I just finished a book that shall not be named.*

It’s a work of nonfiction, published relatively recently, and enjoying a certain amount of popularity. In it, the author expresses opinions on various subjects. While I agreed with many of these opinions, I disagreed with others.

Despite my disgruntlement with some of its content, I read the book cover to cover. It was a page-turner, so that helped. But even if it wasn’t, I may have finished it anyway. I believe it’s important to read and consider alternate viewpoints. Otherwise, how can we know where we stand? It is only in relation to others that we can establish an identity of our own. It can be refreshing to read skeptically—to forge out a path, through ideas, to who you are and what you believe.

And there are further reasons to get intimate with alternate viewpoints. Sometimes, you disagree because you don’t understand a perspective fully enough; reading about it can clear things up. Other times, the more you read, the more you disagree—and the more you arm yourself with arguments against the viewpoint, should you need them. It’s empowering to be able to talk about a subject lucidly and armed with facts. It’s also empowering to know, in your own mind, why you are living your life a certain way—which may differ from that of many, or even most, of your family, friends, and neighbors.

Do you read skeptically?

*When I feature a book on this blog—that is, when I write one or more book previews on it—this means that I believe the book is, while not necessarily perfect (what book is?), certainly excellent, interesting, and worthy of being added to one's nightstand stack. Sometimes I read books that do not meet this (admittedly biased) standard. To stay within the scope of this blog—which is to highlight nuggets of wisdom in great books and elsewhere, and to carve out a heartfelt and hospitable nook amidst the wilderness of the Internet, rather than to offer comprehensive critiques, first-rate examples of which are easy to find elsewhere—I will refrain from identifying these books by name, author, or other means.

And so (as I mentioned a few days ago), while the title of Mark Manson’s The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck seems to imply that we should coolly brush off the entire world and all its sh*t and not care about a single thing—in actuality, Manson’s thesis is that we should carefully choose what to care about and struggle for.

According to Manson, there are good values and bad values. We should give serious f*cks about good values, but not about bad ones. He says there are three differences between good and bad values:

“Good values are 1) reality-based, 2) socially constructive, and 3) immediate and controllable. Bad values are 1) superstitious, 2) socially destructive, and 3) not immediate or controllable.”

One personal story he tells—in a different section of the book—stands out particularly in my mind, in relation to these points. A woman (and this is a true story, he says) fell in love with him after a brief encounter. Convinced that they were meant to be together, she stalked and harassed him for the next seven years. No matter whether he ignored her, politely asked her to stop, or angrily asked her to stop, she persisted.

This is an example of someone whose values are bad in all three ways: (1) The woman’s superstitious beliefs led her to think that the match was destined. (2) Her behavior was socially destructive because she negatively affected the lives of Manson and people close to him. (3) Her beliefs about Manson were not immediate because she thought she would experience happiness with him in the indeterminate future, even though he was showing her no affection now; and her beliefs were not controllable because it’s impossible to force someone to love you.

To transform her values into good ones, she could have done the following: (1) Identify the facts and separate them from the fantasies, for example by focusing on Manson’s responses to her overtures, instead of on mystical interpretations of signs from the universe. (2) Work on behaving in ways that produce positive outcomes and responses from others; no tangible good was coming of her contacting Manson, and his responses to her were not positive. (3) Think about what she has control over right now, and work on those things; for example, she could work on learning a new skill or cultivating a new attitude.

I confess, I have a number of superstitions. In fact, in counting them up to write this post . . . well, I have more than I had realized. That’s something I’m going to have to work on. Do you, like me, have any bad values that could, with a little personal effort, be discarded in favor of good ones?

Which of these photos, in your opinion, best represents happiness? The daisies or the rainbows?

Okay, I admit it—this is a trick question (and a silly one, at that). According to Mark Manson in his book The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck, neither is a good representation of happiness. Why not?

“Because happiness requires struggle. It grows from problems. Joy doesn’t just sprout out of the ground like daisies and rainbows. Real, serious, lifelong fulfillment and meaning have to be earned . . .”

