The World as I Found It

by Bruce Duffy

THE WORLD AS I FOUND IT centers around Ludwig Wittgenstein, one of the most powerfully magnetic philosophers of our time--brilliant, tortured, mercurial, forging his own solitary path while leaving a permanent mark on all around him.

Genres: Fiction, Philosophy, Historical Fiction, Literature, Classics, Literary Fiction, Novels

576 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1987

About the author

Bruce Duffy is the author of the autobiographical novel Last Comes the Egg (1997), and the 2011 novel, Disaster Was My God, based on the life and work of the poet Arthur Rimbaud. An only child raised in a Catholic middle-class family in suburban Maryland, Duffy sees the 1962 death of his mother—essentially by medical malpractice— as what pushed him to be a writer. Duffy graduated from the University of Maryland in 1973, and has hitchhiked twice across the United States, worked construction, washed dishes, hopped freight trains with hoboes, and reported stories that have taken him to Haiti, Bosnia, and Taliban Afghanistan. Today he lives just outside Washington, D.C., works as a speechwriter, is married to a psychotherapist, and has two grown daughters and a stepson. Writing in Salon, Joyce Carol Oates named The World As I Found It as one of “five great nonfiction novels,” calling it “one of the most ambitious first novels ever published.” A former Guggenheim fellow, Duffy has won the Whiting Writers’ Award and a Lila Wallace–Reader’s Digest Award

Reviews

[Ted · Rating 5 out of 5]

If I wrote a book called The World As I Found It, I should have to include a report on my body, and should have to say which parts were subordinate to my will, and which were not, etc., this being a method of isolating the subject, or rather of showing that in an important sense there is no subject; for it alone could not be mentioned in that book.

L. Wittgenstein


The above being the epigram of the novel by Bruce Duffy, named after Wittgenstein’s suggestion. The quote is from the slim volume - Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus - which stands as the only book this towering philosopher of the twentieth century ever wrote.

At the time of Duffy's publication some readers considered his book scandalously presumptuous … If it affronted purists, however, The World As I Found It, in its very recklessness and invention and brio, enthralled readers of literature, most of whom knew little and cared less about its protagonists.
from David Leavitt’s Introduction

I was enthralled … good call, Mr. Leavitt
… and please note, those who don’t care about these philosophers, or who might even be afraid of them. If you like fiction of the highest order, if you are a connoisseur of the best of novels, then enthralled you too will almost certainly be.





Die Grosse Pappel II (Aufsteigendes Gewitter) 1903

The Great Poplar II (Thunderstorm Rising) by Gustav Klimt, which is used on the cover of the NYRB 2010 edition of Duffy’s 1987 novel, is a brilliant editorial choice, appropriate for multiple reasons.


1. THE PROTAGONISTS

The novel has three main characters, along with a swarm of others known to one or more of them – friends, lovers, spouses, family, hangers-on, followers. Names have not been changed to protect anyone, innocent or otherwise.

Bertrand Russell (1872-1970)



Russell in 1907



Russell in 1938

British philosopher, logician, mathematician, historian, writer, social critic and political activist … at various times considered himself a liberal, a socialist, and a pacifist, but admitted that he had never been any of these in any profound sense. Born into a prominent aristocratic British family.

In the early 20th century, Russell led the British "revolt against idealism". He is considered one of the founders of analytic philosophy along with his predecessor Gottlob Frege, G.E. Moore, and Wittgenstein … With A. N. Whitehead wrote Principia Mathematica, an attempt to create a logical basis for mathematics. His philosophical essay "On Denoting" has been considered a "paradigm of philosophy". His work has had a considerable influence on many branches of logic, mathematics and philosophy.

In 1950 Russell was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature "in recognition of his varied and significant writings in which he champions humanitarian ideals and freedom of thought".

(above from Wiki)



G.E. Moore (1873-1958)




George Edward Moore

English philosopher. One of the founders of the analytic tradition in philosophy. Along with Russell, led the turn away from idealism in British philosophy … became well known for his advocacy of common sense concepts, his contributions to ethics, epistemology, and metaphysics, and "his exceptional personality and moral character." Professor of Philosophy at the University of Cambridge, highly influential among (though not a member of) the Bloomsbury Group … elected a fellow of the British Academy in 1918. A member of the Cambridge Apostles, the intellectual secret society, from 1894. His most famous work is Principia Ethica (1903)

(above from Wiki)



Ludwig Wittgenstein (1889-1951)





Wittgenstein in 1947

Austrian-British philosopher, worked primarily in logic, philosophy of mathematics, philosophy of mind, philosophy of language ... 1929–1947 taught at Cambridge. During his lifetime he published only one book, the 75-page Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus (1921), one article, one book review and a children's dictionary. His manuscripts were edited and published posthumously as Philosophical Investigations in 1953; by the end of the century it was considered a modern classic … described by Bertrand Russell as "the most perfect example I have ever known of genius as traditionally conceived; passionate, profound, intense, and dominating".

Born in Vienna into one of Europe's richest families … inherited a large fortune from his father in 1913 … gave sums to poor artists, and after the first World War gave away the rest of his fortune to his siblings. Three of his brothers committed suicide ... left academia several times—served as an officer on the front line during World War I, taught school in remote Austrian villages during the 1920s, worked as a hospital porter during World War II in London, while generally avoiding mention to patients and co-workers of his academic standing and fame … described philosophy as "the only work that gives me real satisfaction."

His philosophy is often divided into an early period, exemplified by the Tractatus, and a later period, articulated in the Philosophical Investigations. The early Wittgenstein was concerned with the logical relationship between propositions and the world. The later Wittgenstein rejected many of the assumptions of the Tractatus, arguing that the meaning of words is best understood as their use within a given language-game.

Wittgenstein's influence has been felt in nearly every field of the humanities and social sciences, yet there are diverging interpretations of his thought. In the words of his friend and colleague Georg Henrik von Wright:

He was of the opinion... that his ideas were generally misunderstood and distorted even by those who professed to be his disciples. He doubted he would be better understood in the future. He once said he felt as though he was writing for people who would think in a different way, breathe a different air of life, from that of present-day men.

(above from Wiki)

I find I can't resist squeezing in one more picture.



Margarethe Stonborough-Wittgenstein painted by Gustav Klimt for her wedding portrait in 1905. (179.8x90.5 cm/71x36in.)
Ludwig's older sister, "Gretl" in the novel.


When Wittgenstein arrived in Cambridge (18 October 1911) he was 22 years old; Russell was 39, Moore was 37.

In the Cumulative Index of the MacMillan eight volume (and Supplement) Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Russell has about a hundred references, Moore about fifty, Wittgenstein about ninety.


2. THE AUTHOR

Bruce Duffy (1951-)



American author, best known for his novel The World As I Found It. In 1988 won a Whiting Writers' Award and received a Guggenheim Fellowship. Joyce Carol Oates named The World As I Found It "one of the most ambitious first novels ever published".

Duffy was born in Washington, D.C., the son of Irish-American parents, and lived his entire childhood in Garrett Park, Maryland.

(above from Wiki)


3. THE BOOK

Duffy’s narrative style

Very briefly, what I found utterly fascinating about Duffy’s writing is the way he is capable, over and over, of finding perfect words to describe exactly the emotional and psychological states that a character finds himself in, whether he is reflecting about something that has occurred; or plunging deeper into a reverie about the stage that her life, or career, or relationships with others have reached; or is engaged in an awkward conversation with another character, each of them backing and filling, desiring to project something without saying it, or fearful of revealing a different thing which is bubbling to the surface.

I hope these quotations adequately illustrate why I’m so enthusiastic about Duffy’s narrative style.

