Jeffery Harvey

Put simply, I enjoyed this book.

It's been a title on my “To Read” list for a while, and now that I've gotten through it for the first time, I find that it's given voice to much of what I've consulted over the years as well as I've studied during and following my doctoral dissertation. Command and control is a bit of a myth, functional in specific, tightly-focused contexts and perhaps more broadly in a bygone era. In my world of emergency management (and emergency services more generally), an example to clarify this statement is helpful. Command and control can greatly benefit the tightly focused operations of an incident scene (or a single incident scene within a larger disaster), where the goal is largely agreed-upon. Yet, for the purposes of wrapping one's arms around the totality of the disaster, command and control struggles (if it doesn't outright fail).

What's needed in these situations?

From the perspective of my dissertation, I explored the applicability of “shared leadership.” Others might think of an even broader term: “collaboration.” McChrystal and colleagues dub it a “team of teams,” and that's an apt moniker.

Perhaps the most important insight from this book is that even though the authors advocate for a team of teams approach, they quickly expand that recommendation with a reminder that the amoeba-like nature of the structure means that it's nearly impossible to describe it prescriptively. Every organization finds itself in myriad contexts, each of which may bear relevance to the ultimate structure of the team of teams. With that, I couldn't agree more.

I appreciated the authors' efforts to use military and civilian examples. the book leans military, and that's okay because that's the primary context of the majority of the authors and the inspiration for the line of thinking that came to be known as “team of teams.” Could the book have benefitted from, perhaps, small business examples or organizations from sectors focused on innovation? Sure it could have, but that's not a critique of the text so much as it is my recognition that all of us would love to see uber-relevant, seemingly cherry-picked examples from contexts like our own. There again, the point of the writing is to prompt one's thinking, and I (the reader) carry the responsibility for judging the applicability of the text for my own experience (a small business owner and college professor, which are the vocational manifestations of my identity as an emergency manager as described above).

If you work in the field of emergency management, then I highly recommend this book. In fact, I tend to agree with author and emergency manager Kelly McKinney's assertion that this is required reading for emergency managers.

So, pick it up, set aside a few hours, and enjoy.

We all look for book recommendations from myriad sources. Brett McKay and his Art of Manliness world served as the source for this recommendation. (Side note: If you're looking for a well-rounded list of 100 books, crossing genres and ranging classic to contemporary, McKay's 100 books that every man should read is a good list.)

Put differently, Steppenwolf is not a title I would likely have picked up on my own. Like most books, though, I find value in having read it.

Hesse's work with the duality of one's personality or, more aptly, the multiplicity of one's personality, was the highlight of this work. Who hasn't struggled with their identity, wondering which of numerous roles takes center stage? In my own life, am I a father? Husband? Entrepreneur? Professor? Researcher? The answer, generally, is “yes.” The deciding variable is where I find myself at any given moment.

Hesse deals more with our primal natures vs. our more refined, cultivated identities. That we have an introverted, more animalistic, almost visceral nature isn't exactly groundbreaking, but the character's turmoil over when and how to give that nature it's fair share is an interesting take.

I find myself deficient in my knowledge of European history between the world wars. Hesse works toward commentary on the bourgeois, and I'll admit that I'm missing something. That said, it's easy to pick up on the element of longing in the text. Haller's revulsion toward all things bourgeois is, at the same time, his (to himself) inexplicable inclination toward it. The protagonist sees no meaning in the mundane trivialities of the bourgeoisie, yet he is frustrated when an aimless railing against it offers no meaning. “Meaning,” then, is what we make of it, and Haller can't quite get to the realization that the bourgeoisie have made their own sufficient meaning of life. Seeing emptiness in all things breeds emptiness in oneself.

Though I am unaware of any direct influence, Haller's listlessness prior to meeting Hermine appears in a more modern tone in Richard Yates' Revolutionary Road. The Frank Wheeler character just knows he's meant for more, yet he finds that he's meant for exactly the reality that he creates. He longs for more than just middle class, yet as life goes on, one realizes he/she has built something pretty special in the carrying out of the day-to-day.

