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It’s clever. It’s smart. It’s eloquent. It’s articulate. It’s masterfully written. It’s the archetype of the whodunit. It’s the absolute queen of adverbs.
It’s quintessential Agatha Christie. I enjoyed it thoroughly and can’t imagine someone who wouldn’t.
When this book came out it was seemingly everywhere. Especially in airport bookshops (I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not though). Or maybe I am imagining things and the book just sticks out, more than others, because of the swear word in the title, which is …. quaint?
I happened to find* a Dutch copy and thought: well, why not? Seemed short enough.
And sure enough you can get through it in a few short hours. And I admit it sure did help that the book opens with an anecdote about the writer Bukowski. So mr. Manson definitely had my attention.
It’s clear Mark Manson has a background as a blogger. His writing is proof of that. In an uncomplicated way he explains complicated things. He knows when to stop or when to speed things up and he knows how to entice the reader by mixing personal anecdotes with more or less interesting analogies.
Overall though I have mixed feelings about this book. The F-word is used way too much for my taste. But OK, that’s the gimmick, I get it. I found it more problematic that (I felt) I was treated as an idiot. Especially, since I think I am very well aware of what was going on:
Mark Manson has written a book — based on well established stoic principles — for the masses that do not otherwise read books.
However, there is very little mention of stoicism and the stoic ideas (just one throwaway sentence). Which is strange. Because there are plenty of other ideas and philosophies he cites (and even cites Tim Ferris, so I definitely know he is familiar with Seneca). So this makes it almost seem like he is trying to hide it? Maybe ‘the airport reader’ doesn’t care where these ideas come from, but I do. And he surely must know his ideas are well established stoic principles (from Aurelius, Seneca and others).
Regardless of all this, this book has a lot of truths in it. Truths I was mostly already familiar with, but nonetheless truths. And I don’t mind admitting that I did enjoy reading this book. Mark Manson has carved out a niche for himself by packaging stoic principles in a modern, in-your-face type of language. If that’s your thing, this might be for you. If not, I can point out that there are also many other books with the same message.
*Side-note: one reason I picked up this book is because I found a bookmark in Bregman’s (highly recommended) book that I just finished. The bookmark had an add for Mark Manson’s books. Which is a bit ironic since Bregman dissects and invalidates the findings of the famous Stephen Milgram experiment, while Manson cites the experiment results as a source. Curious, right?
In 1996 — when he was just starting out — Ammaniti published a collection of short stories titled Fango. This particular story (which was also made into a movie) is one of the stories from Fango published as a separate book in 2010 and it’s absolutely vintage Ammaniti.
Being one of his earliest stories, it’s coarse and crude and a actually a bit too much for my taste. His later work is more delicate and smart. I think he tries just a little bit too hard to go for the shock effect. But nonetheless the unmistakable Amminiti touch is all over the place. And it’s still a treat.
Recognizable and unforgettable characters that come to live with only a few sentences: this is something Ammaniti has patented and what most writers strife for. It’s not a superficial skill. Amminiti embodies the notion that the better a writer you are, the more you are able to suffer.
The story itself is a clever, seemingly unrelated, chronological timeline of many different characters on the last evening of the millennium. And eventually they all intertwine in a big way. Because, of course they do.
I don’t know what the English title translation for Rutger Bregman’s latest book will be. But I do know two things. One: there will be one. And two: it will be a bestseller. I do know now, and yes it will be a bestseller:
The title will be something along the lines of: Most People Are Decent. Which is a terrible translation by me and I hope they come up with something better, but it is the general premise of the book.
Bregman hails from the school of Malcolm Gladwell (who he mentions many times). He is a great storyteller, very easy to read and he is able to create a riveting narrative — from different anecdotes and studies — around a compelling sociological thesis. Overall this book sends a message of hope, which is greatly needed. So I can definitely see this book becoming an international bestseller.
