I've been reading Terry Eagleton's book, The Meaning of Life. He's a British literary critic, but this little book is directed toward the philosophical question. Being a literary critic, he does manage to throw in more discussion of "Waiting For Godot" than the average philosopher would.
My friend at The Frugal Chariot has already posted a review, even accompanied by a poem of his own.
Frankly, I found it a maddening book at times - too flip, too hip, too damn reformed-Marxist. On the other hand, he does stick up for reality and human nature as being something more than mere constructs. He's on a kind of anti-postmodern rant, in his own way, and he ends up turning to Aristotle's Ethics as a source of fundamental insight as to the meaning of life.
At first I simply found the book annoying.
But after a while,
against my will,
I actually started enjoying it.