We are taught the dire ramifications of materialism; the spiritual emptiness of consumerism; the evils of appetite. But seen differently, seen from the opposite direction\u2014from the absence of a will to exist\u2014an attachment to the things of this world\u2014especially if good taste and intelligence are at play\u2014is a happy symptom of one's desire for, or even love of, this life.<\/p>\n
At his death, Roger Ebert is being celebrated more for his gracious fortitude<\/a> and joi de vivre<\/a> than for his work as a film critic. In one essay in evidence of this side of him, "Books Do Furnish a Life<\/a>," he examines his passionate attachment to his things, in particular his books:<\/p>\n \nOf course I cannot do without a single one of these possessions, including more or else every book I have owned since I was seven, starting with Huckleberry Finn. I still have all the Penrod books, and every time I look at them, I'm reminded of Tarkington's inventory of the contents of Penrod's pants pockets. After reading it a third time, I jammed my pockets with a pocket knife, a Yo-Yo, marbles, a compass, a stapler, an oddly-shaped rock, a hardball, a ball of rubber bands and three jawbreakers. These, in an ostensible search for a nickel, I emptied out on the counter of Harry Rusk's grocery, so that Harry Rusk could see that I was a Real Boy.\n<\/p><\/blockquote>\n This imaginative connection to the world, a philia<\/em> of philia<\/em>, let's say, reminds me of George Costanza's ultimate wish for himself, at once a despicable lussuria<\/i> and an idiosyncratic expression of beauty:<\/p>\n