Russell, early 1900s, on his bicycle, grappling with both a failing marriage and “The present king of France”, that famous phrase so innocent sounding - but with no referent, so taxing to elucidate its meaning, or even how it could have meaning:

Grasping the handlebars, with his pipe clenched in his teeth and his legs revolving so uselessly, the logician felt upside-down. He was fairly suspended in air as he sailed over the rise, then dipped down that ditchy lane into the coming kingdom. Indeed, the Cycling Husband then saw that he was not one man but two: the one who had loved, and the one for whom the word “love” now had a sense but no apparent reference – a fraud and a fiction like the hollow king.

Russell, entering class on the first day of term:

It was important for the don to captivate – in short, to stun. Here Russell was in his element. Talking quickly and zestfully, tearing at the subject in gleeful hunks, throwing out seemingly insurmountable questions only to swat them down like flies, Russell did indeed stun, at least to judge by their wide-eyed looks as they filed out afterwards.

All except his German, that is. The German was still sitting … Russell had seen him squinting up at the ceiling, mouthing his words suspiciously, like some foreign food. At yet another point, the German had squeezed his eyes shut, wincing painfully, as if he had heard a screech beyond human frequency.

Russell’s “sublime ability to ignore certain unpleasant areas of his life” an ability “antithetical to Wittgenstein’s character:

This was not a mere difference in temperament; it was also a function of their difference in age. Unlike Wittgenstein, Russell had attained that age at which men are adept at psychically treading water, treading for days and sometimes weeks on end … At times it was hardly a dog paddle, barely keeping his head above water. And lately, Russell was so busy swimming along that he hardly noticed this new current that was slowly sweeping him out to sea. Besides, it was this fear, this heroic struggling in the foam of experience – this was the fatal discharge whereof life is created. This was what he lived for. And, blast it, he was swimming. Yes, in a pinch all Noah’s critters swim, but none tread water better than a shipwrecked, middle-aged man.

On Wittgenstein's distraught midnight visits to Russell’s rooms

Arrogance fit Wittgenstein. To Russel, even Wittgenstein’s unreasonableness seemed relatively reasonable, as if he were subject to forces under which life’s normal standards did not apply.
… faster than Russell knew, Wittgenstein was reaching that point of being his equal, or even exceeding him in pursuit of what seemed a single unbounded dream … Strangely, though, Russell found himself not caring so much. It was a gentle, natural process, not unlike falling asleep. True, he had a vague sensation of failing, but it wasn’t so much a ruined kind of failing. Rather, it was a sense of ripening and unfolding, like a stream of light dissolving into the brighter stream of day.

And finally a longer quote, showing how Duffy develops a scene and infuses it with the inner life of the protagonists. As Wittgenstein’s first year progresses, Russell becomes testy when Moore begins speaking more knowledgeably about Wittgenstein; meanwhile, Moore has a young man, Pinsett, whom Wittgenstein has become friendly with.

These little incidents, the chaff of days, piled up, and Russell continued to brood. One day, for instance, Moore remarked on his surprise that Wittgenstein was musical.

I had no idea, said Moore. Wittgenstein, I think, was rather surprised to learn that I sing … Wittgenstein said that he can whistle anything – even piano and violin parts.

Whistle? The vestigial scold and prig appeared from behind the arras, saying with evident disdain, No, never.

Russell thought he sounded impeccably neutral, if with a slight edge, but to Moore, who was now hearing things himself, the translation was, We’ve better things to do than whistle. Again, Moore sensed in Russell that unmistakable air of ownership. Always that need to remind him that Wittgenstein was his student, his future. As if Moore had designs on him! … Moore was just as alarmed about Russell’s seeming blindness to Wittgenstein’s darker current. But Moore’s chief concern now was Wittgenstein’s mounting influence on Pinsett.

Russell bridled when Moore raised his fears one wet day as they passed on the Common. Like dust, the blowing mist clung to their black gowns. Stooped under the black eave of his umbrella, his hair dripping, Moore resembled a bust of Cicero. It was hardly a place to talk, but Moore asked Russell rather suddenly if he didn’t think Wittgenstein was – well, unhappy. Moore was exceedingly cautious in how he couched it, but Russell still took it personally. For Russell, there was no distance now. Moore was implying that Russell was acting selfishly and irresponsibly, saddling Wittgenstein with his own frustrations and disappointments. The problem, Russell heard Moore saying, was not Wittgenstein but him.

Please, emphasized Moore, who could see that this was going over badly. Don’t take this wrongly. But do you think Wittgenstein is entirely stable?

Oh, no. He’s quite mad!

Hoping to combat absurdity with absurdity, Russell then said testily, Come, now. Do you think it’s all that grim? Hovering there with a queasy look, Moore wasn’t at all attuned to Russell’s lacerating attempt at satire. Well, of course I’m joking! Russell added with a flaring grin. What I mean is, you must know Wittgenstein on his terms.

Knowing he had overreacted, Russell ventured another laugh, to show his easy unconcern. But the patronizing tone that capped off his laugh only antagonized Moore, who waded in, saying, Well, all the same, I’ve wondered. Also, a student of mine, David Pinsett, mentioned some things.

What things?

Again, Moore felt that irritating proprietal tone. With a look of discomfort, he hedged. I misspoke just now – I was told in confidence. Nothing awful, you understand, but still matters of concern.

This student, asked Russell, inclining his head under his umbrella, he’s red haired? A short fellow?

That’s him … Well, said Moore, drawing up his shoulders. This can be kept between us, I think. My concern is … I’d hate to see Pinsett – shall we say, knocked off course. That’s roughly my concern –

Feeling he had made his point, Moore abruptly stopped. Unfortunately, he had said too much and not enough. All he’d done was raise Russell’s hackles.

No, Russell wasn’t giving in to this meddling. With all the focused attention of a boy pulling the wings off a fly, Russell slowly nodded, watching a bead of rain inch down Moore’s brow before he gave a frosty Good afternoon.

Fictional biography?

In his Preface to the book, Duffy writes

This is a work of fiction: it is not history, philosophy or biography, though it may seem at times to trespass on those domains. Although the book follows the basic outlines of Ludwig Wittgenstein’s life and character, it makes no attempt at a faithful or congruent portrayal, even if such were possible – or desirable for the aims of fiction.

He goes on to mention a few specific items of historic fact which he bent in his work, for example the arrival of Wittgenstein in Cambridge has been moved from 1911 to 1912, and he has given Wittgenstein two sisters rather than the three he actually had.

The Preface is brief, little more than a page, and was a compromise that Duffy made with his publisher, whose editorial board wanted him to fill the back of the book with footnotes!!

So the reader could be presented with a conundrum by this novel. What is he to believe? In fact I asked myself this question at one point, not long into the narrative. My answer was …

The reader must completely let herself go. Fall under the spell. Don’t question. Did this really happen? Did Russell really think this, did Wittgenstein really write this, did Pinsett really exist? Pinsett’s mother? It doesn’t matter. If you must believe or not believe … do what you will. Try to find the answer to each doubt that assails you.

But realize that the tale, the narrative, doesn’t care what answer you find, or want to find, or don’t care about finding. The tale just IS. Like a logical symbol, it doesn’t have a Truth Value. That realization is enough. Everything flows from that. And perhaps all that flows means nothing.

This is a fictional universe, one of an infinite number, that resemble our own, more or less. And after all, we don’t all inhabit the same universe anyway. Each of our own realities overlap others’ realities to a degree, but only to a degree. Duffy’s artistic sense has guided him to craft a novel about characters based on real people that tells us somewhat different things about those people than biography claims. But, contrary to what I just said above, his narrative does have a Truth Value – but it doesn’t apply to the real people we read about in biographies of these men. It applies instead to the characters - their emotions, hopes, fears, desires – that he has created. As Tim O’Brien said in The Things They Carried about war stories, the ones that tell us the most about war are the ones that didn’t really happen. Biographies purport to tell us the Truth – about a single individual. Duffy tells us the truth about those individuals as characters in a fictional universe.

