‘The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F***’ Is a Self-Help Book Trying Not to Be
‘The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F***’, by Mark Manson, reviewed.
Blogger Mark Manson’s book is a kind of anti-self-help book—or a self-help book pretending not to be. It sounds like any other self-help books, only with swear words and an irreverent tone. The idea, as you will no doubt have guessed, is that we care too much about too much. We must stop caring about most of the things that concern us, Manson says, and ‘give a f*ck’ only about that which truly matters.
Manson treads familiar ground, discussing authenticity, failure, trauma, honesty, and values. He talks about his own life and the difficult experiences he has had. His main points are valid, but a little tired. These ideas—to be true to yourself, to shed the inessential, not to care what others think and so on—are now quite commonplace. That in itself does not make repeating them fruitless, however. Much self-help literature fails not by saying something trite, but in failing to make itself felt. We know what is best for us deep down; but we do not act on that knowledge because we do not feel it to be true. Reason is the slave of the passions.
I do not share Mark’s sense of humour; let us get that out of the way. I actually find it quite trying.
You may or not enjoy Manson’s distinct sense of humour, though listening to the audiobook on double speed does make it a lot funnier. More engaging are the stories of artists and entrepreneurs stitched into the fabric of the book. For Manson, Charles Bukowski exemplifies the values he deems vital to a happy life. These anecdotes are something like arguments from authority: that someone else has lived in a certain way, or achieved success by living in a certain way does not prove anything. But the stories are fun, nonetheless.
Manson is most compelling towards the end, when he talks about death, and Ernest Becker’s Denial of Death. I have not read Becker, but what he believed, in Manson’s interpretation, is that we cope with the prospect of our dying in one of three ways: by numbing ourselves with the trivial — TV, say, or social media — , by embracing a life of hedonism, or by creating ‘immortality projects’: turning ourselves into heroes who will conquer death by leaving something of ourselves behind. For Manson, this underscores the human need to establish worthwhile ambitions, informed by worthwhile values, which are under our control. This sort of constructive morbidity is common of almost every religious tradition, and is useful.
The book was not quite as novel as its marketing suggested, nor as good as its time on the New York Times bestseller list suggested. But this is often the case. It is accessible, however, especially for those who do not read books of this kind, or who respond favourably to Manson’s style, and as I have already said, many of his points are perfectly valid.
