove ourselves from the habits of the populace that are within us.
Bringing my emotions and thoughts back to myself, restricting and restraining my desires and my anxiety, refusing to worry about external things and fleeing from servitude and obligations.
We should not become so attached to other people and possessions in such a way that our happiness depends on them. So that when the time comes to lose these things, it will be nothing new for us to be without them.
We have a soul that can turn in on itself and keep itself company.
To be truly alone requires that we settle in a still and clear state of mind no longer troubled either by obsessive thoughts or by conflicting emotions.
Study yourself in order to advance and elevate your mind.
Get rid of everything in your life that interferes with your primary inspiration and vision.
Be overwhelmed by the fact that you are here, rather than not here.
Being unable to control events, I control myself. I adjust myself to them if they do not adjust themselves to me.
Once you cross the river, you no longer need the raft. What once saved your life should not be a burden that hinders your progress.
Have the experience but don't miss the meaning.
Discover what your life is for, find your own path, find your own voice. -
I enjoyed this book. The structure is amenable to reading and contemplating, with each section typically only 3 to 5 pages. I would read several sections early each morning then take the time to turn each over in my mind. The content includes aspects of solitude from Buddhism, the author's experience ingesting ayahuasca under the guidance of several shamans, Michel de Montaigne's life and essays, and more from the author's life, distilled down and beautifully written.
The hardcover book is lovely—the design, the feel, the size (only 5.5" x 8" and 170+ pages) make it such a pleasure to read. I picked it up a couple of years ago at The Phillips Collection bookstore (trying to be supportive during the early pandemic), and it's been waiting for me to read and enjoy. If you have a philosophical bent, you might like it, too! -
The blurb for The Art of Solitude makes it clear that this is a series of essays, linked by the theme of solitude. However, the collage approach did not come over as well as it might because at times it felt disjointed, particularly when the author described his use of hallucinogenic drugs, which felt as if he were going off subject. This resulted in the essays feeling more like a difficult to grasp patchwork of concepts and discussions.
Having said that, there were moments where Stephen Batchelor’s writing really took off and held my attention. His reflection of artists Vermeer’s and Agnes Martin’s work, for example, was fascinating, making me think about the different nuances of solitude, how people responded to it and how it made itself manifest in their work.
I also found myself nodding at the discussion of how connected people appear to be through social media, yet their very interactions and their response to them might only serve to isolate them further.
The travelogue of different locations Batchelor visited with the purpose of contemplation were also interesting, with a sense of place conveyed well.
In all this is a book to dip into wherever takes your fancy and this is probably how it is best approached.
The Art of Solitude was courtesy of Yale University Press via NetGalley. -
"It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
I try not to read book descriptions or reviews before reading the book myself because I want have a pure, unadulterated response. Therefore, all I knew about the book was the title, The Art of Solitude, which is a tad misleading.
The description is accurate, "This beautiful literary collage documents his multifaceted explorations."
This book is more of a memoir, not instructional.
Taken in this light, I thought it was an enjoyable, quiet read. Batchelor's personal journey raised important questions for the reader. The collage -like arrangement of chapters works well. Instead of leading them by the nose, he gives the readers random glimpses into his experiences and personal explorations, and lets them make their own associations. -
The book appeared out of nowhere and I have read it for no particular reason, or maybe only because of one passage about solitude from Montaigne that the author quotes at the outset. It’s one of the most unusual books I’ve read, but I enjoyed it nevertheless. It has a very unique flavour, something that is hard to put into words. Maybe I liked its simplicity, its peculiar collage-like structure, modesty, unpretentiousness, open-mindedness, curiosity, scepticism, excerpts from Montaigne, sections about art… it is really hard to say. The author comes from Buddhists traditions, but this book is entirely devoid of any religious input, any moralizing, any need tos/have tos, which is quite refreshing. He doesn’t even recommend anything (not even psychedelics as some have concluded) and is in fact very sceptical and critical about everything, especially about things concerning himself. All in all, a very nice book or maybe it just came to me at the right time.
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Stephen Batchelor is one of my most important spiritual teachers--just from reading his books. This one is in many ways his most daring and insightful. In it, he masterfully interweaves meditations on Vermeer, Montaigne, the Buddha, and other artists and philosophers with autobiographical and confessional episodes about his own, rigorous training in Zen meditation and his experiments with psychodelic drugs. The conclusion he comes to hit me squarely in my heart/mind: "solitude ... is a lucid space of freedom where you can respond to the world without being flooded by reactive desires, fears, hatreds, and opinions." Apart from that, "To be able to dwell in a deeply focused, ecstatic, and clear state of mind is meaningless."
