Every so often, I realize that I have a copy of The Second Mountain and, save one largely forgotten Twitter spasm, I haven't really written anything about it. And why?
- I don't care enough to write about David Brooks any more than I already have;
- I would have to have some sort of opinion about the book, and I really don't;
- I'd have to read it again;
- ...Shit, it's David Brooks, I have to give this many reasons?
But I really do want to get this off my plate with all due haste, so I did something a little bit different. Rather than writing this out, I opened Audacity and recorded an impromptu podcast. I did this in part because I managed to jack up the nerves in my arm, and while whatever caused this is mostly healed, it's still not worth the pain in my hand, wrist, forearm, upper arm, shoulder and neck (that pain moves, boy) to write thousands of words about the man. I've been saving the typing for things that are arguably more important, like query letters that have been rejected 100% of the time.
You'll excuse me if this is rambling - I made no notes at all, recorded it about three days after the last time I read any of it, and didn't edit out any errors. Believe me, that's exactly the level of effort this book merits.
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