He does not misrepresent all of the many philosophers he refers to. Fair enough, as this is a self-declared travel book that gets discursive about the way middle-aged people should think about themselves and their exercise and the old old age that is closing in on the fittest of 60-something-year-olds.
Some people will enjoy it, like a lazy stroll on a quiet, overfed morning. But I felt as if it were aimed directly at me, my preoccupations, foibles, experiences, and that it meant to say "wake your ideas up a bit, Mister." Only ... I was already awake. Of course, I have thought about the folly of forever young, while paradoxically pursuing it, if absent-mindedly, as long as possible, because for better or worse it seems less defeatist than some other options.
And like most people my age, I have already confronted the evils of old, old age unnaturally prolonged by the living-death nursing home model many have adopted, not knowing what else to do.
There will always be some layabout rascal hawking artfully packaged faux-profonde "thoughts" to the would-be thoughtful. But if you've been thinking already, the bleeding obvious is ... obvious, even if it is festooned with the quips of Heidegger and Kierkegaard.
Actually, its best moment is a jest from jolly old Schopenhauer, who actually was a sparkling wit when he wasn't being the gloomiest of an uncheerful crew. If you really want to know about Epicurus, this isn't the book. For a short but good look - surprise! - see Wikipedia.
Rick Bryant is an Auckland reviewer.