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I didn't get on with the bizarre "collage" structure of this book (chapters arranged in random order), nor with the author's experiments with psychoactive substances, he lost me when he likened to the experience of nirvana itself. Many chapters are just translations of Montaigne, with a loose connection to the notion of solitude. Disappointing and sadly self-inflated.
I received an ARC from Net Galley. -
The Art of Solitude by Stephen Batchelor is an examination of the concept of solitude. Batchelor is a British author and teacher, writing books and articles on Buddhist topics and leading meditation retreats throughout the world. He is a noted proponent of agnostic or secular Buddhism.
Solitude can mean many things. It can be physical isolation or even mental or spiritual isolation. On the physical side of isolation, we can be alone in the woods like the author describes in one of his adventures. However, how alone are we? Sounds of traffic. Vapor trails of overhead jets. Wildlife. Batchelor also goes to the extreme, and he recalls the story of Robert Kull (and a kitten) who spent a year on an uninhabited island at the tip of Patagonia. His isolation did not feel complete as he wrote in his journal; he knew others would read it, and that made a connection to others, breaking his true feeling of solitude.
Batchelor takes the reader to Mexico, Korea, and Austria to experience spiritual solitude. Two of these experiences involved drugs -- peyote and ayahuasca. In Korea, it involved cold and rain. Batchelor also references to Aldous Huxley and two others that he is fond of: French essayist Michel de Montaigne (1553-1593) and Dutch painter Johannes Vermeer (1632- 1675) probably best known for Girl with a Pearl Earring.
Solitude is a mix of Buddhism, drug experiences, stories, and a little art history. The collage effect of the chapters adds to the experience of the book. It creates a bit of a whirlwind tour in discussing art to serious Buddhism to seemingly 1960s counterculture drug experiences. The book can be opened to any chapter read. Each chapter is self-contained rather than building upon the previous chapter.
Included in Solitude is the author's translations of the Four Eights (The four eight-verse poems from the Aṭṭhakavagga of the Sutta Nipāta), which he refers to throughout the book. Tying in the arts into his experience is also appreciated and appealing as well as his personal experiences. The use of drugs in this context is a little confusing. I have no personal qualms about mind-expanding drugs, but it did not seem to fit well with the other material. In Buddhist thinking, that the use of intoxicants is counterproductive to developing an enlightened mind. Batchelor does admit to this, and he does not encourage others to use intoxicants. He does, however, defend his experiments with the explanation that during meditation, we release dopamine, norepinephrine, or serotonin into our system. Does it matter if chemicals from plants enter our body too? His question is a bit more elegant than mine but expands on the idea that it is chemicals that allow us to enter more profound meditation. I am not convinced of that thinking, and I think there is a line between spiritual tranquility and recreational peacefulness. All in all, Solitude is a fascinating read that although it shifts topics, it has something for everyone but not everything for someone. -
An interesting voyage across a diverse landscape, held together by one interest: solitude. Each short chapter stands alone and, so, can be imbibed alone, yet is of one with the whole. One could, likewise, benefit from going through the whole book in one sit.
I listened to this read by the author, and I found the reading well-done. I appreciate the author was reading his own work, not another narrator, seeming to make it feel more authentic to me.
Of concern to me is the author's use of psychedelics. Yet, a review is not a place to elaborate on the matter. The author himself admits, however, that possibly he has been too liberal on the matter. He is aware of the potential danger, also.
This book addresses solitude as an essential, natural part of life. This apartness is balanced by togetherness, and the two are mutually supportive.
I expected a more spiritual-religious tone to this treatment, especially due to the author's decades-long association with Buddhism. It was good to find solitude treated more broadly, however. This lack of differentiation, nevertheless, could be seen as a weakness of the work. For example, while a person living alone can be alone, that apartness is not the same as one who chooses or feels called to solitude as a religious path. Yet, the book intimates a non-chosen apartness can be beneficial spiritually - if not understood only as of religion - when approached in a certain way. That is, forced aloneness can become chosen as a space for transformation and a deep intimacy with oneself and the world. Hence, being alone does not necessarily entail being in solitude.
As a vowed solitary, I find this work will assist persons devoted to solitude as a religious path. Since the writer treats solitude more broadly, the book will be enjoyed by a larger audience, too. For those wanting a strictly religious treatment of the subject, this will not serve that purpose - there are many other sources for that. Yet, a spiritual purpose is implied in this more general treatment. And this work might challenge one not to overly 'spiritualize' solitude or any other spiritual practice.
For the solitary, he or she may discover that any sense of solitude as a specialized practice dissolves into the wholeness of Life when among others or apart from others - discovering one cannot be alone even when apart. Indeed, as the author addresses, the sense of being-with others in solitude can overflow into a compassionate presence among them. If one does not feel a wish to be with, love, and serve others as fruition of solitude, it is not solitude as presented in this work. -
[3.5 rounded up to 4 stars]
I enjoyed the random 'collage' way in which the chapters ran. The reader doesn't know what to expect next, therefore you can have absolutely no expectations. It's fluid, just like the concept of solitude as Stephen Batchelor begins with in the preamble.
