Book review of Shamik Chakravarty's Quick and Concise: Philosophy (Hachette India, 2025).

Shamik Chakravarty’s A Quick and Concise Introduction to Philosophy is a refreshing and intellectually sincere attempt to bring philosophical reflection into accessible terrain. If one had to recommend a single text to ignite philosophical curiosity without intimidation, this would be it. I suggest, ‘A must-read for minds that wonder and wander’.

While most beginner-level philosophy books shy away from topics like the philosophy of art and Skepticism, Chakravarti boldly includes them and this choice alone elevates the book above typical primers. Structured into accessible, argument-driven chapters, the book journeys through serious philosophical questions of metaphysics, epistemology, ethics, and aesthetics, always grounding abstractions in vivid thought experiments—from Descartes’ Evil Demon, the Brain-in-a-Vat to Gettier cases, Swampman, and Ship of Theseus. The author made a bold attempt to draw strong cross-cultural comparisons: Dharmakīrti and Gangesa are placed alongside Putnam, while Nāṭyaśāstra’s rasa theory dialogues with Beardsley’s aesthetic intention. Author’s style is conversational yet not condescending; technical without being arcane, prose is elegant without jargon, philosophical without pedantry. He invites readers not into dogma, but dialogue—an approach invaluable for pedagogy. And because of this approach, the book is equally useful for undergraduate classrooms, civil services preparation, high school students or general readers hungry for clarity without compromise. And yet, it does not oversimplify; each chapter ends with open questions, gently nudging the reader toward deeper reflection.

That said, some limitations remain. The Indian perspectives, though sincerely integrated, often appear in passing—more like philosophical footnotes than equal interlocutors. Similarly, some dense conceptual debates (e.g., skepticism or personal identity) are outlined with brevity that may leave curious readers wanting more. The book’s analytic focus also leaves limited room for continental traditions, feminist ethics, or existential urgency. Nonetheless, as a pedagogical tool, it is a powerful asset: precise in exposition, economical in length, and dialogical in tone. The book doesn’t pretend to be exhaustive—but in what it does cover, it teaches philosophy as both a method and Praxis, which is the need of hour as so much work is going globally in Philosophical Praxis, also the book offers a blend of theory and practical examples evident in almost all the chapters.

Chapter 1 is a well-crafted entry point, presenting philosophy as a rigorous discipline rooted in argumentation, logical clarity, and the courage to scrutinize our most basic assumptions. In rejecting the popular image of philosophers as mystics or self-help sages, the chapter reclaims philosophy as an intellectual craft—one that thrives on both deductive and inductive reasoning, and demands precision in thought. It offers a panoramic view of philosophy’s major domains—ethics, metaphysics, epistemology, mind-body theory, and even aesthetics— making it an ideal outset for the book. Ethical debates like abortion or capital punishment ground philosophy in real-world dilemmas, while metaphysics and epistemology confront timeless puzzles about reality, knowledge, and truth. The discussion of Sellars’s “manifest image” versus the “scientific image” is a highlight, dramatizing the tension between our lived, human experience and cold scientific reductionism. Yet despite its strengths, the chapter suffers from what might be called analytic parochialism. It offers a “constricted portrait” that privileges logical rigor over ethical seriousness, spiritual depth, or phenomenological insight. There is little room here for the Socratic imperative to “know thyself,” the existential urgency of Camus (who declared suicide the only serious philosophical question), or Foucault’s vision of philosophy as “a practice of self, of freedom, and of critique.” In its precision, the chapter excels.

