molly_roanoke's review
2.0
**Received copy as part of goodreads firstreads giveaway**
The best thing about this book is:
It is an easy read that requires minimal attention.
I would recommend this book to:
People who really like to use creepy anecdotes about animal experiments, war crimes, and disease as conversation starters.
Reading this book is like:
Reading an article on slate.com.
If this book were a person it would be:
A co-worker who is not a bad person, but who really likes to tell you about a fascinating article they just read on slate. Also, this co-worker, who is not a bad person, is an annoying person. He or she is the type of person who would get really uncomfortable if you challenged his or her assertion that, in times of economic stress, people buy dogs like doberman pinschers and german sheperds. "Where did you read that?" You'd ask. "Slate.com. There was a really great article..." this person would reply. "Huh. I wonder where they found that statistic..." You might venture to say. Not out of any strong feelings, but just to, you know, pass the time, because, honestly, where did they get those figures? the american kennel club? did that study take into account rescue animals? did they have animal rescues/shelters in the 1930s? And somehow this would enrage this totally annoying co-worker because you were TOTALLY MISSING THE POINT and suddenly YOU'RE the annoying one. Which is just awkward.
If I could teach this book a lesson, through television, it would involve:
Showing this book the scene from True Detective where Rust and Marty are at a tent revival and Rust is all "look at these morons believing in religion, ugh" and Marty is all "when you talk like this, Rust, you sound panicked."
And then I'd gently say to the book "that's you, book, you sound panicked."
This book would pair well with:
The 7 Laws of Magical Thinking
I rated this book 2 stars because:
At it's core, it's a pretty terrible book. It makes a lot of unqualified assertions, and is generally ham-fisted, even for pop science/psychology. It has an overall condescending tone that seems inappropriate for the subject matter. Finally, it is casually misogynistic at times, like when it refers to the orphans in Annie as "girl" orphans (to remind you that boys are the default orphans?), and includes passages that read like "Now, I'm definitely NOT saying "bitches be crazy," but I do have to say that, well, the FACT is that the vast majority of people who succumb to mass hysteria are women. So, you know, uh...statistically speaking, bitches be, uh, significantly more prone to crazy."
The best thing about this book is:
It is an easy read that requires minimal attention.
I would recommend this book to:
People who really like to use creepy anecdotes about animal experiments, war crimes, and disease as conversation starters.
Reading this book is like:
Reading an article on slate.com.
If this book were a person it would be:
A co-worker who is not a bad person, but who really likes to tell you about a fascinating article they just read on slate. Also, this co-worker, who is not a bad person, is an annoying person. He or she is the type of person who would get really uncomfortable if you challenged his or her assertion that, in times of economic stress, people buy dogs like doberman pinschers and german sheperds. "Where did you read that?" You'd ask. "Slate.com. There was a really great article..." this person would reply. "Huh. I wonder where they found that statistic..." You might venture to say. Not out of any strong feelings, but just to, you know, pass the time, because, honestly, where did they get those figures? the american kennel club? did that study take into account rescue animals? did they have animal rescues/shelters in the 1930s? And somehow this would enrage this totally annoying co-worker because you were TOTALLY MISSING THE POINT and suddenly YOU'RE the annoying one. Which is just awkward.
If I could teach this book a lesson, through television, it would involve:
Showing this book the scene from True Detective where Rust and Marty are at a tent revival and Rust is all "look at these morons believing in religion, ugh" and Marty is all "when you talk like this, Rust, you sound panicked."
And then I'd gently say to the book "that's you, book, you sound panicked."
This book would pair well with:
The 7 Laws of Magical Thinking
I rated this book 2 stars because:
At it's core, it's a pretty terrible book. It makes a lot of unqualified assertions, and is generally ham-fisted, even for pop science/psychology. It has an overall condescending tone that seems inappropriate for the subject matter. Finally, it is casually misogynistic at times, like when it refers to the orphans in Annie as "girl" orphans (to remind you that boys are the default orphans?), and includes passages that read like "Now, I'm definitely NOT saying "bitches be crazy," but I do have to say that, well, the FACT is that the vast majority of people who succumb to mass hysteria are women. So, you know, uh...statistically speaking, bitches be, uh, significantly more prone to crazy."
ssejig's review
3.0
There is a lot in this book about how we fool ourselves. I appreciated that the author included when that is and is not good. I feel like I have read this book before but don't have it in Goodreads so I may have read similar books.
I liked that he linked the high sense of control to long living rather than luck or anything else. It is one of those ways that he says are good for us to deceive ourselves. It particularly resonated with me because I just left a situation where I had little control. But maybe that is just the perception bias that Hallinantalks about in the book.
