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A review by siennatristen
Walking on Custard & the Meaning of Life: A Guide for Anxious Humans by Neil Hughes
4.0
As someone who knows a lot of chronically anxious people, and who suffers the occasional panic attack herself, I've done my fair share of research on anxiety management/emotional regulation/mindfulness/etc. It's got to the point where I have no idea where I've even picked up half of the tips and tricks I know, whether it's grounding exercises or a crash course on the amygdala. When I bought Walking on Custard I bought it for my partner originally, because I thought it would mostly cover all of the things I already knew. It would be a good refresher (because these are the sorts of things you can always, always use a refresher on, no matter how well you've internalized them.)
And it was. But it also went beyond that. I remember reaching the end of the "SELF" section and beginning the "OTHERS" section and suddenly having the realization that, oh, wait, here are a bunch of things I don't know so much about. One of the highest compliments I have to pay is that I genuinely learned something from the chapters and their anecdotes and predicaments and advice.
I think one of Walking on Custard's biggest strengths is the voice in which it is written. There's enough literature on anxiety and mental health out there to papier-mâché the entire globe, but most of it also carries this authoritative, supercilious tone that X WILL work or Y WILL make you feel Z. That sort of tone can be a big enough turn-off for anxious folks that they don't bother to read the information that could genuinely help them. This is where the book excels--Neil never has much to say about what WILL work, but he has a lot of suggestions about what MIGHT work, and that makes all the difference. It's also accessible as heck--and beyond accessible, it's fun! Between wacky differential equations and stories about timelocked siblings to the very format of the chapters, everything about the book is geared towards poking gentle fun at itself, which makes it incredibly endearing and, seemingly paradoxically, much more likely to be taken seriously.
I also hugely appreciate the book's overall emphasis on mindset. I used to eschew philosophy as 'navel-gazing' until I realized that philosophy was a way of changing how you see life and the world, which in turn changes the ways you engage with it. In a way, the theory gives birth to the practical. In the same way, Neil's advice to observe and adjust your mindset to be a little more patient here, a little more accepting there--that's a technique that has benefits across the board. "There is no automated process that makes us wiser", true, but a change in mindset is as close as you're going to get.
I'll also point out that this thing is extremely quotable. I've underlined probably a dozen sentences throughout the pages which I've returned to periodically to read to suffering friends or else just to myself. Neil doesn't just give good advice or tell a good story, he's also got just the right words to do it with. Today's relevant quote is probably "Realising the truth of the human condition doesn't make it harder to endure." Been doing a lot of that lately. It's helping!
All in all, I opened this book thinking it was going to be a nice light refresher on some mental health pointers, and I closed it feeling inspired and fulfilled and understood. It was a very pleasant surprise.
And it was. But it also went beyond that. I remember reaching the end of the "SELF" section and beginning the "OTHERS" section and suddenly having the realization that, oh, wait, here are a bunch of things I don't know so much about. One of the highest compliments I have to pay is that I genuinely learned something from the chapters and their anecdotes and predicaments and advice.
I think one of Walking on Custard's biggest strengths is the voice in which it is written. There's enough literature on anxiety and mental health out there to papier-mâché the entire globe, but most of it also carries this authoritative, supercilious tone that X WILL work or Y WILL make you feel Z. That sort of tone can be a big enough turn-off for anxious folks that they don't bother to read the information that could genuinely help them. This is where the book excels--Neil never has much to say about what WILL work, but he has a lot of suggestions about what MIGHT work, and that makes all the difference. It's also accessible as heck--and beyond accessible, it's fun! Between wacky differential equations and stories about timelocked siblings to the very format of the chapters, everything about the book is geared towards poking gentle fun at itself, which makes it incredibly endearing and, seemingly paradoxically, much more likely to be taken seriously.
I also hugely appreciate the book's overall emphasis on mindset. I used to eschew philosophy as 'navel-gazing' until I realized that philosophy was a way of changing how you see life and the world, which in turn changes the ways you engage with it. In a way, the theory gives birth to the practical. In the same way, Neil's advice to observe and adjust your mindset to be a little more patient here, a little more accepting there--that's a technique that has benefits across the board. "There is no automated process that makes us wiser", true, but a change in mindset is as close as you're going to get.
I'll also point out that this thing is extremely quotable. I've underlined probably a dozen sentences throughout the pages which I've returned to periodically to read to suffering friends or else just to myself. Neil doesn't just give good advice or tell a good story, he's also got just the right words to do it with. Today's relevant quote is probably "Realising the truth of the human condition doesn't make it harder to endure." Been doing a lot of that lately. It's helping!
All in all, I opened this book thinking it was going to be a nice light refresher on some mental health pointers, and I closed it feeling inspired and fulfilled and understood. It was a very pleasant surprise.