Customer Reviews

On Paradise Drive: How We Live Now (And Always Have) in the Future Tense

5 star:		(18)
4 star:		(16)
3 star:		(4)
2 star:		(7)
1 star:		(7)

 

 

I hesitate to write a review of this book given how politically charged the other customer reviewers have been thus far. Liberals seem to dislike David Brooks because he's a moderate conservative intruder into the sacred halls of the New York Times, and conservatives think he's a sellout. Neither opinion of the man has any real reflection on his work, and we are supposed to be reviewing the book, not the man.

That said, this book is genuinely funny and interesting (right up until the very last chapter, which reads more like a sociology primer than the witty social satire that preceeded it). Brooks is simply masterful with some of his turns of phrase. His descriptions of Grill Guy's High-Powered BBQ Grill purchase at Home Depot and the snooty professionals in the Inner Ring Suburbs almost had me in tears at points I was laughing so hard. For those that appreciate a sarcastic sense of humor and a witty use of words (and doesn't mind too much when some of that sarcasm hits dangerously close to home) this is your book. Ignore the overly political criticism from people who apparently haven't even read On Paradise Drive.

David Brooks has a theory. The American people are not as shallow, greedy and self-absorbed as we appear to the rest of the world. There is no doubt that many of us are workaholics, own far more "stuff" than we really need and eat more than half of our meals in bland "chain" restaurants. In page after page in "On Paradise Drive: How We Live Now (And Always Have) in the Future Tense" Brooks pokes fun at the way Americans of all classes, all occupations and all political persuasions go about living their everyday lives. He has pithy comments about the way we live, work and shop as well as the way we educate our young people. Many of his observations are "laugh out loud" funny.

Now given all of this evidence it is certainly not difficult to understand why so many people all over the world dislike us so much. David Brooks would refute those perceptions and argues that what really drives the American people is an abiding optimism for the future. He firmly believes that it is this eternal optimism that distinguishes us from the rest of the world. And he makes several fairly cogent points to support his argument. Among them is a list of many of the "doom and gloom" books written over the past 50 years. I must confess that I have read a great many of them myself. "On Paradise Drive" is a thoughtful, entertaining and extremely well written book. A nice change of pace for those who normally devour books on much more serious subjects. Recommended.

I generally agree with Amazon's reviewers, but this time the reviewer has completely missed the boat. Instead of arguing that our problems "are not so big, as long as we talk about them in the right way," in the words of the reviewer, On Paradise Drive provides blow after blow against our ultra-consumer, extra-large SUV, monster house, soccer mom, grill daddy culture. He does it with humor, sarcasm and subtle insight, so perhaps some reviewers have missed his point. Ultimately, Brooks takes a critical view of our middle and upper middle class way of life, while at the same time providing a bit of hope that perhaps our ultimate life goals aren't as shallow as a perfect lawn and a shiny stainless steel grill. Anyone who views this book as a conservative, Bush supporting diatribe has completely misread this work.

Asking a libertarian to review Brooks' new book is like asking a vegetarian to critique a Texas BBQ restaurant. At best, a reasonable person might admit that it smelled good from a distance. The first half of Brooks' new extended essay is witty and insightful. He nails today's urban-dwelling-bohemian-goth-asexual-socialist-graphic-artist poster child; he paints a realistic landscape of suburban grillmasters with their chrome-polised Lincoln Navigators, SuperSoccerMom wives and matching children named Ashley and Hayden; he captures the bus-riding "it's good to be dirt poor" intellects who cling to their college town climes while analyzing their way through grad school; he absolutely understands today's Volvo-driving exeuctive directors and liberal lawyers who, having succumbed to wealth, spend as much time debating Corian countertop choices as they once devoted to deeper issues like rainforests. Then Brooks meanders into an entire chapter about today's college students, sounding exactly like the hip professor who wants to hang with the cuties--who merely laugh at his Birkenstock heels and his bald spot while he walks away thinking highly of himself. That said, Brooks closes with thought-provoking words. He seems to "get" the average American's psyche, to whatever extent an average American exists; and contrary to Amazon's reviewer, Brooks is critical of Amercian consumerism. He ridicules our shallowness, our lack of culture and our complete absence of a collective historical context. At the same time, Brooks professes a curious admiration for Americans' tendency to see the glass, if not always half full, at least within reach of a fresh pitcher -- even when we're stuck on some desert highway in our monster SUVs with their NiCAD-operated DVD players in the backseat, where Ashley and Hayden are too preoccupied to notice that the Navigator has run out of gas. Brooks theorizes it is exactly our blind faith in the future that unites Americans when we are struck by enemies, or at least it has always united us in the past. Whether our Western-frontier mentality and our often-quoted "cowboy posturing" will survive our deepening attachment to mega-malls and bankruptcy (financial, cultural and spiritual) reamains to be seen. However, contrary to Amazon's review, Brooks' does not profess to believe that it will. Like most Americans, he merely maintains hope.

