I am like 5 books behind, and I’m less than 50 pages away from being 6 books behind. Since I’m about to go on vacation, I need to do something so I don’t get too far behind. I’m going to write mini reviews for 3 books I’ve read. While I’d rather give each book I read a full treatment, I don’t think that will be manageable considering the pace I’m going to be devouring books this summer.

I enjoyed Why Most Things Fail because Paul Ormerod, the author, levels some harsh criticisms of traditional economics. I find traditional economics to be lacking because it assumes that man is rational — agh, I can’t even write that without becoming philosophically flabbergasted. Yet as much as I love digging into economics, I find some of Ormerod’s comments distracting, like when he said that economics purged certain facts from its textbooks and said that Stalin would approve.

Ormerod presents the insight that big things don’t necessarily have big causes as if it is amazingly profound, but I don’t think it says much. He cites how residential segregation can occur merely from the sum of small preferences among many individuals. That was interesting, but the generality he drew from it was banal. It gets better when he gets more specific and says that business extinctions are primarily caused by endogenous causes rather than external shocks. The agents are very close to zero-information, but even a small amount of information can confer a great advantage. Eh, it makes sense when you’ve read the book. It’s convincing and he doesn’t delve too much into the math. This is good if you’re someone like me with almost no background in economics (aside from a college class and a high school class), but it is probably frustrating if you’re more of an expert. Then again, you could just read his papers.

This book really gets weak in the last chapter or so. His solution to surviving is to innovate but everything in the last chapters is less supported by facts than in previous chapters. He carefully presents a case for why things fail, but then what you can do about it seems tacked on, rushed. It’s an interesting read, but not very practical for someone who wants to use it to get ahead in business.

The main lesson I pulled from Don’t Send a Resume by Jeffrey J. Fox was to sell yourself to the company. Do your research, look for their needs, and convince them that you can solve their problems. This book purports to be contrarian, but much of it is translating job search stuff into sales jargon. It has concrete tips, but it would be even more useful if I had some background in sales. I’m going to read more books on selling.

I read Adversity Quotient by Paul G. Stoltz. In my view, it’s kind of a dissection of the virtue of resilience. Resiliency is a habit and it can be learned and improved. He even goes into some science. Glad to see science confirms what Aristotle figured out thousands of years ago.

Don’t catastrophize is a good tip of his and he presents some ways on how to get out of that mode of thinking. I’ve already been working on reframing things in my head. At the end of every complaint, I force myself to think, “Now, what’s the solution.” I’ve been forcing myself to be more positive. Thus, I didn’t really use the tips in the book. But I like to think that this means I’m on the right path.

The chapter on increasing the “adversity quotient” of others was really good. It teaches you not to lecture, but to ask questions. More importantly, it tells you which questions to ask. When people come up with their own answers they’re more empowered than when you tell them what to do. I think Stoltz’s techniques will be rather useful.

I like to criticize, but I enjoyed all three books much more than you probably can infer from this posting. I hope to improve my book reviewing skills as I do more book reviews.

In lieu of a normal book report, I’m listing a collection of quotes. These are the most salient passages for me, at this time in my life. I plan on re-reading this book many times, and I’m sure different passages will jump out as more important at those times.

6. A man at his best. You are not so born: strive daily to develop yourself in your person, in your calling, until perfection is attained: the fullness of your every gift, of your every faculty. You will know it in the improvement of your taste, in the clarification of your thinking, in the maturity of your judgment, in the control of your will. Some never attain the perfect, something always being lacking, and others are late in coming to themselves. The man complete, wise in speech, wise in action, is admitted, yea, he is welcomed into that rare fellowship of those who understand.

17. Change your style; not always in the same fashion, in order to divert the attention, and especially if you are being rivalled. Not always directly, or they will know your course, anticipate you, and frustrate even your intent. It is easy to kill the bird on the wing that flies straight; not that which turns. Nor always indirectly, for that trick is learned after the second feint. Malice is ever alert and much thought is necessary to outwit her; a gambler does not play the card which his opponent expects much less that which he desires.

27. Rate the intensive above the extensive. The perfect does not lie in quantity, but in quality. All that is best is always scant, and rare, for mass in anything cheapens it. Even among men the giants have often been true pygmies. Some judge books by their thickness, as though they had been written to exercise the arms, instead of the mind. Bigness, alone, never gets beyond the mediocre, and it is the curse of the universal man, that in trying to be everything, he is nothing. It is quality that bestows distinction, and in heroic proportions if the substance is sublime.

