In his latest outing, de Botton proves that style and eloquence are not enough. We also like clarity, conciseness, insight and affability. All four of the latter are rather lacking in this book.
I really don't need someone to tell me that the world is a complex place, or that having a job is a good way to avoid starvation. I don't like it when an advantaged person talks disdainfully about someone who does not show outwards signs of pleasure as they mop a floor.
I got to chapter seven, where de Botton took me on a charmless stroll through the countryside of Kent, and there I abandoned him. Although I enjoyed The Consolations of Philosophy and The Art of Travel, my appreciation of de Botton's efforts have decreased with each subsequent book. To paraphrase Anthony Burgess: "This is the end of the road for me, Alain, the end of the road!"
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