To my surprise I was already familiar with most of the ideas, because I am a loyal listener of Bregman’s podcast. His writing style is very similar to his speaking style (which is not always a good thing, but in this case it is). And having listened to him for more than 30 hours, I think I read this book in his voice.
However, even though I can agree on many things (like ‘following the news is bad for you’), there are still a few gripes I have with the book. (Not included the paradoxical reality that I probably disagree with the general premise but completely wholeheartedly agree with the conclusion of the book.)
Bregman is not a scientist, he is an investigative historical journalist, and a really good one. He has a keen nose for pointing out flaws in scientific studies and plotting them against historical backgrounds. And the conclusions he draws from those are seemingly valid. And he makes a good case for most of them, but here is the thing:
Pointing out something is wrong doesn’t directly make the opposite true.
And even though the opposite might very well be true, that is not how science works.
Sometimes such a conclusion makes perfect sense (i.e. I will not argue the correctness of the Stanford Prison Experiment), but in other places I think Bregman lets the narrative prevail the validity of the argument. Which — again — might still be true, but is not necessarily backed up by evidence (this mostly being the case with the Steven Pinker study, I think).
And sometimes the proof or argument is more anecdotal and the sample sizes too small to take for granted. But I also think Bregman is well aware of this. Because this is exactly what he does himself — pointing out flaws. Also he is well aware that history is in the eye of one who tells it and that today’s earth-shattering scientific study can be tomorrows scrap paper. Just something to keep in mind.
There is one in particular I can’t not point out, because it is one of those persistent false claims that are constantly being regurgitated. And because in this case it is about my hometown, I feel I need to address this one.
In a throwaway sentence on page 432 Bregman argues that my hometown — Urk — consistently has the most PVV (a far-right party) voters. Sure, it helps the narrative, but I would argue this is false. Have a look at the last 10 (!) elections. There is only one election where Urk voted definitely higher — and one time marginally higher — but in all other elections Urk voted structurally lower for the PVV in comparison with the national vote.
This is not meant to point out that the book or the premise is wrong. This is just one small example of keeping your eyes and ears open and to always keep thinking for yourself.
I think I have read everything by Gladwell, except his latest. And I think Bregman is also a fan. And he will probably be called the Dutch Gladwell when this book becomes that international bestseller. An unimaginative title (though arguably better than ‘that Davos guy’), but more importantly maybe also a wrong one.
Because Gladwell is under a lot of fire lately, mostly because he tends to oversimplify in an effort to push his conclusions. And I think Bregman does steer clear of this. He is much more careful in drawing conclusions, and doesn’t shy away from casting doubts on his conclusions. Which makes the reader part of the process. But he does call for a grandiose idea (A New Realism) which is another thing where Gladwell usually misses the target. But in Bregman’s case this grandiose idea follows naturally and is commendable.
Having stated some gripes, know that I am not a miser (just a stickler for facts), and I can safely say this is a wonderful book!
Bregman is not an optimist, nor a pessimist but a possibilist (yes, I borrowed that from the book). And I like that a lot! And I don’t know if Bregman knows this, but his ten rules from the last chapter share a great resemblance to Covey’s seven principles. Which I also greatly endorse.
And while this is not a scientific book, it is a book about hope, ideas and presenting a different perspective. And like I have stated many times before on my blog: getting a different perspective is always a good thing. So I would definitely recommend reading this book.
Side note 1: the effect of a cover sticker (to me) has probably the opposite of the intended effect. Because the TV program (where the sticker is from) needs the writer as much as the writer needs the TV program. And when I read on page 28 that Bregman himself calls a different book ‘magistraal’: it makes it even more lazy or at least ironic. So to me such a sticker is a warning: always make up your own mind.
Side note 2: from all the books I read this year, this was probably my favorite physical copy. Though not a hardcover, it was just the right size, the cover design is gorgeous and the font and typesetting are absolutely perfect! Of course, it also helps that Bregman is a great writer, but the overall design also make this book a pure delight to hold and read. I wish all my books were like this.