This is one of the deepest novels I’ve ever read. To me it was almost unbearably poignant, a magnificent tale constructed from four different vantage points in space and time, each used to refract the lives of the protagonists at different stages of their lives.

And in many ways it tells, perhaps not realized by the reader as he or she reads, the story of all these years as they unfold in Europe: the terrible years of the fall from optimism of the first segment, taking place in Vienna and Cambridge just prior to the Great War; to the horrible night that descended on Europe with that slaughter; a seeming resurrection in the 20s, but with hints of the dark future ahead; and finally the blows of the Nazis, and what is still to come (but not in this novel) in the second Great War. Wittgenstein, Moore and Russell, the three of them, living, loving, losing; focusing on first the mind, then the senses, and finally memory; the process of aging, and coming to terms with time and the human condition.


and if you’re still unsure … you might want to look at the review that convinced me I wanted to read Duffy’s novel: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

[BlackOxford · Rating 4 out of 5]

Rumpelstiltskin, Hamlet, and Dionysus: The Dynamic Logic of Human Association

A psychological drama as complex and sustained as that in The World As I Found It must have a theory lest it fall apart into narrative chaos. Although there are necessarily numerous references to Freudian theory given the importance of Vienna to the central character of Ludwig Wittgenstein, I don’t think the book relies on Freud for its dynamic structure. Rather, the framework is markedly Jungian.

Although Freud had a well-developed theory of the individual personality, he had little to say about how personalities interacted. Jung, on the other hand, built his theory on a social conception of psychic health. Jung’s theory provided a much wider freedom of action for the psyche in search of what he called ‘integration.’ So, as in Freudian analysis the individual could seek to understand his own personality as a consequence of its history; or, and much more commonly, enter into relationships which ‘balance out’ one’s personal deficiencies.

This latter tactic may not be as effective in the long term as therapy in ‘adjusting’ a personality to reality. But it has the great advantage of being far less painful... and far less costly in terms of the time and money devoted to analysis. The fact that relationships are essentially temporary - absence and death are inevitable - and unstable - love and hate have their independent effects - means that one must constantly strive to recreate a sort of relational equilibrium among others who are trying to do the same. A complex task indeed.

The central figure of the book is Ludwig Wittgenstein, a personality forged in a large family with a domineering father and a collusive mother. The family also includes two ‘ghosts’ of brothers who have committed suicide before Ludwig had reached his teens, probably in revenge against paternal tyranny. Ludwig survives by developing an extremely strong and extremely abstract ‘inner life.’ In Jungian terms, he is markedly Subjective, that is, he is relatively immune from external pressure. In fact, under the tutelage of his father, he barely notices what goes on around him.

Ludwig is so extreme in his Subjectivism that he is overtly solipsistic. He seriously questions the existence of other minds. And he insists that only propositions about the world are what exists. Eventually as he matures he will moderate his enthusiasm for solipsism; but as he enters the academic world of Cambridge he is seriously close to a sort of intellectual insanity: “Witt-gen-stein, that fractious weather system of remembering and forgetting which finally consumes the life of the thing remembered.”

Ludwig has also learned through his father’s insistent bullying how to resist the forces in the world which might want to change him. By attacking the world head on he has found that he can change it before it has a chance to change him. He is an accomplished Jungian Extrovert, constantly seeking to change those around him lest they intrude on his ‘mission,’ whatever that may be.

Subjective Extroverts like Wittgenstein are awkward folk. They appear to have little sensitivity to others and are constantly imposing their will by whatever means available. In extreme cases, like that of Wittgenstein, their dogged intransigence causes others in their orbit to adapt themselves to his presence, often in ways that are not really healthy for the individuals involved but do create a sort of relational equilibrium.

So, for example, Wittgenstein’s appearance in Bertrand Russell’s life at Cambridge has a dramatic, almost immediate effect. The pair are drawn to one another because Russell is the Jungian opposite of Wittgenstein, an Objective Introvert who is relatively sensitive to his environment and habitually adapts himself to circumstances.

Because Wittgenstein is such an extreme case, he, a student, essentially forces Russell, his mentor, to move even further into his Objective Introversion, a condition noticed and responded by his colleagues at King’s College High Table: “to Russell, Wittgenstein was infallible — sibylline.” Russell even allows Wittgenstein to be the judge of his life’s work: “Despite appearances, though, Russell was slipping by with mounting difficulty. One big problem was his craving for Wittgenstein’s imprimatur, as when he asked Wittgenstein to read the proofs for the third volume of his Principia Mathematica”

Chief among these is the philosopher George Moore, Russell’s long-term collaborator. Moore is a sort of joker in the pack. He is in Jungian terms the most Centroverted of the bunch. That is, he has a reasonably wide repertoire of psychic abilities. He is at times quite sensitive to what’s going on around him; and at other times he prefers to ‘live in his head.’ And although he does attempt to change what’s going on around him in college life from time to time, he is quite capable of shutting his mouth and letting things ride.

Moore was not so much the peacemaker as the balancer of the group, the one who ensured it remained functional. As both Wittgenstein and Russell conduct their wild dance, Moore compensates for the most bizarre moves of each, shifting the centre of gravity of the group. This was the role he had always played, even in his professional life as an ethicist. “Moore admitted that it was at first a little dispiriting to realize that ethics was really a matter of brokering, in a given instance, something better than worse, and likely rather worse than good.”

Moore’s intermediate position between Wittgenstein and Russell is a precarious one however. They come to rely on him to maintain the stability of the triad no matter how extreme their behaviour becomes. Moore is the force which maintains a semblance of normality, a sort of unrecognised touchstone for the other two. He is trapped in their joint psychic drama. His prospective marriage, and consequent absence from the relationship, threatens disaster for both Wittgenstein and Russell.

This, I believe, is the basic structure of the psychodrama which Duffy has created. Any such drama is necessarily situational - the actors would all act differently when placed in different circumstances. Nevertheless Duffy has created a fiction which fits the circumstances as defined by historical documents. His book is both insightful and informative about what might be called the background of genius. His use of a quote by Wittgenstein as an epigraph seems exactly right: “I once said, perhaps rightly: The earlier culture will become a heap of rubble and finally a heap of ashes, but spirit will hover over the ashes.”

The spirit in question is, it seems to me, that evanescent but real relationship among three men: Rumpelstiltskin (Wittgenstein’s fantasy life), Hamlet (Russell’s drama with his dead father), and Dionysus (Moore’s easy-going life of both the mind and the stomach), who somehow formed a temporary but cohesive whole enabling each other’s talent as well as their complementary neuroses. Duffy’s interweaving of a fairy tale, a Shakespearean tragedy, and a Greek myth is masterful, and very, very Jungian indeed.

[Greg · Rating 4 out of 5]

There was the written book, and then there was the larger, more ambitious work, which suggested the immensity of all the written book had left out. this was the book of silence, of silence and the awed resignation before silence

