Either this book is awfully like a long blog post about nothing or reading it on your Kindle makes it seem that way. I loved the humanist approach to addressing everyday insecurities - especially in the mini-reviews of The Death of Ivan Illyich and Oedipus, but this is a little too sincere for anyone who reads things written by past or present employees of Nick Denton. Adopting any of this book's Pollyannaish theories of human interactions seems to me to be a great way to fiddle while you burn opportunities away.