Writing a Churchill biography is not an easy assignment, even though it would be difficult to butcher the job. Churchill lead an unprecedented rich and varied life and just writing down the bare facts would already be enough for a great story. But it would also be a massive undertaking.
Haffner took a different route. He chose the high-level helicopter approach. And he managed to produce an impressive sketch and sagacious analysis of Englands’ most famous political figure, by focusing key on phases of his life. Haffner has the correct required biographers’ distance and writes with ultimate authority. His sentences are carved in stone and are a delight to read. And in some places he is as tough in his verdict as the man himself was.
In his highly distinctive ‘tone of voice’, Maarten van Rossem provides the most succinct available lecture on the root causes which lead to the 2008 financial crisis.
From the change in Keynes thinking (after the 1920s) to the Hayek and Friedman ideology — embodied by the neoliberal policies of Reagan and Thatcher. Van Rossem explains how culture and ideology shifted and, combined with technology and humanity’s never-ending greed, provided the perfect ingredients for what happened in 2008. And what will probably happen again; because humans never tend to learn.
Van Rossem doesn’t wait for the reader, he uses very direct, compelling argumentation, but provides few footnotes or sources. So it’s a matter of believing what the messenger says, as opposed to the messenger providing evidence for his claims. But when you do, this book is the most tight high-level historical overview of the 2008 financial crisis you can find.
Side note: I found it remarkable that van Rossem (as a historian) shares similar ideas with Nassim Nicholas Taleb (who tends to dislike what historians do). E.g. they both subscribe to the idea of people’s general misinterpretation of the Gaussian distribution (the Bell curve). And they both share their admiration for Kahneman and they both seem to dislike the Nobel prize.
Dare Dream Do (Dromen Durven Doen) is one of the all-time bestselling Dutch self-management books. Tiggelaar is a popular figure and he has a charming, personal and pragmatic writing style.
There are few new concepts in the book (at least for me). Practices like visualisation, goalsetting, checking goals, taking responsibility and being grateful. These are all familiar concepts, shared by many other similar well-known management theories.
And with that, Tiggelaar shows a direct linage with the likes of Covey, Kahneman and even Aurelius. But you wouldn’t know this if you’re not familiar with these theories. And that is precisely what makes this a good book. Tiggelaar has condensed this knowledge into an approachable, coherent, concise, practical and actionable book that can be read in a few short hours (or one sitting in my case). And if that’s what you’re looking for, go give it a read.
When I started college in 1998 this was literally one of the first books I had to buy. It was part of a — cheaply thrown together — five-pack of paperback management book ‘classics’. And my particular copy is printed on recycled paper, with boring frugal typesetting, and even has a Dutch translation error on the back. Not normally a book you would hold on to for 21 years.
We had a couple of classes on the book and I read parts of it. And I clearly remember thinking: well, this is all just common sense! Whoever wrote this was just stating obvious things like: ‘being proactive’ and think ‘win-win’. Anyone could have written this!
However it turned out that the lessons from this book returned to me in one way or the other over the course of my career. And I started seeing the true value and meaning (application is everything). And when I started a higher management education course a couple of years ago, everything came together. I was assigned a personal coach who (so he later on declared) was a Covey trained professional. So he coached me on the Covey teachings and things really fell into place. And I have internalised the key lessons since.
This year I decided to read the book cover to cover again. And with a bit more experience I can now state that this book is almost just perfect.
The seven habits are not a quirky catchy marketing thing — although that undoubtedly had an effect in the successful marketing and branding of the book. Also the word effective has a different connotation than get rich quick. This is not that kind of book. The ‘seven habits’ is a complete and — what’s a better word for holistic — approach to leading an effective and fulfilling life.
Over the years I have read many other management books. And there is a clear line to be drawn between Drucker, Grove and also Allen about what exactly makes good management (and yes, I read all of them). Covey holds a very large and distinct place in that lineage.
But even more modern management ideas like Simon Sinek seem to share a direct link to Covey (start from the inside). Or the famous Ray Dalio biography (principles are key to everything) don’t really bring new principles to the table, just application. Because, Covey already covered the principles.