More insightful than all the remaindered collections of Maureen Dowd's columns, Brooks' book will not be to everybody's tastes. There is indeed a thin line between love and hate, and Brooks nimbly dances along that tightrope, sometimes leaning to to one side or the other, as he views America's suburbs through a rose-colored glass darkly. But he ultimately (and wisely) chooses an optimistic outlook, which infuriates the worryworts of the left to no end.

Brooks may not always get every little factoid right, but who else in cosmo places like New York and Seattle is even bothering to try? They're all too busy staring at their navels to see the rest of our nation. 10 points to Brooks for at least getting off the island and getting out there, into the misty wilds of contemporary suburbia.

As for Michael Kinsley's alleged "evisceration" of Brooks' book, it barely broke Brooks' skin. Kinsley accuses him of -- gasp! -- being a liberal. He also accuses Brooks of not being black-and-white enough in his assessments, i.e., of engaging in -- horror! -- nuance. Excuse me, but since when did these become sins in the eyes of the cosmopolitan set, and how come I never got the memo?

Kinsley's envy of Brooks' success is palpable, but then what do you expect from a dried-up former wunderkind who sold his soul to Microsoft and hasn't had a single interesting idea since he edited the New Republic decades ago? He reminds me of nothing so much as bitter old Mr. Potter in "It's A Wonderful Life," muttering his malice toward that young, energetic whippersnapper George Bailey.

Some call Brooks' book shallow. These are people who believe that repeating exhausted cliches like "the Emperor has no clothes" is an example of depth. You also won't like this book if you believe that calling someone a "right wing propagandist," a "neo-con," or (better yet) "Frodo" is an actual insight.

But I actually burst out laughing when I realized that at least four of the one-starred reviews below were posted by New Yorkers. How many of them do you think are angry NYT reporters who resent Brooks getting a column before they did? And note to "St. Louis" -- Brooks grew up in Pennsylvania, not Manhattan.

Brooks occasionally overrreaches, but he never fails to entertain. Truth is something greater than the sum of facts, and Brooks gets the greater part right. If you have a sense of humor and a modicum of interest in "those people" who dwell in suburban America, then you will love this book. If you don't have a sense of humor, sorry, I can't help you.

On Paradise Drive is a fairly amusing pop-sociological study of the modern American middle-class man and woman--especially the suburban-American. In doing so, Brooks attempts to defend the American Dream in its current incarnation and interpretation (consumerism, materialism, sunny optimism) as something just as sacred and legitimate today as it was 100, 200 years ago. DB takes us on a whirlwind Great American Road Trip to illustrate his point, stopping in suburbs, exurbs, middle-ring-suburbs, etc., etc.

In his zeal to entertain, Brooks, as he often does, gets ahead of himself and sometimes tries too hard to make us laugh, letting the point get away from him. He is in the category of social commentators who is head over heels in love with his own witticisms and coin phrases--so much so that this coinage often gets tiresome. He uses composites and generalizations to support his theses, such as the dichotomy between a blonde (superficial, cheery, ambitious) and brunette (self-reflective, insecure, confused) mentality that exists in America. These also begin to sag after a while, with chapters sometimes running past the length required to make the point glibly.

Brooks' main idea, that the very things that make us seem so crude, vulgar, and shallow to the outside world--our obsession with success, indomitable work ethic and ambition, and endless material accumulation--are the manifestation of a deeper (and peculiarly American) spiritual quest, is compelling, to be sure. He often approaches elaboration--but, at the end, seems to recede from it, settling for overquoting sociologists and writers on America, and encouraging independent research. It's almost as if Brooks loses surety and abandons the quest to us.

David Brooks' new book "On Paradise Drive..." put into words many of the conflicting thoughts I've had about life as an American. On the one hand knowing that out of all the times in history to be born, being born here and now makes me "stinking rich" (Brooks' phrase) compared to the rest of the world, both past and present. As such, I have a tremendous responsibility for the bounty bestowed on me.

Even knowing this, I can on the other hand still gripe about not having enough money to redo the bathroom that's out of style in our house, and why can't we get a new house anyway? Everybody else has one. As an American in "Paradise," I am aware of thinking such contradictory thoughts all the time.

We have been such contrary people, Brooks says, since our inception. Our wanting, our ambition, our workaholism are all historical personality traits. "It's amazing how early America was stereotyped as a money-grubbing, empty-handed, shallow souled, energetic, but incredibly vulgar land," (p. 91).

America, Brooks says, is the rhino of the world (later on he calls us bimbos). If there were a rhino (or a bimbo for that matter) in the room, he points out, you would not be reading--you would be staring at the rhino. America is that rhino: an anomoly unsurpassed in the history of the world with military might, financial might and a democratic system of government which provides unheard of freedom for its citizens. Freedom that allows us to be, according to Brooks, the Cosmic Blonde of Nations.

"People around the world...don't deny that the United States is an awesomely powerful nation, or that Americans are economically successful...What people around the world do deny is that the U.S. is the most profound of nations..." (p. 90).

