I normally don’t buy books at the time of their apparition. They’re way overpriced, some greedy entrepreneurs to be blamed, I think (not the authors, you know who you are) I’ll go with the confession a bit further: I very rarely buy books because I’ve lost long ago the patience to go to the end of the writer’s proposed journey. I had a revelation, recently, that almost every author of any kind of book feels compelled to fill the pages right to the end; they’re mere mortals, contrary to what some of them think, and can’t stop when the well’s dried and ideas go round and round. I will best enjoy the first book in which the writer had the decency to stop exactly where he felt he run out of things to say. Can’t convince the editor or the publisher that that’s exactly what customers want? Though luck. Not my problem.
I heard about Nassim Taleb’s Black Swan about the time his book came out.
As usual a short review by a trustworthy journalist and the rumours in some intellectual circles were enough to form an opinion on it as deserving a second thought. Faithful to my reticence in the face of media-propelled stars, I left it for another time (or life).
His black-swan-esque luck came out when I found the book in a charity shop for (you’ve guessed) a modest price. I helped a pet in need, or perhaps a charity founder in greed and paid the price. It was worth the money indeed.
I am still reading after few days, I am about half way to the end. Who knows, I might even finish it, which would be in itself a proof that black swans exists.
I’ll take my leave here and end with a quote:
“We, members of the human variety of primates, have a hunger for rules because we need to reduce the dimension of matters so they can get into our heads. Or, rather sadly, so we can squeeze them into our heads”
PS. I was coming back home from my latest walk and this is what I bumped into. Freaky…