The Alchemist has been translated into like a million languages, and it feels like it. Bland sentences, simple story telling and zero nuance. It's a quaint parable about a shepherd who bucks the current course of his life - shepherding - to go in search of his Personal Legend (Coehlo's caps, and phrase). Coehlo's got a point, and he's going to drive it through your eyeball until he's absolutely sure you've got it.

If you ignore much of the language of the book, this is a paper-thin rehashing of Rand-like individualism Atlas Shrugged The Fountainhead. No one can show you your way but yourself. Step out on your own and you are invincible.

But all the trappings of this moral story are mystical platitudes. "Good luck shines on those who are following their Personal Legend." "Omens are the Language of the World. Learning to read them is communicating with the Soul of the World and the hand that wrote all." "All things are one." "Listen to your heart, it speaks in the Language of the World." I'd rather read Siddhartha.