If you like road trip books that move towards self-discovery, this 1970s paperback has a unique style and rhythm. Just don’t expect any profound revelations and go along for the ride.
What got me about it was the unhurried tone of the narrative, and the enquiring mind on the open road, which has always represented freedom or its promise to me. Also, that the essence of Pirsig’s investigation turned out to be something as unpindownable as “quality.”
I mean: how do you define the indefinable quality of a thing?