Book Review

A while back I mentioned about this book arriving in the post, which prompted a flurry (well, two) requests for my thoughts on the book. It took a little longer to get round to this than I had hoped, but here goes…

“The Art Of The Start” by Guy Kawasaki. Sub-title: The Time-Tested, Battle-Hardened Guide for Anyone Starting Anything.

Arrrrggggghhhhhhhhhhhggghhhhh. This is the sound of frustration that follows painful discovery. Revelation that something that you ‘thought’ was not only perfect, but also exactly what you were looking for, actually has some fundamental flaw.

It’s the sound of finding your dream home and discovering that a 5,000-year-old burial site was destroyed to build it. It’s buying your favourite Picasso and noticing a small tear in the canvass. It’s meeting your ideal partner, perfect in every way, and then discovering that they used to be a man. Or woman. You know what I mean. You’re not sure whether it’s a total deal-breaker, but it changes the way you feel about everything. So close, and yet, so far…

On the front cover of the book is a tribute from Pierre Omidyar, founder of eBay, that starts like this:

“Guy has done it again – evangelised something useful and meaningful. This time…”

I paused at about this point and read it again. I don’t like the word evangelised. Actually, to be more specific, I don’t like evangelising. I like facts and information. I like opinions. I like discussion and reasoned arguments, even ones that I lose and that force me to reconsider my position. But I don’t like being arbitrarily told what to do or think because “someone believes that’s how it is” and moreover thinks that therefore I should believe it too.

Pierre Omidyar finishes his accolade with “And, please, read the last chapter first.”

After a moment’s consideration, I decided, despite his credentials, to overlook Mr Omidyar’s disconcerting use of the word evangelised and his advice to read the book in a different order than the author intended, and started at the beginning. I thought that I would save the last chapter as a surprise and incentive to keep reading if I got bogged down.

As it is, there is no need for such motivations, since I devoured the book at a rate of knots (the delay in the review has been for other reasons). First of all Guy Kawasaki’s writing style encapsulates the essence of his advice to entrepreneurs. Keep it simple, clear, concise and to the point. Less is more. Dispense with the bullsh+t. Secondly, the book is actually pretty short, it has big letters and not many pages. This is a good thing for busy entrepreneurs. Finally, the chapters follow a succinct, easy-reading format: Advice, example, thought exercise, and (the best part) FAQs. This is a man who has seen more powerpoint presentations than I have had bad Cable positions.

The style is great, and the content is pretty good too, if not earth-shattering. Most of what Kawasaki imparts is either common business sense, or plain common sense, which is fine. It is often very useful to listen to someone with more experience encapsulate your own understanding in greater clarity. You may know the way, but looking at a detailed road-map, at the very least is of interest, and usually adds some extra value.

Other parts I really found very useful. His formula for writing pitches & presentations depending on your audience is excellent for someone who probably does only 3 or 4 a year. His advice on ditching mission statements for a mantra in a start-up was thought-provoking and inspiring.

At about two-thirds of the way through, I was on the phone to p-i-g orangepeel, no stranger to a presentation or canny phrase himself, urging him to get a copy and start reading. This was to be our beacon. Our guiding light of entrepreneurial adventure...

I wish I had restrained my enthusiasm until I had finished the book. As I cantered through the pages I there was one thing in the back of my mind. I am enjoying this book a great deal, so what added bonus, what awesome revelation could be in the intriguing last chapter that urged Pierre Omidyar to urge me to read it first?

And then, like the end of so many good things, came Chapter 11. The Art Of Being A Mensch. He could have skipped this bit and finished with a salient piece of advice such as "be respectful to other people." But no. Instead we get instructions on how to adjust our moral compass so that we can get to heaven. Seriously.

I really don't want to be told how I must go about my life to 'be a good person.' Not in a book about Internet start-ups. I found the analogy between airline travel and reaching the three stages of paradise (yes, coach, business and first class on Singapore Airlines with "fully reclining seats and a power outlet for your...") to be scraping the barrel of the worst kind of West Coast self-help spurious evangelical tripe. Pass me the bucket.

Pierre Omidyar advises you to read the last chapter first. Somnambulist advises you to take a large pair of scissors to chapter 11 and just start from the beginning pretending it was never there.

If you don't have time to read the book, then check out his speech on the link below, which pretty much covers it. In fact, it's better than the book because they hook him off stage just before he gets to the end...

http://blog.guykawasaki.com/2006/06/the_art_of_the_.html


P.S. As it’s Sunday I thought I’d give you a bonus review for free. At the airport I recently picked up “Tycoon” by Peter Jones. Subtitle: The bestselling guide to making millions from the Dragons’ Den expert.

Utter pants. If you can’t write or contain your ego, but still want to sell books get yourself on telly.

P.P.S. Happy Birthday to masterchef, Jonambulist ;-)