Apart from going for a complete approach, the book also perfectly balances between being abstract (here’s a thought to ponder) and practical (literally start doing this now!) at the same time. Which is a very fine line to balance and something very few books manage. Management books usually tend to be one or the other.
Many management books have been (poorly) written about just one or a couple of the seven habits. And although some might have some merit, they usually lack the complete approach and relative context in which Covey presents the habits. Because everything is connected with everything — take one out thing and everything breaks.
The seven habits is usually marketed as a business book. My Dutch copy translates the title to ‘habits of leadership’ while the actual English title deals with ‘habits of people‘. That is quite a difference! So I don’t think Covey necessarily indented it to be a business book. A lot of examples are also about his direct close family and other non-business relations. Which is something I do find quirky and not a big enough sample size to be empirical evidence: this is one of my few criticisms. But the examples tend to hold up, not because Covey says so but because they are generic and realistic enough for anyone to relate to.
TLDR: I love Covey and I think everyone should read this book. Because it is about being a better human being.
Roger Thorpe is just as good a writer as Douglas Coupland is. As a matter of fact, he is also as real as a Douglas Coupland character. Glove Pond is his first novel.
I got this book bundled with The Gum Thief, and I was thrown off guard by the high praises on the backcover by Coupland himself. How come I had never heard of this writer? But as soon as I started reading there was the unmistakable Coupland prose and cadence!
This book is the result of the work of the main character from the Gum Thief. Interestingly the main character in Glove Pond also deals with another author who also writes a book. Because, of course he is.
The book has a couple of interesting — and classic Coupland — ideas. E.g. what would happen to the world if everyone’s IQ dropped 50 points, or the other way around, if everyone all of a sudden would become a genius. Entertaining, hilarious and sometimes frightening thought experiments. And exactly what I like about Coupland.
The rather sensationalist title would normally be a reason to not want to read this book. But since this book came out in 2010, the author E.J. Pfauth has become known for more than just this book. He is the co-founder of the Correspondent (a journalism platform), has written other books and he hosts a rather entertaining podcast. So I thought it would be fun to see where his head was some 10 years ago.
The book is part boyish bold blogging adventures i.e. travelling the world and meeting blog celebrities. All while trying to push the medium of blogging to new meaning. And the other part is a between-the-lines advice of how to exactly do this yourself. It’s not a specific how-to, but more ‘this is how I went about it’ (his second book explores this topic in more detail).
A couple of things stood out. First: the upbeat and ambitious belief that blogging could change the world. And second, while reading this in 2019 the notion that yes, the world has indeed changed. But, not necessarily by blogging. Case and point: the main two blogs from the author himself have vanished from the internet. And some of the mentioned blog celebrities have retreated into obscurity. And of course there’s Facebook and other monoliths that have eaten into the blogosphere and the independent self-publishing spirit it stands for.
But what stood out most throughout the entire book was the relentless tenacity of the author. His eagerness got him all around the world. Fortune favors the bold indeed! He was young and ambitious and would try everything and anything to get readers.
I have been blogging since 2005 myself, but I do it mainly because I enjoy it. So I have a different view of what blogging is about than the author. But of course, blogging can be many things. None of which is wrong. So in the spirit of this book I deliberately set out to blog something that would attract more readers. And it worked.
David Foster Wallace could write. And not just write, he could really write extraordinarily well. In related news: water is wet.
Wallace’s writing struck me as an epiphany, a beacon of light, a clear and unmistakable differentiator between merely good writing and exceptional writing.
I have known about DFW for some time now, and I have seen his famous commencement speech several times. It strongly resonates with me. As some other interviews do. But his writing? It seemed intimidating.
Infinite Jest, his magnum opus, is this famous thousand page multi-layered beast of a book. So I thought I start with something lighter. ‘A Supposedly Fun Thing…’ is a collection of essays and so it seemed like a good starting place.
