proof of relevancy!

I was just in line at the library behind a woman who was checking out the self-help classic, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People! (I was going to snap a quick photo on my phone but decided that would be too creepy.) As to whether she is a reader of The Blossom Risk, we can only assume...

sugar and spice and advice

The advice column is the beloved cousin of the self-help book, which is why I’d like to direct your attention to this chatty but charming little piece in the The New Yorker: “The Advice Columnist We Deserve.”

It’s a (rather brief) retrospective of the history of the advice column, which reportedly had its start in 1691 and continues today with one of my favorite contemporary writers of all time at the helm: Cheryl Strayed. The name sounds familiar, right? Until her awesome memoir, Wild, landed on the best-seller list, where it’s stayed put for 20 weeks, she was better known as “Dear Sugar” who writes the advice columns for The Rumpus website.

Why is Strayed so damn good at her job? Because, as the article mentions, she listens and empathizes—instead of actually offering advice. Which I would argue is just as—if not more—effective than the more traditional columnists.

Modern advice columnists (Dear Abby, E. Jean) evolved by being willing to tackle more controversial topics that were previously taboo to discuss.  But Strayed goes even farther than that: Instead of counseling readers as to how to fix their problems, she provides comfort merely by admitting to her own taboos and imperfections. She’s sort of post-advice, if you will.

Which really makes you wonder if the self-help genre will soon follow a similar progression. So many of the books are so-called “experts” presuming that only they have the right answers and, therefore, readers should automatically follow their advice and prescriptions. Maybe the future of self-help will involve the author’s willingness to lay all their own shit on the table a prerequisite for becoming a respected authority on the topic. (Or is this just another way to describe the “memoir”?)

Are you aware of any self-help books that provide comfort more than they do concrete advice?

new book!

It was difficult for me to read Mireille Guiliano’s French Women Don’t Get Fat without frequently rolling my eyes. For example, read this line and try not to let out an exasperated sigh:

(Some context: She’s talking about how French women appreciate and revel in the art of food preparation and enjoyment—in this case, of bread—which is but one of their many secrets to remaining so thin.)

“It’s a willingness to reap the pleasures of food at its most elementally wonderful. French women don’t eat Wonder Bread. Try baking some bread this weekend.”

Bake bread? Sure! Right after I churn fresh butter and beat my clothes clean on a rock.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate artisanal culinary and domestic pursuits. But is there anyone on earth who has a full-time job, a rescue dog, AND time and energy for such delicious endeavors?

Guiliano is the former President and CEO of Clicquot, Inc., which is the company that makes Champagne Veuve Clicquot (the one with the yellow label if you're shaky on your champagne producers). She grew up in France but married an American and spends her time between Paris and New York. Which makes her qualified to write a book comparing the healthy attitudes of French women and American women.

The crux of her book is essentially this: A balanced relationship with food and exercise is key to a healthy mind and body. As it turns out, French women are nothing if not skilled in the practice of moderation. And American women? Yeah, apparently we suck at it.

If you’re noticing a slight hint of sarcasm creeping into these sentences, then thank you: You’re actually reading (versus skimming or skipping to the end) and I’m forever grateful. But why I am focusing on a book that annoyed me more often than it gave helpful advice?

For one thing, things were getting a little heavy around these parts after Chodron’s book, and I wanted to explore a lighter side of self-help. More important, despite her penchant for frivolity and poking fun at American women, Guiliano has wisdom to share.

On its surface, this book is simply about becoming more healthful by taking a detailed inventory of your attitudes toward food and exercise and then recasting your vices, pleasures, and discipline in a more moderate way.

But what happens if you use this strategy of self-reflection and adjustment not only with respect to food and exercise habits but with life more generally?

You might discover something in your life that needs to be profoundly changed—which is exactly what happened to me.