In a recent rationalist unconference multiple people recommended me Carolyn Elliott's Existential Kink, one of them even postulating that it would be useful for me specifically. So I was really surprised to open up a rather generic self-help book, with the author gloating about her success, and generally just advertising the book for the first chapter. Professional advice-givers tend to, in my experience, reach only the audience that self-selects for a certain self-help format. The name containing the word kink could have already rung alarm bells had I been awake; it's just the sort of correctly-toned provocation that makes such people pick up these books [1].
As required for any self-respecting book on anything even slightly resembling philosophy or life advice, an ancient story has to be invoked quite early. Fitting to the nature of the book, the prologue begins with an author's retelling of the Rape of Persephone. It briefly covers the story [2], and then dives straight into astrology, and somehow even worse, metaphorical alchemy. It suffices to say that I haven't ingested such utter balderdash since reading well cherry-picked GPT-2 outputs. For instance, the word "magic" is used for your own thoughts affecting anything, especially yourself.
While I appreciate the condescending tone that the book sometimes reaches for, fondly reminding me of Sadly, Porn, this particular one in the intro was almost enough for me to stop reading [3]:
I feel this sense of shameful wrongness at times. Maybe you don’t feel it at all. Maybe you’re free—in which case, kudos! You are very welcome to close this book and go about your enlightened life, my friend.
Fortunately, I had already decided to read the book. Sadly, the condescension never lasts long and changes quickly to what I'd describe as fake-excited[4] authoritative tone. It also continues gloating and promising good outcomes. Every paragraph of actual advice seems to be surrounded by at least three made of fluff. It also keeps inventing fancy words or loaning them from other woo fandoms, including psychoanalysis and Buddhism, in order to sound more sophisticated. Ok ok, I'll attempt to get over the writing flavor and focus on the actual content from now on... after this one example [5]:
Even the most rigorous scientific experiment can only be experienced subjectively. There’s simply no world outside of our subjective awareness.
And the point is? Please? Get to it some day? Solipsism was a funny joke fifteen years ago.
Two pages later, finally, there's the statement I've been waiting for:
Okay, so that’s some far-out metaphysical stuff, what the hell does that mean, in practical terms?
If you expected to find something to address the question above, you'll be sorely disappointed.
The book consists of a couple of lessons to introduce the reader to the core ideas, including the basic meditation technique. Then it lists some anecdotes on how it has worked with some of the author's clients. After this there are 13 exercises for experiencing and experimenting with the methodology. And then more anecdotes. The book ends with a Q&A section, which actually addresses some of my concerns.
One of the core principles in the book goes like this:
[...] contrary to some airy Law of Attraction notions, we rarely get what we consciously want (unless we do the kind of deep solve work addressed in this book), but we always get what we unconsciously want.
I've had the exact opposite experience. I seem to eventually end up getting everything that I consciously want, but still end up feeling like something's missing. Maybe I'm just interpreting this wrong? That said, I feel I'm pretty well on the same page with myself about things that I want, compared to others around me [6].
To engage on a metaphysical level: There's an interesting theory, which I first got from reading Yudkowsky's High Challenge: Perhaps I'm currently living in a simulation with optimal difficulty level for my own enjoyment. It feels true quite often and is, of course, completely unfalsifiable. But it's one of my nice mental frames to look difficulties from, and resonates quite well with the book's message.
You can integrate and evolve those previously unconscious desires of yours for a partner who cheats, mopes, drinks, fails to wash dishes, or believes in Flat Earth theories—whatever your particular kink amongst the thousands possible happens to be.
If your partner cheats on you, that's exactly what you enjoy? If you break up with them because they cheated on you, then you wanted to be a person who has broken up with a cheater?
Yeah. Super useful. This is totally the key to fulfilling relationships. Oh wait:
At such a point of recognition and integration, you either lose all interest in the present relationship and end it gracefully, freeing yourself to go find a better one, or you find that you, yourself, your partner, and the relationship as a whole, evolve in a fascinating way.
Ok so... the model contradicts itself. Even better.
The core of the book consists some mediatative techniques. Perhaps they could be useful. I'll try the basic meditation practice with one of my own problems to see if it works. I'll need to pick something I don't like. Something where "having is evidence of wanting" rings false on first intuition. Maybe this one...
