Uproarious, raging life. Moore asks in the essay. Every now and then, a student in my philosophy class will raise The Question. Clearly embarrassed to ask what seems like a parody of all questions, he plunges in anyway. It's usually an easy enough question to evade.
Professors get pretty glib . . .
But last week, a student who had studied metaphysics and epistemology and Soren Kierkegaard, the student who read Immanuel Kant and brought fresh fruit to class, killed herself. . . . She left no note, no explanation, and no one can make any sense of it. . . . We realize too late that we never taught our students what ducks know without knowing, that 'we must love life before loving its meaning,' as Dostoevski told us. Deftly, Moore explores the tensions between the desire for home and family, and the urge to explore the wild and unknown. She revels in the physical delights of being out in a storm, camping on the coast, clamming and floating northern waters, but does not shy away from tackling the tough questions.