Over in other corners of the goodreads world, a little fight has been going on for the past week or so that boils down to the never-ending mis-understanding between the two dominant traditions of contemporary philosophy, the analytical and continental. From my sage like, post-philosophy vantage point (I just can't be bothered to read it these days, thus I'm post-philosophy) the whole problem could be boiled down to a Wittgenstein language problem, neither side are really speaking the same language, the words might be the same but they don't mean the same thing and unfortunately they both want to call the language game they are involved in Philosophy. To push this thin analogy a little further, one could even say that Hume was the proverbial 'Wittgenstein Ladder' and that once Philosophy climbed up the Humean Ladder the old ladder was kicked out from underneath the whole enterprise and each side continued on after getting off the ladder at different rungs that lead to different places. This is a weak analogy. I've railed against the whole general idea of Wittgenstein's language game theory in some other review, but here I think it is kind apt, weakly, but apt. The two sides split and took on their own interests and created their own traditions and each fall under the same general term that no longer really holds the two comfortably (if you want my take on the whole thing both sides are right, using awful reductionist language one side is scientific and the other literary and well, each have to be read accordingly even if the actual authors have pretensions to be read otherwise, the whole obscurant argument that can be made by each side against the other (but mainly levied against the continental tradition, with good reason) is basically bullshit. I've written quite a few reviews that fall in to the theme of 'in praise of difficult books' and I'd use the same defense I use for DFW or William Gaddis to defend writers like Heideggar, Adorno or Derrida (the jury in my head is out if there is anything of literary value in most of Zizek's writing, in my humble opinion only The Fragile Absolute has a high literary value, most of his other works that I've read are too repetitive and I just don't buy the Lacanian dazzle). The value of reading them isn't for some 'truth' but it's in the experience of reading them, if I wanted to be told a story in simple language I could pick up a Nicholas Sparks book, but it's not going to get the blood flowing like reading Infinite Jest, and I'm sure there are people out there who say they like to read literature and they mainly consume books that I fear would cause my brain to seize from their lack of any redeeming literary qualities (this analogy is getting away from me, I'm not equating Nicholas Sparks with analytical philosophy, if anything I would equate it with good non-fiction, something I also can enjoy but which I don't read when I want to read something like Gaddis)). This has gone on way too long so far, and I've probably irked some people and any criticism I might get I'll take as seriously as I take people who whine that DFW is too difficult because he writes in long sentences using big words that aren't necessarily ones you see everyday.

But now to bring this little aside back to the book at hand, these essential problems are sort of what creates the conflict between Wittgenstein and Bertrand Russell in this novel (and probably in real life from what I know of their relationship). Russell had his whole philosophical project deep sixed, first by Godel and then by the young Wittgenstein. Big big big flaws were discovered by these two young men and the foundations of what Russell's 'serious' philosophy were supported on turned out to be unclean fill that couldn't support a doublewide trailer, nevermind the massive edifice Russell dreamed of building. As Russell moved on from the wreckage of his failed grandiose philosophy he began to go the popular, public intellectual route, the kind of smarty pants guy that will write about anything with the air of knowing, and went into social concerns and all the kinds of things that Russell is pretty well known for today. Wittgenstein on the other hand stayed so pure to the 'truth' that it debilitated him and led him away from the safe confines of academia on to the strange course his life took. The way each approached their lifework caused quite a bit of tension in their friendship.

This novel is a fictionalized account of the lives of these two philosophers, along with G.E. Moore, who is a necessary part of the story, but my one criticism of the book might be that he is given a bit too much attention for what his role seems to really be. But, that is also because Moore is just not as interesting as the egomaniacal Russell or the deeply conflicted and strange Wittgenstein.

For a novel about philosophers this is really interesting, I think part of that is because the characters of Russell and Wittgenstein are so interesting in themselves. I'm not positive, but I think there is enough story going on here that even someone who has no real interest in ol'Ludwig would find the book to be fairly gripping (or something like that, I wouldn't call it a page-turner, but it's far from being a slog your way through it).

Besides focusing a bit too much on Moore (and if you are going to focus so much on Moore why not at least give Karl Poppers name during the infamous exchange he and Wittgenstein had? He could have been given a bit more 'page-time'), the only real fault with the book was a quick dip into the sordidness of Wittgenstein cruising for men in a Vienna park. The scene is short and a little on the dirty or vulgar side and it stood out for the, um frankness? of the encounter. It was as if the author was afraid that the subtle way he'd been dealing with Wittgenstein's sexuality might have been missed by some readers so he gives a quick scene of Ludwig getting an anonymous facial. The scene read awkwardly in relation to the rest of the book, and the jarringness of it didn't seem to serve any purpose, except to yell, "Wittgenstein is gay!" to the one reader who didn't pick up on all the hints and allusions in the book (I think that his sexuality should have stayed cloaked in hints and allusions in the novel, now if the novel were about Focault I'd be a little upset if there weren't a scene with baldy lashed to a cross while being fisted by a group of men).

To close up this unstructured mess, I'll give a passage I liked.

It was completely selfish for me to remain here! said Wittgenstein suddenly. Intolerably selfish--Wittgenstein was now pacing, whirling back and forth.

Well, said Russell, perhaps too soothingly. I would not call you selfish. That is only something you have imagined about yourself.

Glaring, Wittgenstein retorted, Then you don't know me! At all! I am selfish. And not only selfish! In fact I am filled with the pettiest, vilest thoughts! All the time! Don't look at me like that-it is true! It is better that I go home. If I cannot do for myself any good, I can at least do for someone else some good.

Russell had no desire to argue with him, but Wittgenstein wouldn't be ignored. In a sudden leap of logic, Wittgenstein demanded, Now, tell me once and for all. Have I any talent as a philosopher?

Russell didn't know what he was saying. Fending him off, he replied, Why do you ask?

Because, groaned Wittgenstein. If I do not have any real talent-then I will become an aeronaut.

Aeronaut? Russell felt the blood draining from his head. But then, with a guilty thrill, Russell took a stab, asking, Why? Because an aeroplane would afford you a better chance to kill yourself?

it was a taunt, but Wittgenstein just stared him down with a long an unsentimental look-chilling, as he quietly replied. If I were whole or healthy, Russell would I not even be a philosopher. Nor you.

Russell did not deny it. And in the oddest way, he felt they had just exchanged the deepest intimacy, each looking the other thinking, So you, too, are this way.

[switterbug (Betsey) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mark Twain once said, in so many words, that the difference between fiction and non-fiction is that fiction has to be absolutely believable. This is an apt maxim for Duffy's novelistic biography of three celebrated philosophers of the early twentieth-century--Ludwig Wittgenstein, Bertrand Russell, and G.E. Moore, three men whose variances in the study of logic created both mutual admiration and adversarial polarity.

When Duffy wrote this novel in 1987, there had yet to be a biography of Wittgenstein's life (now there are two). But Duffy was drawn to Wittgenstein's persistent aim to comprehend how facts (and pictures of facts) and words refer to actual "things" in the world, and puzzled by how statements of fact don't relate to reality. It is these indeterminacies that lead to distortions of communication (I find that these concerns, however invisible or unknown, are the fundamentals of many misapprehensions between people). Logistic and linguistic conundrums plagued Wittgenstein his whole life; he dwelled in his logic problems to the point of despondency.

Russell: "He himself had worked WITH logic, but until Wittgenstein, he had never had the sense of someone locked INSIDE logic, struggling to escape like Houdini shackled inside a trunk. For Wittgenstein, logic was not merely a problem, it was the problem OF HIS LIFE."

Moore and Russell could distinguish their scholarly aims from their personal lives, at least enough to pursue other goals and distractions.

Duffy brings these three distinct personalities to life with an almost impressionistic brio, yet as credible portraits based on his research. Sure, he changed some facts and dates, and invented and imagined and created others. But, factual accuracy and putative recreations of concrete events aren't what is relevant or brilliant about this book. I did read Ray Monk's bio, Ludwig Wittgenstein: The Duty of Genius, but Duffy's book gave me an even deeper understanding of Wittgenstein's melancholia--as well as Russell's egotism, and Moore's passivity--and their relationship to the world as they lived it.

This book is evidence that novels can often convey more truth than non-fiction can. And how much of Monk's bios of Russell and Wittgenstein are "truth?" Information still had to be culled, predicated, and assumed from secondary sources. Plus, if you wrote a biography of your own life, how much would be accurate? It is amazing what the fallibility of memory and subjectivity can activate, deactivate, and twist. Memories are intangible, and chronicles derived from memories are often unreliable. More importantly, fact and truth are two different concepts.

If you are looking for facts, read dry testimonies. Duffy made tangible the world that these men lived in through the elegant dialectics of language, and by running recondite wires through luminous emotional sockets. He assimilates and entwines fact and fiction, and takes part in shaping ideas. Ideas shape history. These three philosophers comprehended a solitary truth, that we tend to view life from the inside, "peering out through crabstalk eyes."