I'm somewhat overweight. I don't like it, for both aesthetic and instrumental reasons. It's quite easy to point out at the supposed reasons for why I'm like this. Firstly, I like food, and through some long periods of depression that was my primary source of enjoyment, along with videogames that surely didn't help much either. Secondly, I have hard time differentiating between anxiety and hunger, and I get stressed easily.
I don't think there's any perverse self-sabotage going on here, just conflicting wants and a compromise that follows the path of least resistance. Sure, looking like an almost-rotting cave troll can be a nice source self-deprecating humor, but that's of limited use. Perhaps I have a secret desire to feel terrible all the time? Nope; I think Groon the Walker got it right in Erogamer: this is a blight upon earth and getting rid of it would be almost purely positive. "You're not really trying so it doesn't work for you!" Perhaps you should attempt running across the barrier between platforms nine and ten on King's Cross station?
Perhaps we could look a bit deeper? The overeating is self-sabotage that I do, because...? Maybe I use it to uphold my class clown personality, which owned that bit early on? Or maybe I use it to appease the expectations of my childhood bullies, none of whom I've seen in years? Perhaps I like people having a negative halo effect on me? I don't think I can find the theories far-fetched enough to fit here. No, I self-sabotage because my evolution-misguided brain wants more calories.
A perceptive author might notice that avoiding the physical exercise might actually count here. I hate receiving praise for anything healthy [7], and this was big part of why I was for a long time really anxious about this. However, I'm again confused why I'm supposed to enjoy that instead of getting over it, as I mostly have.
Perhaps the author just has a Meta-Existential Kink, which makes them want to think that everything bad happens because they subconsciously want bad things to happen to them?
For some other problems, the answers are much cleaner.
But if we’re talking about endemic human problems like war or racism or child abuse, odds are it’s more of a collective unconscious issue. So war and abuse and all the challenging stuff that transpires in the world result from millennia of unintegrated, repressed, denied shadow desires of individuals conglomerated into collective forces.
My first thought is that perhaps this has some interesting connections to mistake theory?
My second thought is that this is easily refutable [8]. Take cancer, for instance. I fortunately don't have cancer [9]. If I get one, my reaction will not and should not be "this is exactly what I wanted". My take is "fuck cancer", end of discussion. I'll also accept "it is what it is" and even "at least now I don't have to worry about many of those other things" if you can really deeply believe that, and, grudgingly, "you play with the cards that you're dealt". If (mentally) masturbating to the idea appeals to you, feel free to, but that's not my thing.
The problems that the book describes solving seems to be almost purely social, consisting of shame and guilt. The solutions in the anecdotes seem to just magically appear from outside when the main character decides to absolve themselves. Being ok with the situation itself isn't enough for any of them. They still need the world to accommodate them, often with deus ex machina -like fashion. This seems to go directly against the primary claim of the book, learning to enjoy the misery. There's a story on how Louisa learns to be content with their old car. And then buys a new one. In another story, June tries to accept that it's ok with missing a flight, then realizes that she'd miss her mother, and literally manifests boarding passes with wishful thinking [10].
The people in anecdotes are also all women. I find this complementary to my interpretation of Jordan Peterson's gender roles take, namely that of losers, men lack a spine, and women lack agency itself. I do not endorse this, which is why it's rather interesting to see it here, as a literary trope if nothing else. [11]
Then again, why would a self-help book include stories where the model doesn't work? Disclaimers? Statistics? What would be the point?
In general, the book is very femininity-coded and that might be part of why I feel so difficult to identify with it. I don't relax with baths, chamomile tea and crying. I relax with sauna, violence and engineering. I'm not part of the intended audience, as I don't like self-help books that much anyway. Also, in the Q&A there's a warning that depression [12] or asexuality [13] likely make the book's methods ineffective.
I try the next exercise:
Close your eyes for a moment and feel into your current state.
Are you holding any resentments? Judgments of yourself or
other people? Worries? Criticisms about the state of the world?
Complaints about your body, your work, your life?
And the answer is simply no.
I made an attempt to try most of these exercises. Results were not good, but then again I've always had really hard time easing into stuff like this, and I find it likely that this is my personal skill issue [14]. Fortunately the exercise #13 contains instructions for approximately the same problem. Unfortunately it seems even more fake than everything I've seen before, so I'll just quote the primary segment here:
Here’s how it works. Try leveraging your dread by saying this to yourself:
“Oh no, if only there was something I could do to stop the inevitable arrival of this magnificent new partner in my life. This is so awful. [...] terrifying fate of being completely fulfilled in love.”
