The literary world is filled with self-help books written by people from all walks of life, promising greatness, success, riches and manifestation to people who have happily lapped them up.
The repetitive and patronising words in the books are ridiculed by the cultural elite, who think that one can navigate life with ease using intuition and original intellect.

Self-Help Books: The Ridiculed Genre

Philosophers in the west wrote self-help books almost 2000 years ago, whereas in the eastern world, The Bhagavad Gita and the Four Noble Truths Of Buddhism are essentially self-help for having a better, more fulfilling life, and are not simply old religious texts as many assume.

It All Started With Self-Help Books

The redeeming truth is that the world has always required guidance to become something other than a clerk, a doctor or an accountant.
Any person has a potential beyond just being raised by a family, getting educated, finding a job, getting married and then retiring (though all of that needs guidance too), and self-help books elevate our understanding in many aspects.

The World Needs Guidance

The human body and mind has limitless potential, and most of it is untapped in a majority of people.
The naysayers who ridicule self-help books are viewing a human life as a static pond. A person is a river which has the potential to go and merge with the ocean. The self-help books, then become a guiding path for a person to go beyond their prescribed limits and blossom into what nature truly intended them to be.

Read More Books

<div data-print-layout="hide">The ancient philosophers recognised we all need help navigating our lives – so what explains self-help books' decline in prestige?</div><picture itemprop="contentUrl"><source srcset="https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2012/5/16/1337178562037/self-help-books-008.jpg?width=620&amp;quality=45&amp;auto=format&amp;fit=max&amp;dpr=2&amp;s=5b6477571f315c54573409d6af7a9697 1240w, https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2012/5/16/1337178562037/self-help-books-008.jpg?width=605&amp;quality=45&amp;auto=format&amp;fit=max&amp;dpr=2&amp;s=9e6ae3051266b2ab87155be311e9301b 1210w, https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2012/5/16/1337178562037/self-help-books-008.jpg?width=445&amp;quality=45&amp;auto=format&amp;fit=max&amp;dpr=2&amp;s=a85f44a98b3f8dde99ffd72847bd8adc 890w" sizes="(min-width: 660px) 620px, 100vw" media="(-webkit-min-device-pixel-ratio: 1.25), (min-resolution: 120dpi)"><source srcset="https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2012/5/16/1337178562037/self-help-books-008.jpg?width=620&amp;quality=85&amp;auto=format&amp;fit=max&amp;s=85dc0c84b6a5cc7ea1fa2a24a62db666 620w, https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2012/5/16/1337178562037/self-help-books-008.jpg?width=605&amp;quality=85&amp;auto=format&amp;fit=max&amp;s=7057962fe604fcf9227f6597c06eb900 605w, https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2012/5/16/1337178562037/self-help-books-008.jpg?width=445&amp;quality=85&amp;auto=format&amp;fit=max&amp;s=699bddea2dfc3b3c151d42160d9e1616 445w" sizes="(min-width: 660px) 620px, 100vw"><img alt="self-help books" src="https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2012/5/16/1337178562037/self-help-books-008.jpg?width=445&amp;quality=45&amp;auto=format&amp;fit=max&amp;dpr=2&amp;s=a85f44a98b3f8dde99ffd72847bd8adc" height="419" width="698"></picture><figcaption>'The self-help field has been abandoned to the many curious types who thrive in it today.' Photograph: Graeme Robertson for the Guardian</figcaption><div>Thu 17 May 2012 05.30 EDT</div><div data-testid="long-share-count" aria-hidden="true">9</div>Anyone wanting to damage their intellectual credentials at a stroke need only do one simple thing: confess they read self-help books.There's no more ridiculed genre in the literary canon – and you can see why. Most self-help books are written by Americans of the most sentimental and unctuous sort. They promise their readers eternal life, untold riches and an escape from every grubby aspect of being human, all within 300 pages of upbeat, relentlessly repetitive and patronising prose. No wonder the unstated assumption of the cultural elite is that really only stupid people read them.What about everybody else? The assumption is that life doesn't need to be navigated with lessons. You can just do it intuitively. After all, you only need to achieve autonomy from your parents, find a moderately satisfying job, form a relationship, perhaps raise some children, watch the onset of mortality in your parents' generation and eventually in your own, until one day a fatal illness starts gnawing at your innards and you calmly go to the grave, shut the coffin and are done with the self-evident business of life.However, most of us will probably privately admit that living isn't entirely as simple as that – and that it might be useful to have somewhere to turn. For 2,000 years in the history of the west, most of philosophy simply was self-help. The Ancients were the most adept practitioners. Epicurus wrote some 300 self-help books on almost every topic, including