Chapter 2 succeeds in presenting a panoramic and intellectually rigorous account of how different philosophical traditions have addressed the meaning of life. Chakrabarti charts a philosophically ambitious journey through the terrain of life’s meaning—without ever pretending that there’s a single, satisfying destination. With admirable clarity, he juxtaposes the mythic defiance of Camus’s The Myth of Sisyphus with the sober skepticism of Thomas Nagel (The Absurd), who sees absurdity not in cosmic indifference but in our very ability to reflect.Chakrabarti balances metaphysical rebellion with grounded responses—like Richard Taylor’s Good and Evil, where meaning stems from inner desire, and Susan Wolf’s Meaning in Life and Why It Matters, which offers a hybrid view: meaning lies in passionately engaging with “projects of worth.” Chakrabarti insightfully connects this to Aristotelian eudaimonia and Alasdair MacIntyre’s notion of narrative unity. However, it also raises unanswered questions: Can meaning be fully subjective? What is the standard for “worth”? Is cosmic purpose necessary or dispensable? In attempting to reconcile these views, the chapter not only educates but also invites readers into philosophy’s deepest and most personal question. As Viktor Frankl once wrote, “Those who have a ‘why’ to live, can bear with almost any ‘how’” (Frankl, 1946/2006). The chapter does not give us that ‘why’—but it does illuminate the many paths by which it might be found.

Chapter 3 is a philosophically alive, critically engaged, and pedagogically effective treatment of morality and normative ethics. Chakrabarti does not simply explain theories; he animates them, juxtaposes them, and tests their limits. The chapter’s strength lies in its refusal to offer easy answers. Instead, it leaves the reader with better questions—and a sharpened moral imagination. The chapter begins with Cultural Relativism, using Ruth Benedict to challenge moral universalism, while critics like Bernard Williams and Mary Midgley raise tough questions about ethical paralysis and judgment across cultures. Psychological Egoism is dissected through the Lincoln piglet anecdote, exposing the fallacy of reducing all kindness to self-interest. With Utilitarianism, Chakrabarti tackles the ethical arithmetic of Mill and Singer, showing both its appeal and its dangers—especially when happiness outweighs justice. Kantian ethics then shifts the focus to duty, dignity, and the Categorical Imperative, with Onora O’Neill’s famine ethics offering a striking real-world application. Chakrabarti skillfully presents Aristotle’s Virtue Ethics as a character-centered approach to morality, weaving in Hursthouse’s nuanced take on abortion and the concept of phronesis. He enriches this non-western ethical tapestry by integrating Buddhist mindfulness too and later through Greene’s neuroscientific dual-process theory offers cognitive depth. The chapter avoids moral dogma, leaving us not with answers, but better tools—and deeper questions. One might wish for more engagement with feminist or care ethics, or with contemporary debates in metaethics, but given the scope and purpose of the book, these omissions are understandable.

Chapter 4, plunges into one of philosophy’s most tantalizing riddles: Are we truly free, or just well-dressed puppets of causality? Beginning with the bold moral act of whistleblower Dinesh Thakur, Chakrabarti raises the stakes—our legal systems, moral responsibility, and self-respect hinge on the assumption of free will. But determinism quickly enters like a philosophical wrecking ball: if every action is causally determined, could we ever have done otherwise? Libertarianism is explored through the Principle of Alternative Possibilities (PAP), then refined via Robert Kane’s “self-forming actions” that emerge from internal moral conflict. Agent causation theorists like O’Connor and Kevin Mitchell offer naturalized views preserving responsibility within a scientific worldview. Chakrabarti presents compatibilism— especially Frankfurt’s model of second-order volitions—as a powerful alternative, showing how one can be morally responsible even without alternative options. Yet, through Susan Wolf’s “JoJo” case, he questions whether internal coherence suffices for freedom when autonomy itself is shaped by corrupt contexts. Libet’s neuroscience experiments raise empirical challenges, but Chakrabarti resists reductionism, referencing critiques and newer studies that uphold deliberation in complex decisions. The tension between determinism and moral accountability is not resolved here (nor could it be), but readers come away better equipped to understand the stakes and structure of the problem. And though the chapter could have further engaged with existential and Eastern views,still it stands as a philosophically rich and accessible map of one of philosophy’s most enduring dilemmas: Do we choose, or are we chosen by cause?

