Review: Love People, Use Things by Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus


Note: The book comes out July 13, 2021.  While the book is non-fiction, on Goodreads, I clicked the spoiler button because I do discuss support that used over the course of the book.

Disclaimer: I received an ARC from Celadon Books in exchange for a fair and honest review.  This is the first book of this type that I have read, so if you read these types of books, you might want to take that into consideration.

 

               I hadn’t heard of the Minimalists before reading this book.  I have heard of Marie Kondo, if that helps.  This book address a minimalist lifestyle not only in terms of belongings but also in terms of self.

               I agree with the book’s title, the idea that we can do with less things, and I found some helpful bits in the book (such as the questions to ask before you buy things and some of the coda bits for the chapters).  The authors make it quite clear that what every person considers needed is going to be different.  I liked that. The chapter about relationships has some valid, if at times oversimplified point.   However, those good parts didn’t outweigh the problem though.

               The first problem is the structure and the writing style.  The bulk of the book seems to have been written by Joshua Fields Millburn, and the book cannot deicide if it wants to be his memoir (which would be fine) or a self help guide for self and relationships (which would be fine).  While some times this works, if not well, on a functional level, many times it does not.  Too often it feels like the reader is being treated to a digression about Millburn’s life for little or no reason.  Some of the bits are also repetitive.   Quite frankly, his writing style is the total opposite of minimalist.  It also feels like he throws in words just show that you he knows them. (Honesty, if I had to read about how he earned 200,000 a year in Dayton, Ohio before he became a lifestyle guru in LA,  I was going to stab  something.  One or two mentions is fine, but after awhile it sounds like bragging).  There are also a couple times when Millburn sounds downright cruel about people.  For instance, he talks about a big fat guy eating a pizza and watching Netflix while on lunch break.  While we can agree that this is unhealthy in terms of lunch, Millburn doesn’t know why the guy is unhappy and tone is on of superiority mixed with a small degree of pity.

               My second issue, and to be fair this is undoubtedly a criticism of the genre as a whole.  It is the amount of selling that this book does.  He mentions people they work with and their works (including that of his wife), he talks about the conferences and shows, the reader is encouraged to buy things and listen to things.  So if we are suppose to get rid of things, why are you selling things?  (Let me stress this seems to be the case for pretty much every person who advocates a simpler, less thing filled life).  Additionally, the rules, while good, are also adaptions of philosophy and ideas from other sources (again, this is most likely status quo for the genre).  To be fair to the authors, they do seem to mention people they either have worked with or consulted and those people’s blogs, podcasts, businesses, so they are spending the consumer wealth around.

               But there are more serious issues at pay in the book.

               Millburn writes that he wishes this book had come out earlier because it could have helped people though the pandemic, that the solutions and questions presented would have allowed people to escape without as much harm.  But which people is he talking about?  The book proposes solutions to things, but in some cases you have to have a certain income to do some of those things.  (For instance, adjunct faculty can find it extremely difficult to save three months of income and set it aside.  Could an artist?)  The comment about the pandemic comes across as tone deaf when you are aware of who were most effected either by COVID or by the lack of work.  To imply that this book by itself would have saved those people the discomfort is, well, many things other than believable. It also is, unintentionally no doubt, dismissive of the people who died, over half a million in the US alone.

               Then there are the statistics that are cited to showcase consumerism and focus on status (which is rich coming from a guy who keeps stating his income).  The problem is that some of the statistics are over ten years old and the data has changed (in particular in regards to malls, though it is unclear how that term is being used).  One study that is, in fact, British, is implied to be American by the structure of the paragraph it is in.  If I can’t trust how you use data or how recent your data is, can I trust you?

               But for me the biggest issue is the chapter about self.  Millburn starts this chapter by mentioning his own battle with depression.  The chapter then keeps moving (though it always feels like digressing) to various subtopics – such as healthy eating and taking care of yourself (the presumption is that everyone has health insurance, can afford a gym membership, has access to green space, and money to afford good food).   While Millburn never directly states it, the implication or sense in the chapter is that in order to get over depression, you simply have to keep moving and work though it.  (For instance, when Millburn mentions drugs of any type in this chapter he is usually negative).  While this might be true for some people who suffer from depression, it is not true of everyone who suffers from depression.  To even passively suggest that you just need to pull yourself out is insulting  and, quite frankly, dangerous.  It is this type of thinking that leads to much of the stigma attached to mental health.

               This chapter combined with the privilege that pervades other sections (health care, pay, what happens after arrest among other things, what a person could afford to do as a family outing even) weakens the argument.  It should be noted that question of privilege is only addressed once, really, and then it is dismissed.  On one the dismissal makes sense in terms of cost, on the other, not everyone lives an easy 20 minutes away from good shops. This true  even in a city where a bus routes do not always go the quickest route.  Not to mention, the privilege of having too much stuff.

And while the book itself isn’t the type (nor is does it have the purpose) to challenge the whole of societal issues that plague us – some realization that some women in some jobs cannot get away with only four outfits or that a black teen arrested for shop lifting is likely to be treated differently than a white teen, for instance – would have made the book better.

(Note: Thanks to Celadon Books for the ARC.  Normally I would tag the publisher and use the hashtag, but I do not feel comfortable doing that with a negative review).

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