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Started unimpressively, became more interesting as it went on, and then finished weakly. Shestov’s main point in this work seemed to be “you just never know�� and while that’s true, I regard it as specious in our modern age where we implicitly accept the aggregated experience of science and other people. Obviously influenced by Nietzsche in his aphoristic style, Shestov’s disjointed insights were sometimes pallid and mundane compared to his predecessor’s, but I did enjoy his reflections on the greats of Russian literature: both of their works and their personalities. Sometimes too, Shestov hit a vein of inspired material, but it was poetic rather than philosophical in that there was no rigour to it. It was interesting that D.H. Lawrence wrote the introduction.