Quite recently, a friend of mine looked at my Goodreads reviews, or perhaps just the star ratings and commented that there were lots of 4s and 5s. I don't like ratings systems anyway, partly because the "why" of a rating is left unstated, and that a 4 for someone might be a 3 or 5 for someone else. An intangible, like making me think, relevant to the book under review here is also worthwhile and it can transcend things like content, writing style and so on.
I explained to my friend that a 10 point scale might have been more useful as some books might be 3.5 and also that I had many partly-read books at home and there were some I couldn't finish, or even get past the first couple of pages. In that context I mentioned Jonathan Haidt's The Righteous Mind which I gave to a friend saying that I just couldn't get past the first 20 or so pages as what he was talking about made no sense, to me. I had expected a better standard of argument, I suppose. The book was bought with some misgivings, as I had gathered what he was on about from other sources, and i also had great difficulty with the title of the book.
The latter might sound strange from someone who has read a book with the title "Business Bullshit" – also an uncomfortable title – but the difference was that I had enjoyed the author's perspective in other texts. I still found reading that book difficult in a particular way, but what it was talking about transcended that particular problem.
This is my also rationale for reading and rating this curious book, by two academics and authors of a particular age whose other work I had enjoyed. Being quite skeptical of or cynical about what is called here the "self-optimization movement" was also an inducement to see what it has to say, particularly as aspects of my working life overlapped with the "self-help" genre, which I must admit I ended up feeling extremely embarrassed by that association. Maybe that's what happens when you take yourself too seriously intellectually, or you realise that for many, the intellect, or any consideration, is not really in play in this field.
The book is in a diary format, describing a year spent testing out/engaging in all sorts of self-improvement methods, many of them physical, some, perhaps most, essentially holdovers from the famed 60s and 70s, apart from what seems to be requisite technological innovations such as apps, fitbits and the like. The authors chronicle their thoughts, feelings, and experiences and although essentially skeptical themselves, tend to take the claims that are made for various techniques or activities at face value. So there's a bit of naivete there.
It's clear that neither Cederstrom or Spicer are really into self-optimization or the public aspects of what they've decided to undertake, essentially a strategy or idea a month. There's a bit of guilt and relief, even anger, throughout.
The prose is simple and direct, easier to read at some times rather than others. Some of the things they engaged in made me cringe, and to an extent this can be seen as a superficial survey, a fact that doesn't exclude some excellent insights and interesting self-reflection. Comments by the wives of the two men are refreshingly blunt.
Amidst a number of caveats, the book made me think and so is worthwhile for that.