On Monday, the following were recommendations listed on my Amazon page:
Riding Rockets: The Outrageous Tales of a Space Shuttle Astronaut – Mike Mullane, a man intriguingly labelled “the Bill Bryson of Space Travel” (although given recent news stories about their antics, we should wait for the account of the corn-fed, NASA version of Jeffrey Bernard)
Addicted to Love: The Kate Moss Story by Fred Vermorel
Bigger Deal: A Year on the New Poker Circuit by Anthony Holden.
One of these makes perfect sense (insert easy joke here) but I was somewhat baffled by the other two.
I decided not to click “Why is this recommended for you?”
Riding Rockets: The Outrageous Tales of a Space Shuttle Astronaut – Mike Mullane, a man intriguingly labelled “the Bill Bryson of Space Travel” (although given recent news stories about their antics, we should wait for the account of the corn-fed, NASA version of Jeffrey Bernard)
Addicted to Love: The Kate Moss Story by Fred Vermorel
Bigger Deal: A Year on the New Poker Circuit by Anthony Holden.
One of these makes perfect sense (insert easy joke here) but I was somewhat baffled by the other two.
I decided not to click “Why is this recommended for you?”
It would be boring and, possibly, bring back hideous memories of a dark night of the soul when I had seen another stack of chips go south and used Amazon as an escape to a fantasy of being the next Buzz Lightyear.
Suddenly it hit me: Amazon was trying to tell me something about my character. For those who have tired of hearing guidance from star-gazers bedecked in purple, I urge you to flock to the Amazonian Temple and submit to its teachings.
Here’s the difference: Every time you pay for advice from a low status, work-shy, mumbo-jumbo expert, they are simply reading your body language and telling you what you want to hear.
(Incidentally, I would have thought visiting one of these characters, asking: “Where I am going wrong with my relationships?”, could simply be answered with, “Well, the fact that you are in a tent, on a pier, asking a stranger that question probably speaks volumes about the depth of your disclosure to your family and friends. That will be £50 please. Paypal accepted. Palm greasing preferred. God complex indulged)
Amazon has gone way past the interpretation of hand clasping. Using the mystical method of book-browsing, it has built up a lengthy database of my thoughts and has compiled a highly accurate profile of me, one that slices through my fragile notions of self. Devastating in its accuracy, I have spent the last 48 hours shuffling from park, to bar, to bed, a creature dissembled and gaping in the mirror, horrified at the mystery therein.
It started when bought a book by Oliver James. Part of it is about attachment patterns in relationships and it sets forth the theories of John Bowlby. Their premise is that our childhood bonding with paternal figures sets the pattern that we will recreate in our adult relationships. It is interesting, stimulating, and probably accurate.
If all goes well, we have secure attachment patterns: we are happy to be relied upon and accept the support of others. Apparently, this occurs in 50% of the UK population.
However, the other 50% are divided into three unfortunate categories that almost guarantee a life playing relationship dodgeball.
Given some of the screaming they can cause, please try to imagine a fairground barker describing the following:
Pattern 1: ‘The Avoidant’-
‘I am comfortable without close emotional relationships – it is very important to me to feel independent and self sufficient and I prefer not to depend on others or have others depend on me.’
They prefer work to love, believing success in the former creates happiness in the latter.
Pattern 2: The Clinger -
‘I want to be completely emotionally intimate with others but I often find others are reluctant to get as close as I would like. I am uncomfortable being without close relationships but I sometimes worry that others don’t value me as much as I value them.’
Their relationships have highs and lows. They often feature jealously, conflict and dissatisfaction.
The final one in this gallery of rogues is the bastion of reliability that is: ‘The Wobbler’ -
‘I am somewhat uncomfortable getting close to others. I want emotionally close relationships but I find it difficult to trust others completely or to depend on them. I sometimes worry that I will be hurt if I allow myself to become too close to others’
They have a tendency to drift off into their own world but also crave intense emotional engagement.
At the moment, all of this probably seems a bit tenuous and you are wondering about the exact connection between 60s psychology and Amazon’s book recommendations. All I ask is that you look a little bit closer and try to grasp the complexities of the unconscious.
Firstly, all three books are related to stories that have been in the news this year.
