Category: Books

I’ve started reading this book a few years ago after Seth mentioned that this book was his masterpiece during the previous book tour for This is Marketing. When he repeated this claim again during promotional interviews for his newest book The Practice, I finally buckled down and finished it.

Spoiler: It is.

I’m not sure why I had difficulty pushing past the first few chapters during my initial reads, but it really picks up steam mid-book and earns the author’s own esteemed opinion of it.

I suspect Linchpin did not grab me in previous attempts because it is particularly ambitious. I’m quite fond the smaller format of his other books, such as The Dip and Purple Cow, which also have catchy premises that grab us on the first page. The argument for Linchpin is both obvious and takes a bit of unpacking.

To become indispensable, we need to be more than “good enough”, so we will have to take some risks. When trying to improve things, we have made a commitment that might not pan out. Once in a while, the proposed change might be a “big hair audacious goal”, but normally it’s just putting ourselves just a little bit past normal. It can be daunting to step out of line, and this book is all about encouraging us to dance with that fear.

If we want to be indispensable, we need to create a deliberate practice of testing improvements. However, there is no guarantee, experiments fail as often as not. Trying to be better takes initiative, and taking initiative means we own the results – both good and ill.

It sounds risky, but what’s the alternative? Staying stagnant locks us into today’s mediocrity and becoming obsolete tomorrow.

So we might as well become linchpins. Not everything will succeed, but work is a lot more more fun when we’re constantly experimenting!

I’ve always been a bit mystified by two political fields – economics and foreign affairs. The first because everything seems counter-intuitive, the latter because it always seems to be a choice between several bad options.

I haven’t found a good primer for foreign affairs, but this book helped me get a basic “macro” sense on economics.

Ultimately the basic issue is “what are the people producing”? If they are producing a lot, the macroeconomics are going to be generally quite good and the inverse if people aren’t producing a lot of value per capita.

That’s simple enough, but then everything starts to get funky once you add the two other core concepts of money and expectations, which can color the how production is calculated and create odd phenomena around the economy.

Secondary concepts of interest rates, exchange rates, and methods of accounting then fill out the picture. This is when things start to get a little counterintuitive, but nothing too crazy that can’t be handled with a little careful reading.

The counterintuitive part of economics is found in the fact that these basic concepts are affected by a myriad of factors – ultimately all the individual actions of all the players in the marketplace (as in each of us). Also once we get comfortable with a theory, something comes in and bowls us over, as the Great Recession, and people need to reassess their theories. Life tends to be messier than math.

Even though the basic concepts are pretty straightforward, when there are so many players (who aren’t perfectly rational) interacting with each other you end up a pretty complex field.

This book gave me a basic sense of how the big pieces of economics fits together. Even though I doubt I will read another dry textbook on economics and I’ve already forgotten some of key concepts just a couple months later, I sense a residue buried in my brain and these ideas should be much easier to recall when needed, kind of like riding a bike.

This book was just what I needed. For future reading, I’m going back to popular books about wacky counterintuitive quirky economic topics. Sometimes you need to read the fun stuff first to get you interested in a topic, but I find that exposing oneself to basic foundational stuff is always worth the effort, even if you ultimately go back to the candy.

I tend to plow through self help books, like my daughter just did with the 16 volume Roald Dahl box set over a week.

I read this over the holidays and I think this will likely be one of the most important books I’ve read in a while. So I’m following up the library copy with a purchase on Amazon.

We just tried his Focus Mapping technique with how to teach her Chinese and in twenty minutes it yielded some key insights in what wasn’t working. My wife still found it painful (she finds all such exercises difficult) but I think it was quite valuable.

After having gone through one of his “full” processes (in all a half hour of time), I tend to agree with his assertion that you can start habits at any time. There is no need to wait for a new year’s resolution. Just notice a problem, take a moment to look at it systematically, and start implementing a change.

Normally I try to write up some (slightly) deeper thoughts or anecdotes to go in my initial impressions. I also usually let these notes marinate for a while before publishing.

This one is just go, go, go.

Strongly Recommended.

I stumbled across this book in my garage the week after Tony passed away. It seemed fitting to reread my former client’s book so I brought it in.

It put me in a pretty deep funk for a few days.

Tony had a great story and rich ideas about company culture, and it was depressing to remind myself of what we lost after he was cursed with unimaginable wealth.

