This is an article about the meaning of life. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t simply announce the theme of a piece from the get-go. I would start with a personal anecdote that leads into the theme of the book I’ll be discussing, and then return to what I took away from the book. In this case, I might talk about seeing a tiny sick mouse sitting motionless in the middle of a crowded sidewalk, coming home to my dog who is now so old she no longer greets me or the death of an acquaintance, and the effect or lack thereof these things had on me. But I think we live at a time where the question of the meaning of life is so frequently mentioned, and so infrequently engaged with seriously, that talking about it almost necessarily invokes clichés and attempts to address the question with personal anecdotes that come off as self-important. And further, rigorous interrogation of the subject often ends with people stubbornly adhering to their intuitions about it or embracing nihilism. Consequently, I think it’s extremely hard for authors to write about the meaning of life in an original and effective way. In “The Principles of Uncertainty”, author and illustrator Maira Kalman succeeds in doing this. While she doesn’t claim to answer existential questions, she portrays this feeling of uncertainty in a simple and profound way.
“The Principles of Uncertainty” might be best described as a picture book for adults. Largely drawing from her New York Times blog, the book seems at first to be semi-random and a circuitously connected set of illustrations and writing ranging from historical anecdotes, personal experiences, lists, travel logs and brief philosophical statements. Gradually, their relationship becomes clearer. Reeling after her mother’s death, Kalman struggles to make sense of the world. The book is a meditation on the absurdity of life and of the world as well as a documentation of the little things in it that give people joy and a sense of meaning. A particularly good excerpt occurs in a series of pages discussing the elderly walking. “Soon enough it will be me struggling (valiantly?) to walk—lugging my stuff around. How are we all so brave as to take step after step? Day after day? How are we so optimistic, so careful not to trip and yet do trip, and then get up and say O.K. Why do I feel so sorry for everyone and so proud?” Kalman writes.
I think what is so powerful about this passage, as well as the book as a whole, is that Kalman looks at all sorts of things—the elderly walking on the street, her collection of empty boxes, the radiator in the house Wittgenstein built for his sister—with a sense of wonder. These things may not be objective evidence of life’s meaning, but they’re all, in one way or another, a testament to something important about humanity.
The book’s form is also effective. The illustrations and writing have a distinctly children’s book-like quality to them, which adds to the whimsical nature of it as well as to the feeling of the author trying to make sense of a world that feels out of control. I should also emphasize that, in addition to the philosophical effect of the book, it’s also very entertaining. I often found myself laughing out loud at unexpected humorous lines. For example, while describing her collection of unusual candy bars she writes, “The Henry VIII and his six wives fine mint chocolate collections is a festive package … that happens to commemorate bloody murder and misogyny with every bite. Hmm.”
Maira Kalman’s “The Principles of Uncertainty” is a beautiful book. It’s whimsical, sad, humorous and profound. It doesn’t claim to provide answers about life’s meaning or lack thereof, but rather teaches us to see life and all its components as wondrous and uncertain. It’s filled with the kind of magic that can only exist in a world without any.
