LOOK through book best-seller lists, and you’ll see one genre that towers over all the others.
No, it’s not romance or crime fiction, but what might loosely be called self-improvement, an unruly grab-bag of works purporting to hold the secret to getting rich, thin, decluttered and, above all, happy.
“50 Most inspiring self-help books to refresh the way you think,” reads a recent headline in one women’s magazine.
“Over the course of the coronavirus pandemic you may have found yourself re-evaluating your life and what you want to prioritise when it comes to you [sic] career, relationships and living situation. And where better to find a helping hand during that journey than with a self-help book?” the article goes on to say.
The top titles for 2022 make various pitches for our attention, including “cleaning tips to shine your sink and soothe your soul”, “turning adversity into advantage” or “how self-love is the key to your greatness”.
It’s boom times for the self-help industry, that’s for sure.
There’s a formula to these things. First, we need to be convinced of the problem, that there’s something wrong with us or missing from our lives.
Whether it’s wealth, career advancement, a dream relationship, or a guinea pig, it doesn’t really matter. We are each our own renovator’s delight, a crumbling house riddled with termites and rising damp but presenting an outstanding opportunity for improvement.
Fortunately, there’s always a solution: 10 easy steps that will transform us into that elusive ideal version of ourselves, rebuilding our shaky foundations, banishing the white ants of self-doubt.
Some gurus embellish their recipes for fulfillment with loads of science-sounding language. What neuroscience tells us about overcoming [insert problem of choice] is a favourite.
Others go the “ancient secrets” route, picking a culture apparently at random to claim it somehow discovered a utopian pathway hidden from the rest of humanity.
The chosen cultures always have an element of exoticism, by which I mean the gurus who promote them usually come from somewhere else entirely.
I’m yet to see a self-help book claiming “How the hidden rituals of small-town Kansas will bring you health and happiness” or “Secrets of a happy life from the ancient knowledge of the Australian suburbs”.
The appetite for self-improvement appears endless, and I have no doubt the books sometimes offer useful insights.
But the whole phenomenon does raise bigger questions for me and I’m not the only one, as this article in New Statesman makes clear.
Why are we in the world’s wealthy nations so fixated on the failure to be “our best selves”?
Clearly, there is something missing in our lives, a pervasive dissatisfaction that leads us to seek some kind of change.
But there’s a narcissistic, navel-gazing element to the solutions offered by the self-help gurus, not to mention an intrinsic selfishness. The aim is rarely to become a better person, but rather to get more for ourselves (love, money, admiration, whatever).
And the focus on individual transformation papers over the inequalities in our society, placing the blame for “failure” squarely on the individual.
If you can’t get the dream job, home or relationship, that must mean you haven’t been practising the 12 habits of successful people, right? Being born into intergenerational poverty couldn’t possibly have anything to do with it.
The global self-help industry had an estimated value of more than US$38 billion in 2019, with strong growth projected for the future.
Imagine if we could redirect all that time and money devoted to the quest for individual success to seek a better future for all of us.
Jane McCredie is a health and science writer based in Sydney.
The statements or opinions expressed in this article reflect the views of the authors and do not represent the official policy of the AMA, the MJA or InSight+ unless so stated.
No, it’s not romance or crime fiction, but what might loosely be called self-improvement, an unruly grab-bag of works purporting to hold the secret to getting rich, thin, decluttered and, above all, happy.
“50 Most inspiring self-help books to refresh the way you think,” reads a recent headline in one women’s magazine.
“Over the course of the coronavirus pandemic you may have found yourself re-evaluating your life and what you want to prioritise when it comes to you [sic] career, relationships and living situation. And where better to find a helping hand during that journey than with a self-help book?” the article goes on to say.
The top titles for 2022 make various pitches for our attention, including “cleaning tips to shine your sink and soothe your soul”, “turning adversity into advantage” or “how self-love is the key to your greatness”.
It’s boom times for the self-help industry, that’s for sure.
There’s a formula to these things. First, we need to be convinced of the problem, that there’s something wrong with us or missing from our lives.
Whether it’s wealth, career advancement, a dream relationship, or a guinea pig, it doesn’t really matter. We are each our own renovator’s delight, a crumbling house riddled with termites and rising damp but presenting an outstanding opportunity for improvement.
Fortunately, there’s always a solution: 10 easy steps that will transform us into that elusive ideal version of ourselves, rebuilding our shaky foundations, banishing the white ants of self-doubt.
Some gurus embellish their recipes for fulfillment with loads of science-sounding language. What neuroscience tells us about overcoming [insert problem of choice] is a favourite.
Others go the “ancient secrets” route, picking a culture apparently at random to claim it somehow discovered a utopian pathway hidden from the rest of humanity.
The chosen cultures always have an element of exoticism, by which I mean the gurus who promote them usually come from somewhere else entirely.
I’m yet to see a self-help book claiming “How the hidden rituals of small-town Kansas will bring you health and happiness” or “Secrets of a happy life from the ancient knowledge of the Australian suburbs”.
The appetite for self-improvement appears endless, and I have no doubt the books sometimes offer useful insights.
But the whole phenomenon does raise bigger questions for me and I’m not the only one, as this article in New Statesman makes clear.
Why are we in the world’s wealthy nations so fixated on the failure to be “our best selves”?
Clearly, there is something missing in our lives, a pervasive dissatisfaction that leads us to seek some kind of change.
But there’s a narcissistic, navel-gazing element to the solutions offered by the self-help gurus, not to mention an intrinsic selfishness. The aim is rarely to become a better person, but rather to get more for ourselves (love, money, admiration, whatever).
And the focus on individual transformation papers over the inequalities in our society, placing the blame for “failure” squarely on the individual.
If you can’t get the dream job, home or relationship, that must mean you haven’t been practising the 12 habits of successful people, right? Being born into intergenerational poverty couldn’t possibly have anything to do with it.
The global self-help industry had an estimated value of more than US$38 billion in 2019, with strong growth projected for the future.
Imagine if we could redirect all that time and money devoted to the quest for individual success to seek a better future for all of us.
Jane McCredie is a health and science writer based in Sydney.
The statements or opinions expressed in this article reflect the views of the authors and do not represent the official policy of the AMA, the MJA or InSight+ unless so stated.
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