Let’s start with Mike Mullane and Riding Rockets. This is lifted from the blurb:
‘A blast from start to finish, Riding Rockets is a straight-from-the-gut account of what it means to be an astronaut, just in time for this latest generation of stargazers.’
I wondered why I would be interested in astronauts, but I discovered it appeared on my list in March, just after the story about Lisa Nowak appeared. Lisa, you may recall, was the astronaut who, after being trusted to fly to the international space station last July, returned to earth with a bang, when in February she was charged with attempted kidnapping and battery. She discovered she had a rival for her lover’s affections so she drove a 1000 miles from Houston to Orlando, armed with pepper spray, wearing a trench coat, wig and adult nappy. She did all this to protect something she described as ‘more than a working relationship but less than a romantic relationship’.
She also wrote to her lover’s mother:
“Bill is absolutely the best person I've ever known and I love him more than ever I knew possible”.
This could be lifted from Oliver James’ book and I think we can also detect a few signs of “jealousy, conflict and dissatisfaction”.
Bowlby would be happy. We can safely pat the text-book and pigeon-hole her as a clinger. (If verdicts go against her, she may well struggle to meet her intimacy needs during a spell in chokey, although at least she is trained for cramped, claustrophobic conditions.)
However, I was still on the first act of this cyber Nancy Drew. It was the contemplation of ‘Kate Moss: Addicted to Love,’ that led to the crucial moment of detection. It was making its first appearance on my Amazon recommendations and had obviously been triggered by the recent woes of her boyfriend, Pete Doherty. He’s had an affair and has been using the Daily Mirror as his mouthpiece for his attempts to win her back.
Here are some of his comments, lifted from the paper:
“I love her with all of my bones. I like the way she walks and talks. I love her bones.”
In his next breath, he comments that she can be “bad-tempered” and “nasty”. Oh Pete, you are wobbling, mate, wobbling. Pray that Amazon sells its last copy of this book before Kate gets to it.
However, thoughts of Pete’s prevarications were not long on my mind as I realised I had been hit by the mystical rule of three, so beloved of our tent dwelling friends. The recommendations, innocently born all those months ago when I ordered the Oliver James book, were offering me the kind of insight usually trigged by ingesting peyote.
I am, I suddenly realised, an avoidant.
It was obvious when I considered the final book. As the title suggests, ‘Bigger Deal’, is the sequel to a card-player book, ‘Big Deal’, in which Anthony Holden, The Observer’s opera critic and biographer of Prince Charles, spends a year on the poker circuit, which culminate with his entry in the World Series of Poker. It’s my favourite poker book, scholarly, honest and insightful. I first read it when I was unemployed and unemployable in Liverpool (some may argue that, 18 years hence, all that has changed is geography). Internet poker had not changed my life and the idea of turning professional was laughable.
Its depiction of showdowns with Amarillo Slim, Doyle Brunson and other poker legends are enthralling but they are coupled with honest mediations on his own psychological flaws. He also describes the effect the game was having on his relationship with a woman only ever named as ‘The Moll’. It stayed with me as a warning of how the ability to control one’s emotions, so necessary for success at the tables, is not conducive to the maintenance of any relationship that demands intimacy or disclosure. ‘Shut up and deal’ might be a good way of keeping the game going but its relationship equivalent quickly results in the sound of closing doors.
From playing poker, to space-walking, to being Pete Doherty, career choices can resonate in one’s relationships. The drive to make it as an astronaut also meant Captain Novak could not accept the possibility that something she described as ‘not quite a romantic relationship’ had finished. She was determined to take off in the car immediately, pausing only to embrace her nappies, and get what she wanted.
Similarly, the combination of the need for approval and arrogance necessary to produce Pete Doherty’s career as a, well, whatever it is that he does, can also create a scenario in which he finds himself in bed with a model (just not the one he’s having a relationship with). Then, the same logic of character persuades him it is a good idea to use the Daily Mirror, the understanding paper that exposed Kate’s enthusiasm for cocaine, to try and win her back.
And, finally, the hard bit. The emotional neutrality that causes my relative success at the tables is one of many factors that lead me to relationship dead ends. I’m emotionally stubborn. Remember the cliché about cutting off you nose to spite your face? Well, in relationships, I’m the guy who is told he has a gangrenous leg and, seeing the looming two-man saw, would rather grasp the whiskey bottle than ask for a second opinion. Far better that I get to operate my own crutches (for the rest of my life) than accept some short term nursing.