However, maybe daisies and rainbows can be representations of happiness, if we think of them like this:

Imagine working very hard to clear a patch of land, till it, add compost, plant seeds, water them diligently, and prevent the seedlings from being damaged by winds or floods or weeds or animals, to finally produce beautiful flowers—only to have to work to keep them looking lovely as long as possible, upon which they die and you must begin again.

Or envision undertaking a long, hard voyage through the wilderness, staving off thirst and hunger and insects and unsociable animals, and experiencing inclement weather, including a long and hard rainstorm, to finally be able to witness an idyllic scene—upon which the double rainbow vanishes almost immediately, and you are still in the middle of the harsh natural world and must continue to work to survive.

But don’t worry—there’s good news. There’s no need to resign yourself to a life of grunt work and misery. According to Manson, the key is to choose a struggle that you enjoy. If you enjoy gardening, working hard to grow beautiful flowers is your happiness. If you enjoy hiking or boating through wilderness areas, striving to witness idyllic rainbow scenes is your happiness. To experience joy, ironically, we must choose our struggle.

What’s yours?

Darn and dang it all, if it hasn’t happened again!

Once again, I’m previewing* a book with a provocative title. And once again, the book in question is more nuanced than its title might cause one to suspect at first glance.

Like the book F*cked (which I previewed last June), it drops the f-bomb in the title—while also censoring it. And like the book Why Buddhism Is True (which I previewed last August), its title tells only part of the story—forcing the author to reveal the rest of it as soon as possible, so as not to lead the reader too far astray.

To be fair, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck by Mark Manson has the words “subtle art” in its title, so Manson is upfront about the fact that there’s some nuance at work. Nuance is essential to a good read; the real world is more complex than can be expressed in a snappy title or slogan. Why Buddhism Is True does not vouch for one-hundred percent of that religion and all of its aspects; likewise, while not giving a crap** is, truly, a subtle art, it is not the only subtle art required by those who want to achieve what Manson calls “living a good life.”

As Manson takes pains to explain, when he talks about the subtle art of not giving a crap, what he’s really talking about is the subtle art of deciding what to give a crap about. I suppose the title The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck About Some Things, But Giving a Major F*ck About Other Things, and Basically Figuring Out When to and Not to Give a Flying F*ck didn’t make it through the marketing department.

I blogged not long ago about judging a book by its cover. Interestingly, a friend of mine saw Manson’s book in my hand and remarked that the title turned her off. Thus, though provocative titles will attract one audience, they will also repel another.

It is important to remember that gimmicky titles are not the whole story. Sometimes they hide well-researched, nuanced content within. So when judging a book by its cover, it is wiser to assume it’s going to be awesome, but be disappointed (you can always stop reading) than to assume it’s going to be terrible, but miss out on being pleasantly surprised (you won’t gain knowledge that you could have gained).

Different people will have different initial reactions; we can’t help it! Is profanity cool or crude? Are outrageous titles enticing or off-putting? Is the alligator cute or creepy?

But we can consciously decide what our subsequent reactions will be.

*I prefer to call my book-related blog posts previews, as opposed to reviews, for several reasons: (1) I do not attempt to encapsulate the gist of the entire book; (2) I avoid spoilers; and (3) my purpose is not to inform the reader about the book and offer opinions about its strengths and weaknesses, but rather to highlight read-worthy books as well as interesting nuggets within each book, both sharing the books' merits and using the books' ideas as springboards for further ideas.

**Do you mind if I use the word crap? Is it too mamsy-pamsy—or too vulgar—for your tastes?

The inquisitive one was running on a forest path.

The path took a sharp turn. So the inquisitive one also took a sharp turn.

And then suddenly, the inquisitive one encountered, standing directly in the path, a dog dressed like Yoda! A blanket, with pink and gray plaid stripes, had been wrapped exquisitely around the dog, who seemed to be sitting up inside the blanket. The dog was peering out from the blanket with an expression of wisdom, quiet confidence, and acceptance.

Frightened, the inquisitive one backed away, slowly turned, and ran very quickly all the way back to the trailhead.

It was then that the inquisitive one recalled seeing something, upon turning in the opposite direction from the dog, before beginning to run back. Something had been crouching in the brush . . . something with a camera. . . .

The next day, feeling overwhelmingly curious, the inquisitive one ran that way again. But there was no trace of who and what had been there the day before.