It is clear that Tony thought he had a core belief system at the time he wrote the book. The words he wrote still resonate. They evolution of his ideas are insightful and his suggestions still worth exploring for shaping an organization.

However, the removal of all limitations must be one of the most destabilizing things in one’s life. From his story, it seems that he barely survived (financially) from his first big success. Tony seemed to be a guy who enjoy pushing things to the edge, and the continued growth of Zappos and making more cash were paltry goals for his next phase in life. My guess is that he had hoped revitalizing the East Fremont district would be his next big challenge, but city building is an agonizingly slow process.

As the benefactor of all those around him, he cursed himself with the company of yes-men, and he lost one of the most valuable gifts of this world, “No.” Without limitations, how can one even start to make a decision? And so he thrashed around looking for self actualization, finding tragedy instead.

But his book remains. The story of Zappos will remain a company of legend, and his thoughts are well worth contemplating for someone who is building an organization. The story is now tinged with the sadness of the future, but maybe it’s truer that way.

The basic premise of QBQ is quite basic.

How (or What) can I do to actively address this problem?

This concept germinated in the business world, but the Millers did an excellent job applying it to family life.

The main point of this book could be summarized with popular trope of “simple not easy”. Being personally accountable is an simple concept, but it isn’t easy in practice, not in business and definitely not at home. Even though you could personally conceptualize how QBQ would apply to family life after reading one their business books, it is illuminating to hear the stories from the Miller household and their diverse family.

In this crazy year, a lot has happened that is out of our control. Frustration has been overwhelming, passions are overflowing. QBQ won’t insulate you from these turbulent times, but it will remind you to get to work. After having made progress on what you can change, a hidden benefit reveals itself. By regularly asking the QBQ, your mind is better able to let go of the things you can’t control.

Reading this book doesn’t make personal accountability at home any easier, but it is definitely helpful to keep the Millers’ simple lessons top of mind.

This book was provided as a review copy by the author a couple years ago, but this unapologetically positive review is only tempered by a real apology for taking so long to read and review it.

John G. Miller’s first book, QBQ!, was a gem about personal accountability. This second book, another tight little volume, does not disappoint. Even though both books are quite short, they are enhanced by being separate volumes.

John has a clarion message to share with the world, the Question Behind the Question : “how/what can I do to address this problem”.

With such a simple message, the method is equally as simple – ask the QBQ whenever you encounter a problem. Being personally accountable is a binary practice, you either are or you ain’t. It isn’t necessary to bloat a book on the subject.

However, it never hurts to look at such a foundational concept from multiple angles. QBQ! was a collection of short essays that creating a cloud of thoughts and examples around the QBQ. Flipping the Switch is categorized into five key benefits from engaging in this practice: Learning, Ownership, Creativity, Service, and Trust. It also includes a discussion that addresses some of the excuses the author has encountered while evangelizing this message.

The core message is quite simple, so either book is a great starting point. And then feel free to read the other book. By approaching the subject in a separate volume, the author is able to revisit this basic concept with a new lens. Reformatting the message keeps it fresh.

Ultimately, personal accountability is all about execution. The goal is to encourage you to the Question Behind the Question and then take personal accountability to make your life better. How you get to action is somewhat irrelevant. Just pick up a copy and start asking the QBQ.

The author was kind enough to send me a review copy of this book after I had sent him an appreciative email. Unfortunately, I got sidetracked with the arrival of my son and a major job change, so I’m happy to finally complete this pairing a couple years later.

I was first introduced to Raymond Chandler via a used bookstore in Paris while I was studying abroad for a semester. I was so taken that I went out and read everything Raymond Chandler wrote, short stories, novels, essays.

During the pandemic, I thought it was time to revisit the top three highlights of his oeuvre, The Big Sleep, Farewell My Lovely, and the Long Goodbye.

This book was his first novel, however I read it relatively late in that project – I didn’t find a copy of it until after I moved back to the States. I remember enjoying it quite a lot, an impressive first novel that was an explosion of energy, dramatically announcing a new author into the scene.

Unfortunately, the book did not hold up under a second reading. There were a few cringeworthy moments in the novel which I had overlooked in a less politically charged time. The conversation around toxic masculinity certainly affected my read on Marlowe’s character, deflated the sense of pure energy that I experienced in the first reading.