Ahhhhh, can you feel the honesty there?
Refreshing, isn’t it?
Because there is some shadowy part of you that’s disgusted and miserable at the idea of fresh new love, isn’t there?
No actually I cannot see anything resembling honesty here and I doubt anyone else can either [15].
Irrational levels of self-confidence are certainly useful. This might be one path there.
Bootstrapping feedback loops is sometimes easier with a little bit of self-deception. Sustaining them indefinitely shouldn't. Perhaps the author already thought of this and realized that anyone that fixes their problems like this eventually confronts the truth? I don't think[16] so. In any case, there's no need to get fully delusional.
And sure you can be "turned-on" about anything all the time.
But just like with regular old arrogance, that sometimes leads to results that you do not endorse. Perhaps permanent physical injuries or prison time are also enjoyable with the right mindset, but neither helps you achieve anything in life. Perhaps you can learn to be turned on about being a loser in all senses of the word. I have values higher than my own happiness. I don't want to feel permanent fulfillment. I'm content with not being content. I want more. I have no goals beyond the joy of the journey. Quite contradictory, I know.
Why I'm writing this post in such a defensive tone? No idea. Really? I do have an idea. The book would say that I'm going it to protect my sense of identity. Correct! Next accusation please.
My understanding is that the book does a Jungian take on this. Sadly, Porn, which I mostly contrast it within my head, adopts the Lacanian perspective instead. Both books take a weirdly sexual primary lens on the subject, and hide their points behind layers of obscurity to make you think about it all. EK claims that it's ok to be terrible and it's there to help you. SP simply shouts that you're terrible, you're a disappointment, and maybe you ought to do something about it if you weren't such an unagentic disappointment. I vastly prefer the latter.
It's one of the worst books I've ever read. That said, I did read it. It provoked some thoughts. I definitely wasn't most useless book I've read.
It might just be that I'm not that much into kink, or submission, or masochism. Or sex. Or astrology, spiritualism, solipsism, empowerment, soft-fuzzy-feelings, or woo. Or fancy words. I'm not a "nasty freaky thing", to the best of my knowledge, in any of the senses Elliott describes, nor do I want to be one. I rarely feel particularly guilty. Shame sometimes limits my actions more than I'd wish on reflection, but even that seems mostly reasonable and useful.
Perhaps focusing more on the sadistic instead of masochistic perspective would have been more relatable. It would also have resonated better with Nietzschean master morality that the book seems to somewhat half-heartedly endorse. Or maybe having gotten into Lacanian psychoanalysis just filled the slot where Jungian model of mind would fit.
The book confuses cause and effect; learning to think in a particular way doesn't mean you were always like that. It speaks in absolutes and defends this an absurd amount. It just states things that seem obviously incorrect and seems to be content with it. It never explicitly owns any of this, which I both like and don't like.
An older version me would have thought that the people helped by this kind of thing are very horribly broken in some incomprehensibly twisted ways. Nowadays, I'm of the opinion that we're all broken and it mostly matters what you do with that. So, if that works for you, go for it. Some of the stuff described would probably work for me, weren't I feeling so disdainful of it. The reverse psychology affirmations, at least, sound genuinely useful.
I also appreciate the subtle Nietzsche references, at least. Like this one:
All nonhumble reactions to the human, all-too-human thirst for power have the effect of warping that natural, beautiful drive into numbness that steamrolls over other people instead of inspiring and uplifting them like genuine, epic power can.
Of course the book also says that you're literally Hitler if you think that your desire for power is what makes you evil.
Perhaps it's just all outside my Overton window? Is my aversion of woo (and sex) just social group membership signaling? Who knows. It's still who I am. Woo feels silly. It's for people who cannot take joy in the merely real due to some hangup. Likely I have the opposite hangup. We can both feel smug at having a superior viewpoint, nice [17].
I'm no stranger to silver linings. I also sometimes make things awful for a while just to keep them more interesting.
Perhaps I had already internalized the core lessons from other sources, so there wasn't that much novelty in there? Or perhaps I didn't get it at all. I'm also really good at inventing intellectual (and thus incorrect) explanations on why I do or want things.