On Love, On Justice and On Human Life. The Stoic philosopher Seneca wrote volumes advising his fellow Romans how to cope with anger (the still very readable On Anger). It is no injustice to describe Marcus Aurelius's Meditations as one of the finest works of self-help ever written, as relevant to someone facing a financial meltdown as the disintegration of an empire.Christianity continued in this vein, with such bestselling guides as Thomas a Kempis's The Imitation of Christ. What, then, explains the gradual decline in the prestige of self-help books that continues to this day? A key catalyst was the development of the modern university system that in the mid-19th century became the main employer for philosophers and intellectuals and started to reward them not for being useful or consoling, but for getting their facts right. There began an obsession with accuracy and a corresponding neglect of utility. The idea of turning to a philosopher or historian in order to become wise (an entirely natural assumption for our ancestors) started to seem laughably idealistic and adolescent. Alongside this came a growing secularisation of society, which emphasised that the modern human being could do the business of living and dying by relying on sheer common sense, a good accountant, a sympathetic doctor and hearty doses of faith in science. The citizens of the future weren't supposed to need lectures in how to stay calm or free of anxiety.And so the self-help field was abandoned to the many curious types who thrive in it today: people who are reclothing the Christian message so as to promise us financial heaven if we believe in ourselves, have faith, work hard and don't despair. Or else those with a passing acquaintance with Buddhism, psychoanalysis or Daoism. What unites modern practitioners is their fierce optimism. They make the grave assumption that the best way to cheer someone up is to tell them that all will be well. They are utterly cut off from the spirit of their more noble predecessors, who knew that the fastest way to make someone feel well is to tell her that things are as bad as, and possibly much worse than, she could ever have thought. Or, as Seneca put it so well, "What need is there to weep over parts of life? The whole of it calls for tears."To try to rectify the situation a little, I've just edited a <a href="http://www.theschooloflife.com/Shop/Book-Series" data-link-name="in body link" dir="ltr">new series</a> of six self-help books with solid intellectual ambitions, authored by experts in their fields, including work, emotional health, technology, money and political activism. The tone is helpful but realistic. There's no earnestness or patronisation. I've written a little volume on sex, with advice on impotence, oral sex, sex addiction, infidelity and other issues.A culture which gives a role to guidance and the self-help book stands a chance of making at least one or two fewer mistakes than the previous generation in the time that remains.<h2>Since you're here ... </h2>... we have a favour to ask. Millions are flocking to the Guardian for open, independent, quality news every day. Readers in all 50 states and in 180 countries around the world now support us financially.Donald Trump’s chaotic presidency is ending, but the forces that propelled him – from a misinformation crisis to a surge in white nationalism to a crackdown on voting rights – remain clear and present threats to American democracy. The need for fact-based reporting is as great as ever. In the coming year, the Guardian will also confront America’s many systemic challenges – from the climate emergency to broken healthcare to rapacious corporations.We believe everyone deserves access to information that’s grounded in science and truth, and analysis rooted in authority and integrity. That’s why we made a different choice: to keep our reporting open for all readers, regardless of where they live or what they can afford to pay. In these perilous times, an independent, global news organisation like the Guardian is essential. We have no shareholders or billionaire owner, meaning our journalism is free from commercial and political influence.If there were ever a time to join us, it is now. Your funding powers our journalism. Make a gift now from as little as $1. Thank you.

Alain de Botton: The ancient philosophers recognised we all need help navigating our lives – so what explains self-help books' decline in prestige?

philosophy

Philosophy

personaldevelopment

Personal Development

problemsolving

Problem Solving

communication

Communication

Anyone wanting to damage their intellectual credentials at a stroke need only do one simple thing: confess they read self-help books.

There's no more ridiculed genre in the literary canon – and you can see why. Most self-help books are written by Americans of the most sentimental and unctuous sort. They promise their readers eternal life, untold riches and an escape from every grubby aspect of being human, all within 300 pages of upbeat, relentlessly repetitive and patronising prose. No wonder the unstated assumption of the cultural elite is that really only stupid people read them.