It's a well-written work, and there's a lot of information in these pages as it is a large subject, despite the deceptiveness of the word itself, 'solitude'. It's a very brave and uniquely personal piece of writing, as another person would react differently. I enjoyed the teachings throughout the book.
The author is completely open and honest with his readership from the start, particularly when it comes to the ritual use of peyote and ayahuasca. I actually think that this can happen with other drugs of choice. I had a similar experience with an amount of alcohol where, at one point, I had universal clarity and complete affinity with Mother Earth, and with lucid thinking solved personal problems I had at that time. I can understand why the author chose these particular drug vehicles of 'flight', as they have been used in dream quests and the like by tribes for thousands of years. But also I can see the other side of the coin, should a Buddhist be experimenting with drugs? With some of the wording used in the book, I'm actually a bit confused as to whether Mr Batchelor still sees himself as a secular Buddhist or not. Time will tell.
I must thank the author profusely for opening my eyes to an artist and an author that I previously had not been aware of.
On the down side, I realise that I had an ARC ecopy, however the errors in the formatting of the words were very off-putting, and kept distracting me from concentrating on the actual content.
I chose this book from a selection at NetGalley (many thanks), then voluntarily read and honestly reviewed it. All opinions are my own. -
The author goes all over the place with this book. He even says so at the beginning so no surprises here, but still... the end result felt weird and disjointed.
First of all, I didn't like his constant use of drugs and hallucinogenics, since he is a Buddhist teacher and one of the core rules in Buddhism is to avoid intoxicants. He felt like a hypocrite. To top it all, it seems he is defending drugs and says something like "true solitude can't be experienced without the use of drugs" which I just found ludicrous.
Second of all, I though that the "Art" in the title was just a descriptive thing, but it turns out it was literal. There was a LOT of talk about artists and how they incorporate solitude in their art. I don't know why, but I just didn't really found that too interesting. Maybe because I'm not an artist myself.
Another thing that made me feel disheartened is when he says that meditation didn't really change his life that much (or something to that effect). If a renowned Buddhist teacher and former monk says that about meditation what chances does an average bloke like myself have?
All in all, it's a weird book and I'm not really sure who is the target audience for this. There isn't enough of Buddhism in this for those interested in Buddhism. The same could be said about other topics in this book: solitude, drugs and art.
The book feels a little bit like jack of all trades, master of none. I've read much better works from Batchelor. Meh. -
"Painters and writers need solitude to forge and refine the vision of their art. They pass long stretches of time alone with their work anonymous, ignored, haunted by the prospect of ridicule or failure. Solitude is a necessary condition for developing their imagination and their craft.”
--Stephen Batchelor, "The Art of Solitude: A Meditation on Being Alone With Others in This World," p. 94
Batchelor's "collage" of meditative reflections inspired by his own experiences with solitude appear, at first, to be the intentional juxtapositions of disconnected pieces he describes in his preamble: "no two pieces I cut from the same material can be adjacent to each other in the final composition..." (p. xiv). Designed in this way to take us into a/the world of reflection, the pieces featuring several recurring themes (e.g., observations about the work of Montaigne and Vermeer) eventually reveal themselves to be well-structured, well-placed pieces of a wonderfully constructed text-based tapestry accompanied by a roadmap in the bibliography at the end of this stimulating book; each section, at that point, is tagged under one of four topics--"Art and Solitude, "Contemplation," "Medicine," and "Philosophy"--giving readers an incentive to revisit those pieces through subsequent re-readings that deepen our appreciation for what the author provides. -
“Make no mistake,” writes Stephen Batchelor,“solitude is not another word for bliss.” While it may seem to strike an odd note coming from a former Buddhist monk, Batchelor offers an engaging narrative. He presents a myriad of surprising historical figures who offer their own perspectives on aloneness. From a 16th century France chateau tower to a mountain top in Mexico to the Devil’s Peak Monastery in India, Batchelor defines the vastness of how solitude is interpreted. But when he moves from research to the use of meditation aids – with often physical repercussions – he must decide how much the body can withstand in the quest for solitude.
Batchelor effortlessly weaves historical references about solitude with his personal experiences. “To be truly alone requires that we settle in a still and clear state of mind no longer troubled either by obsessive thoughts or conflicting emotions,” Batchelor writes. He proves how difficult this is to achieve. He offers the unflinching determination by so many in the past to find true solitude. Their efforts and his are reminders that while challenging, the reward for this art endures.