By the end of Steppenwolf, I find myself questioning the meaning of it, while at the same time satisfied with what I think its meaning is. Perhaps that's exactly Hesse's intent.

After receiving numerous recommendations to read this and hearing countless references to it, I finally set about reading The Seven Habits when asked to serve as a mentor to a doctoral student at my university. I took my time, really wanting to understand the basis of the habits and to determine their utility in my own development as a leader, father, husband, business owner, etc.

What first struck me was the breadth of each chapter. Not that I expected a quick-read self-help book, but I now understand why people return to this one again and again. There's simply no way to absorb it all upon one reading.

As expected, it's well-written and connects across several dimensions. Self-help? Check. Leadership development? Check. Living faithfully in the world? Yep.

My version included commentary from Sean Covey with each chapter. I enjoyed those writings, as they show how The Seven Habits evolve and how they play for others.

Overall, I wouldn't label myself a Covey disciple, and from what I gather in the reading, that's good because it wasn't the author's intent. I've gained another tool for questioning things and for framing my relationships with others.

This title was one of the more interesting books to capture my attention in 2022. The premise - that mentally illness can aid in the development of crisis leadership traits/skills - is just that: interesting. The extension of that premise - that mentally healthy leaders struggle in crisis situations is downright provocative for someone that studies both strategic leadership and crisis leadership.

All told, I'm glad to have read the book. I enjoyed it.

Yet, I find myself in a position where I cannot say that I agree with Ghaemi's premise, nor do I disagree with it. I do not believe the text developed the argument enough for me to decide. The author identifies several historical leaders and discusses their potential mental illness alongside their performance in career-defining crises. The text takes more pains to convince the reader that the leaders under consideration had some manner of mental illness than it does to connect the effects of the illnesses to their performance in crises. That's to be expected given the author's background, which is why the narrative serves as enjoyable fodder for ongoing consideration. For a more deliberate connection to leadership, though, I would loved to have seen what this book could be had Ghaemi written it in collaboration with a leadership scholar.

The value of this read doesn't end there, though. The reader can't help but ask hard questions about crisis.

What is crisis?
What does crisis do to leaders?
Do we resolve crises, or do we just adapt “around” them?

When a book has a near-perfect blend of theory and practice, you know you're onto something. McKinney has the street cred to take authoritatively about emergency management, but I appreciated the curiosity implied by the narrative. There is a desire to want to know, and the writing invites the reader into a conversation with the author.

For my part of that conversation, I will say that I began using the idea of “get big enough, fast enough” as soon as read it. I find that simple phrase re-frames the preparedness planning process for groups that might be struggling with an emergency support function (ESF) approach. If it's not productive to think of the resources we have organized by function, shift to cataloging scenarios that could impact your organization or community. Then, start asking what does BIG look like for this scenario followed by, “How quickly could we get everything we need to handle this?”

McKinney didn't say it exactly like this, but I see myself letting planning groups talk-out their thoughts on the most likely scenarios they'll face. Once they coalesce around a few ideas, asking them to “add 20%” to the impacts across all spectra can push them beyond complacency, to get into that head space that can foster innovation, without blowing past the realm of the plausible.

This book is a good read that is simultaneously conceptual and practical, with enough big ideas to get the wheels turning in your mind and enough brass tacks advice to improve your emergency management program almost immediately.

This book rested comfortably on my shelf for quite some before I cycled through a long list of titles to get to it. (I'm one of those weird people who, teaching syllabi thrown at me aside, generally reads in the order I buy books.) While on that shelf, unbeknownst to me (because I am also one of those weird non-Apple people who don't keep up with Apple TV), the book was adapted to a live action series. This review is of the book alone.

First, I enjoyed the writing. Fink's style is engaging and accessible. She presents the unfolding scenario with the appropriate level of drama, but not hyperbolic drama, and I find that to be a welcome characteristic to the disaster genre. The subject matter is dramatic enough, and we can leave it at that. Put differently, Fink's background as an investigative journalist shines through, and that gives the unfolding narrative a level of street credibility.

