By Anna Quindlen
Random House, 50 pages
Available at Fully Booked at Power Plant, Rockwell
I recently came across the book A Short Guide to a Happy Life by Anna Quindlen, the bestselling author and columnist who won the Pulitzer Prize in 1992 for her New York Times column, "Public and Private". The title of her latest book made me wonder, can there really be a short guide to a happy life? Is it as simple as that? What about the path to happiness found in the teachings of Buddha or the Tao? What about the countless self-help gurus who speak of the long road to happiness? To be sure, Quindlen states at the outset, "I am not particularly qualified by profession or education to give advice or counsel." But here’s the rub. "I’m a novelist," she qualifies "my work is human nature. Real life is really all I know." With that said, Quindlen goes on to give the reader points to ponder on, making them think about just how simple or how complex life can be. Her insights, while not entirely new, hits straight at the gut, just like listening to a good friend giving no-nonsense advice.
The first bit of advice she gives sounds more like a stern warning to those who can’t seem to separate the personal from the professional. "Don’t ever confuse the two – your life and your work…The second is only part of the first." True, life is much larger than any job in the world. But the rat race has also grown more intense over the years, tricking us into thinking that the race is life itself. In a postcard, Quindlen’s father once reminded her that "even if you win the rat race, you’re still a rat." That being the case, what sets you and I apart from so many others out there who are equally qualified and in equal pursuit of the same or similar things? "You are the only person alive who has sole custody of your life. Your particular life. Your entire life… not just the life of your mind, but the life of your heart." "Not just your bank account, but your soul" Quindlen writes. We have heard this one before but it bears repeating because so many of us can plead guilty to letting events or people take over our lives. Then there are those of us who define our lives in terms of our professional achievements. But Quindlen, herself an achiever, reminds us that "a resume is a cold comfort on a winter night, or when you’re sad, or broke or lonely." In a moment of personal crisis, our bios won’t take us far. Striving to be a good person in the multiple roles we play is what really matters and what gets us through the tough times. Personal attributes do not detract from our professional life, as Quindlen points out, but imbues it with richness and meaning. "You cannot be really first-rate at your job, if your work is all you are," she asserts. And this comes from someone who has reached the top of her game.
The best piece of advice that she offers may also be the three shortest words to happiness – "Get A Life." Get a life beyond your work, get a life that is meaningful and purposeful and go after it with all your might is what she really means. To that she adds "Find people you love and who love you. And remember that love is not leisure, it is work. Each time I look at my diploma, I remember that I am still a student, still learning every day how to be human." It is never easy to be human as Quindlen suggests, perhaps even more difficult to admit that all of life is a learning process and that even the most competent and capable among us must go back to the drawing board every so often to start over.
If there is any single moment that influenced Quindlen’s views on life, it was the death of her mother who succumbed to ovarian cancer at the age of 40. Then, Quindlen was 19, just beginning life as an adult, asserting her newfound independence as a college freshman. Within a year she found herself out of school and doing odd jobs. The loss of her mother was for her "the dividing line between seeing the world in black and white, and in Technicolor. The lights came on, for the darkest possible reason." Many of us who have known the loss of a parent know that the loss has somehow changed us. There is, as Quindlen writes, a life before and after that loss. We grow from the pain and the loss. We vow never to take life and all that we have for granted. But worldly concerns creep up urging us to be more, have more and acquire more. Yet if we look back, we would have to admit that we have more in the way of material comforts and leisure options today than previous generations had in their time. We are spoiled for choices. But our satisfaction level has not kept pace with our consumption levels.
To Quindlen, life is a sum of its parts, seen in snapshots of daily life. How often do we think about those moments – the times when we felt attuned to nature, intimate moments we’ve shared with our loved ones, the times when we’ve been moved by music or literature, the places we’ve been to that still live in our hearts and our thoughts? It is not life’s big moments that bring color and texture to the gigantic canvass we call "life" but ordinary moments that make life so memorable. When we stop to think about it, each of us has been blessed with many of those moments.
But the good life that Quindlen talks about is not going to be handed to us on a silver platter. Here’s how she sums up the pursuit of the good life. "Life is made of moments, small pieces of glittering mica in a long stretch of gray cement. It would be wonderful if they came to us unsummoned, but particularly in lives as busy as the ones most of us lead now, that won’t happen. We have to teach ourselves how to live, really live… to learn to love the journey, not the destination."
Part of the journey is understanding that life is a process of giving and receiving – of learning our lessons and giving back the good that has touched our lives. Quindlen tells us "school never ends. The classroom is everywhere." You’ll never know where you can pick up some lessons. It often comes from the most unexpected places. Just as Quindlen found one of her best teachers along the boardwalk of Coney Island many years ago. She was then writing a story about how the homeless suffered through the winter months. Even in the harsh winter, her subject, a panhandler stayed by the boardwalk and braved the bitter cold. When she asked him why he did not seek shelter, he simply told her "Look at the view, young lady, look at the view." She has since taken his advice and has never been let down.
Presumably, the view Quindlen is talking about is any place, anywhere that gives you a larger perspective on life. You could be walking along the seaside, sitting atop a mountain, in the middle of a rainforest. Wherever it is, it should make you feel that life is wonderful. Quindlen’s A Short Guide to a Happy Life ends all too soon, leaving you wanting more anecdotes, more vignettes of insight and inspiration from so many others who must have crossed her path. Still, her message has never been more relevant – "life is not a dress rehearsal and today is the only guarantee you get."
Inspirational books, however short, are welcome additions to our bookshelves and nightstands these days as we all try to make sense of a very troubled world and the perilous times in which we live. Should you need a respite for the unrelenting war coverage and the barrage of opinions and analysis from the pundits and those who pose as pundits, this is a book to pick up. It’s a fast read and good read. If it doesn’t win your heart, it’s likely to win your mind.