On the recommendation of a friend, I began listening to the Conversations with Tyler podcast around the first of the year. In June, the podcast featured Ross Roberts who hosts another podcast, EconTalk, that focuses primarily on economics. For me, a person who has never done much study on the topic of economics, it was a rare moment to experience a conversation between two academics in the field. One of the more fascinating parts of the podcast was when Cowen proposed various policies for government regulation ranging from the funding of scientific research to the appropriate level of spending on tax enforcement and Roberts would weigh in on whether he agreed. The part of the conversation that really caught my attention, though, was when Cowen asked “Which book by Hayek influenced you the most?” Roberts responded with no hesitation at all, “That would be The Fatal Conceit. It’s certainly not The Road to Serfdom.” In this moment, I realized how very little I knew about economics. I was certainly familiar with the names Keynes and Hayek and I could probably give you a sound bite level summary of where they disagreed. If, however, you were to ask me to pick a side between the two, I would have done just as well to flip a coin. As the two talked confidently about the writings of Hayek, I decided that it would be a fun project to attempt to decide if I were more Keynesian or Hayekian in my economic inclinations. Along the way, I might also learn a bit more about the substance of the debate that separated the two most memorable figures in 20th century economics.

Having good Amazon reviews and being well aligned with my stated goal, I bought this book hastily. I expected it to be a tough read that dove into the depths of the debates between the two men. I committed to slogging through even if my background in economics wasn’t up to the task. Fortunately, I would come to find that I was completely wrong about the book’s approach. It was not an arduous journey into the depths of economic theory that I feared. Instead, the author focused on understanding the shared environment that would foster their debates and then a retrospective on how their theories have affected the western world ever since. The approach is effective and it made the reading enjoyable. I began recommending it to others even before I reached the midway point. I did come away with a better understanding of how the two men differed but far more important was a retelling of recent political history through the lens of two rival economic schools of thought. It did much to reshape my view of American and British political and economic history. The final chapter of the book attempts to answer the very question that had drawn me in, which of these two economists was right? As you would expect, the question is ultimately left open. As for where I have landed, I also have to leave the topic open. The 20th century was arguably dominated by Keynesian inspired policies and we find ourselves the beneficiaries of many years of economic prosperity. But in those few moments of great economic turmoil, I have probably resonated more with the skepticism of human intervention that typifies Hayek. Perhaps this is an intellectual journey I will continue, but this book was a fantastic place from which to begin.

This book had been in my Amazon wishlist for months. I added it after listening to a short interview with the author but delayed in reading it as I suspected that everything the book had to offer had already been conveyed in that interview. This is the case with most books I read; they are effectively a short series of articles expanded into the requisite 300-ish pages. Lost Connections, though, turned out to be worth the purchase. I have already recommended the book to several others and I will probably continue to recommend it. I was on the brink of buying Alienated America, when I realize the premise of that book was that much of America was suffering from the unraveling of traditional social fabric. I knew that Lost Connections focused its attention to a more general exploration of the link between social ties and depression so I opted for the more general of the two.

The book is quite good and its conclusions make sense. There is a great deal of social research cited in the book and I hope to take a closer look at many of the studies. As a guide for those suffering from depression and anxiety, it really does offer some practical insight into how one might aid their own recovery and even make themselves far more resilient to future suffering. The secret really is the same topic that Sandy Pentland explores in much of work (i.e. Social Physics), which is rich connectedness to other humans. In particular, belonging to and cooperating with other humans in pursuit of a common goal seems to be an incredibly important part of the human experience. This is why many have hypothesized that as the role of the church has declined so has the mental health in those communities. It turns out that the church may have always been more important than the religion.

Honestly, I was drawn to this book because I was struggling. The last few months have been a test of my ability to persevere as it seemed like every element of my life had deteriorated around me. I had a desperate need to see myself as resilient and so the Stoics came to mind and, on a whim, I bought the book on Amazon. Reading about Stoicism turned out to be a rewarding effort. If for no other reason than it included a thorough reminder of two important lessons for well-being. First, my emotional responses are mine to control. Second, it is foolish to focus one's attention on things that cannot be controlled. The stoic views on virtue and duty are also not totally inconsistent with my worldview. That's probably true of most westerners.

I'm glad I picked up the book on a whim. It was a quick read and, at least for now, I feel better prepared to face some of my daily frustrations. As to the quality of this particular book, it's quite bad. Though it purports to be a modern guide to Stoicism, the author often mimics the overly formal language of the ancients. At times it sounds ridiculous. The book is also riddled with errors. I suspect it was self-edited and not even with much care.

This book is truly a continuation of volume 1. It has the same structure and the same tone but discusses a variety of small game and bird instead of a variety of big game. Like the previous volume, much of the content is practically irrelevant to me. I don't anticipate finding myself hunting for spruce grouse any time soon but keeping the information short and repetitive was helpful in keeping me engaged. Understanding how an Alaskan hunter might go about finding some spruce grouse is interesting so long as it's easily comparable to hunts I have experienced myself, like morning dove (or just “dove” locally). So while the two volumes are structured almost like a reference book, the structure actually adds to the enjoyment.

I've enjoyed this three book Rinella reading marathon but I think I'm now satisfied enough to move onto a new topic. Should I need a maintenance dose, though, I am now subscribed to The MeatEater podcast on my phone.