So many people have recommended Paulo Coelho's "The Alchemist" to me over the years. The most recent endorsement came from someone whose opinion I highly regard and who called it "life changing" a description oft repeated from those who enjoyed the book.
It's the simple story, more of a fable really, of a young Andalusian shepherd who goes off to Africa in search of a treasure. The conceit is that it is a story about following your dreams in spite of whatever obstacles that life throws in your way.
Blah. Blah. Blah. Whatever.
Maybe it is better when read in its original Portugese, or maybe one needs to be younger, or older, or less cynical, or a shepherd, or any number of things that I so clearly am not for this story to resonate.
This book did not change my life. Quite the opposite. Perhaps I need to be a touch more proactive but I could not help but notice that upon finishing this book my life was not changed in the least.
I still sit in my underwear, listening to old Lee Morgan records and yelling at the idiots on CNN.
