Losier is off to a bad start right from the subtitle of this unsubstantial book, which contains nothing scientific that can be used towards the patently ridiculous goal of creating “ideal” relationships. Starting with a hokey 15-question quiz to establish your communication style as visual, auditory, kinesthetic or digital, Losier quickly moves to generic descriptions of the styles and canned keywords and phrases for each that can be used to create “rapport.” Perhaps it’s a digital thing, but I’m pretty sure my brain intuitively understands that “how does this look to you?” “how does this sound to you?” “how do you feel about this?” and “what do you think about this?” all mean approximately the same thing. I highly doubt that I’d feel some magical connection with someone who has figured out my communication style and altered the wording of their question accordingly. The whole exercise is kind of self-defeating anyway–what happens if everyone tries to suit everyone else’s communication style? How could you figure out someone’s style if they were choosing their vocabulary based on what they think your style is?
As far as identifying nonverbal characteristics of the different communication styles, Losier often succumbs to that well-known “Facebook quiz” technique of creating generic descriptions that would apply equally to a variety of styles. I’m pretty sure it’s not just visual communicators who would be annoyed if you started and ended meetings late, or just auditory communicators who would prefer you not to speak to them in a harsh tone, or just kinesthetic communicators who would be hurt by feeling excluded, or just digital communicators who would like to be acknowledged for their contributions.
Since the book doesn’t contain much information about the concepts of neuro-linguistic programming in general, I checked out the relevant Wikipedia article and was not surprised to find it labeled a “largely discredited psuedoscience.”
[Why I read it: it was recommended to me by my friend, Joy.]
There’s no “I” in “Quitter,” my family has often joked…but according to Godin, there is and often should be. In this delightfully short book (which, at <80 pages, is the size most popular self-help books would be if they cut the B.S.), Godin makes a compelling case for the use of strategic quitting in the pursuit of the ambitious goal to be the “best in the world” at something. Godin advocates setting high goals, specialising rather than diversifying, persevering through the difficulties that weed out the competition (the Dip), and quitting dead-end/mediocre pursuits in order to avoid living the “sunk cost fallacy,” while freeing up resources for more successful endeavors. All this advice is little more than common sense applied with guts and the book does not pretend to provide some grand, fool-proof philosophy to get rich quick. Instead, it gives a little motivation and encouragement, while stimulating a thoughtful, courageous approach to business and career decisions.
[Why I read it: I think I came across it online or something…I can’t really remember. Anyway, the title caught my eye because I’ve always wondered if my aversion to quitting (and even aversion to starting things that I might be forced to quit at some point) limits my potential or is in fact a healthy approach to challenges. Godin has this to say on the subject: “Simple: If you can’t make it through the Dip, don’t start” (32), but I suspect that at that point, he’s writing more to serial quitters than to potentially over-cautious people. So the book was not completely conclusive on the subject, though it still definitely has something to offer both types of people.]
If only someone would write a self-help book for people who are too cynical and pessimistic for self-help books. Not that it would help.
Anyway, I skimmed through this but was feeling much too depressed to ponder any of the ponderous questions that lurked at the end of every chapter or to do any of the numerous thought-exercises. I know that makes this review about as legitimate as a review of a diet book that was read while eating Twinkies, but what can I say – when you’re not thinking positively, then “thinking more” (which is, practically speaking, the solution Robinson proposes) does not seem likely to help. Also, the book’s subtitle makes me want to puke. And the cover is too colourful.
[Why I read it: I ordered it from the library after watching an interesting interview with the author. However, it turned out to look a heck of a lot like your ordinary, bullshit self-help book and I was in a bad mood anyway, so I lost interest and only read it very late at night, when my brain was too tired to process the book on theoretical physics that I was also in the middle of.]