I read this book mostly covered in vomit. (As one might be inclined to do) My daughter threw up in her bed. While my wife stripped the sheets I cradled the neophyte girl, who briefly stared into my eyes… and then painted me with peas, carrots and milk (origin both boob and bovine).
Sufficed to say with more upchuck likely in my foreseeable future I settled back down in my chair with my single shot grande and only a perfunctory effort to clean myself. Thirty minutes later I was back in there dealing with more bile. (And then ten minutes after that) (and then an hour after that) ad infinitum.
During episodes where we scrounged for sheets and cleans pajamas I read 12 rules. (Shit title, I blame Tim Ferriss for this slew of lazy literary designations)
Let me start off by saying up until today I didn’t know anything about Jordan B. Peterson. (Kinda sad I know) I don’t really follow the news (other than in a very general sense) and for me identity politics is a serious non sequitur, that interests me about as much as fairies and crystals do. I’m constantly shocked and amazed that this has become a ‘thing’.
I also, up until today, didn’t know anything about the infamous Cathy Newman interview. And the meme storm that followed…
(This one is my favorite)
All I can say is ‘Jesus that escalated quickly’ (having now watched it). Kudos to Jordan for his supreme stoicism in the face of unrelenting awfulness. I doubt I would have remained so composed.
In any event after having listened to Jordan during my commute and then later on my run I decided that I really liked him. (Well… enough to blow $25 on his book) ouch!
This book starts with a forward. Which immediately gets my hackles up. For some reason I get the feeling that the publishers thought this was a good idea. Its long and wordy and I found myself skipping sections (my internet addled brain). It reads like a character witness. Jordan B. Peterson is not the motherfucker he’s been made out to be.
Blah, blah, blah. I thought it was superfluous. Let the work speak for itself, it doesn’t need an anteambulo.
Eventually (with a machete) I got to the first rule. Which involves Lobsters.
I have to quote this line. Because it’s so bad. (It’s even worse when taken out of context)
‘Lobsters have more in common with you than you might think (particularly when you are feeling crabby – ha ha).’
It’s like a dad joke.
I don’t know why, but sitting there in the gloom, hunched over my kindle app and smelling like curdled milk this line really irritated me. (More than it should have)
In all honesty I struggled to read this book. Although it took me a while to figure out why. Jordan’s sentence structure doesn’t agree with me. I know that’s a weird criticism but I often found myself having to re-read his sentences. I imagined them too long and disjointed somehow (personal preference I guess, but it also might be because I’m relatively stupid) He also uses the Oxford comma. Which… while grammatically sound… I’m not used to it. It freaks me out. (I know, derailed by a comma)
I’m finding it harder and harder to find books in this genre that I like. This isn’t Jordan’s fault. I think I may have reached some level of saturation. Maybe I need a break. Or maybe a Shakabuku*
*a swift spiritual kick to the head (I think it’s from Grosse pointe blank)
Jordan in a spoken word format resonated quite deeply with me. That didn’t translate into text (for me at least). I think this is a case of different strokes for different folks. I do however plan on seeking out more podcasts with Jordan as a speaker, he’s very clever, eloquent and comes highly recommended.