Don’t judge a book by its cover. The cover was the best part about this book.
On the whole, this book feels like it was written on a dare - rapidly and thoughtlessly, and with no proper grounding in research.
Dobelli has some good arguments, but because they aren’t met by what the majority of the world still believes and argues for it just sounds like a kid in a high school debate, throwing points at you that no one ever claimed were untrue in the first place. He also repeats his arguments over and over, making it seem like he’s saying something new when he’s really not.
The main problem is the extremity of his stance. Dobelli argues that we shouldn’t read the news at all because there’s so much fake news out there, but if you just read reliable news sources - the legacy media, for instance, that don’t include FoxNews or the Sun - fake news is largely eradicated. You don’t have to stop reading all news just because there’s some bad outlets out there. Even more annoyingly is that he repeats this point over and over, drilling it into your brain like a wrongly fitted screw. “It’s not just ninety per cent of all literature that’s crap but ninety per cent of everything” (107). So, again, just read the ten per cent that’s worth your time. Even the “crap” articles are more so than this book is.
Dobelli jumps to conclusions like an untrained monkey at a snack and throws around argumentative fallacies like they're his primate turds. His overzealous confrontations with the public and dramatic usherings are nothing but annoying, and sound like he’s attacking his audience: “My year still has twelve months, while yours (if you consume the news) only has eleven. Why would you do that to yourself? What do you really have to show for all this lost time? Do you understand the world better? Have you expanded your circle of competence? Do you make better decisions? Has your concentration improved? Do you have more peace of mind?” (48). Jeez, Rolf, just calm down.
It gets better, believe it or not. “If you consume the news, just be aware that you’re unintentionally supporting terrorism” (117). Excuse me? That’s like saying that by adopting a cat, I am unintentionally advertising that being scratched is healthy. After half this book, I was already sick of Dobelli telling me what to do and repeating that “[o]ur brains are full.” His appears to be full of shit.
I will admit that some of his arguments, if deradicalized a bit, would be good. For instance, in one chapter, Dobelli contends that the news does not report enough on the prevention of disasters – it just provides us with a constant stream of horrible things that did happen. He even miraculously, when you remember that this book was published last year, to some extent predicts a virus breaking out. He writes, in a list of things that have not happened but could have, “the absence of a statistically likely worldwide pandemic” (70). At least if the writing career track doesn’t work out for him, he could always take on a job as a prophet.
I’ll give him one other thing - he uses a few good metaphors (e.g. p. 51, 52). It’s just too bad that these are all overshadowed by his endless rambling for a point he could’ve outlined on a single page.
He keeps trying to make us recall news events out of nothing from several years back. That’s not how memory works, despite his throwing around knowledge trying to prove he knows all about it. Sometimes, your memory is sparked by something you come across by chance. Of course I can’t remember every article I’ve read in the last year, as much as I can’t remember every meal I’ve eaten. But when I smell or taste or even see a meal again, I can recall the memory and circumstances of that memory just fine.
More frustratingly to me is the fact that his use of “dear reader” isn’t as endearing as he may think. It just makes him sound like me when I was 13 years old and had “aspiring author” as my twitter bio. If this man calls me “dear reader” one more time, I will do the unthinkable and cross the words right out of the book, leaving Dobelli’s manifesto a series of squibbles and lines similar to that on the front of it. Who knows, maybe that was a prophecy, too.
Conveniently, the book is 160 pages. However, they are tiny pages with little information per page, and in those 160 pages each chapter is only about 5. That means there’s a lot of blank space - entire blank pages, at times - between those chapters that are also counted into the 160. Essentially, if you also consider the constant repetition of everything he says, the book needed only consist of 50 pages max. Dobelli is writing motivational ceramic tiles, not chapters.
In those 160 pages, he generalizes like mad (e.g. p. 31); uses Trumpian language to convince his readers aggressively (p. 79: “[the news] literally brainwashes us”); employs fear tactics (p. 142: “Get our while you still have the strength. Time is running out.”); and quite frankly could’ve used a better editor. Not just for little technical errors (e.g. p. 108: “there are an increasing number of media outlets”), but also to remove superfluous and non-relatable examples that reach no actual point and to shape the few paragraphs where a solid point is being made into something more well-spoken.
And this one thing he keeps saying - that the more an agency emphasises something, the less important it is - is obviously total crap. I agree with him, at least, that news corporations have too much of a focus on what’s new rather than what’s relevant. That said, these corporations do have some morals to uphold - not to mention a mission statement - and those are being scrutinised daily by the entire world.
His evidence in research is scarce, and he often quotes the same people twice throughout the book, making it seem like there are more sources than there are. In addition, these sources are relevant figures of history who said something about the media once. Dobelli extracts these statements and makes it sound like the whole professional world is backing him up. In reality, it’s cherry-picking.
Hilariously, Dobelli, near the end of the book – after 131 pages of telling us why we need to stop reading any news to save our lives – suddenly claims that the world does actually need two types of journalism after all, and that you can read those if you want.
What this book is, as Dobelli’s background in business management suggests, is a business proposal for a way of life. A self-help book full of demands and obligations. Unfortunately for Dobelli, it’s not appealing in any way or argued effectively until the very end - when he actually proposes an idea for a “news lunch” that isn’t half bad. If you ask me, Dobelli can go back to the business world from here on out. I think I’ll keep reading the news. I urge you, though, “dear reader,” to stop reading Dobelli.