I can extract some of the core lessons from the text. I'm not sure if that's actually useful. As EK consistently demonstrates, you can interpret any text however you want and produce whatever lessons you feel like producing. For instance, seen through a rationalist lens, the text contains themes like Yudkowskian heroic responsibility and "but first, losing must be thinkable". From another lens you could interpret it to talk about moral nihilism combined and Nietzschean master morality.
Other lessons the book completely inverts, primarily about enduring pain. Pain has a purpose: it engraves "this was a mistake" in you. This is a valuable tool. Yes, sometimes we overdo it. The book claims we always overdo it. It is wrong. When you touch a hot stove, the impulse to pull away your hand is useful. If you start masturbating to the pain instead, your hand will be less useful tomorrow.
The author has nothing to protect and it shows. Of course feeling guilty or humiliated is useless if it's about your own insecurities. But if you have, say, children to feed, then feeling guilty for not succeeding that is what guilt is for. Is it always productive? No. But it's there for a reason [18].
They've found a useful tool and then jumped to thinking it solves all the problems. This is not wisdom [19]. You can solve computer problems with a hammer too, you just won't have a computer afterwards. The author suppresses their agency to endure the pain. That's a valid strategy. That's also a tragedy.
Not every reason is an excuse, even though most of them might be.
Instead of this book, I'd recommend books that do not force the self-help format. The Elephant in the Brain, or perhaps Sadly, Porn, provide far more accurate[20] and entertaining[20:1] commentary than this one. Or if you want fiction instead, try Erogamer, although fair warning, it's a bit slow. These will not be easy, motivational, authoritative books. You'll have to do your own thinking. That's the kind of pain I enjoy.
For instance, The Subtle Art of Not Giving A F*uck by Mark Manson fits the same pattern. ↩︎
I recommend reading the actual story somewhere else and comparing yourself what's missing. For instance, Pluto (Hades) is an uncle of Persephone. This kind of stuff was rather typical among Greek gods so perhaps it's a rather understandable omission. This paper contains interesting analysis of the text, but is largely irrelevant here as the story is just there to invoke the ancient myth trope and is discarded quickly. ↩︎
Oh no, another misogyny amplifier, now I'll need to spend some time reading flat earth stuff or incel forums to keep my misanthropy in balance. ↩︎
Of course, the book's answer is therapy and psychedelics. ↩︎
It doesn't even consider this possibility of not feeling pleasurable sexual sensations from any other lens than trauma, which would also explain a lot. ↩︎
Naturally I just think I'm a better person because of this, for some obscure reasons. ↩︎
Of course I don't actually doubt that, the space of human minds is vast beyond my imagination. ↩︎
I understand that sometimes, when explaining a model, it makes sense to discard nuance for a while. This doesn't mean you should say that the nuance doesn't exist. ↩︎
Well, you know, that's just like uh, my opinion, man. ↩︎↩︎
In a recent rationalist unconference multiple people recommended me Carolyn Elliott's Existential Kink, one of them even postulating that it would be useful for me specifically. So I was really surprised to open up a rather generic self-help book, with the author gloating about her success, and generally just advertising the book for the first chapter. Professional advice-givers tend to, in my experience, reach only the audience that self-selects for a certain self-help format. The name containing the word kink could have already rung alarm bells had I been awake; it's just the sort of correctly-toned provocation that makes such people pick up these books [1] .
As required for any self-respecting book on anything even slightly resembling philosophy or life advice, an ancient story has to be invoked quite early. Fitting to the nature of the book, the prologue begins with an author's retelling of the Rape of Persephone. It briefly covers the story [2] , and then dives straight into astrology, and somehow even worse, metaphorical alchemy. It suffices to say that I haven't ingested such utter balderdash since reading well cherry-picked GPT-2 outputs. For instance, the word "magic" is used for your own thoughts affecting anything, especially yourself.
While I appreciate the condescending tone that the book sometimes reaches for, fondly reminding me of Sadly, Porn, this particular one in the intro was almost enough for me to stop reading [3] :
Fortunately, I had already decided to read the book. Sadly, the condescension never lasts long and changes quickly to what I'd describe as fake-excited [4] authoritative tone. It also continues gloating and promising good outcomes. Every paragraph of actual advice seems to be surrounded by at least three made of fluff. It also keeps inventing fancy words or loaning them from other woo fandoms, including psychoanalysis and Buddhism, in order to sound more sophisticated. Ok ok, I'll attempt to get over the writing flavor and focus on the actual content from now on... after this one example [5] :
And the point is? Please? Get to it some day? Solipsism was a funny joke fifteen years ago.
