A classic memoir that most vividly reveals Wittgenstein's human side.

This is a memoir that humanizes the genius philosopher Wittgenstein, who had the greatest influence on modern philosophy.
Author Norman Malcolm vividly recalls his interactions with Wittgenstein over a dozen years.
It is structured around dialogues and anecdotes rather than philosophical discussions, allowing us to get one step closer to the inaccessible Wittgenstein.
In particular, this revised edition includes the full text of 57 letters that Wittgenstein sent to the author over a period of 11 years.
We can see not only Wittgenstein's genius, but also the gratitude, affection, jokes, and advice he showed to his acquaintances.
Also included is a biographical sketch of Wittgenstein by Wittgenstein's friend and distinguished philosopher, Jörg Henrik von Bricht.

Before he fell into a coma, he told Mrs. Bevan (who stayed by his side all night): "Tell them I had a wonderful life."
'They' undoubtedly referred to his close friends.
When I think of his profound pessimism, the intensity of his mental and moral suffering, the ruthless way in which he strained his intellectual powers, and the severity with which he refused love and the need for love, I am constantly led to believe that his life was a terrible misery.
But right at the end of his life, Wittgenstein himself exclaimed that it had been a 'wonderful' life.
I find this a mysterious and strangely moving statement. --- p.131

I think it would be wrong for us to avoid meeting and discussing serious issues other than philosophy.
I'm a timid person and I don't like conflict.
Especially not with someone I like.
But I think it's better to clash than to have a superficial conversation.
─ I've been thinking about this since I've been seeing you write less and less.
(…) Even if we live to see it again, let us not be afraid to dig it up.
People who are afraid of getting hurt cannot think honestly.
I know this very well.
Because I'm an avoider like that too. --- p.153

Wittgenstein sat on a plain wooden chair in the middle of the room.
Here he held his own reasons and struggled before the audience.
He often felt confused, and said so when he did.
He also frequently muttered things like, “I’m such an idiot,” “What a terrible teacher,” and “Why am I so stupid today?”
(…) Sometimes there were long silences in which no sound could be heard except Wittgenstein's occasional mutterings and the audience's breathless gazes.
In this silence, Wittgenstein thought actively in extreme tension.
His eyes were fixed on one point, his expression was lively, his hands made a conspicuous gesture, and his expression was solemn.
It was then that we realized that we were in the presence of extreme seriousness, immersion, and intellectual power. --- pp.37-38

A day or two later, I suddenly fell ill with a cold.
A young German friend named Tom Rosenmeier, concerned that I had no one to look after me, went to see Wittgenstein, knowing that we had been friends.
He was a man who had never met Wittgenstein.
When I knocked, Wittgenstein opened the door.
When Rosenmeier suddenly announced, “Malcolm is sick,” Wittgenstein immediately replied, “Wait.
“I’ll be there soon,” he replied.
The two appeared immediately.
Wittgenstein came to my bed and spoke in a rather serious tone.
“Smysis said that I misunderstood your intentions.
“If that’s the case, I’m sorry.” Then he started cleaning the room to make me more comfortable.
And he took on the task of bringing food and medicine.

--- p.48