It is a collection of 7 stories and essays on tennis, state fairs, TV, irony, David Lynch and a very entertaining cruise among other things. (Each story could validate a blogpost by itself — there is just so much there). Wallace demonstrates with academic skill his philosophical insights on modern life with the essays about other writers, TV and irony. But he is, just as easily, able to make you scream with laughter when he describes a highly anticipated and ultimately disappointing experience with the dessert tasting booth at the state fair. This man could seemingly do anything with a pen.
The words, and sentences (and footnotes!) all just seem to ooze effortlessly out of him. His voice is radically clear and distinct and his vocabulary and attention to detail are unmatched. It is very obvious Wallace operated on a different level, intellectually and talent wise. And I often stopped reading and wondered about how his depression got the best of him in the end, and whether this much talent and severe depression are somehow two sides of the same coin. Because judging by his writing, I don’t think he experienced the world the same way most people do (whatever that is).
The first thing I did after finishing this book, was head to a bookshop where I bought Infinite Jest. It still looks intimidating, but I can now only assume it must be a definitely fun thing to read.
I finished this book in one sitting. Partly because Zonneveld has a pleasant writing style. But also because the rather recent story of a hugely talented and (very) young cyclist who early on in his career got involved with dope and raced towards destruction is fascinating.
It’s the (auto)biography of Thomas Dekker but it is just as much the biography of the cycling world in the early 2000s. And this world, as we now know, was rotten to the core. This book helped uncover parts of it when it came out in 2016. And many more books about this subject have come out since and around that time.
The book is telling and doesn’t hold back, for anything of anyone. Even Dekker himself doesn’t come across as a particular likeable character. Arrogant, cocky, egotistical and self-destructive to a fault. A very bright star who burned out VERY quickly.
He only did one Tour de France and his actual relevant career was only a few short years. The book came out three years ago, and even this year’s Tour de France will have riders older than Dekker is at the moment. So there is a sense of what could have been.
One important takeaway is the notion that using dope is a gradual (non-conscious) thing. Driven by ego and desire to win. But even more important is the notion that there is no such thing as a casual doper. You either dope or you don’t.
As a cycling enthusiast it’s not necessarily what you want to read. But it is what it is.
Slaughterhouse Five is a well-known classic. And I had been wanting to read it for quite some time now, and now that I finally did, I must say it was absolutely not what I expected.
In a good way.
The book is a sort of autobiographical non-chronological story about the bombing of Dresden, but it is also about time travel, space travel and aliens and different thoughts on philosophy. So yes, there is quite a lot to unpack in this wondrously written meta-fiction novel.
As a reader you have to work hard to keep up with all the time and place switches. But the fantastical and funny storytelling make that easy. (Vonnegut has a certain dry comedic style that I suspect people like Douglas Adams must have been inspired by.)
But even the — sometimes — nihilistic black humour can’t hide that Vonnegut is actually trying to tell or show the reader something. What that is, is largely up to the reader — and also what makes this a postmodern book. One of the things the book itself claims to be, is an anti-war book. And that is certainly also true. So it goes.
Pick up any good management book and chances are that Peter Drucker will be mentioned. He is the godfather of management theory. I encountered Drucker many times before in other books and quotes, but I had never read anything directly by him. I have now, and I can only wish I had done so sooner.
The sublime classic The Effective Executive from 1967 was a good place to start. After only finishing the first chapter at the kitchen table, I already told my wife: this is one of the best management books I have ever read.
Drucker is an absolute authority who unambiguously will tell you exactly what’s important and what’s not. His voice and style cuts like a knife and his directness will hit you like a ton of bricks. He explains and summarizes like no one else, without becoming repetitive. Every other sentence could be a quote. And after reading, every other management book makes a bit more sense, because now I can tell where they stem from.
Drucker demonstrates visionary insight, by correctly predicting the rise of knowledge workers and their specific needs (and the role of computers). In a rapidly changing society all knowledge workers are executives. And he/she needs to be effective. But, mind you, executive effectiveness “can be learned, but can’t be taught.”