Second, as an emergency manager, the community and family/personal preparedness lessons jump off the page. There was a striking amount of misconnection on display after invested substantial funds toward addressing that issue. It calls into question the accountability mechanisms we use for federal preparedness dollars. It also motivates (and simultaneously terrifies) me as an emergency management consultant. If anyone is interested in why people like me go on and on about participation in preparedness projects, just read this book.

Finally, readers can't help but feel the humanity here. Everyone is equal parts hero and villain. The victims here are certainly the patients, but there's a compelling argument to be made that the label “victim” applies to nearly every character.

For disaster nerds like me, reading this book is a no-brainer. For folks that want to see the apparatus that is government improve, here's the foundations of a road map (for one part of what said apparatus does). For the faint of heart, be weary, but give it a try anyway.

What started out as a continued effort to bone up on the classics turned into a labor of...well, something. Overall, I found “The Republic” to be interesting and, in some ways, surprisingly relevant to today. Of course, the book is an ancient Greek text, so there were many aspects that have not aged well. That said, this one should still remain on the to-read lists for those with a desire to be well-read.

I'll focus on the positive in this review. Plato called for a certain authenticity throughout the text, and I found that interesting as an aspect of the ideal State. Put differently, the State functions most effectively when there is a congruence between education, training, and (ultimately) skill. In the latter books, Plato distinguishes between the creator, the user, and the imitator, and while there is honor in being a creator or user, he shows disdain for the imitators. I am a lover of poetry, so I'll admit my own disappointment at seeing the poet cast out of the State, but with that aside, I understand Plato's skepticism of imitation.

I vividly remember the introduction to a high school literature lesson on the Allegory of the Cave, and I was glad to find it in “The Republic.” (I admit not remembering this text as its source, just as I admit not remembering the rest of the lesson nearly as vividly as the introduction.) In that lesson, the teacher asked us to sketch how we interpret the scene. As I read the passage, I couldn't help but Google the allegory, and while my teenage sketches were different than what I found, I see the similarities between my interpretation and those on many websites. What stands out as most salient to my adult self is the notion that those in the cave come to learn what they are shown. Who determines the shape of the shadows? A derivative of that question should be on all of our minds in today's world. Whose shadows am I being fed? How do I know I trust those shadows?

Plato's advocation for a lifelong pursuit of knowledge was noteworthy. Calling on a person to immerse themselves fully in this pursuit, even as the focus of those pursuits evolves as one ages, was aspirational. Of course, modern day readers would question the content of that learning - i.e., the pursuit of philosophy for the purpose of legislation - but the spirit was there all the same.

I stated I'd focus on the positive, and so I did. However, no review of “The Republic” would be complete without at least acknowledging its issues.
- The text assumes a level of communitarian with which modern readers would likely be uncomfortable. A complete relinquishment of one's children, spouse, property, etc. can hardly be considered ideal by today's standards.
- The suggestion of eliminating those children which would not likely thrive is (and probably was) abhorrent.
- The detail as to the training and lifestyle of the warriors is noteworthy, but what of the husbandmen?
- The complete alignment of the individual and the State, such that the philosophical constructs are nearly one in the same would yield a level of homogeneity that would be, at best, unproductive and, at worst, genocidal.

Again, I maintain that “The Republic” is a worthy read, both for its lofty ideals as well as the cautions about which it warns us.

In a sentence, I enjoyed this book, but for me, the hub-bub surrounding it wasn't warranted.

At a time when post-apocalyptic has become chic, it's not surprising that The Road would cross my path. The text is narrated well, and McCarthy struck a nice balance in his descriptions. I was appropriately “in” his world without having to be brow-beaten by flowery adjectives. With the writing, I appreciated the focus on a sense to orient the reader. I felt empathy for the main characters, and of course, I was glad to see the boy have a chance to soldier on.

The language effectively puts the reader on notice at times when the man and boy are alone, seemingly waiting for something to happen. McCarthy puts me on-guard, waiting for something to happen on the next page, just as the characters were waiting for something to befall them just around the next bend. While that was effective, it muted the action that did occur. The horror of knowing the people in the basement would be eaten - bland because the reader is the keyed up for the entire trip leading up to exploring that house. In this sense, art mirrors life (as any of us living through the Covid-19 pandemic can attest), but it put the book at a steady flat-line for me.