Of the three men, it was Russell who achieved the most fame. Duffy penetrates the hollow halls of hallowed erudition, however, to illuminate the vanity and speciousness of celebrity. For example, Russell's best work was behind him by the time he got famous. He was resting largely on his laurels, or cynically penning slogans out of his treatises that were churned out daily in the newspapers. He craved popularity and was instrumental in politicizing his ideas. His Nobel Prize was more of a lifetime achievement award, and Russell knew it. Russell was jealous of Wittgenstein's superior talents, for his lofty morals, for his intractable nature, and scorned Moore's "lack of vanity."

The World War I combat scenes with Wittgenstein were expressed so vividly and psychologically brutal that I could hear the reports of weapons and smell the carnage. And the hand-to-hand combat scenes were so palpable and gritty, so thoroughly scorching, that I felt and heard bones crushing next to my body. Duffy's images are seared into you; it is more like inhabiting Wittgenstein than reading about him. But even more searing than the Austrian battlefield was the battlefield at home, and his relationship with a tyrannical father. The deathbed scenes between Wittgenstein and his father are blistering, harrowing, unrivaled by any other literary account of mortal curtains.

This is my ideal book, one that falls in the category of "Desert Island" reads. The narrative inseminates space, knocks down walls, opens windows to the world. It induced a chemical reaction in me, reminiscent of the verbal, labyrinthine stretches of tripping on hallucinogens. This book is manna and mojo for my deepest reader demands and desires.

[Marc Lamot · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ludwig Wittgenstein is one of the most intriguing and enigmatic figures of 20th century European philosophy. And Bertrand Russell one of the most erudite logical rationalists. That both giants are the protagonists of this book of course creates high expectations. Unfortunately they have not been fully met, in the end I even got a slight feeling of disappointment. Mind you, I don't want to undervalue Bruce Duffy's ‘tour de force’: he does introduce us to the rather eventful lives of both gentlemen, and makes a serious attempt to explain their philosophical (and other) work from the perspective of their life course. And it is certainly creditable that he uses an intermediate form between biography and fiction, which gives his story the necessary dramatic and entertaining effects. But still, I was a bit underwhelmed.

For starters, staging Bertrand Russell as the absolute opposite of Wittgenstein feels a little forced. Agreed, superficially they have were antipodes in both their work and their lives: the rationalist Russell who sought out (and got a kick out of) worldly fame, versus the complex, barely comprehensible and man-shy Wittgenstein. Duffy emphasizes the small sides of Russell very strongly: his arrogant self-righteousness, his vanity and jealousy and his womanizing are given ample attention, with the reader having difficulty suppressing some derogatory sniggering. On the other hand, he clearly puts the constantly struggling Wittgenstein on a pedestal: without discussion he is the real hero of the story, who constantly shows that Emperor Russell (and with him Western philosophy) walks without clothes. But I might be doing Duffy a little injustice here: the interaction with the apparently more colorless, more earthy philosopher George Moore is a good find to make both Wittgenstein and Russell stand out, although Moore's bedtime conversations with his wife are little more than glorified gossip.

Personally, I especially found the second part, which zooms in on Wittgenstein's traumatic experiences in the trenches of the First World War, the most interesting and the most successful. Duffy does well in explaining how Wittgenstein's foundations, which were not already made of rock, were further smashed to smithereens. That war experience – together with his complex family history and his suppressed Jewish and gay identity – seems, according to Duffy, to be the most decisive element in Wittgenstein's wayward path away from rationalistic Western philosophy. It is a pity that after this second part this book noticeably loses its suspense and even bleeds to death a bit towards the end. At that moment I also noticed that I hadn't really learned that much about the philosophy of both Wittgenstein and Russell. So I rate this with a rather flattering 3 stars, because – after all - it is about 2 giants of Western philosophy.

[Robert Wechsler · Rating 5 out of 5]

There is nothing common about this novel. Most important, it is uncommonly well written. Duffy’s ear is perfect, many of his long sentences are just gorgeous, and even most of his dialogue is, although relatively naturalistic, very well fashioned: formed, selected, and clipped. I can’t imagine a more beautiful (and not lyrically so) historical novel.

The principal subject of the novel is equally uncommon, and it is uncommon that he is often put aside for many pages while those of his oddly shaped circle steal the spotlight, including Bertrand Russell, G. E. Moore, Wittgenstein’s sister, and a few young acolytes. There are moments where the subject matter takes precedence, and the writing becomes more common, but they don’t last for long before the reader (at least this reader) is overwhelmed by Duffy’s art.

Probably the best NYRB book I’ve read so far.

[Roger Brunyate · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dreamt of in Your Philosophy

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

In this astounding first novel about the philosopher Ludwig Wittengenstein, published in 1987, Bruce Duffy manages to include an impressive number of the things on earth (enough to make WW1 and the Holocaust appear mainly as interludes), and quite a few of those in heaven also. But writing about a man who, for all his stature as a philosopher, was also a very private individual, Duffy is forced to do quite a bit of dreaming himself. After descending on Cambridge like a thunderbolt in 1911 and almost immediately challenging the basic philosophical tenets of his mentor, Bertrand Russell, Wittgenstein returned to Austria to fight on the Russian front in the First World War, after which he gave away his vast fortune and worked for many years in seclusion as a village schoolmaster. This so-called "lost period" before the philosopher returned to Cambridge in 1929 (to take in short order his doctorate, a fellowship, and the university chair) is only one area where Duffy has had to guess. But he guesses very engagingly, inventing for example a fellow veteran called Max as a companion for the philosopher, a "natural man" who acts impulsively upon his beliefs and desires and serves as a foil to the late-Tolstoyan cast to his life at that time. This is also one of the many ways that Duffy touches upon Wittgenstein's probable sexuality, still a sensitive subject at the time he was writing.

In his magnificent introduction to the NYRB edition, David Leavitt hails Duffy's foray into biographical fiction as opening the door to many similar novels published later, such as Pat Barker's Regeneration (about Siegfried Sassoon) and Penelope Fitzgerald's The Blue Flower (Novalis). He might also have added his own The Indian Clerk, about the mathematician Ramanujan, which also depicts Cambridge in those heady years before the War and contains many of the same characters. For one of the things that Duffy does especially well (especially for someone who had barely visited Europe at the time) is to fill out the settings and the dramatis personae quite thoroughly. So we get wonderful portraits of Vienna at the height of its cultural hegemony, and of the dining tables and debating societies of Cambridge where the important discussions take place. We meet Wittgenstein's talented but tragic family (three of his brothers committed suicide) and a whole gallery of the English intellectual elite: Bertrand Russell, G. E. Moore, Lytton Strachey, Lady Ottoline Morrell, and many many others. And all in language that is always vivid and often surprising. Here is Wittgenstein, for instance, in the Viennese Prater, contemplating the possibility of some rough trade:

No, Wittgenstein did not have to go as far as the firs that day. The point was to go just far enough to singe himself without tasting, to smudge his nose against the window of that world.

What a superb phrase!

Duffy never does follow Wittgenstein into the firs; he prefers to hint at the possibility. But he cannot follow Wittgenstein very far into the forests of his soul either. Perhaps part of the reason he spends so much time on the secondary characters is that the primary one is so unknowable. Wittgenstein is impressive in his brilliance and his absolute refusal to make an intellectual compromise even as a social nicety. But he is sculpted from granite and snow. Russell, by contrast, is much more colorful, more the stuff of novels, with his outspoken views on marriage, his philandering, his pacifism, and his general readiness to accept the role of public intellectual. There are many times when he simply eclipses his younger colleague. But I never get any sense of his own greatness; out of interest, I looked at a bit of Russell's vast, systematic and well-nigh opaque Principia Mathematica, and could see almost no connection between the author of that magnum opus and Duffy's portrait. Similarly, I finished the book with only the vaguest notion of what Wittgenstein actually said. I admit, though, that when it comes to philosophy I am virtually tone-deaf, so the fact that Duffy could keep me returning eagerly to his book over an exceptionally busy three-week span is testament in itself. His ability to connect heaven to earth, the universe of ideas to the world of everyday life, and to do so over such a turbulent swath of history, is a small miracle.

