This is neither an outstanding book nor an awful or pernicious one. I think it’s fair to say it’s about the effects and causes of anxiety, and not about a solution, by someone who’s in-between the half-mythic fully healed person, and the person who pours the dressing of madness over a big bowl of word salad, and digs in, right. He’s not a math god or a monk. I don’t know how the math gods feel about Dan—I don’t pretend to understand their ways—but I do think that “everything is spiritual” means that hearing people out is a virtue, you know. I don’t know. A lot of people probably find it quite a meandering book, (if, in truth, it’s not as meandering as small talk), but panic attack talk is not something easily reduced to plot and theme and reason, you know. It’s just…. Like a soup fork or something, plot and anxiety, you know.

I guess you could say that the causes of anxiety (the effects are that you feel like shit—sick, you know), for Dan are primarily three: sex, mother, and work, essentially. The sex part I kinda kinda relate to, if primarily through my fantasy life. When I was most sick, I thought I was Harry Styles, basically. I was not…. Not that, “Harry Styles”, (Draco Malfoy Voice: Harry, Styles!), means what I thought it did then. Just too much energy, you know, as though you were trying to read by a light-bulb and put a whole nuclear generator’s power into it. You get anxious; it’s too much. And then, he came from a line of anxious people, through his mother. I can almost relate, as my mother is a dry, if anxious, alcoholic, and his mother got driven to therapist school by her anxiety. Still, his mother sounds more capable than mine, although we’re all biased when it comes to our own mothers, often negatively, right. I mean, my mom has always been anxious that I exercise; she wants me to eat more, and stop walking for exercise. But she also has many of the trappings of spirituality even if she doesn’t do hard, practice-y things herself, and has transmitted some of her dispositions and resources to me.

And Dan also felt that his Jewish identity played into his condition, that there was a social factor. This has also been the case with me. I am essentially Anglo, the culture that likes to disappear and not acknowledge itself, but which is at the same time as particular as anything else, you know, and I’ve been part of it, not least when I was most sick. (My family also has a sort of vestigial Irishness through the inter-generational disease of alcoholism, even if neither me nor my parents are part of the RCC or possess any other “Irish” characteristics. Which would be what, anyway? Time-traveling IRA activist? Adorably Anglo?) I was really, really Anglo, in a very Disneyified, isolationist way. Anything macho or self-sufficient, anything nonwhite, in almost any way, bothered me, and drove me to dig my rabbit warren deeper and deeper, as though I was expecting an artillery bombardment, and then the next time I met something not white-femme-mystique, it was worse. Daniel’s situation is intricate in that while he wasn’t especially secure in his Yiddishkeit or happy to be a Jew, or involved with the Jewish community in almost any way, or willing to be friends with other Jews, he still felt that many of his foibles and problems were quintessentially Jewish, you know. Many Jews aren’t terribly Jewish especially in any classical way, but, still have this Yiddish-shaped hole where their secure cultural identity should be…. Well, not that I would understand.

Anyway, it’s not a book that’ll hurt you to read, or not to read, I suppose…. And yet, haven’t the aliens deputized me to read, All, earth-books? 😸👽

I'm still trying to figure out what the message of this book was. Between having to look up every other word (once again leading me to feel stupid) and never really going anywhere with his story, this was not my cup of tea. I get that the writer had a traumatic experience at a young age (several actually) but I don't really get a sense of him doing anything about it. I think I missed something but regardless this isn't a book I will recommend. ( )

The author did a wonderful job of talking about the roots of anxiety -- the discussions of Philip Roth were particularly insightful. Certainly its no revelation that Jews corner the market on anxiety. Neurotic Jewish men have not been the kings of navel gazing literature and stand up comedy for no reason. Smith though goes farther with the analysis, and as someone who has read a lot of Roth, and loves his work, I learned a couple things. So I learned a bit about Roth and a bit about anxiety, and I was entertained. Definitely worthwhile. ( )

Not funny. Not insightful. Waste of your time. ( )

There are some books that really resonate with you, that are exactly what you need to be reading at the moment you are turning those pages.

This is one of those books for me.

Some personal information is important here. I have an anxiety disorder, and reading is something that helps to relax me. So when I can find a book that speaks truth about what I feel, it's really special for me.

Smith is someone who has been there, and continues to be there, and on top of that, he writes really well. I found myself nodding as I turned pages, feeling understood and inspired. He writes about his life and experiences, but he expands on his personal stories to make them universal truths.

Smith is honest, and heartfelt, and true. He has written the kind of book I want to give to people to help them understand what it feels like to live with anxiety, and that I want to keep on my shelf to revisit whenever it is needed. ( )