In Chapter 5, Chakrabarti undertakes the most classical and intense epistemological question—what is knowledge?—with philosophical precision and pedagogical finesse. Beginning with the tripartite model of Justified True Belief (JTB), Chakrabarti clarifies the concepts of necessary and sufficient conditions, illustrating with sharp analogies and conditional logic. Yet the chapter’s intellectual pivot comes with Edmund Gettier’s 1963 challenge, which shattered JTB’s sufficiency through clever counterexamples, revealing how epistemic luck can satisfy all conditions yet still fall short of genuine knowledge. He then moves systematically through responses: the No False Lemmas approach fails under Feldman’s variation; Goldman’s Causal Theory is tested by the Fake Barn case, thus leading to discussions on externalism, this also reflects Williamson’s “safety” condition. Nozick’s Tracking Theory offers an elegant model but stumbles under Kripke’s red-green barn puzzle. The No Defeaters theory introduces a regress problem—how many defeaters can be defeated before knowledge collapses? Chakrabarti critically engages BonJour’s Clairvoyant Norman, challenging Reliabilism, and introduces Zagzebski’s “inescapability of Gettier problems”, which undermines all definitions separating justification and truth. A comparative turn brings in Dharmottara’s mirage and the Nyāya theory of pramāṇa, revealing striking parallels with modern causal and reliabilist accounts. The chapter closes with experimental philosophy, the figure of the Ideal Knower, raising doubts about whether knowledge can ever be fully defined. While the chapter masterfully unpacks epistemology but its structure mirrors the very fragmentation it critiques—layer after layer of fixes that never quite resolve the problem. Through examples, Eastern and Western traditions, and sharp critiques, Chakrabarti suggests that the real task may not be to define knowledge, but to understand why it resists final analysis.

Chapter 6, confronts one of philosophy’s most enduring anxieties: How do we know anything about the external world? Through Descartes’ Evil Demon and the Brain-in-a-Vat thought experiment, he illustrates how epistemic closure—if you know p, and p entails q, you must know q—is turned against us. Timothy Williamson, however, rejects this fragility by treating knowledge as a fundamental mental state, immune to decomposition. The chapter surveys a rich tapestry of responses. G.E. Moore’s “Here is a hand” reverses the skeptic’s premise through modus tollens, asserting that if I know I have hands, I can’t be a BIV. Contextualists like Keith DeRose, David Lewis, and Stewart Cohen rescue knowledge claims by showing how epistemic standards shift with context. Meanwhile, Putnam’s semantic externalism collapses the skeptical scenario under its own logic—if you’ve always been a BIV, you can’t meaningfully assert it. Vogel’s Inference to the Best Explanation (IBE) refutes skepticism abductively: the Real-World Hypothesis explains our experience more simply than the Minimal Skeptical Hypothesis, invoking Occam’s Razor. Still, skeptics persist. Relevant Alternatives Theory (RAT), pioneered by Fred Dretske, narrows knowledge requirements— we need not rule out every fantastical alternative, only relevant ones. Chakrabarti draws brilliant parallels to Nyāya philosophers like Uddyotakara and Gangeśa, who also reject radical doubt unless specific defeating conditions (bādhaka) are present. Even Experimental Philosophy (x-phi) gets a voice, showing that lay intuitions often resist full-blown skepticism. While the chapter strikes a fine balance between analytic rigor and accessibility, it occasionally skims over unresolved tensions—especially around abductive reasoning and its philosophical limits. The chapter’s greatest strength lies in its intellectual restraint—it resists the temptation to offer premature closure—but this very openness leaves the reader wondering: is realism just the best story we can tell, or is it epistemically secure?

Chapter 7, this expansive and provocative chapter examines the metaphysical enigma of personal identity. From Locke’s memory-based theory to Parfit’s psychological continuity and the soul theory’s spiritual roots, the chapter maps philosophical attempts to understand what makes us the same person over time. Through the iconic Teletransporter thought experiment, the reader confronts the clash between qualitative and numerical identity. Locke’s “Prince and Cobbler” case, Reid’s memory-gap objection, and Parfit’s q-memory innovation all test the viability of memory-based accounts. Shoemaker, Schechtman, and Butler deepen the debate with concerns over circularity and personality. Chakrabarti then surveys bodily and brain-based theories, presenting Bernard Williams’s torture cases and Olson’s animalism, while engaging the ethical dilemmas of Dissociative Identity Disorder. The split-brain studies of Sperry and Gazzaniga support the radical No-Self View, echoing Hume’s Bundle Theory and the Buddhist Nāgasena dialogue. Chakrabarti even includes the Soul Theory, but ultimately dismisses it as empirically vacuous. With references to MPD, feminist critiques, and metaphysical puzzles, the chapter leaves readers with a disquieting insight: perhaps identity is not a fixed entity—but a fluid, fragmented construction resisting neat philosophical closure. While most textbooks stop at ethics, knowledge, and metaphysics, Chakrabarti dares to ask: What is art? And more importantly— why does it matter?