[Dan · Rating 4 out of 5]

The writing was superb, however this fictional biography lacks drama at times. A hard task to pull off, that is to combine one part philosophy, one part biography and one part fiction into a whole.

There is an ethereal quality to the book that I truly enjoyed but there aren't enough moments for me to say "I'll never forget Wittgenstein."

4 stars

[Jim Coughenour · Rating 5 out of 5]

Remembered this novel while reading Logicomix. This is one of those rare, wonderful novels you live inside as you read it - as if enchanted - and exit with regret at the end.

[Alvin · Rating 3 out of 5]

I've always been a fan of Bertrand Russell's popular writings, and Wittgenstein is a fascinating character, so I was really hoping this novel would be great. Alas, no. Duffy tries for purple prose, but ends up just being pretentious. Example: at one point he describes the air as concupiscent. Seriously? I love character-driven novels, but I'm 200 pages into this behemoth and I still have little idea what Wittgenstein wants or what makes him tick. Duffy also believes the philosophical arguments are interesting, but for all their practical implications the characters might as well be arguing about how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. For all that, there are a few good scenes of life in the intellectual hot-houses of Cambridge and haute bourgeois Vienna, but I'm pretty sure I can't finish this.

OK, I did go and finish and it improved toward the end. The world wars, Wittgenstein's sympathetic sister Gretle, everyone aging, and Wittgenstein's loathsome rough trade boyfriend Max liven things up a bit. I'll bump this up to three stars, but just barely.

[D · Rating 4 out of 5]

An excellent non-fiction novel whose main characters include, among many others, Ludwig Wittgenstein and Betrand Russel. Both of them have interesting but not especially likable personalities.

[Kim · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is hypnotic -- I absolutely loved it. It is a genius idea for a first novel and the author made Russell and Moore and Wittgenstein accessible to this reader even though I have never studied formal philosophy. In fact, I became obsessed and fascinated by Wittgenstein. The evolution of Bertrand Russell's persona is extremely well done as is G.E. Moore's and for Wittgenstein, well, all I can say is I can't decice whether I would like to have konwn himself or if I would have found it too exhausting. One thing I do know -- I am very glad I did not live through the first half of the 20th century.

A must-read for anyone looking for something original and captivating.

[Tara · Rating 5 out of 5]

A book like this attempts so much that you fear for the author - can he continue to walk the razor's edge? He must balance the needs of the story and weigh the characters down as creatures of flesh and blood while simultaneously spinning out a philosophical narrative that is understandable and yet does justice to three of the greatest philosophers of the 20th century.

Bruce Duffy must be quite a human being, because he seems able to render these characters to light humanely, mercifully, and honestly. If you've ever looked at Bertrand Russell and thought something like "Oh my", or read Wittgenstein and thought "What planet does thou hail from?" then you will be relieved to see these men given such beautiful treatment here. Bruce Duffy seems interested not only in philosophy, but in humanity itself (it's all too easy to separate the two) and the result is not only the best philosophical novel I've ever read, but a beautiful novel on its very own terms. He's a fine writer, and the kind I'd like to pay a million bucks to and say "Okay, now can you write a book about this and this for me?"

To conclude, in the words of Iris Murdoch: Oh, Wittgenstein, Wittgenstein.

[Adam · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is primarily a story about Wittgenstein, Russell, and Moore; and at that, it's primarily a story about Wittgenstein, effectively following him from childhood to death. Not a true historical account, and only loosely wedded to actual events, it is one of the—if not the—most compelling stories ever told about the lives of philosophers. The story puts you in their skin, makes you feel their embarrassments. For the non-professional reader, this kind of interpersonal discomfort may be exciting and interesting. For the philosopher, it may be all too familiar, but he will only be pleased in another way: By a novelist who seems to have had a respectable grasp on the major ideas of each philosopher.

I will never think of Moore again without thinking of him eating a large, bland English fare with gusto; never think of Russell without seeing his halitotic gums squeezing a wooden pipe; never think of Wittgenstein without imagining him in an Austrian forest spitting ejaculate after a confused sexual impulse. And I read these three philosophers' professional works on almost a daily basis, so that's quite a contribution to my mental life.

[Erik Graff · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have appended a rave review in this book's description. For a first novel, this is an impressive piece of work. I read it because of an interest in Wittgenstein about whom I've published. I knew quite a bit about his thinking, little of his life. On the basis of what I had learned about it, Duffy seemed faithful to the evidence and adequate to the task of fleshing it, and the other personalities involved in it, out. Beyond that, however, I found the tale a bit flat, the writing a bit dull.

[… · Rating 5 out of 5]

Just an absolutely magnificent read - ambitious and beautifully rendered and all of the other things that have been attributed to this very underrated, under-the-radar novel. Apparently Bruce Duffy passed away within the last couple of years, and it's a hard thing to comprehend that someone with such extraordinary talent is doomed to shuffle off this mortal coil taking all their artistic and imaginative capacities with them. Shockingly, Duffy was something of a one hit wonder with this novel, which he wrote in his spare time while he worked as a full-time consultant.

The World As I Found It is the fictionalized account of three philosophers (Ludwig Wittgenstein, Bertrand Russell, and G.E. Moore), using them as the triangulating points around ego, desire, melancholy, despair, nihilism, etc. Some of the most notoriously brilliant minds of 20th century philosophy, they each attempt to give form to the world through their respective systems of thought, doing so against Duffy's meticulously crafted narrative backdrop of their unique histories and personalities, ultimately giving way to brilliantly rendered portrayals of their inner psychologies.

Each of these savants serves individually as a relational counterweight or buffer to the others. Oftentimes, force of personality within the confines of relationship results in disequilibrium attributable to temperament, disposition, and flaws. It's really a miracle that we as human beings forge long lasting friendships or romantic entanglements at all, and it's not surprising that people rightly acknowledge these are the most difficult commitments to maintain, and oftentimes ultimately fall apart or peter out. The mutuality of relationships is enormously important and the participating personalities within a relationship must absorb and deflect certain aspects of the other in order to endure.

This is what's so incredible about this book. It's structured around the necessity of a triadic union between its three primary characters, and the narrative is only able to maintain its heft and ambition without falling apart because its protagonist (Wittgenstein) is expertly calibrated to and by the personalities of Russell and Moore. This results in a kind of literary soldering effect that allows Duffy to do some amazing things in just around 550 pages.

Wittgenstein is a force of nature. Fearful of being swallowed up by the enormity of wide open spaces, a metaphor for his own intellectual capacities, his personality in his younger years is a kind of cosmic disturbance, invoking a mixture of awe and fear in those he encounters. His philosophical pursuit of the truth, HIS truth, is frenzied and pushes him into periodic episodes that most would consider deranged. Young Wittgenstein is a narcissist (or solipsist, or hybrid of the two) but he is also a genius and and a monomaniacal obsessive. All three of the primary characters are men of tremendous intellect but Wittgenstein wields an all-consuming brilliance that is animated by an almost inevitable belligerence that appears to be largely inspired by an emotionally stifling if not outright abusive familial environment. His father, the despotic figurehead, is cruel and exacting in his demands, and the suicide of Wittgenstein's two brothers (YES, TWO!) is largely attributed to his paternal tyranny. The emotional self-containment necessary for Wittgenstein's psychic survival within this type of environment canalizes and concentrates back into his own inner world. Whereas healthy emotional environments can be seen has having a equalizing effect, producing personalities that have a more proportional redistribution across the spectrum of the self (ie. balanced), unhealthy ones tend to overburden different parts of the psyche and those, in turn, spill over as excess. These concentrate in particular areas and this will likely lead to neuroticism. If you pair this with genius it's a bomb waiting to explode.