Two pages later, finally, there's the statement I've been waiting for:
If you expected to find something to address the question above, you'll be sorely disappointed.
The book consists of a couple of lessons to introduce the reader to the core ideas, including the basic meditation technique. Then it lists some anecdotes on how it has worked with some of the author's clients. After this there are 13 exercises for experiencing and experimenting with the methodology. And then more anecdotes. The book ends with a Q&A section, which actually addresses some of my concerns.
One of the core principles in the book goes like this:
I've had the exact opposite experience. I seem to eventually end up getting everything that I consciously want, but still end up feeling like something's missing. Maybe I'm just interpreting this wrong? That said, I feel I'm pretty well on the same page with myself about things that I want, compared to others around me [6] .
To engage on a metaphysical level: There's an interesting theory, which I first got from reading Yudkowsky's High Challenge: Perhaps I'm currently living in a simulation with optimal difficulty level for my own enjoyment. It feels true quite often and is, of course, completely unfalsifiable. But it's one of my nice mental frames to look difficulties from, and resonates quite well with the book's message.
If your partner cheats on you, that's exactly what you enjoy? If you break up with them because they cheated on you, then you wanted to be a person who has broken up with a cheater?
Yeah. Super useful. This is totally the key to fulfilling relationships. Oh wait:
Ok so... the model contradicts itself. Even better.
The core of the book consists some mediatative techniques. Perhaps they could be useful. I'll try the basic meditation practice with one of my own problems to see if it works. I'll need to pick something I don't like. Something where "having is evidence of wanting" rings false on first intuition. Maybe this one...
I'm somewhat overweight. I don't like it, for both aesthetic and instrumental reasons. It's quite easy to point out at the supposed reasons for why I'm like this. Firstly, I like food, and through some long periods of depression that was my primary source of enjoyment, along with videogames that surely didn't help much either. Secondly, I have hard time differentiating between anxiety and hunger, and I get stressed easily.
I don't think there's any perverse self-sabotage going on here, just conflicting wants and a compromise that follows the path of least resistance. Sure, looking like an almost-rotting cave troll can be a nice source self-deprecating humor, but that's of limited use. Perhaps I have a secret desire to feel terrible all the time? Nope; I think Groon the Walker got it right in Erogamer: this is a blight upon earth and getting rid of it would be almost purely positive. "You're not really trying so it doesn't work for you!" Perhaps you should attempt running across the barrier between platforms nine and ten on King's Cross station?
Perhaps we could look a bit deeper? The overeating is self-sabotage that I do, because...? Maybe I use it to uphold my class clown personality, which owned that bit early on? Or maybe I use it to appease the expectations of my childhood bullies, none of whom I've seen in years? Perhaps I like people having a negative halo effect on me? I don't think I can find the theories far-fetched enough to fit here. No, I self-sabotage because my evolution-misguided brain wants more calories.
A perceptive author might notice that avoiding the physical exercise might actually count here. I hate receiving praise for anything healthy [7] , and this was big part of why I was for a long time really anxious about this. However, I'm again confused why I'm supposed to enjoy that instead of getting over it, as I mostly have.
Perhaps the author just has a Meta-Existential Kink, which makes them want to think that everything bad happens because they subconsciously want bad things to happen to them?
For some other problems, the answers are much cleaner.
My first thought is that perhaps this has some interesting connections to mistake theory?
My second thought is that this is easily refutable [8] . Take cancer, for instance. I fortunately don't have cancer [9] . If I get one, my reaction will not and should not be "this is exactly what I wanted". My take is "fuck cancer", end of discussion. I'll also accept "it is what it is" and even "at least now I don't have to worry about many of those other things" if you can really deeply believe that, and, grudgingly, "you play with the cards that you're dealt". If (mentally) masturbating to the idea appeals to you, feel free to, but that's not my thing.