50. Do nothing to make you lose respect for yourself, or to cheapen yourself in your own eyes: let your own integrity be the standard of rectitude, and let your own dictates be stricter than the precepts of any law. Forego the unseemly, more because of this fear of yourself, than for fear of the sternness of outer authority: learn this fear of yourself; and there will be no need for that imaginary monitor of Seneca.

129. Never cry about your woes. To make lamentation only discredits you; to better purpose, to be an example of boldness against passion, than one of timidity under compassion; to lament is to open the way to the listener, to the very thing of which you complain, and by giving notice of a first insult, making excuse for a second; many a man with his complaint of injustices past, has invited more, and by crying for help, or for pity, has merely gained sufferance; or even contempt: better politics, to laud the generosity of one, thus to lay obligations upon antoher; for to recite the favors done by those absent, is to compel them from your present, for this is to sell the esteem in which you are held by the one, to the other; and so a man of sense will never publish abroad either the slights, or the wrongs he may have suffered, but only the honor in which he is held, for it will serve better to constrain his friends, and to restrain his enemies

194. A proper conceit of yourself, and of your aims, especially at the start of life. All have a high opinion of themselves, particularly those with the least reason; each dreams himself a fortune, and imagines himself a prodigy: hope wildly promises everything, and time then fulfills nothing: these things torment the spiriit, as the imagined gives way before the truth, wherefore let the man of judgment correct his blunders, and even though hoping for the best, always expect the worst, in order to be able to accept with equanimity whatever comes. It is well, of course, to aim somewhat high, in order to near the mark; but not so high the you miss altogether a starting upon your life’s job; to make this proper estimate of yourself is absolutely necessary, for without experience it is very easy to confuse the conjectured with the fact; there is no greater panacea against all that is foolish, than understanding; wherefore let every man know what is the sphere of his abilities, and his place, and thus be able to make the picture of himself coincide with the actual.

197. Do not saddle yourself with fools: he is one who does not know them, and a greater, he who knowing them, does not shake them off, for they are dangerous in the daily round, and deadly as confidants, even if at times their cowardice retrains them; or the watchful eye of another; in the end they commit some foolishness, or speak it, which if they tarry over it, is only to make it worse: slight aid to another’s reputation, he who has none himself; they are full of woes, the welts of their follies, and they trade in the one for the other; but this about them is not so bad, that even though the wise are of no service to them, they are of much service to the wise, either as example, or as warning.

204. Approach the easy as though it were difficult, and the difficult, as though it were easy; the first lest overconfidence make you careless, and the second, lest faint-heartedness make you afraid; nothing more is required in order to do nothing, than to think it done; to go at the job, on the other hand, accomplishes the impossible; but the greatest undertakings should not be overly pondered, les contemplation of difficulties too clearly foreseen appall you.

245. Talk always about the uncommon, and forego the common, for it makes the better head; do not hold in too high opinion the man who never opposes you, for that is not a token of love for you, but of love for himself: do not allow yourself to be deceived through flattery, or be pleased by it, but cast it from you; always hold it to your credit that some men speak against you, especially if it be those who speak ill of all that is best; let that man pity himself whose ways please everybody, for it is a sign that they are of no value, for the excellent is of the few.

246. Never make explanation unless asked, and even when asked, it is a species of crime, if overdone: to excuse yourself before occasion demands, is to accuse yourself; and to allow yourself to be bled in health, is to make eyes at disease, and at malice; to explain in advance is to awaken slumbering doubt; a man of sense will never show notice of another’s suspicion, for that is to go hunting for trouble; then is the time to give it the lie through what is the uprightness of your whole way of life.

262. Know how to forget, even though it’s more luck than art. Matters best forgotten, are those best remembered, for memory plays the villain by forsaking us when we need her most, and the clown, by appearing when we would see her least; in all that gives pain she is most lavish, and in all that might give joy, most niggardly; at times the only remedy for an evil lies in forgetting it, and to be able to forget is the remedy; wherefore, train your memory to these comfortable manners, for she can bring you heaven, or hell: those self-satisfied are of course excepted, for in their state of innocence, they are already rejoicing in the happy state of feeble-mindedness.

268. A wise man does at once, what a fool does at last. Both do the same thing; only at different times, the first in season, and the second out. He who starts by putting on his understanding wrong side to, must continue in this style ever afterwards, wearing about his feet what he should have placed upon his head, making left of what is right, and so proceeding in everything he does: there is only one good way to bring him to account, and that is to make him do by compulsion what he should have done through desire: but the man of sense sees at once, what sooner or later, must be, and does it to his joy, and to his credit.