Wittgenstein pursues Bertrand Russell as his mentor at Cambridge University and the two begin a a kind of intermittent but lifelong collaboration that could be loosely defined as friendship, albeit one with plenty of ambiguity and antagonism. Wittgenstein mesmerizes Russell even as the former shows up in fits at all hours of the night, spewing harried polemicized assaults against Russell's most cherished and celebrated philosophical accomplishments. Russell understands that his own genius is being eclipsed in real time in front of his very eyes. And Russell, as a character, personality, and intellect must necessarily yield to this frenetic usurpation of his distinction. This is demoralizing for Russell, who is largely sustained by relishing in his own self-perception, a kind of idealized version of himself with lots of inputs generated from his status as celebrity and public intellectual, as well as his sexual prowess or waning lack thereof as he ages (unrelated to his relationship to Wittgenstein but important when understanding his personality as whole).

Russell is brilliant in his own right and is publicly celebrated as a philosophical prodigy, yet he is deeply insecure and self-conscious, features that are paramount to his overall disposition towards the world. Russell's personal failures in certain more personal instances are largely driven by his inability to fully inhabit the circumstances. He always remains a rational observer, not necessarily entirely external to the locus of sentiment, which he does experience profoundly, but you get the sense that he's emotionally stunted in these very garden variety ways - mistaking sex and lust for genuine passion and driven by jealousy in relationships that are basically founded on betrayal. He's thoroughly non-committal with a string of failed relationships that are basically products of his own base desires, which he has rationalized and restructured as some kind of new moral ideology - one that perhaps appeared edgy at the time but is just incredibly unsophisticated, not to mention transparent since it functions as justification for playing it fast and loose with one's more sordid impulses. His overarching morality could be summed up along the lines of "free love" - which isn't grounded in lust or compulsion at all - no, it definitely has to do with the much more noble pursuit of casting off the yoke of previously entrenched repressive dogmas relating to sex and relationships to create a more free and loving society. That's actually what Bertie was thinking during his sexual escapades that ended up being ruinous to his most profoundly important relationships.

Despite Russell's brilliance, and his securing himself a place in intellectual history at a fairly young age, he was never quite able to translate this into solidified principles. He was many things throughout his life, including a socialist, anti-war proponent, atheist but none of them in a profound way. He identity never congealed, and although he seemed to enjoy those initial enthusiasms that usually accompany new conceptions of the self, he was unable to persist as a steadfast devotee of any cause or ideology. He was thoroughly non-committal, depleting him of the concentrated force of personality or intellect that would have functioned as resolutions to what it means to be human. Put simply, there was some type of intensity that he just didn't possess despite attempting to pursue it, but he mistook the vastness of his intellect and the reach of his notoriety as
a mandates to participate in a constant state of evolution that misappropriated his energies and the exercise of his personal virtue, dissipating or relegating these to secondary status in the name of egoistic desire generated by the feeling that the more things one can be or has been the more one has been successfully aggrandized in their own and other's minds.

I have less to say about G.E. Moore who is incredibly important for the story but seems a bit easier to size up. Described as "morally impeccable" Moore's integrity and equanimity likely flowed from a kind of bourgeoisie affability. Most of the descriptions of Moore in the narrative revolve around his eating habits, his dwindling psychological state when faced with anything physically rigorous, and his complete equanimity as he floats in the ocean with his wife still visible ashore - this is the most apt metaphor for his overarching personality type, which is a beautifully depicted scene of him horizontally drifting on the ocean, buoyantly suspended, contending with gravity itself in its most diminished form. Moore takes his greatest pleasure in epicurean satiation and the peaceful rhythms of domesticity. He has a deep aversion to conflict. Put simply, Moore is most desirous of comfort and harmony - there are worse things to covet, but this doesn't particularly bode well for his moral credibility since the inherent worth of anything pertaining to ethics is its formidability.

Losing steam. Loved the book. It doesn't have really have much to do with philosophy but, at the same time, has everything to do with philosophy.

[Julio The Fox · Rating 4 out of 5]

Simply magnificent. A novel-as-biography, or vice versa, on the lives and thought of Ludwig Wittgenstein, Bertrand Russell and G.E. Moore in their philosophical prime. The first changed twentieth century thought on language and the social construction of words; the second fought the good fight from birth control to nuclear disarmament and the third was a bore whom Wittgenstein reduced to tatters in ON CERTAINTY.

[Josephine Wajer-Busch · Rating 5 out of 5]

Pfff, wat een boek! Was al behoorlijk vertrouwd met het werk van Wittgenstein en wilde enkel wat meer te weten komen over zijn leven. Vanaf de eerste paar bladzijden belandde ik in een prachtige wereld waarin recht wordt gedaan aan zowel zijn persoonlijke omstandigheden als ook zijn intellectuele gedachtegoed. Door het tegenspel met grootheden als Russell en Moore wordt het logische denken en handelen van Wittgenstein inzichtelijk gemaakt.
Een passage: 'als jongen had hij er wel eens over gepiekerd dat zijn familie niet altijd dezelfde mensen waren geweest, alsof de ene tijd of religie waar was geweest en de andere een leugen. Ze waren mensen in wording, de Wittgensteins. [...] een wording die vakkundig kon worden geretoucheerd, ontrafeld en herinnerd [...] buiten de griezelige kribbe, geen blije boodschap, maar een talisman om gevaar af te wenden en de wording te versnellen.'
Duffy heeft een bijzonder knappe prestatie geleverd met deze roman zo rijk aan ideeën. Een absolute aanrader!

[James Klagge · Rating 5 out of 5]

An impressive work. Written before the biographies of Wittgenstein were published, yet very knowledgable about his life, as well as about the lives of Russell and Moore. Apparently the author studied with Marjorie Perloff at some point. Not much on the philosophy, which is fine. There isn't really a story line, apart from the lives of LW, Russell and Moore. But there is enough of interest in those lives to make a book. Author does a nice job of (re-)creating and filling out various scenes. And adds a character--Max--who is memorable and believable.
I had read this when it was first published--almost 40 years ago--yet I remembered virtually nothing from my first read.

[Nicholas During · Rating 4 out of 5]

In essence this book is fictional biography, with all the requisite psychology thrown in, of three philosophers: Wittgenstein, Russell, and G.E. Moore. Biographies of thinkers usually revert to this strategy, one reads them to both discover why an individual had such an idea that changed the world and reached many people, and to understand the ideas, often complicated and liable to be interpreted many ways, we must look at the life of the thinker, the situations s/he was around, and, Freudianly, their upbringing. Of course while doing this we do look at the ideas themselves, but it is just another interpretation found through the life of the thinker, and whether that is done through fiction of deeply researched biography may not make a big difference. In fact here is the crux of this book, in my eyes. On the other hand, what would the thinkers think of their works being laid out in the guise of a fictional biography? Probably not a lot. At least one thinks that Wittgenstein might have serious problems with this tact.

However, for the very casual reader such as myself I enjoyed the ride. Not being a philosopher, I am happy to see how Duffy puts their ideas in his fiction—I enjoyed Russell's rundown of the his paradoxes and early work to his lover Ottoline Morrell—they may be completely wrong and Russell may never have expressed them as simply or at all like that, but that's Duffy's choice and this is a historical novel. As David Leavitt points out in his intro, Ottoline's inability to understand it all (or disinterest) is a funny way to look back at the you the reader. Are you getting all this? Shouldn't you just pick up Prinicpa Mathematica and read it yourself? You haven't forgotten that this is a novel, have you?

