This stunningly beautiful book throws open the closed doors of the Sydney herbaria, and the history of Australia's flora.

Despite their conceptual allergy to vegetal life, philosophers have used germination, growth, blossoming, fruition, reproduction, and decay as illustrations of abstract concepts; mentioned plants in passing as the natural backdrops for dialogues, letters, and other compositions; spun elaborate allegories out of flowers, trees, and even grass; and recommended appropriate medicinal, dietary, and aesthetic approaches to select species of plants. In this book, Michael Marder illuminates the vegetal centerpieces and hidden kernels that have powered theoretical discourse for centuries. Choosing twelve botanical specimens that correspond to twelve significant philosophers, he recasts the development of philosophy through the evolution of human and plant relations. A philosophical history for the postmetaphysical age, The Philosopher's Plant reclaims the organic heritage of human thought. With the help of vegetal images, examples, and metaphors, the book clears a path through philosophy's tangled roots and dense undergrowth, opening up the discipline to all readers.

As poetic symbols or scientific models, flowers have often been invoked to explain nature's harmonizing of expression, attraction, and reproduction. Words can lie, but flowers seem to speak plainly nature's own language. Flowers thrive as both botanical and literary phenomena in the works of Goethe, Rousseau, and Ruskin and serve as essential points of reference for Rilke, Proust, Genet, Ponge, Cixous, Derrida, and many others. This book explores the links between the flowers of nature and the flowers of metaphor. No longer rooted in a system of symbols, as they have been in many times and cultures, the flowers of modern literature are ambiguous and changeable. As examples of nature's finery and plenitude they justify not only finery and plentitude, but also questions and contradictions. They are flagrantly colorful or delicate and secretive. Yet throughout the Western traditional flowers have most frequently been considered feminine by male and female writers alike. It is this attachment that Sartiliot pursues to the end, questioning the place of flowers in Cixous's writings and in contemporary feminism.