It didn’t help that I was concurrently reading Frederick Frank’s Zen of Seeing, which included multiple critiques of “artifice”. Hardboiled detective fiction is doubly such, layering the mystery genre with an overtly self conscious writing style. I still enjoyed Chandler’s use of wild metaphors, but this bit of bad timing also took some of the fun out of the ride.

Thirteen years is a long time, so I’m curious how the other two novels will hold up. My memory of this book being a easy quick read still held true, so I don’t think it will be a major time investment. It will be interesting to see what my current self thinks of the literary indulgences of me, a quarter of my life ago.

PS: I did not notice this fact in my first read, but The Big Sleep was published right before World War 2. It was an interesting exercise to read it with the awareness that the story was written before the full horrors of the mid-century era had become apparent.

While digging around my books, I came across this little volume which had long ago cemented my love for Seth Godin.

It resurfaced at an opportune time since I’ve been contemplating what to do with this blog. I was concerned that keeping up this blog might be busywork that was getting in the way of doing something better, however I wasn’t totally ready to give up on the idea of publishing on a regular schedule.

I keep a platform for self expression outside of addictive Corporate Social Media to have some control my own writings. However, maintaining an archive does not mean I need to spend concentrated effort on this website. I had started and ended daily blogging over a full year in 2018-19. However, daily blogging required daily production, and with two young kids, that meant all my spare time was spent at the keyboard.  Even though I enjoy writing as a hobby, I also want to have time to read and enjoy the finer things in life, which a daily schedule did not allow.  

A few months ago, I gave this blog a slightly more focused tagline of “notes on my consumption”. The key change is that it has pushed myself towards a better balance of reading and writing. 

Knowing that I would be banging out a “book report” at the end of each instance of media consumption has created a solid excuse to regularly indulge in writing. The looming assignment seems to have been effective in sharpening my mind as I read the book. It’s an algorithm that keeps some pressure to create output at a less relentless rhythm than the rising of the sun. It has given me time to consume without devolving into a mere consumer.

Reading The Dip was down then up experience during these contemplations. The first section made me consider dropping this project and letting this blog just become an internet repository again, but by the end, it resulted in some fresh encouragement to keep going. 

The critical moment came at the end of that book, when Seth Godin encouraged the reader to decide upon the criteria for quitting before starting a project.

After some thought, I realized that this blog is not about having an audience even though I think the public nature of a blog helps sharpen my writing. Instead, writing this blog helps me enjoy the world around me better. So I will quit if it stops helping me better enjoy the world around me.

I’m pretty sure that this personal blog will not be particularly exceptional in the wider universe of personal blogs, but it still is the best internet site of my little world. So I’ll keep up this effort under this tag line, for now.

Who knows what I might find if I push through to the other side of this dip? Maybe it will just be a few months of weekly essays about the things around me until I come across another more compelling project. Maybe it will become a long running platform like Dave Winer’s blog. Maybe it will morph from idiosyncratic ramblings about my own stuff into something more public facing.

Grizzlypear has always been here for these various digital experiments.

Here’s to the current / next one.

After finding his voice in A Wild Sheep Chase, it seems that Murakami decided to explore all the genres at once. The book is fantasy and sci fi, with the mood of a hard boiled mystery and a little horror as well.

The hard boiled protagonist works well for Murakami’s typically semi-apathetic first person characters, as does the side plots of a few ladies whose attention he’s captured. However, Murakami is a bit subversive, taking an outsider’s view of the tropes of these styles, jumping in and out of the contrived silliness with bemused detachment.

In reading these works in sequential order, I’m wondering if I’m falling into an end of the world fallacy, rationalizing the author’s product as predestined in light of their past works. I had that feeling when I was doing my graduate thesis. It felt that all my previous projects was culminating in this specific thesis. But even under the stress of the deadline, I was still was keenly aware it might be my mind post-rationalizing my decisions as they were being made.

However, given Murakami’s exploration of multiple genres – and the title of the novel – I feel it is fair to indulge in this fallacy while considering this book.

Ultimately, it’s a fine novel, one where the cloth holds together, but the threads are never woven too tightly, as would be expected from a Murakami novel. The romances linger deliciously in their usual fashion and he indulges occasionally in his typically delightful wordplay of metaphors upon metaphors.

As his fourth novel, this was a fine senior thesis for his budding career as an author.