it is notable that, within the upper echelons of culture, there is no genre more maligned or discredited than self-help. the entire self-help category has become synonymous with sentimentality, idiocy, and hucksterism.
there can be no "solutions", no self-help, of a kind that removes problems altogether. what we can aim for, at best, is consolation—a word tellingly lacking in glamour. to believe in consolation means giving up on cures; it means accepting that life is a hospice rather than a hospital, but one we'd like to render as comfortable, as interesting, and as kind as possible.
a philosophy of consolation directs us to two important salves: understanding and companionship. or grasping that we know what our problem is and that we are not alone with it.
it helps immensely to know that we are in company. despite the upbeat tone of society in general, there is solace in the discovery that everyone else is, in private, of course as bewildered and regretful as we are. this is not Schadenfreude, simply profound relief that we are not the only ones.

alain de botton,
the school of life


~i could go on, holding the book in my left hand and typing with my right index finger, but we would both get annoyed soon and my finger would strike. i'll try to refrain, but thanks to r. for the book. i like. i get so sullen, sorey, h.g.