Brooks' wickedly funny descriptions of American cliques in "Out for a Drive" (chapter 1) are worth the price of the book.

America is a land of contrasts, according to David Brooks. And in this book of "comic sociology," which is chock-full of wry, witty & entertaining descriptions of modern-day America and Americans, he explores these contrasts & our national character.

On one hand, the United States is the dominant force in the world on many fronts --- technologically, economically, militarily. Americans are restless, energetic, hard-working, religious, and readily change homes & careers while chasing opportunity. On the other hand, though, America's critics claim that we are materialistic, vapid, money-grubbing, shallow-souled, self-indulgent, vulgar, superficial, and blindly-optimistic. We have high marriage rates, but high divorce rates; high incomes but low saving; we are productive but wasteful. We are a land of Bart Simpson, boob-jobs, Disney, and McDonalds.

How can we reconcile these two points of view? To do so, Brooks reframes our material longings, and claims that our baubles are surface products of a spiritual striving for perfection. Americans believe in the gospel of progress, in continuously improving ourselves, in manifesting our destiny, in improving our lot, and in bending the world to fit our imaginations of a future nirvana. Americans don't solve problems - they leave them in the past, move to a new place, start a new job or company. Life is plastic - and we make out of it what we will in order to realize our potential.

Brooks then takes us on a tour to show how you can see signs of this striving in the people, stores, and the suburbs of America. You can see it in the Uber-moms in the suburbs, former executives who pour their energy into perfect parenting, grooming their children for success by shuttling them to appropriate adult-supervised activities. You see it in conscientious career-oriented college students more likely to climb the system, not buck it like college students of the 60's did. You see it in the malls & in magazines, in images of perfect products. Those images arouse our secret aspirations to buy the right fashions, use the right diet, drive the right car, have the perfect lawn, and in the process transform ourselves from ugly caterpillars into a shimmering butterflies.

Brooks points out that America is a future-oriented, fantasy factory. Moreso than anywhere else, we live in a culture of dreams, plans, innovations, improvements, and grand visions of things to come or become. Paradise is always just over the next ridge with the next home or job or credit-card purchase or spouse or SUV or beer or motivational seminar. The cash register does ring, but it's just the gateway on the path to paradise, where material prosperity will be joined with virtue, understanding, and self-fulfillment. At least that's our secret hope.

The downside of this view is that American restlessness never sleeps; there's always more improvement to be had, says Brooks. And in this relentless quest, we may forget the purpose of one's own life, use only money as a sign of accomplishment, remain discontented with our material success and still have a lingering desire for more achievement. Although some critics say Americans should slow down, Brooks says that's antithetical to the optimistic, climbing nature of American life. Instead, he suggests Americans should connect their ascents to a larger mission beyond themselves, realized across generations or institutions.

Overall, I enjoyed this book. My only complaints are that Brooks leaves his most entertaining conclusions and arguments to the final chapters, and I think if he hinted at his points earlier on, it would have helped frame the points he makes in the first few chapters --- I felt those chapters wandered a bit while I was reading them. But after finishing the book, I thought his main points were clear, and the book was worthwhile.

Of course I could argue some of the points he makes, but right away he points out that this is a work of "comic sociology," not a political or academic text. As such, I was entertained, even if I didn't share all his views. In any case, if you enjoy his NY Times column or enjoyed his last book, then you should give this one a try.

This is one of the more compelling analyses on American Culture I have read, and its funny to the point of bringing tears to my eyes in fits of laughter. Some of it hits close to home, but luckily I have the ability to laugh at my sometimes ridiculous lifestyle.

Brooks puts into words concepts I have considered, but not necessarily been able to articulate. One point he hits on, and quite accurately, I might add, is why Americans are such achievers and workaholics and how we tend to cram all of our hours and minutes with activity. Some argue that "our energy is merely part of some manic drive to avoid the deep and profound issues of life, to skate along the surface of existence and wallow in material luxury and incessant gain." - that's dead on.

David Brooks' previous book was so well-written, intelligent, and fun (even when we Bobos winced in self-recognition) that the bar was set very high for a sequel.

Did Brooks clear the bar? Hell no, he ducked and ran right under it.

This busy, busy man became so famous so fast that he didn't bother to thoroughly research and write a satisfying book. Sasha Issenberg of "Philadelphia" magazine has convincingly summarized the factual errors made on one of Brooks' only fact-finding trips for this book. I won't duplicate her findings; Google 'em if you like. Brooks gushes an insincere paean to sprawl suburbs that he wouldn't be caught dead actually living in. He also generalizes heavily from his observations of affluent "inner-ring" suburbs such as Bethesda, Maryland.

What little meat clings to the bones of "Paradise" is charred by the BTUs of the author's self-regard. Brooks obviously can write a better book, and he has--it's just not this one.

Brooks does earn five stars for the most chilling spousal acknowledgment I've seen in recent years. He thanks his wife, "whose plans for our new house made this book necessary. Just kidding."

Just kidding? Brrrr!