I liked that he linked the high sense of control to long living rather than luck or anything else. It is one of those ways that he says are good for us to deceive ourselves. It particularly resonated with me because I just left a situation where I had little control. But maybe that is just the perception bias that Hallinantalks about in the book.
jhliu's review
4.0
Several years ago, I reviewed Hallinan’s book Why We Make Mistakes, which digs into the various types of mistakes we make and why they happen. Kidding Ourselves is a related topic, focusing specifically on the ways that we deceive ourselves. It includes topics like the placebo effect (and the flip-side of that, hypochondria), superstitions, and being drunk with power. Hallinan mixes anecdotes with results of scientific studies to demonstrate the ways that self-deception can sometimes be a feature, not a bug.
As I was reading it, I kept encountering real-life situations that related to the book. For instance, the fact that evidence often does not sway somebody’s beliefs, but in fact may reinforce their opinions to the contrary–that’s pertinent in any election year, or whenever somebody brings up the topic of vaccinations. I also found the chapter about optimism fascinating: Hallinan explains that optimists tend to be worse at predicting their ability to accomplish a task–pessimists have much more realistic assessments of themselves. However, the optimists do get more accomplished than the pessimists. So, that whole cliche about aiming for the stars and at least you’ll hit the moon has some truth to it.
If you’re interested in psychology and how the brain works, Kidding Ourselves is an engaging and entertaining read–though you’ll find yourself wondering how much you’re fooling yourself as you read it.
As I was reading it, I kept encountering real-life situations that related to the book. For instance, the fact that evidence often does not sway somebody’s beliefs, but in fact may reinforce their opinions to the contrary–that’s pertinent in any election year, or whenever somebody brings up the topic of vaccinations. I also found the chapter about optimism fascinating: Hallinan explains that optimists tend to be worse at predicting their ability to accomplish a task–pessimists have much more realistic assessments of themselves. However, the optimists do get more accomplished than the pessimists. So, that whole cliche about aiming for the stars and at least you’ll hit the moon has some truth to it.
If you’re interested in psychology and how the brain works, Kidding Ourselves is an engaging and entertaining read–though you’ll find yourself wondering how much you’re fooling yourself as you read it.
hcq's review
2.0
It was interesting, but it didn't tell me much I didn't already know. I was particularly annoyed by the mention that the only folks who generally aren't overly optimistic are the clinically depressed--which sounds okay, until he goes on to illustrate all the ways in which we really need that bit of optimism. For those who don't have it? His only comment, at the end, is that depression is a quagmire, best avoided. That's not exactly helpful; it's sort of like saying, "Yeah, don't get sick, it's not good for you."
There's also one bit that my dorky baseball-fan-self wants to check out. In the section on superstition, Hallinan quite naturally mentions baseball players, who are indeed famous, as a group, for being superstitious. While it was cool to see an explanation for why their superstitiousness actually makes some sense (generally, people develop superstitions as a way of trying to assert some kind of control in highly difficult endeavors where they can't really control much), one of his examples seems off.
He mentions Wade Boggs, who famously ate chicken before every game, check. But then he goes on to say that "Boggs always practiced batting and wind sprints at the same time of day (5:17 p.m. and 7:17 p.m., respectively)...". But that's not possible: Most major league games begin between 7:05 and 7:10 p.m. (at least on the East Coast, which is where Boggs played most of his games). There's simply no way a starting 3rd baseman could have been running wind sprints seven minutes into a game, or taking batting practice.
I know, I know, it's a minor point, but it's the sort of thing that nags at me.
There's also one bit that my dorky baseball-fan-self wants to check out. In the section on superstition, Hallinan quite naturally mentions baseball players, who are indeed famous, as a group, for being superstitious. While it was cool to see an explanation for why their superstitiousness actually makes some sense (generally, people develop superstitions as a way of trying to assert some kind of control in highly difficult endeavors where they can't really control much), one of his examples seems off.
He mentions Wade Boggs, who famously ate chicken before every game, check. But then he goes on to say that "Boggs always practiced batting and wind sprints at the same time of day (5:17 p.m. and 7:17 p.m., respectively)...". But that's not possible: Most major league games begin between 7:05 and 7:10 p.m. (at least on the East Coast, which is where Boggs played most of his games). There's simply no way a starting 3rd baseman could have been running wind sprints seven minutes into a game, or taking batting practice.
I know, I know, it's a minor point, but it's the sort of thing that nags at me.
More...