287. Do nothing in passion, or everything goes wrong. He cannot work for himself, who is not in command of himself and passion invariably banishes reason. Here have recourse to another more prudent, who may be anyone, provided impassioned. They who look on always see more, than those who are in the play, for they are not excited. As quickly as you discover yourself roused, let intelligence blow the retreat, for the blood has hardly rushed into the head, before all you do shows blood, and in one brief moment is spewed forht the substance of many days of shame for you, and of slander for another.

In addition to these aphorisms, here are some passages I highlighted from the text:

… it is worse to be busy about the trivial, than to do nothing….

Continuous luck is always suspect….

Choose an occupation that brings distinction.

… it is reflection, and foresight that assure freedom to life.

Rest in accomplishment, and leave talk to others.

Virtue alone is sufficient unto itself: and it, only, makes a man worth loving in life, and in death, worth remembering.

I found A.M. Homes’s This Book Will Save Your Life in the bargain bin at Barnes and Noble. It was priced at $1.00 and seemed like the kind of book I would like, so I grabbed it. Plus, saving my life for a buck? Good deal.

It’s about this guy, Richard Novak, who was living a life cut-off from the outside world. Every morning he puts on these noise-cancelling headphones, which seemed to underscore the point of him cocooned from the outside world. He is “functionally dead,” as the book jacket describes him. After a few crises, including a bout of intense pain that sends him to the hospital, he starts opening himself up to people, making new friends in a startlingly (for the reader) easy manner.

I enjoyed the book’s message, about re-connecting with the world around you, but I think my enjoyment can be explained by two factors: my current status in life and the fact that the book only cost me $1.00. One of my roommates had just left for the rest of the semester, so I was busy reacting to that, closing myself off. The feeling of getting a good bargain for the book made me appreciate the book more. So this book may not be as fun or meaningful if you’re not somewhat depressed and disconnected, and you paid too much for the book.

I’m still confused about the book’s title. Was it meant ironically or unironically? Is there a wink there at the end of the title? If it’s meant seriously, I said I enjoyed the book’s message, but it wasn’t as profound as Aristotle. If it’s meant not so seriously, I have failed to find the bite that makes it funny. In fact, while I found the absurd events in the book funny, I found them funny because they were absurd. I did not find them funny because of any satirical edge.

I marked two passages in the book. They were both passages where things didn’t go as planned, and it wasn’t so easy making a new connection. I found them more… poignant, I guess is the word, although I use that with less of a degree than it deserves.

In the first passage, Richard has just paid for a homeless man’s meal:

“Have a nice day,” Richard calls after him, annoyed that the guy didn’t say thank you.

The man turns around. “Have a nice day. I’m homeless. What does that mean, ‘Have a nice day’? Go fuck yourself.”

“You can’t change the rules overnight,” Anhil says.

It’s a hilarious passage, but that’s the end of Richard’s interactions with the homeless.

The second passage is about his neighbor. She lives below him, and he sees her swimming every morning. Richard goes to her party uninvited and finally meets her.

… Finally he spots a familiar gesture, the turn of her head, the flicking of her hair.

He goes to her. “I just wanted to say hello.”

The minute she turns toward him he wishes he hadn’t come; she’s different in person — her eyes are brown when he was expecting blue, and there’s a harshness that leaves him with a sinking sensation. She’s not who he thought she would be. He feels out of place, and he’s got a cashew stuck in his throat. He coughs. “I’m your neighbor, up the hill.”

“Are we being too loud?” she asks.

“No, no. I heard the party and I just wanted to say hello. I see you swimming every morning. I’m up early.”

“Which house?”

He points up the hill — from here his house looks good. “The one with the sinkhole. Last week a horse fell in and Tad Ford [the actor] came and got him with a helicopter — that was a big adventure. Maybe you saw it on TV?” She shakes her head no. “Well, hopefully, the house won’t slide down the hill; then we’d really be neighbors.” He laughs. She doesn’t. “Anyway, I just wanted to say hello, to introduce myslef.” He’s talking as he’s backing towards the door. “I’m Richard. I see you every morning, I stand at the glass, I watch you doing your laps.” He meant it as a compliment: she was his inspiration, his muse, his mermaid. He goes home wishing he’d left it as it was — in his mind’s eye.

I guess this passage illustrates what bugs me about the book. This is an isolated event; otherwise, it’s easy for him to go around making new friends. Shouldn’t there be more disconnected people just like he used to be? Shouldn’t they not give a shit about him? Shouldn’t they be harder to reach out to?

So I didn’t really save my life for $1.00. Despite my criticisms, it’s a really fun book to read. It’s underlying message about reaching out to people around you is good, but the book’s just not one you’ll re-read for insight about life.