In the world of The Alchemist, following your dreams isn’t just a source of personal meaning—it’s pretty much divine mandate. A self-help book and vague philosophical tract cleverly disguised as a novel, it begins with all the charm of a fairy tale but quickly devolves into platitudes and abstract meditations on what it means to follow your dreams.
Mostly, thoughts about what I’m reading. Occasionally, thoughts about what I’m watching or listening to.
META-REVIEW: I finished The Most Human Human back in June and have been struggling to put my thoughts about it into words ever since. (Okay, a lot of the time I was just playing Mario Kart.) When I finished the book, I felt vaguely ambivalent. But I didn’t have a coherent reaction until one of my friends asked me what I thought about it, and then told me to write a review when I failed to adequately explain myself. So for the next three months I undertook a closer inspection of the book, throughout which I cycled between mild annoyance at Christian’s gratingly earnest style and anguished self-questioning, occasionally descending into fits of righteous, impotent rage. Many scrapped drafts later, this essay is the result of my exertions.
So, I graduated about two weeks ago. As schooling is wont to do, UChicago taught me many things: how to churn out A papers during all-nighters, that my alcohol tolerance extends to roughly half a Mike’s Hard, and that I do not understand economics at all.
But most of all, UChicago taught me intellectual humility. Which is just a fancy way of saying that