The Novel Cure: From Abandonment to Zestlessness: 751 Books to Cure What Ails You (19 page)

What she finds is that Aunt Ada Doom has been lurking in the attic at Cold Comfort ever since, as a small child, she “saw something nasty in the woodshed.” Running the farm with an iron rod from this safe haven, she frankly has a rather good life up there, being brought three meals a day and not having to do any work. Flora conquers her fear of Ada, and cleverly uses a copy of
Vogue
as a means of luring her out into the world. With her breezy, optimistic, commonsense solutions, she goes on to sort out pretty much everyone, herself included, and we forgive her for being shallow, bossy, and opinionated.

Flora really does leave her relatives a lot better off than she found them,
and you, too, will be far less likely to get yourself foolishly impregnated, left to run a farm, or live out the rest of your days in an attic (see: Agoraphobia) after reading this hilarious tome. Give it to all your unsensible friends and relations, and if anyone gives it to you, you’ll know exactly what they think of you.

See also:
Risks, taking too many

See:
Bullied, being
•
Confrontation, fear of
•
Coward, being a
•
Neediness
•
Pessimism
•
Risks, not taking enough
•
Seduction skills, lack of
•
Seize the day, failure to
•
Self-esteem, low
•
Shyness

The Golden Ass

APULEIUS

S
o you reckon you’re something. A mover-shaker. You can deal with anything life throws at you. You know how to do it all, don’t need any help, thanks very much. You are the King of Karaoke, the Queen of Comedy, and, frankly, you can do it on your head with aplomb.

We applaud you. Confidence can be self-fulfilling and infectious, after all. But being overconfident can easily stray into the realms of arrogance (see: Arrogance). It is not quite the same thing, though, because the overconfident tend to do what they do with a grin rather than a smirk. They are delighted with themselves, rather than pleased they are better than everyone else. Which makes them much more likable. But what do your friends, O overconfident one, say about you behind your back? Do they think you are a bit cocky? If so, rein yourself in with the help of Lucius Apuleius’s
The Golden Ass
.

Written in the second century AD, this adaptation of an earlier Greek fable is the only Latin novel to survive in its entirety. According to Pliny the Younger, historian and philosopher of this period, storytellers would preface their street corner entertainments with a shout of “Give me a copper and I’ll tell you a golden story.” This, then, is a golden story, designed to be engrossing, full of extravagant language, and containing a moral at the end.

Its hero, also named Lucius, is waylaid while on business to Thessaly by a desire for a magical experience. He has always been curious about the arts of personal transformation, and when he meets an attractive slave girl named Fotis, he begins a sexually athletic affair with her, not just because he likes her, but because he has heard that she may have access to ointments and spells that could transform him into an owl. Desperate to try his hand at metamorphosing himself, Lucius persuades Fotis to obtain some of her mistress’s powerful ointment. He rubs this onto his skin, saying the magic
words—and seconds later he can only communicate his fury to Fotis by rolling his huge, watery donkey eyes. It turns out that she muddled her ointments. But she reassures him that all he needs to do is find some roses to eat, and they will bring him back to human form.

As it transpires, Lucius spends twelve months in the ass’s skin, roaming in search of the restorative flower from one rose season to the next. And though he delights in the unaccustomed enormity of his masculine organ and enjoys his hirsute state (he was going bald as a man),
*
he is constantly thwarted in any opportunities he might have for fun. His inner voice is wry and self-deprecating, always humorous but vividly descriptive of his strange and troubling state. His adventures as an ass, under almost constant threat of death from bandits and cruel masters as well as the fruits of his own foolhardy escapades, bring him closer and closer to true humility.

Luckily, his transformation doesn’t last forever. And as a symbol of having renounced his vain affectations, he decides that he will now wear his human baldness with pride. By the end of this frequently hilarious and constantly entertaining novel, you will feel as though you too have worn the ears of the ass for long enough to have attained the humility that Lucius gains himself. The moral of the tale for both the Romans and for you is that, in time, the overconfident will indeed be brought low.

See also:
Optimism
•
Risks, taking too many

My Name Is Asher Lev

CHAIM POTOK

W
e who fear confrontation are the natural peacemakers—or, to put it less kindly, the pushovers, the oh-let’s-just-do-it-your-way types. We give in at the slightest sign of disagreement. Yes, we do! Well, if you say so, we don’t. But our greatest fear is an argument. And we will do anything to avoid one. We will eat our words, smile through our rage, mutter self-deprecatingly, and let the other party take all. Then we are left seething internally, the unresolved conflict festering until
it either erupts more violently another day (see: Rage) or simmers for several decades, causing intangible but real pain.

Overcoming your fear of confrontation is essential if you have any hope of dealing with conflicts when they arise. We suggest you study the eponymous hero of Chaim Potok’s
My Name Is Asher Lev
. Asher finds himself in conflict with his parents from a very young age because of his prodigious talent for painting. Hasidic Jews, his parents don’t think art is a worthwhile thing to do. But Asher is unable to control his own talent. He draws constantly, sometimes without even realizing he is doing it. One day at school a face appears in fountain pen on an inside page of his Chumash. Fellow pupils are outraged at this desecration of the holy book, and Lev’s parents are mortified and take it as a personal insult. But Asher has gotten so used to repressing his artistic ability that he has no memory of drawing the picture.

The conflict within the family is painful to behold, as Asher’s parents strive to understand their complicated son. His mother, Rivkeh, traumatized by the loss of her brother, is terrified that she will one day lose Asher too; he does not assuage her fears when he stays out late at the museum drawing, unbeknownst to her. His father, Aryeh, is permanently disappointed with Asher’s choices, and things are often explosive when the two do spend time together. The leader of the Ladover Hasidic community has a guiding influence over all of them. A wise and powerful man, he speaks to Asher in ways that make him listen, gently reminding the young man where his loyalties should lie. “They tell me the world will hear of you one day as an artist,” he says. “I pray to the Master of the Universe that the world will one day also hear of you as a Jew. Do you understand my words?” The rebbe does not disapprove of Asher’s artistic pursuits, but he at least wants the young man to be as committed a Jew as he is an artist. Asher deals with all these conflicts by ignoring them as much as possible, but, alas, he is left tormented by them for years.

Whether your conflict is born of differing beliefs, ambitions, approaches to life, or simply domestic issues, face it before it escalates into estrangement or worse.

See also:
Violence, fear of

Shantaram

GREGORY DAVID ROBERTS