Overall, I'm glad I read this, and I'd recommend it for anyone who wants to build up their contemporary classic repertoire. When all is said and done, though, I just wanted a little more.

Brown's text tackles a subject that most agree is important, yet on which many of those that agree don't know where to start. Do I want to be an inclusive leader? Of course! However, beyond a couple of low-hanging fruit steps, I really needed concrete ideas on how to start that journey.

The author does a wonderful job of making (and then re-iterating) the point that inclusion is a work in progress. Inclusion means different things to different people, and leaders must adjust their strategies accordingly. As with most meaningful change, there is no one-size-fits-all approach.

Foundational to one's effort is simply listening and respecting. Those learning to be inclusive will make mistakes, and that's okay. Ensure that your mistakes are honest and coming from an authentic desire to be the leader that the diverse populations on your team need. I gravitated toward the themes of curiosity and learning as well. I know I grew up in an insulated area not known for its diversity. I vividly remember talking with one of my employees (who was of a different race) about how condemnation without action was not akin to any progress. The nexus of that knowledge told me that I had a lot to learn. Exclusivity in this sense affects all of us as an affliction of the human condition. Inclusive leaders seek out opportunities to contribute to the solution. “I've not had the chance” isn't an acceptable battle cry.

All of that said, there will be some who may appreciate the message but struggle with Brown's direct writing style. Readers need to see it. There will be some who welcome some differences but struggle to accept others. Brown argues that those readers may be in the “unaware” stage of the continuum. As such, this text is a suitable first step on the path from unaware to aware.

There is a part of me that wanted to enjoy this book (which it did), and there is a part of me that had made up my mind that I didn't care much for Hemingway based on my impressions as a teenager reading something assigned to me 25 years ago. I am glad I stuck it out and finished this one.

Starting the title and the allusion to Donne, the theme of connectedness is woven into the narrative skillfully. I mean that sincerely. There are times when Hemingway is overt about it, with the characters openly acknowledging the connectedness of the world. Yet, much of Robert Jordan's personal reflections deal with this theme, and his musings connect him to his past and the future in interesting ways.

The theme of death also appeared constantly. Hemingway dealt with it squarely and effectively, though the characters can come off as callous to it. Is that because they're fighting a war? Possibly, yet the scene of Anselmo's death shows the reader that these characters, particularly Jordan and Pilar, are capable of being deeply affected by death. In step with the connection theme, the loss of Anselmo dims Jordan's outlook on their mission.

Readers really need a basic understanding of the context in which the narrative occurs. It was not difficult to obtain. A quick review of the Wikipedia entry on the Spanish Civil War, though not acceptable for those embarking on serious academic study of the text, will suffice for the casual reader.

I cannot close a review of this book without commenting on the language. Hemingway's use of thee, thou, etc. is distracting but easily managed. I have read that it was a deliberate attempt to represent the types of broken English spoken by non-native speakers as well as how English can accommodate the multiple second person verb forms found in Spanish. Either way, the language neither adds nor detracts from the text for me, but it could be a stumbling block for other readers. The deliberate avoidance of expletives was another such literary decision.

Would I recommend this one to all of my friends? No. However, for those looking for an accessible, enjoyable classic, this one is an option.

This was the first biography I had read in years. It did not disappoint. Chernow's writing offered a connection with the subject, and he made Grant seem like someone who would sit next to you in the quiet corner of a library and narrate some of his more harrowing experiences. I appreciated the detailed exploration of more than just his Civil War and Presidency periods. The chapters discussing the Mexican War and his travels abroad following his presidency were interesting and worthy inclusions.

While any biography of Grant would be incomplete without reference to his drinking, Chernow takes an almost obsessed approach to highlighting Grant's triumph over the vice, and he uses the alcohol rumors to nearly vilify Grant's opponents. The tone of the drinking refrains grew more didactic and gruff as the narrative progressed. In some instances, the return to drinking stories jarred the flow of the tale.