Chapter 8 is a masterful culmination of the book’s intellectual arc, taking the deceptively simple question on art and unfolding it into a profound philosophical investigation. From Plato’s suspicion of art as illusion to Aristotle’s rehabilitation of mimesis, the chapter begins by grounding readers in classical debates, different kinds of theories of art with their fundamental questions, only to subvert them with modern provocations. Opening with provocative examples like John Cage’s 4'33" and Duchamp’s infamous urinal (Fountain), Chakrabarti unsettles the reader immediately. What counts as art when silence or plumbing fixtures are exalted in galleries? Can a banana duct-taped to a wall (Cattelan’s Comedian) command millions because of its context rather than content? From here, Chakrabarti traverses the aesthetic terrain with both classical insight and contemporary savvy. Beardsley’s definition—anchoring art in aesthetic experience—meets its match in Duchamp, who exposes the paradox of anti-aesthetic masterpieces, then moving fluidly from Bell’s formalism and Collingwood’s expressive theory. Danto’s conceptual theory picks up this thread: art isn’t just what we see, but the context and interpretation we attach to it. Dickie’s Institutional Theory follows suit, arguing that the “artworld” confers status. But what, then, of outsider art—like the haunting works collected by Hans Prinzhorn from psychiatric patients? Each theory is critically examined through vivid examples—Bruegel’s narrative art, Rothko’s abstraction, Duchamp’s urinal—and juxtaposed with cross-cultural insights like the Rasa theory of Indian aesthetics, the devotional art of India, which flourishes outside institutional validation?

Crucially, this is a book with a conscience. It resists the temptation to offer easy Philosophical answers, and instead offers better questions and a mirror to thought itself: fallible, contested, and always in motion. Whether one is encountering philosophy for the first time or returning to its terrain anew, Chakrabarti’s work is both a reliable compass and a bold provocation.

References

• Beardsley, M. C. (1958). Aesthetics: Problems in the Philosophy of Criticism. Harcourt, Brace.

• Frankl, V. E. (2006). Man’s Search for Meaning (I. Lasch, Trans.). Beacon Press. (Original work published 1946)

• Libet, B. (1985). Unconscious cerebral initiative and the role of conscious will in voluntary action. Behavioral and Brain Sciences, 8(4), 529–566.

• Nagel, T. (1971). The absurd. The Journal of Philosophy, 68(20), 716–727.

• Nāṭyaśāstra. (ca. 200 BCE–200 CE). Nāṭyaśāstra of Bharata. (See A. Rangacharya or M. Ghosh editions for scholarly citations).

• Philosophy Now. (n.d.). A magazine of ideas – covering beginner-friendly articles on ethics, art, and identity. https://philosophynow.org/

• Putnam, H. (1981). Brains in a vat. In Reason, Truth and History (pp. 1–21). Cambridge University Press.

• Reid, T. (1785). Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man. (Reprint editions available from MIT Press and Liberty Fund).

• Sellars, W. (1963). Science, Perception and Reality. Routledge & Kegan Paul. Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. (n.d.). Plato, Aristotle, Aesthetics, Knowledge, etc.https://plato.stanford.edu/

• Williamson, T. (2000). Knowledge and Its Limits. Oxford University Press. Wolf, S. (2010). Meaning in Life and Why It Matters. Princeton University Press.

• Yale University. (n.d.). Introduction to Philosophy (PHIL 181) by Shelly Kagan. Open Yale Courses. https://oyc.yale.edu/philosophy/phil-181

• Zagzebski, L. T. (1994). The inescapability of Gettier problems. The Philosophical Quarterly, 44(174), 65–73.