Big Pickles

At least, I try.

I've read two of Malcolm Gladwell's books, and I loved them. They are fun to read, and they make you think. I was just telling Dan about him this weekend, and yet, I was at a loss to explain what these books are actually about. "He just has some good ideas..." was about all I could muster.

Then I read something like this and it makes me wonder if I've been had. In fact, it brings back memories of another book that was fun to read and made me think.

Rich Dad, Poor Dad.

My loathing for that book is now the stuff of legend, but in 2002 my exuberance towards it and subsequent disillusionment with it awoke in me a skepticism that I've tried to cultivate ever since. John T. Reed was the one that opened my eyes, as he demonstrated that while Kiyosaki may be fun to read and while he may make you think, in the end you can't really say what his books are about, either.

I still say Gladwell is the better writer--and also, his books don't have the added danger of inspiring you to blow your meager savings on more books, seminars, and shady real estate shemes. But it's good to be reminded that for all my skepticism (some would say cynicism) I'm still not above getting swept away by the occasional siren song.

Labels: books