At the Existentialist Café

I've never been big on reading philosophy. I've not read any Camus or Satre and only know the handful of Neitzche quotes every emo teenager learns. As far as I know, existentialists wear all black with a penchant for turtleneck and smoking Gauloises.

Despite that I found the book incredibly interesting. When the current philosophical craze tends to Hyyge or the teachings of Marie Kondo, the idea of Sartre and de Beauvoir sitting in Paris cafes “loudly slaughtering the sacred cows of philosophy, literature and bourgeois behaviour to anyone who venture into their ambit” is compelling.

This was a time where women swooned at a sold-out public talk by Sartre at the perfectly named Club Maintenant. Where Franciscan monks orchestrated the smuggling of philosophical papers with a cadre of Benedictine nuns. Ideas held power and thoughtful discourse was weighted with the realities of World War 2.

The book isn't written with the haughty tone of a Philosophy major holding forth on his intellectual heroes but more a clear-eyed examination from an ardent fan. Imminently readable even if, like me, you don't know your Hegel from your Heidegger.