And as a novel I thought it very good, though perhaps a bit long and winding and suffering from the usual pitfalls of well researched historical novels—I discovered this great character or event, I'm going to include it even though it doesn't really help the plot or tone of the book. In particular I found the late introduction of Weiniger's Sex and Character and how easily Russell's later girlfriends came and went a bit strange. But on the whole I thoroughly enjoyed it, and anybody interested in the thoughts of the time, Cambridge at the time, and the horrible first half of the 20th century will enjoy this book, always remembering that it is a novel, and a bit long at that.

[Cyndie · Rating 4 out of 5]

The imagined lives of three early 20th century philosophers puts Ludwig Wittgenstein at the center offset by his older peers, Bertrand Russell and G.E.Moore. Wittgenstein's prominent Austrian family is large, complex and subject to the ironclad rule of wealthy industrial giant Karl Wittgenstein. This novel was written before any biographies of Wittgenstein had been produced and the author aroused a great deal of criticism for his fictional approach. Some felt that because he used meticulously researched facts, he made it difficult to determine what was real and what was imagined. You do feel, as you are reading, that you are indeed eavesdropping on actual conversations and illicitly reading someone else's mail. Duffy makes you believe you have met these people or that you have definitely met characters just like them. This book appealed to me on several levels. In a single sentence he can toss you into the middle of years of family dynamics: "Like a guilty conscience, Karl Wittgenstein's letter was waiting in Cambridge when Wittgenstein arrived there in late September for the start of Michaelmas term." That letter, a fabrication of the author, is a masterful example of complete parental control. You are left with no doubt about the depth of this father and son's tortured relationship. I also learned bits of history that i had either never heard of or was never engaged enough to remember before. I was surprised to learn that the Germans bombed Britain during WWI - with dirigibles - and the Kaiser gave instructions to his pilots to avoid his cousin's (the King of England) properties. Then there is the philosophy. When you write about three men who were recognized in their time as brilliant and who remain memorable for their ideas (even when they are rejected) a discreet serving of those ideas and the opposition to them makes for a very rich vein of thought. I believe this is one of those books that will haunt me.

[Shawn · Rating 4 out of 5]

Largely a story of the life of Wittgenstein, but with much attention to the two British philosophers who most influenced him and with whom he worked at Cambridge, Bertrand Russell and G.E. Moore. While an interest in philosophy and some previous knowledge of these men will probably increase a reader's enjoyment of the novel, I don't think that either is essential.

Duffy has been at pains to be clear about the fact that, while many of the facts of these characters' lives correspond to those of the historical personages, these are fictional characters and he has invented a good deal, including at least one major character, Max.

Possibly the most salient facts about Duffy's Wittgenstein are that he is of Jewish descent and that he is homosexual and that he is extremely conflicted about both. The bare facts are historically accurate, but the details are Duffy's, and for anyone interested in these psychological complexities as they work themselves out in the life of a son of a wealthy Viennese family between 1889 and 1951 they make a fascinating fiction.

[W. · Rating 3 out of 5]

I liked this book, but thought at times that the portrayal of Bertrand Russell had dissolved into a kind of Benny Hill romp, and G. E. Moore became a caricature of the reserved, domesticated husband whose own philosophy doesn't come into much focus. Perhaps these fictional portraits are biographically justified, but they created a tonal disparity with the Wittgenstein narrative, especially later in the book. The lascivious scenes with Russell don't work well interspersed with the tragic scenes with Wittgenstein, and the climax of the book, when all characters are reunited, oscillated wildly between drama and farce. This is an ungrateful complaint, and perhaps I'm missing exactly the point: the profound differences -- temperamental, sexual, spiritual, political, philosophical -- of these three men. In any case, in its 500+ pages, Bruce Duffy does so many things well. I particularly liked the portrayal of Wittgenstein's father and the account of Wittgenstein's experiences in WWI. More than anything, though, this novel made me want to read a biography of Wittgenstein.

[Williwaw · Rating 5 out of 5]

It has been at least 7 years since I read this book. I gave my copy away to a friend who refused to read it simply because he disdained "historical fiction." He passed it on to an third party, and I have never seen the book again.

This is a work of fiction, but it's more a case of "biographical fiction" than "historical fiction." Specifically, this is a book about Ludwig Wittgenstein, the 20th century philosopher.

This book truly swept me away at a time when I had virtually stopped reading fiction. It contains fascinating portraits of Wittgenstein's family, friends, and colleagues, including George Moore and Bertrand Russell. It is all based on fact, but the author admits that he changed the timing of things, in some cases, to make a better fictional narrative.

Wittgenstein's greatness had a lot to do with his personality and how he affected and influenced his students and fellow-philosophers. The book brings this out perfectly. Highly recommended!

[Blair · Rating 5 out of 5]

Such a wonderful novel. It helped that I was fascinated by the subject matter: the lives of the philosophers Ludwig Wittgenstein, Bertrand Russell and GE Moore, but the narrative is beautifully handled with a structure that makes big jumps in time and then circles around key scenes as we dip in and out of memories of the past. The novel is meticulously researched but Duffy feels free to invent what suits his story, as he should. Wittgenstein is the centre of the novel but he remains ultimately mysterious, much more so than Russell, whose egotism and frailties are laid bare. Moore is the island of reserved British sanity that offsets the eccentric volatility of his brilliant counterparts. It enters the pantheon of my favourite ever works. I miss it already.

[Beatriz · Rating 5 out of 5]

I learned of this book after reading Ray Monk’s splendid biography of Ludwig Wittgenstein and I knew I had to add it to my reading list. Words hardly serve me to describe the pleasure I derived from reading this book. It feels like I ought to follow in the spirit of Wittgenstein’s philosophy (and what does it mean to refer to Wittgenstein’s philosophy, when the words seem to hardly fit the girth of the man and his thought, such are the faults and confusions of grammar?) and leave it as a starred review, show rather than tell.

It might seldom be the case that someone unknowledgeable or uninterested in (analytical) philosophy or the lives of the characters would have an interest in this work, but the writing and characterization make it highly recommendable.

5/5 stars

[Graychin · Rating 3 out of 5]

The three stars above is probably more my fault than Duffy’s. The fact is that, 250 pages into it, I’ve set the book aside. If I can blame Duffy for anything, I’ll blame him for his success. He’s a good writer but I found his fictionalized Bertrand Russell and Ludwig Wittgenstein as fully unbearable - as persons - as they must have been in real life. The sections on G.E. Moore were wonderful, but too far between. Have I failed? Might I have changed my tune if I’d stuck with the book for another 300 pages? Perhaps I’ll answer that question someday. But my reading time is too precious to spend it on something I can’t – for whatever reason – commit myself to just now.

[Padraic · Rating 4 out of 5]

I docked the author one star for living in Takoma Park. Otherwise I can't find anything negative to say about this fictional account of the life of Wittgenstein. Who said philosophy is dull?

[Stephen P(who no longer can participate due to illness) · Rating 5 out of 5]

An exhilarating ride through the world of ideas and the fascinating life of Wittgenstein. Duffy is a master at biography.

[Rebecca · Rating 4 out of 5]

First off I am completely unqualified to review this book which is a highly fictionalised account of the life of philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein in particular through his relationships with contemporaries Bertrand Russell and GE Moore as I have very, very little knowledge of them or their work. However even if read on a fairly superficial level this is still a fabulously meaty and absorbing read. Admittedly I skimmed some of the paragraphs on their arguments around logic as well as anything that looked vaguely like an equation but I still found enough to more than make up for that in the rich evocation of their lives and times - from pre World War One Cambridge through the trenches on the Russian front to interwar Vienna and even experimental schooling on the South Downs. The author is very clear that this is a fictionalised account which may frustrate those who prefer a clearer idea of what is true and what is not, but if you have any interest in the subject matter and are able to come at it in the spirit in which it was written this is a novel that is well worth the effort.