Armed with this fresh insight from Amazon’s customer tracking software, it’s time for to me to hobble forward and accept my failings. I have to realise that if I am to get anywhere with relationships I have to stop treating them like a hand of poker and folding at the first sign of conflict.
The worst players are those who don’t learn from their mistakes and are doomed to repeat losing, egotistical moves. But that’s just them. They’re losers.
Me?
‘Shut up and…..no.
That’s not right.
Can I let you know?’
PS. This whole post could also be summarised by the news that my iTunes ‘Top 25 Most Played’ list currently has a worryingly high rating for track 2 of the Grinderman album.
Suddenly it hit me: Amazon was trying to tell me something about my character. For those who have tired of hearing guidance from star-gazers bedecked in purple, I urge you to flock to the Amazonian Temple and submit to its teachings.
Here’s the difference: Every time you pay for advice from a low status, work-shy, mumbo-jumbo expert, they are simply reading your body language and telling you what you want to hear.
(Incidentally, I would have thought visiting one of these characters, asking: “Where I am going wrong with my relationships?”, could simply be answered with, “Well, the fact that you are in a tent, on a pier, asking a stranger that question probably speaks volumes about the depth of your disclosure to your family and friends. That will be £50 please. Paypal accepted. Palm greasing preferred. God complex indulged)
Amazon has gone way past the interpretation of hand clasping. Using the mystical method of book-browsing, it has built up a lengthy database of my thoughts and has compiled a highly accurate profile of me, one that slices through my fragile notions of self. Devastating in its accuracy, I have spent the last 48 hours shuffling from park, to bar, to bed, a creature dissembled and gaping in the mirror, horrified at the mystery therein.
It started when bought a book by Oliver James. Part of it is about attachment patterns in relationships and it sets forth the theories of John Bowlby. Their premise is that our childhood bonding with paternal figures sets the pattern that we will recreate in our adult relationships. It is interesting, stimulating, and probably accurate.
If all goes well, we have secure attachment patterns: we are happy to be relied upon and accept the support of others. Apparently, this occurs in 50% of the UK population.
However, the other 50% are divided into three unfortunate categories that almost guarantee a life playing relationship dodgeball.
Given some of the screaming they can cause, please try to imagine a fairground barker describing the following:
Pattern 1: ‘The Avoidant’-
‘I am comfortable without close emotional relationships – it is very important to me to feel independent and self sufficient and I prefer not to depend on others or have others depend on me.’
They prefer work to love, believing success in the former creates happiness in the latter.
Pattern 2: The Clinger -
‘I want to be completely emotionally intimate with others but I often find others are reluctant to get as close as I would like. I am uncomfortable being without close relationships but I sometimes worry that others don’t value me as much as I value them.’
Their relationships have highs and lows. They often feature jealously, conflict and dissatisfaction.
The final one in this gallery of rogues is the bastion of reliability that is: ‘The Wobbler’ -
‘I am somewhat uncomfortable getting close to others. I want emotionally close relationships but I find it difficult to trust others completely or to depend on them. I sometimes worry that I will be hurt if I allow myself to become too close to others’
They have a tendency to drift off into their own world but also crave intense emotional engagement.
At the moment, all of this probably seems a bit tenuous and you are wondering about the exact connection between 60s psychology and Amazon’s book recommendations. All I ask is that you look a little bit closer and try to grasp the complexities of the unconscious.
Firstly, all three books are related to stories that have been in the news this year.
Let’s start with Mike Mullane and Riding Rockets. This is lifted from the blurb:
‘A blast from start to finish, Riding Rockets is a straight-from-the-gut account of what it means to be an astronaut, just in time for this latest generation of stargazers.’
I wondered why I would be interested in astronauts, but I discovered it appeared on my list in March, just after the story about Lisa Nowak appeared. Lisa, you may recall, was the astronaut who, after being trusted to fly to the international space station last July, returned to earth with a bang, when in February she was charged with attempted kidnapping and battery. She discovered she had a rival for her lover’s affections so she drove a 1000 miles from Houston to Orlando, armed with pepper spray, wearing a trench coat, wig and adult nappy. She did all this to protect something she described as ‘more than a working relationship but less than a romantic relationship’.