I did a second read through Irwin's Extraordinary Influence as per class preparations for the Summer 2023 term. It was as accessible as I remembered. Irwin does a good job of breaking down a topic full or potential rabbit holes in a way that provides a suitable understanding yet motivates further consideration (on one's own). I admired that in the writing.

I can remember thinking that the book is a touch soft, and while the re-read did not dispel that notion, it refined it. Yes, Irwin chooses to see the bright side, but he acknowledges (frequently, to be honest) that the connections he espouses won't always be made. That's helpful. Despite its uplifting tone and optimistic outlook, this book does not absolve the manager from the hard decisions that accompany the role.

I read “The Rhetoric” because it features in a course on the art and science of leadership that I teach. Previously, I read the assigned portions, but felt it time to put the whole work on the completed list.

I agree with many reviews that identify it as influential, but not one of Aristotle's most fluid creditings. The lengthy consideration of ethos, pathos, and lagos means more to me as I have aged and found myself in leadership positions. Many will find The Rhetoric a form of manipulation, especially when we consider teaching aspiring leaders the skill. Yet, it runs deeper than that. As a leadership scholar, I look for ways to influence followers, and The Rhetoric drips with advice on that topic. Further, when you read of Aristotle educating his students on the importance of understanding one's audience all that time ago, it makes you wonder at just what point we forgot that simple advice.

Though the aspiring leader, politician, speaker, etc. must remember to inject a heavy dose of modern context I to these pages, The Rhetoric remains a classic for good reason.

This text was not at all what I expected. I thought it would be a more objective analysis of the politics surrounding the Hurricane Katrina incident and other disasters (much like Olshansky & Johnson's Clear as Mud). Instead, the author wore his biases on his sleeve. I also try to remember when this book published. Corruption and ineptitude in Katrina are old news in 2019. Perhaps it was shocking enough in 2006 to warrant the author's tone. In fairness, Olasky did not portend to write a scholarly piece; that was an expectation I placed on the book.

That said, rarely do I find books from which I don't learn something. I appreciated Olasky's take on the paperocracy. I have dealt with that issue alongside many clients. I understand the need to balance due diligence with quick action, and I was glad to see the author highlighted the issue. Most salient of the points in this text was the notion that we don't often know where to look for recovery assistance, and assistance often comes from unexpected sources. Finally, Olasky addressed the nuance of planning for flexibility at the same time one strives for specificity.

I appreciate the author's fondness of faith-based responders and feel we should find more ways to integrate them (i.e., responders from all faiths) into our efforts. Unfortunately, however, this point was emphasized to almost comical levels.

I caution those that wish to read this book. It is interesting, but it is loaded.

Though the book is a textbook, it is accessible if not sometimes overly simplistic. The authors do an admirable job of making the case for crisis management as a matter of strategic importance. I also appreciated their typology.

The chapter cases and follow up discussion questions were interesting and effective in introducing various topics associated with crisis management. I feel strongly that the sample crisis plan in the appendix is overly simplistic for an organization of any size, though I applaud its intent.

While the crisis is a matter of strategic importance, the obvious next question is, “How do leaders operating in an active crisis utilize strategic thinking?

Having watched (and not particularly liking) the film version of Revolutionary Road, I found myself in a strange position at the start of this book. I looked forward to a more thorough telling of Frank and April's story. In that regard, the book didn't disappoint.

I still find that I don't empathize or sympathize with a single character in the story. That comment is a compliment to the author. Yates developed the characters, even the bit players, such that I feel like I know someone that is similar to each one. I don't revile or “hate” list of the characters; they just aren't people with which I'd spend time.

It's worth noting the overtly male tone of the book. Frank Wheeler is a 1950s Everyman, at least as portrayed in the media. He hates his job until he starts to get recognition for it. He loves his family, but he is burdened by the responsibility of caring for it. He sees Maureen is a conquest and finds it astonishing that she would have any feelings of her own about their tryst. Shep is similar, and he feels no remorse for daydreaming about other women. He makes it a point to make the best of his marriage to Millie.

