Beth Lisick

Beth Lisick needs help. Her closets are a mess, her kid throws temper tantrums, her financial situation is bleak and her general lackadaisical mindset keeps her from being the ‘best that she can be.’ So Beth, being a writer and all, decides to chronicle her year of self-help programs. Simple enough. Except … Lisick is a sharp-tongued cynic. Her inclination is to pooh-pooh all the lemming-like followers in the church of self-help. Although she tries to squelch her inner Grand Pooh-Ba show more Cynic, she only slightly succeeds in her self-actualization, making her all the more endearing.

Let’s start with what I liked: Lisick has a ‘welcome to my life’ honest tone. Though she’s sarcastic and blatant in her tale, she’s only mildly preachy a couple times. Initially I wondered if the book would be a skewering of self help gurus, but she only really attacks “Mars & Venus” marriage mentor John Grey and his followers.

I found myself scrutinizing alongside as she witnessed one medicine show after another. I could really identify with her less than deserving nature. I loved that she could be cynical, yet optimistic that they next big thing was on the horizon.

My favorite chapters cover ‘exercise instructor extraordinaire’ Richard Simmons and ‘tell the future like it is’ Sylvia Browne, though they’re not necessarily Lisick’s most needed advisers. Her excitement over Suze Orman had me pulling my copy of Orman’s book (unread) off my shelf and adding it to my TPR pile.

My qualms: Lisick is a fine storyteller. She got me all wound up about these gurus in each chapter. The problem? Each chapter ends abruptly, with unanswered question. I wanted to know what her final conclusions for EACH of the theories were. I don’t want to wait until the end to hear a generalized statement (and a really good one) on self-help. In fact, each chapter ended with rough transitions and began with indecipherable illustrations attempting an odd charade segue. The illustrations only served to distract, adding nothing, like those little weapons pieces in a Parker Brothers Clue game. And what happened in July and August? The omission of any self-help during those months was a total cop-out! I wanted Lisick’s opinions, but I think she played a ‘safe’ card instead.

Straight up I have to say that I have a really hard time with the ‘California mindset’ people. They are so set in their own stereotypes, they don’t even know they are stereotyping (something they mock). Why only attack John Grey? It seemed to me that most of the self-help biz she described was a cart and pony live infomercial. But Lisick only really goes after Grey. I felt part of this was her own preconceptions about his following (of which I am of no part). And she kept talking about this cryptic fellow: BART. We don’t all live on the West Coast. I noted several Cali-references that most folks would need to Google.

Final qualm: There are too many name-droppings. I think this is another West Coast mindset thing. After all, networking is the backbone of the entertainment business. It’s easy to forget that we regular folks don’t always have to mention our third cousin, Bennie the rock star, in order to get our next paycheck. Lisick mentions her husbands business (by name) and seems all giddy to know someone who is related to Jack Canfield, getting her a free night’s stay with the self-help prince. I’m probably just being jealous there.

As I, myself, am a natural cynic and believer in the next best thing, I found Lisick’s year of self-discovery quite revealing on a personal note. I loved her take on the innate ridiculousness of the whole self-help thing (people setting guidelines for how others should live their lives and the audacity of spending big bucks on self-help with so many other basic needs unmet in the world). I enjoyed her style and tone and will most definitely be looking for more of her work. I especially loved her Afterword, copying a quote on ‘always trying to hit the sweet spot’ into my own self-discovery journal. I’d recommend this title to anyone with a pile of unread self-help books. Basically, everyone.

Review first published on Many A Quaint & Curious Volume show less

A lifelong scorner of self-improvement schemes, Beth Lisick, in her mid-thirties, decided to spend a year doing one self-help area per month, with the aid of some of the top performers in the field. (Wisely, she got a book contract to defray expenses.)
As you might expect, she goes about this somewhat haphazardly -- for example, the Suze Orman workshop she attends is focused on would-be small business owners -- but she does glean something from each expert. Perhaps surprisingly, my show more impression was that her favorites among the self-help gurus were Stephen Covey and Richard Simmons.
Lisick is a writer and performer who has appeared on This American Life on NPR. Her book was enjoyable not only for its insights into the culture of self-help, but even more for her charming and amusing writing style and her ability to tell stories, funny and otherwise. She writes like someone I'd enjoy knowing, and I hope she sells a lot of books. show less

A really excellent memoir, in which (for a refreshing change!) the author's happy, normal childhood leads to her own crazy bohemian existence in San Francisco. Nothing is romanticized (illegal crash pads seem much less enticing when they're suffering from a sewage leak; take that, "Rent"!); everything seems emotionally honest and real. Lisick is so likable and engaging that I almost *do* want to give up my crappy day job and take a stab at la vie boheme...but then I remember that I like my show more library feces-free. Lisick's a braver woman than I! And a terrific writer. show less

I was a big fan of Beth Lisick’s first memoir, Everybody Into the Pool. She’s smart and funny, so I figured her new book about a year she spent trying to improve her life through doing various self-help programs would be pretty entertaining. And it is entertaining, in parts. It was also kind of painful for me to read.

Lisick describes herself as someone who would sooner be found making fun of self-help than plunking down hard-earned cash for a self-help book or workshop, so her first show more transformational task was to suspend her knee-jerk snarkiness in order to give the various programs she explores a fair shot. She's more successful than some at this task, and genuinely tries to find the pearls of wisdom in the works of self-help pioneers ranging from Stephen Covey to John Gray to Deepak Chopra. But she also has no problem poking fun at them along the way as she does things like use Jack Canfield's advice to ask for what you want to ask Jack Canfield for free coaching, a request which Canfield's office respectfully declines.

As Lisick continues her tour by forking over the big bucks to attend various seminars and programs, however, I found myself having painful flashbacks to my own days as a self-help addict. Lisick conveys all too well the feelings of self-doubt that can creep up when you spend a weekend in a hotel conference room with well-dressed go-getters whose lives suddenly look a lot more together than your own (especially since, in her case, a chunk of her meager income is derived from freelance work involving a giant banana costume). Though self-help is supposed to make one's life better, it very often does so by making people feel worse about themselves so they are motivated to buy the next book, tape, seminar or e-coaching program they need to take things "to the next level."

There is no question that Lisick did find a few genuine benefits to her explorations here and there—she followed Suze Orman's advice to lower credit card rates and developed a surprising appreciation for Richard Simmons on a week-long exercise cruise—but I finished the book feeling kind of like there wasn't really a there there. The concept suffered from similar problems to Jennifer Niesslein's memoir on the same topic—Lisick undertook this project as a tourist, not a self-help true believer, so she never really got engaged enough in what she was doing to engage me as well. In addition, it's just not that easy to make writing about reading self-help books interesting no matter how funny you may happen to be

Ultimately, though, I think the real problem comes down to the fact that Lisick's book feels slight because self-help itself is lacking in genuine substance. Sure, it may make you feel inspired for a few days after the workshop, but sooner or later we all just have to get back to living our lives as best as we know how. Fortunately, it seems like that's a fact Beth Lisick understands pretty well by the end of the book. show less