She also wrote to her lover’s mother:
“Bill is absolutely the best person I've ever known and I love him more than ever I knew possible”.
This could be lifted from Oliver James’ book and I think we can also detect a few signs of “jealousy, conflict and dissatisfaction”.
Bowlby would be happy. We can safely pat the text-book and pigeon-hole her as a clinger. (If verdicts go against her, she may well struggle to meet her intimacy needs during a spell in chokey, although at least she is trained for cramped, claustrophobic conditions.)
However, I was still on the first act of this cyber Nancy Drew. It was the contemplation of ‘Kate Moss: Addicted to Love,’ that led to the crucial moment of detection. It was making its first appearance on my Amazon recommendations and had obviously been triggered by the recent woes of her boyfriend, Pete Doherty. He’s had an affair and has been using the Daily Mirror as his mouthpiece for his attempts to win her back.
Here are some of his comments, lifted from the paper:
“I love her with all of my bones. I like the way she walks and talks. I love her bones.”
In his next breath, he comments that she can be “bad-tempered” and “nasty”. Oh Pete, you are wobbling, mate, wobbling. Pray that Amazon sells its last copy of this book before Kate gets to it.
However, thoughts of Pete’s prevarications were not long on my mind as I realised I had been hit by the mystical rule of three, so beloved of our tent dwelling friends. The recommendations, innocently born all those months ago when I ordered the Oliver James book, were offering me the kind of insight usually trigged by ingesting peyote.
I am, I suddenly realised, an avoidant.
It was obvious when I considered the final book. As the title suggests, ‘Bigger Deal’, is the sequel to a card-player book, ‘Big Deal’, in which Anthony Holden, The Observer’s opera critic and biographer of Prince Charles, spends a year on the poker circuit, which culminate with his entry in the World Series of Poker. It’s my favourite poker book, scholarly, honest and insightful. I first read it when I was unemployed and unemployable in Liverpool (some may argue that, 18 years hence, all that has changed is geography). Internet poker had not changed my life and the idea of turning professional was laughable.
Its depiction of showdowns with Amarillo Slim, Doyle Brunson and other poker legends are enthralling but they are coupled with honest mediations on his own psychological flaws. He also describes the effect the game was having on his relationship with a woman only ever named as ‘The Moll’. It stayed with me as a warning of how the ability to control one’s emotions, so necessary for success at the tables, is not conducive to the maintenance of any relationship that demands intimacy or disclosure. ‘Shut up and deal’ might be a good way of keeping the game going but its relationship equivalent quickly results in the sound of closing doors.
From playing poker, to space-walking, to being Pete Doherty, career choices can resonate in one’s relationships. The drive to make it as an astronaut also meant Captain Novak could not accept the possibility that something she described as ‘not quite a romantic relationship’ had finished. She was determined to take off in the car immediately, pausing only to embrace her nappies, and get what she wanted.
Similarly, the combination of the need for approval and arrogance necessary to produce Pete Doherty’s career as a, well, whatever it is that he does, can also create a scenario in which he finds himself in bed with a model (just not the one he’s having a relationship with). Then, the same logic of character persuades him it is a good idea to use the Daily Mirror, the understanding paper that exposed Kate’s enthusiasm for cocaine, to try and win her back.
And, finally, the hard bit. The emotional neutrality that causes my relative success at the tables is one of many factors that lead me to relationship dead ends. I’m emotionally stubborn. Remember the cliché about cutting off you nose to spite your face? Well, in relationships, I’m the guy who is told he has a gangrenous leg and, seeing the looming two-man saw, would rather grasp the whiskey bottle than ask for a second opinion. Far better that I get to operate my own crutches (for the rest of my life) than accept some short term nursing.
Armed with this fresh insight from Amazon’s customer tracking software, it’s time for to me to hobble forward and accept my failings. I have to realise that if I am to get anywhere with relationships I have to stop treating them like a hand of poker and folding at the first sign of conflict.
The worst players are those who don’t learn from their mistakes and are doomed to repeat losing, egotistical moves. But that’s just them. They’re losers.
Me?
‘Shut up and…..no.
That’s not right.
Can I let you know?’
PS. This whole post could also be summarised by the news that my iTunes ‘Top 25 Most Played’ list currently has a worryingly high rating for track 2 of the Grinderman album.