The problems that the book describes solving seems to be almost purely social, consisting of shame and guilt. The solutions in the anecdotes seem to just magically appear from outside when the main character decides to absolve themselves. Being ok with the situation itself isn't enough for any of them. They still need the world to accommodate them, often with deus ex machina -like fashion. This seems to go directly against the primary claim of the book, learning to enjoy the misery. There's a story on how Louisa learns to be content with their old car. And then buys a new one. In another story, June tries to accept that it's ok with missing a flight, then realizes that she'd miss her mother, and literally manifests boarding passes with wishful thinking [10] .
The people in anecdotes are also all women. I find this complementary to my interpretation of Jordan Peterson's gender roles take, namely that of losers, men lack a spine, and women lack agency itself. I do not endorse this, which is why it's rather interesting to see it here, as a literary trope if nothing else. [11]
Then again, why would a self-help book include stories where the model doesn't work? Disclaimers? Statistics? What would be the point?
In general, the book is very femininity-coded and that might be part of why I feel so difficult to identify with it. I don't relax with baths, chamomile tea and crying. I relax with sauna, violence and engineering. I'm not part of the intended audience, as I don't like self-help books that much anyway. Also, in the Q&A there's a warning that depression [12] or asexuality [13] likely make the book's methods ineffective.
I try the next exercise:
And the answer is simply no.
I made an attempt to try most of these exercises. Results were not good, but then again I've always had really hard time easing into stuff like this, and I find it likely that this is my personal skill issue [14] . Fortunately the exercise #13 contains instructions for approximately the same problem. Unfortunately it seems even more fake than everything I've seen before, so I'll just quote the primary segment here:
No actually I cannot see anything resembling honesty here and I doubt anyone else can either [15] .
Irrational levels of self-confidence are certainly useful. This might be one path there.
Bootstrapping feedback loops is sometimes easier with a little bit of self-deception. Sustaining them indefinitely shouldn't. Perhaps the author already thought of this and realized that anyone that fixes their problems like this eventually confronts the truth? I don't think [16] so. In any case, there's no need to get fully delusional.
And sure you can be "turned-on" about anything all the time.
But just like with regular old arrogance, that sometimes leads to results that you do not endorse. Perhaps permanent physical injuries or prison time are also enjoyable with the right mindset, but neither helps you achieve anything in life. Perhaps you can learn to be turned on about being a loser in all senses of the word. I have values higher than my own happiness. I don't want to feel permanent fulfillment. I'm content with not being content. I want more. I have no goals beyond the joy of the journey. Quite contradictory, I know.
Why I'm writing this post in such a defensive tone? No idea. Really? I do have an idea. The book would say that I'm going it to protect my sense of identity. Correct! Next accusation please.
My understanding is that the book does a Jungian take on this. Sadly, Porn, which I mostly contrast it within my head, adopts the Lacanian perspective instead. Both books take a weirdly sexual primary lens on the subject, and hide their points behind layers of obscurity to make you think about it all. EK claims that it's ok to be terrible and it's there to help you. SP simply shouts that you're terrible, you're a disappointment, and maybe you ought to do something about it if you weren't such an unagentic disappointment. I vastly prefer the latter.
It's one of the worst books I've ever read. That said, I did read it. It provoked some thoughts. I definitely wasn't most useless book I've read.
It might just be that I'm not that much into kink, or submission, or masochism. Or sex. Or astrology, spiritualism, solipsism, empowerment, soft-fuzzy-feelings, or woo. Or fancy words. I'm not a "nasty freaky thing", to the best of my knowledge, in any of the senses Elliott describes, nor do I want to be one. I rarely feel particularly guilty. Shame sometimes limits my actions more than I'd wish on reflection, but even that seems mostly reasonable and useful.
Perhaps focusing more on the sadistic instead of masochistic perspective would have been more relatable. It would also have resonated better with Nietzschean master morality that the book seems to somewhat half-heartedly endorse. Or maybe having gotten into Lacanian psychoanalysis just filled the slot where Jungian model of mind would fit.
The book confuses cause and effect; learning to think in a particular way doesn't mean you were always like that. It speaks in absolutes and defends this an absurd amount. It just states things that seem obviously incorrect and seems to be content with it. It never explicitly owns any of this, which I both like and don't like.
An older version me would have thought that the people helped by this kind of thing are very horribly broken in some incomprehensibly twisted ways. Nowadays, I'm of the opinion that we're all broken and it mostly matters what you do with that. So, if that works for you, go for it. Some of the stuff described would probably work for me, weren't I feeling so disdainful of it. The reverse psychology affirmations, at least, sound genuinely useful.
