He instructed me daily on life, religion, science, and a variety of other scholarly topics. Like an informed scholar, he delivered convincing arguments as if he’s Socrates himself. At the same time he was also an artist. His words were always colorful and detailed, like a Da Vinci painting. He was the archetypal Renaissance man, the philosophical polymath. Despite the academic aura about him, he was a good listener. Whenever I felt melancholic, bored, or lethargic, I knew he could always lend me an ear. Afterward, he would give me advice that I still hold dear to this day. His name is 50 Philosophy Ideas.

I remember buying the book at a Borders store a few years ago, partly because I was curious what it had to say, and partly because it didn’t cost much. Inevitably, as with many other books that I bought, I threw it in a corner, never expecting to read it until another million years. It was ages until I truly examined the philosophy book for the first time, in a time when my inquisitive side began blossoming. Today, a wooden-mahogany border surrounds the book, giving it an antique feel, despite the border being on some mundane plastic cover. Through this window-like border, all is dark and quiet, except for an illuminating tree in the middle and big letters screaming, “50 PHILOSOPHY IDEAS YOU REALLY NEED TO KNOW, Ben Dupré.” It gives it a really odd effect. Here I am looking through a window into almost utter darkness and all I see is this one tree, this one symbol of light surrounded by the mystical sound of “Aum.” It is the tree Buddha sat under, the tree of enlightenment, the tree of philosophy. At the same time, I still can’t help but laugh at the ridiculously large letters that are obviously meant to attract the buyer’s attention. 

I open the book, feeling the lustrous plastic undamaged by time. Looking back at it, I notice the book is formatted heavily like a textbook. It is divided into different essays, like chapters of a textbook. Beneath the large essay title is a bolded paragraph written in an enormous font size, both to serve as a grabber and to give the reader an idea of the topic ahead. Following this is the essay itself, written in a  neat and proper Times New Roman. Every once in a while, between paragraphs, there is a miniature box. Sometimes, it contains a quote by a famous philosopher that is relevant to the current topic. Sometimes, it contains a related philosophical idea that informs the philosophy-enthusiast even more. Sometimes, it might just contain a simple little side note. The book’s purpose might actually be to serve as textbook for philosophy beginners as it did for me.

It is true that there really isn’t anything special about the way the book looks on the outside. But, as cliché as it may sound, it’s what’s inside that matters, for this book took me through a journey I may never forget. It exposed me to the most novel and influential ideas ever conceived. Is the cosmological argument strong enough to necessitate a world with God; or, does it fall to an infinite regress? Does science progress as neatly as Isaac Newton imagined, with one generation of scientists building on the knowledge of the previous generation; or, is it riddled with 180 degree paradigm shifts? Should art be judged irrespective of its creator or purpose; or, should there be a morality aspect to it? These questions, and the book’s numerous answers, led me to my fixed interest in philosophy.

As my interest in philosophy began to develop, I started moving to other books. (Certainly, a mere 200 page book that only scratches the surface isn’t enough to satisfy a true lover of knowledge!) Since then, I’ve read numerous books on philosophy, including The Republic, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Nausea, and The Problems of Philosophy. Yet, like any other human being, I have a nostalgic side, and 50 Philosophy Ideas occupies the center of it. Similar to how one cherishes one’s first teddy bear, or one’s first loose tooth, or even one’s first blanket, I will always cherish my first philosophy book.