Even April's tale, with the exception of the abortion chapter, is told through male eyes. Is Revolutionary Road a product of its time? Or do we hold this against the author?

The theme of ‘expectation' runs through the entire narrative. Frank and April rail against the expectations of suburbia while ensuring they achieve them. They feel they are above the other characters that simply are what they are. Situating Mrs. Givings as a realtor was genius. Her job is to sell that expectation. When her husband reminds her of her affinity for the Wheelers at the end of the book, she conveniently talks them down because they don't fit the expectation. Similarly, I found strong themes of acceptance.

I read that Yates wrote the book as an indictment of 1950s America and the conformity everyone was seeking. The text can almost be read as the opposite: a longing for conformity given the sometimes radical individualism and selfishness that later generations would come to celebrate

It took me almost two years to finish this collection, given my forays into professorship and parenthood. It was the first bit of King's fiction I have read in several years. It didn't disappoint.

I picked up this particular collection to finally read the basis for one my favorite films, The Shawshank Redemption. The movie stuck closely to the story, and I'll admit I like the elements of the story that didn't make it to film. I also find myself unbothered by the liberties taken by the screenplay. I wish I could say the same for The Body and Stand by Me, but it's simply been too long since I've seen that film. Admittedly, I have not watched Apt Pupil, but I was familiar with the plot. That left the final tale as the one that was completely new to me.

The Breathing Method was a terrific story, but I felt it needed a little more (i.e., explore the club idea) or a little less (i.e., leave the club out entirely). Still, I read it with a sort of recklessness that a piece of fiction has not triggered in me for years.

Of course, I recommend this one.

I have taken a few days before writing a review for this text, and even now it will be brief. I am in the middle of the road on it. The content is solid, and the the text is a helpful and thoughtful treatise on being contextually sensitive when leading change efforts. I used the book in a course from a strategic leadership program. My students had missed feelings as well. Context is difficult to describe succinctly, and my students and I often felt the text could have been tightened up.

I am glad I read this book. It has the feel of one of those texts to which I'll frequently turn. I hope I'm right.

This book isn't for everyone, but I enjoyed it. Pragmatic and functional in nature, it is full of common sense advice. My primary kudos to the author is an exhortation to avoid conflict. In my own consulting work, hero syndrome is rampant, and one has a tough time convincing others they're perfectly “tough” enough if they walk away.

I read this book as a required element in a graduate-level syllabus fornancourse I taught. 3While of course textbook-ish in nature, this book was nonetheless easy to read and practical. Kudos to Spitzer for a realistic approach to performance measurement. The sections on quantitative measurement were thorough; those on qualitative measurement were less so. That was not surprising, and Spitzer's efforts to convince the reader to explore qualitative measurement were largely effective.

The author seemingly had an aversion to technological solutions, though I felt it was more toward the mindset that tech solves all rather than acts as a force multiplier. Some of my students disagreed with my assessment in this regard.

Like any book of this nature, it is helpful but not a solution in its own right.

Olson and Simerson's four types of strategic leadership - visionary, directive, incubating, and collaborative - are at once intuitive and reaching. These types of leadership relate to and are meant to describe the ways the individual leader thinks strategically.

Linking strategic THINKING with strategic LEADING was a smart way to proceed with this book. It gives the reader insight into a side of strategic leading not often presented. In fact, I have found many books that struggle to differentiate strategic leading from any other type of leading. Olson and Simerson's book excels in that area. I would have liked to have read about how the authors situate their types of strategic leadership within the contexts of other popular theories/styles of leadership (e.g., transformational, authentic, charismatic, LMX, etc.). I also would have appreciated a connection between strategic thinking, leading, and strategy formulation.

Overall, this was a beneficial read, particularly for students of leadership or those interested in better understanding the strategy process.

A tad prescriptive for my liking (generally), however, the material contained within could be a helpful resource to organizational leaders. Section 2 could serve as a checklist for those implementing new strategies, and for that reason, the book has value.