What about everybody else? The assumption is that life doesn't need to be navigated with lessons. You can just do it intuitively. After all, you only need to achieve autonomy from your parents, find a moderately satisfying job, form a relationship, perhaps raise some children, watch the onset of mortality in your parents' generation and eventually in your own, until one day a fatal illness starts gnawing at your innards and you calmly go to the grave, shut the coffin and are done with the self-evident business of life.

However, most of us will probably privately admit that living isn't entirely as simple as that – and that it might be useful to have somewhere to turn. For 2,000 years in the history of the west, most of philosophy simply was self-help. The Ancients were the most adept practitioners. Epicurus wrote some 300 self-help books on almost every topic, including On Love, On Justice and On Human Life. The Stoic philosopher Seneca wrote volumes advising his fellow Romans how to cope with anger (the still very readable On Anger). It is no injustice to describe Marcus Aurelius's Meditations as one of the finest works of self-help ever written, as relevant to someone facing a financial meltdown as the disintegration of an empire.

Christianity continued in this vein, with such bestselling guides as Thomas a Kempis's The Imitation of Christ. What, then, explains the gradual decline in the prestige of self-help books that continues to this day? A key catalyst was the development of the modern university system that in the mid-19th century became the main employer for philosophers and intellectuals and started to reward them not for being useful or consoling, but for getting their facts right. There began an obsession with accuracy and a corresponding neglect of utility. The idea of turning to a philosopher or historian in order to become wise (an entirely natural assumption for our ancestors) started to seem laughably idealistic and adolescent. Alongside this came a growing secularisation of society, which emphasised that the modern human being could do the business of living and dying by relying on sheer common sense, a good accountant, a sympathetic doctor and hearty doses of faith in science. The citizens of the future weren't supposed to need lectures in how to stay calm or free of anxiety.

And so the self-help field was abandoned to the many curious types who thrive in it today: people who are reclothing the Christian message so as to promise us financial heaven if we believe in ourselves, have faith, work hard and don't despair. Or else those with a passing acquaintance with Buddhism, psychoanalysis or Daoism. What unites modern practitioners is their fierce optimism. They make the grave assumption that the best way to cheer someone up is to tell them that all will be well. They are utterly cut off from the spirit of their more noble predecessors, who knew that the fastest way to make someone feel well is to tell her that things are as bad as, and possibly much worse than, she could ever have thought. Or, as Seneca put it so well, "What need is there to weep over parts of life? The whole of it calls for tears."

To try to rectify the situation a little, I've just edited a <a href="http://www.theschooloflife.com/Shop/Book-Series">new series </a>of six self-help books with solid intellectual ambitions, authored by experts in their fields, including work, emotional health, technology, money and political activism. The tone is helpful but realistic. There's no earnestness or patronisation. I've written a little volume on sex, with advice on impotence, oral sex, sex addiction, infidelity and other issues.

A culture which gives a role to guidance and the self-help book stands a chance of making at least one or two fewer mistakes than the previous generation in the time that remains.

... we have a favour to ask. Millions are flocking to the Guardian for open, independent, quality news every day. Readers in all 50 states and in 180 countries around the world now support us financially.

Donald Trump’s chaotic presidency is ending, but the forces that propelled him – from a misinformation crisis to a surge in white nationalism to a crackdown on voting rights – remain clear and present threats to American democracy. The need for fact-based reporting is as great as ever. In the coming year, the Guardian will also confront America’s many systemic challenges – from the climate emergency to broken healthcare to rapacious corporations.

We believe everyone deserves access to information that’s grounded in science and truth, and analysis rooted in authority and integrity. That’s why we made a different choice: to keep our reporting open for all readers, regardless of where they live or what they can afford to pay. In these perilous times, an independent, global news organisation like the Guardian is essential. We have no shareholders or billionaire owner, meaning our journalism is free from commercial and political influence.

If there were ever a time to join us, it is now. Your funding powers our journalism. Make a gift now from as little as $1. Thank you.

In defence of self-help books | Alain de Botton

Self-Help Books: The Ridiculed Genre

It All Started With Self-Help Books

The World Needs Guidance

Read More Books

CURATED BY

Related collections

More like this