I also appreciate the subtle Nietzsche references, at least. Like this one:
Of course the book also says that you're literally Hitler if you think that your desire for power is what makes you evil.
Perhaps it's just all outside my Overton window? Is my aversion of woo (and sex) just social group membership signaling? Who knows. It's still who I am. Woo feels silly. It's for people who cannot take joy in the merely real due to some hangup. Likely I have the opposite hangup. We can both feel smug at having a superior viewpoint, nice [17] .
I'm no stranger to silver linings. I also sometimes make things awful for a while just to keep them more interesting.
Perhaps I had already internalized the core lessons from other sources, so there wasn't that much novelty in there? Or perhaps I didn't get it at all. I'm also really good at inventing intellectual (and thus incorrect) explanations on why I do or want things.
I can extract some of the core lessons from the text. I'm not sure if that's actually useful. As EK consistently demonstrates, you can interpret any text however you want and produce whatever lessons you feel like producing. For instance, seen through a rationalist lens, the text contains themes like Yudkowskian heroic responsibility and "but first, losing must be thinkable". From another lens you could interpret it to talk about moral nihilism combined and Nietzschean master morality.
Other lessons the book completely inverts, primarily about enduring pain. Pain has a purpose: it engraves "this was a mistake" in you. This is a valuable tool. Yes, sometimes we overdo it. The book claims we always overdo it. It is wrong. When you touch a hot stove, the impulse to pull away your hand is useful. If you start masturbating to the pain instead, your hand will be less useful tomorrow.
The author has nothing to protect and it shows. Of course feeling guilty or humiliated is useless if it's about your own insecurities. But if you have, say, children to feed, then feeling guilty for not succeeding that is what guilt is for. Is it always productive? No. But it's there for a reason [18] .
They've found a useful tool and then jumped to thinking it solves all the problems. This is not wisdom [19] . You can solve computer problems with a hammer too, you just won't have a computer afterwards. The author suppresses their agency to endure the pain. That's a valid strategy. That's also a tragedy.
Not every reason is an excuse, even though most of them might be.
Instead of this book, I'd recommend books that do not force the self-help format. The Elephant in the Brain, or perhaps Sadly, Porn, provide far more accurate [20] and entertaining [20:1] commentary than this one. Or if you want fiction instead, try Erogamer, although fair warning, it's a bit slow. These will not be easy, motivational, authoritative books. You'll have to do your own thinking. That's the kind of pain I enjoy.
For instance, The Subtle Art of Not Giving A F*uck by Mark Manson fits the same pattern. ↩︎
I recommend reading the actual story somewhere else and comparing yourself what's missing. For instance, Pluto (Hades) is an uncle of Persephone. This kind of stuff was rather typical among Greek gods so perhaps it's a rather understandable omission. This paper contains interesting analysis of the text, but is largely irrelevant here as the story is just there to invoke the ancient myth trope and is discarded quickly. ↩︎
Read: it was a good provocation. ↩︎
My excitement-faking detector is broken/oversensitive. Known issue. ↩︎
Unlike Elliott, who tries to limit their whining to the opening section, I simply cannot. ↩︎
I have no idea if that's actually true, but I feel like that. ↩︎
This would require another post to explain, and especially since I don't understand it too well myself. ↩︎
Read: Only a delusional loser could actually write this and believe it. Or perhaps it's just a brilliant ragebait? ↩︎
As far as I know. ↩︎
Confirmation bias says hello! ↩︎
Oh no, another misogyny amplifier, now I'll need to spend some time reading flat earth stuff or incel forums to keep my misanthropy in balance. ↩︎
Of course, the book's answer is therapy and psychedelics. ↩︎
It doesn't even consider this possibility of not feeling pleasurable sexual sensations from any other lens than trauma, which would also explain a lot. ↩︎
Naturally I just think I'm a better person because of this, for some obscure reasons. ↩︎
Of course I don't actually doubt that, the space of human minds is vast beyond my imagination. ↩︎
In both senses of the word. ↩︎
Woo's a mental crutch, losers! ↩︎
Mr. Chesterton says hello! ↩︎
I understand that sometimes, when explaining a model, it makes sense to discard nuance for a while. This doesn't mean you should say that the nuance doesn't exist. ↩︎
Well, you know, that's just like uh, my opinion, man. ↩︎ ↩︎