Table of Contents
The Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture Series
Series Editor: William Irwin
South Park and Philosophy
Edited by Robert Arp
Metallica and Philosophy
Edited by William Irwin
Family Guy and Philosophy
Edited by J. Jeremy Wisnewski
The Daily Show and Philosophy
Edited by Jason Holt
Lost and Philosophy
Edited by Sharon Kaye
24 and Philosophy
Edited by Jennifer Hart Weed,
Richard Davis, and Ronald Weed
Battlestar Galactica and Philosophy
Edited by Jason T. Eberl
The Office and Philosophy
Edited by J. Jeremy Wisnewski
Batman and Philosophy
Edited by Mark D. White and Robert Arp
House and Philosophy
Edited by Henry Jacoby
Watchmen and Philosophy
Edited by Mark D. White
X-Men and Philosophy
Edited by Rebecca Housel and J. Jeremy Wisnewski
Terminator and Philosophy
Edited by Richard Brown and Kevin Decker
Heroes and Philosophy
Edited by David Kyle Johnson
Twilight and Philosophy
Edited by Rebecca Housel and J. Jeremy Wisnewski
Final Fantasy and Philosophy
Edited by Jason P. Blahuta and Michel S. Beaulieu
Alice in Wonderland and Philosophy
Edited by Richard Brian Davis
Iron Man and Philosophy
Edited by Mark D. White
True Blood and Philosophy
Edited by George Dunn and Rebecca Housel
Mad Men and Philosophy
Edited by James South and Rod Carveth
30 Rock and Philosophy
Edited by J. Jeremy Wisnewski
The Ultimate Harry Potter and Philosophy
Edited by Gregory Bassham
INTRODUCTION
Lostand F.O.U.N.D.
As an avid fan of Lost, Ive been trying to figure out what it is about this show that has such a hold on me. Other fans Ive talked to feel the same way. It sinks its teeth into you and wont let go. After wondering about it for some time now, I think I finally figured out what it is. And so I have a question for you.
Have you ever been lost? Or rather, how did you feel when you were lost? Because you have been. We all have. Few of us have been stranded on a tropical island, but we have all had those moments when, far from home, we are suddenly struck by the horror that we will never find our way back.
[Fade to flashback.]
Its a meltingly hot, sunny day, June 1974, and were at the annual summer carnival. The carnival comes to Madison, Wisconsin, for ten days every summer. It is the highlight of the year. Kids spend long, grueling hours babysitting, mowing lawns, and begging their parents for cash to buy the longest possible strip of tickets. One ticket will only get you on a baby ride; the best ridesthe ones that gave you bat belly and bring you closest to mystical transcendencecost four.
[Carnival music. Chillingly alluring. Then childrens voices.]
Are you going on the Zipper this year?
No way!
Wus!
Well, not if they have that same guy strapping people in.
Its never the same guys.
Thats true. Okay, I get the outside seat ...
At the carnival there are dangers of every kind, and each child is called on to perform at least one truly outstanding feat of bravery. I didnt know any of this, though. I was only three years old, tagging along with the big kids for the first time.
True, I spent most of my time with my parents, observing my sisters and their friends, sampling the cuisine, and taking in the occasional baby ride. But my special challenge came at the end of the day.
There were seven of us, all sweaty and a bit dazed but still chattering away, as we trooped through the converted farmers field back to our car. It was a 1967 Volvo. A midnight-blue two-door with a brick-red vinyl interior and no seatbelts. This was the age of innocence, when you packed as many people into cars as you could fit, the littlest ones perching on the biggest ones laps.
Getting everyone in was a bit of a trick that day, with all of our carnival paraphernalia and the seats being hot enough to burn striped patterns on your butt right through your terry-cloth short shorts. Everyone vied for the best positions, and there was some bickering. Yet soon enough the little Volvo was on its way. Windows were cranked all the way down, and a windy discussion of the plan for the rest of the evening commenced.
Then, halfway home, Marcy, our neighbor, suddenly said, Wheres Sherri?
Shes in the front.
No, she isnt. Shes in the back.
Come on, quit kidding around.
Were not kidding. She isnt here.
Oh, my gosh! We left her.
It never occurred to anyone, not even to my parents, that I may have been snatched up by a pervert. (Such was the age of innocence.) Their only theory was that I must have somehow been hit by a car. As they sped back to the fairgrounds, my mother scanned for emergency vehicles. Everyone was asking the same question: Why didnt she get in the car?
Why, indeed. It remains a mystery.
There were no emergency vehicles in the parking lot, and I was nowhere to be seen amid the cars. On reentering the carnival gates, however, my dad soon spotted me. I was sitting serenely on a bench between two old ladies. They had apparently found me wandering and bought me a soda. Although I was not crying, my face was red and streaked.
When I heard my name and caught sight of my family, a crushing wave of mixed emotions passed across my face. I welcomed their enthusiastic hugs and kisses, but I didnt answer anyones questions, and I was quiet for the rest of the night. Once you have been lost, you are never quite the same.
The ABC hit drama Lost speaks to our deepest fear: the fear of being cut off from everything we know and love, left to fend for ourselves in a strange land. This fear is a philosophical fear, because it speaks to the human condition. It forces us to confront profound questions about ourselves and the world.
Why am I here?
Does my life matter?
Do I have a special purpose?
Can I make a difference?
[Fade to flash-sideways. More carnival music.]
How can it already be time to go home?
I am watching my feet as I shuffle along the fairgrounds. Bits of hay and interesting pieces of garbage are scattered about everywhere.
I stop to examine a paper boat containing a half-eaten hot dog. Though it looks just like many hot dogs I have eaten before, I strongly suspect I will not be allowed to taste it. I glance up to see if anyone is watching.
Sherri, come on! my sister shouts.
She does not see me pick up the hot dog. I grip it tighter and hurry along. I will bide my time and find the right moment for at least a taste.
My cheeks feel hot from a long afternoon in the sun, and the cotton candy sugar high that had me singing Baa Baa, Black Sheep at the top of my lungs not long ago has crashed hard, leaving me lethargic and irritable.
We reach the front gate of the carnival. My parents turn to see that everyone is in tow. My sister stops to take my hand. I shake her off, whining, No!