Even though executive effectiveness is an individual aspiration, Drucker is crystal clear on the bigger picture:
Only executive effectiveness can enable this society to harmonize its two needs: the needs of organization to obtain from the individual the contribution it needs, and the need of the individual to have organization serve as his tool for the accomplishment of his purposes. Effectiveness must be learned…..Executive effectiveness is our one best hope to make modern society productive economically and viable socially.
So this book makes sense on different levels and is timeless. Even if some references, in hindsight, are dated (especially the McNamara references, knowing what we now know about the Vietnam war). I think Drucker himself did not anticipate the influence of his writing, as the next quotes demonstrates. But this is also precisely what I admire about it.
There is little danger that anyone will compare this essay on training oneself to be an effective executive with, say, Kierkegaard’s great self-development tract, Training in Christianity. There are surely higher goals for a man’s life than to become an effective executive. But only because the goal is so modest can we hope at all to achieve it; that is, to have the large number of effective executives modern society and its organizations need.
For some reason I had never read the David Allen classic Getting Things Done. But I found out that 18 years after its release it’s still a good introduction to time and action management.
David Allen tries to make the natural, systematic. He does so by introducing a 5 step workflow: capture, clarify, organize, reflect, and engage. Allen does a great job of explaining these steps with real world examples and sprinkles his text with inspiring and relevant quotes. His system is very much based in the physical world — notes, folders, file cabinets etc. — which can feel a bit outdated, but does make sense (as he explains).
GTD is a way of thinking about organizing. And it has elements you can also find in other organisation methods. But GTD really focuses around three main concepts.
1. Put everything on a list
Yes, everything. The idea is to clear your head, and use your brain to think about things, not to think of things.
2. Define the next ACTION
This is really the hardcore key concept of GTD. Define the next step. Think about results and decide the next action. And it is very important that the next step is an action. If your car needs a check-up, your list entry is not “Car check-up”, your next action and list entry is “Call the garage to make an appointment”. But you may discover that you need the phone number first. So your next action becomes, look up garage phone number. Get it?
3. Update actions
When you’ve written down everything you need or want to do in your system (1), and decided on the next action (2), your system will only work if you regularly revise your system. You do so by updating or working on your actions.
I can see how the GTD method can work, when you stick to it. And even if I don’t think I will apply GTD fully, I certainly take away some key concepts. And I like how the system tries to empower our natural abilities, and to let your brain do what your brain is good at. That is: not keeping track of things, but creating new things.
My only question is that people who could really benefit from such a system, are usually already in over their head. So they would need a coach (or outside help) to successfully implement GTD.
I enjoyed reading GTD and would argue to read it at least once. By just reading it, it already seems to activate a mental process to want to organise and declutter. How else can you explain that I just ordered a labelprinter and 60 feet of bookshelves?
This classic management book started off with two confusing and underwhelming chapters, but ended up being one of the best three management books I have ever read. And I would highly recommend it to any manager.
If you run into a book recommendation thread on Hacker News or someplace else where tech savvy people congregate, chances are, High Output Management will be mentioned. Published in 1983, updated in 1995 and revived in 2015 with high prise from Ben Horowitz, this book seems to have an enduring allure and impact on tech managers and the tech industry in general.
The 47 year old, down to earth, polymath Andy Grove was already an experienced and successful leader at Intel when he wrote this book. But nobody, probably not even Andy himself, could have predicted what was yet to come for Intel. Namely the explosion of personal computing and the internet, catapulting Intel into becoming one of the most valuable technology companies in the world. And consequently confirming Andy’s theories and practices. I think this explains part of the lasting appeal to tech people.
But most of the appeal is in the words itself. Andy has a very direct and practical approach to dissecting hard managerial themes and is crystal clear on what is important and where (and what) the leverage is. Many, many management books have been written since, and even when I think there is room for editing in this book, I still haven’t read a more comprehensive collection of valuable management lessons put together in such a clear and concise manner.