Cats are not philosophers. However, as renowned philosopher Gray argues, they have plenty to teach us about how to live.
“Cats do not need to examine their lives because they do not doubt that life is worth living,” writes the author in this slim, striking book. “Human self-consciousness has produced the perpetual unrest that philosophy has vainly tried to cure.” Anyone who has spiraled into the depths of self-consciousness will recognize the truth in Gray’s position, even at its most forceful articulation: “Posing as a cure, philosophy is a symptom of the disorder it pretends to remedy.” Feline philosophy, such as it is, is a kind of anti-philosophy. Without the abstract fear of death, there is nothing to start them reflecting and philosophizing. Given the differences in nature between cats and humans, what can we learn from cats? In the final chapter, Gray offers “ten feline hints on how to live well” that are as likely as any philosopher’s maxims to offer value for general readers. For example: “Sleep for the joy of sleeping. Sleeping so that you can work harder when you wake up is a miserable way to live.” Sound advice, but how to put it into practice? Can we become more like cats just by deciding to be? These prescriptions, however, are not indicative of most of the book, which is curious and exploratory. Gray moves freely among writing modes, including several of the potted biographies that are common to popular works of philosophy. But he also tells stories of famous cats, dabbling in evolutionary history and showing a clear appreciation for his subject. Above all, the book is an ode to cats, and Gray gives the impression of having learned from them how to take pleasure where he finds it.
A playful philosophy encouraging us to philosophize less and play more. The paradoxes are only part of the fun.