Mark Manson, 2016

It’s rare that I can point to an event in my life and say ‘that happened because of this book’.

But, in this instance, I can.

Without going into too much personal detail, there was an aspect of my life that wasn’t making me happy. I was, to use Manson’s terminology, giving too much of a fuck about something which really didn’t warrant that level of fucks being given.

I breathe a little easier now. My days are simpler. This book did that.

I’m not sure whether to call it a self-help book. I suppose it is, but only in the sense that a man shouting ‘use your common sense’ could be considered self-help.

Because that’s what this book is, really. Manson doesn’t tell you a lot of things you don’t already know. Most of what he says you’ve probably already told yourself a thousand times over. But something about hearing it from an external source was kind of… validating? Like you’ve spent a while asking the universe ‘is this a good idea?’ and then finally you hear ‘of course it is, you idiot’ whispered back. You knew it already, but it’s validating to hear someone else say it.

The core tenet of the book is not, as some seem to believe, to not give a fuck about anything. It’s to be selective in the fucks you give. Some things are worth caring about. You don’t need me to tell you what these things are, everyone has their own. Manson uses the term ‘values’. He says we should be aware of having ‘fucked up values’.

I remember Tim Minchin once saying we should take our opinions out onto the veranda and beat them with a cricket bat. I think this is very similar to what Manson is suggesting throughout this book. That we don’t want to become too sure of ourselves. In fact, we don’t want to be sure of anything. At all. As we grow throughout our lives our opinions shift and change, and our ‘values’ change with them. Tim Minchin said once that those who were sure of what they wanted in their teens and early 20s were having mid-life crises in their 40s and 50s. Manson similarly says that those who devote themselves to finite values (buy a house; have a car; have a wife) inevitably have a mid-life crisis once this thing is obtained or achieved. Their whole life has been in pursuit of something specific, and once they get it they’re left with no purpose. Like playing the Sims with the cheats on. There’s just nothing left to do, once you’ve done everything.

So, Manson advises, don’t devote yourself to specific, grand, finite goals. Which does seem at odds with the generic advice out there, which I think is why I gravitate towards Manson’s style as strongly as I do. He’s basically saying ‘this is what I think, and I think it’ll help you, if you don’t agree then feel free to put the book down at any time’. I like that.

He promotes the idea that suffering is helpful. It’s obviously unpleasant, but that’s the point. Suffering is a consequence of having committed yourself to ‘fucked up values’. Suffering is your brain’s way of saying ‘you’ve made a mistake, here’. But it’s also an opportunity for us to learn and develop. When everything is find and dandy we don’t make any changes. It’s only when we get thrown a curve ball that makes us feel like a tiny little whack-a-mole that we actually start to take stock and improve our lives.

One of his key ideas which really, really resonated with me was his words on fault and responsibility.

Put simply: something might not be your fault, but it is your responsibility.

It might not be your fault you got fired, but it is your responsibility to find a new job.

It’s not your fault your partner left you, but it’s your responsibility to deal with the outcome.

Something can be your responsibility, without being entirely your fault.

I really like this idea. The problem is, for a lot of us it serves as a kind of pinprick to our egos – these little bubbles we’ve built around ourselves to justify our shitty situations by saying ‘it’s because they did this’. If we follow Manson’s train of thinking then sure, maybe that person did screw you over; but you still have to fix it yourself.

I do this a lot, I think. Particularly at work. Just the other day I referred to a small group of colleagues as ‘incompetent halfwits’ because, to be fair, they’re incompetent halfwits. But while it’s not my fault that I work with incompetent halfwits, as long as I’m spending the money my employer pays me than it’s my responsibility to deal with the halfwittery that I and a few other dedicated co-workers have to fix. Doesn’t mean they’re not incompetent halfwits, but it also doesn’t mean that I don’t have to clean up their mess. Like it or not, I do. Once I accepted this, I actually started to relax at work a lot more. Rather than being angry at people, I chose to re-focus my attention on looking at what I can do to fix the problems they make. It’s not my fault they leave the place looking like a tornado ripped through it, but it’s my responsibility to fix it. So that’s what I (and those poor, delusional souls who actually care as much as I do) spend our time doing: being responsible for things that weren’t our fault.

And you know what? It works.

He ends the book by talking about how we’re all going to die.

We’re all going to die, nothing matters in a ‘greater sense’. History is full of people looking to leave their mark. To continue beyond their own deaths. Manson suggests that this is what society is: just people looking to leave something that future generations will remember them by. Buildings, streets, monuments; children. It’s all an attempt to leave something of ourselves behind. You don’t have to agree with him. I’m not sure I do.

I like this idea that nothing really matters though. Not really. So go ahead and do that thing you’re scared of. Ask that girl out. Take that trip. Tell that person you love them. Fuck it. What’s the worst that could happen, really?

I’m really proud of myself for not having made one Manson-related joke this whole time.