Just like The Leadership Challenge, Kouzes and Posner fill Learning Leadership with practical, hands-on leadership applications. This book falls a little short of The Leadership Challenge though, simply because it feels, at times, redundant.

I used this book as part of a graduate course on leadership at the university level. Along with my students, I felt the book really found its footing in the last two sections. The material toward the end felt more like a conversation between authors and reader - a mentor/mentee type of discussion. This feels like when Kouzes and Posner are in their element.

I appreciated the self-coaching actions at the end of each chapter. Upon completing the reading, these actions could spur an entirely different opinion of the book over time should they be integrated into one's personal leadership development.

It has taken me quite some time to sit down to write this review. I wanted to make sure my initial impression of The Black Swan was the impression I am willing to commit to writing.

First (and most importantly), I enjoyed the book's premise. I work in disaster preparedness and I enjoy reading about various ways to view improbable events. I spend a fair amount of time in my professional life comparing probability and severity and further thinking about how to communicate those thoughts to clients who may or may not regularly think about potential emergencies in such a way. Taleb's assertion that we are at least as threatened by what we don't know as we are by those threats of which we are aware is one of those points that should be repeated in disaster planning meetings again and again. Second, I believe the author to have done an admirable job of balancing highly technical mathematical ideas and accessibility for the reader.

Several reviewers from a variety of other websites criticized Taleb for including anecdotes about such characters as Yevgenia Krasnova (given the character's status as fictional). I will admit I initially found these inclusions jarring, but once I acknowledged it as a stylistic way for the author to present his material, I took no issue with their inclusion. Fictional examples do not dilute the believability of the data-based material Taleb presents. Several points made by the text highlight the often subtle nature of recognizing black swans. The black swan could be a product of incremental changes over long periods of time. The use of extreme fictional examples, then, are pithy ways to convey complex ideas over the course of a few pages.

The primary objection I have with this book is the almost snarky tone with which it is written. I can appreciate injections of humor, but to read quibs on seemingly every other page toward most academic fields was a bit much. I can appreciate disdain for certain subjects and I see no reason why an author should steer clear of acknowledging them. Any comedian, though, will tell you that over-using the same joke spoils its humor.

I am not in a position to recommend this book to anyone. I am glad I read it and I certainly wouldn't discourage anyone else from reading it. However, one should be aware of what she/he is getting into before starting it.

I really enjoyed this text.

I read it for pleasure and yes, I realize it is a text book. Yes, it is one you might read for a college course.

But still...I really enjoyed this text.

Olshansky and Johnson write in an authentic way and they tell the story not as academics, but as parties to the process they were. I imagine a dinner where we talk about some of the biggest events we've experienced, and this is the story Olshansky and Johnson tell.

The authors do an excellent job of working through the preconceived notions an outsider has after only seeing the media coverage of Katrina. I had the benefit of knowing others who responded personally, and perhaps that helped my understanding of the subject matter. I don't think that is entirely the case, though. Olshansky and Johnson present what happened, but not in a “told you so” way. There is reflection, but not in a critical way. They celebrate the victories and they report on the defeats. I appreciated that tone.

The message that effective planning is both top-down and bottom-up is abundantly clear. I also was surprised at how the books recognized the contributions of the multiple simultaneous planning efforts. Where many would see these efforts as competitive, the language in the text points out the unique contributions of each along with the similarities. I engage communities in emergency preparedness planning through my work where we often compete with concurrent planning efforts. These efforts need not hinder our progress; rather, we should seek to compliment them to the overall benefit of the community for which the plans are being written. The lessons presented in this book will inform future consulting to my clients.

After reading the text, I am not left with only roses and candy. The lack of leadership in the immediate aftermath of the storm was frustrating. The overt political wrangling through the early attempts to coordinate a planning process for New Orleans bordered on embarrassing (my opinion, of course). I am convinced now, more than ever, that a concerted effort to share the leadership of an impending response and recovery is critical to the success of that response and recovery.

Clear as Mud: Planning for the Rebuilding of New Orleans certainly exceeded my expectations. I highly recommend it.