BOOK REVIEW: 12 RULES FOR LIFE
I just found a copy of Jordan Peterson’s 12 Rules For Life on a donation bin at Dublin airport. Let’s ignore the separate essay on why an airport is begging for funds from the general public. Are they transitioning to some kinda Victorian model of charity over taxation? JBP would approve!
Irish cashiers seem to think 99c means €1, a foreigner's first experience of which will most likely be in the overpriced airport shops and bars, who I’m not sure need the penny more than we do. You can’t ask for it back, you really can’t. I just walk away smiling but burning with rage which I can then unleash on some innocent later. In short, the retail staff of the Emerald Isle owe the victims of my drunken facebook trolling an apology, and a few pennies each to boot.
Peterson does this thing where he claims to be promoting a miraculous ‘third way’, a graceful riding of the line between order and chaos, before going on to very much choose order. He’s actually a beautiful illustration of the one-sided ideologists he claims to crusade against. He’s smart enough to understand the need for both forces in one’s life - adventure and comfort, courage and discretion, etc. etc. etc. - whilst failing utterly (or not actually even trying) to build a framework for living in this duality. I mean, it’s all betrayed in the byline of the bloody book: “An Antidote To Chaos”!
I'm sure Doccy P is more nuanced than this in person, 'specially if you’re his mate and that, and is probs one of those nice and intelligent men just with a shell of angry politics keeping them captive from opening their mind. Not uncommon but a bit sad considering his intellect. I like to think I could be his friend and help him through some of his issues. That’s because I’m arrogant and weird. I also think it’s cos Jordy Boy needs a kind word with someone who likes him but not his penchant for Order, which has clearly made him a bit odd.
I mean how do my own life experiences fit into all this? For example, I recently discovered I like a finger up the bum. Is this Chaos? Is it neoliberal postmodernism? Or is there treasure to be found up there through submission to the feminine (a kind woman) inverted with a sort of dominant masculinity (a kind woman who takes glee in fingering a bloke's arse)? I genuinely don’t know, and doubt that my answers are to be found in 12 Rules For Life. I ain’t gonna stop doing it anyway, so what’s the bloody use?
No, I haven’t read the whole book and probably won’t. Like the Prof himself in his Biblical lectures, I’m happy just reviewing the overture. But I assume one of the 12 rules is “if you find a battered paperback in an airport lounge, read it!”. I picture a dishevelled Peterson, aged by the rise and fall of his fame and drug addiction both, planting his pre-catastrophe bestseller around the place in hope of picking up a few more acolytes. Sorry, Jordan, we’re all simply too depraved and cynical.
I did, however, like the closing line of his friend’s foreword: “And perhaps”...”in the deepest part of our psyche, we all want to be judged”. In other terms, choosing to air your anal explorations over any attempt of self-improvement is a surefire way of reminding yourself that you EXIST!