The Alchemist, a Barmaid, and an Unexpected Life Lesson
a Book I Hated, a Love I Lost, a Life I Chose; plus, a Reading Challenge update
A story of how a bad book, a barmaid, and a breakup changed my life for the better
Everyone loves talking about the best book they’ve ever read, where the sentiment seems clear: this is a great book that I enjoyed.
But does best actually mean what we think it means?
One of the best football matches I’ve ever seen was the 1999 Champions League final where Manchester United scored two late goals to shock Bayern Munich and win 2-1. It was an incredible match, but I hated the outcome (I wanted neither team to win, but alas…).
I can’t stand the Red Hot Chili Peppers (sorry). But they are a brilliant band, one of the best in the business, it’s hard to dispute that.
We could go on and on talking about the best actors, films, teachers, restaurants, business leaders, etc.
Here’s the Cambridge dictionary definition:
best (adverb): in the most suitable, pleasing, or satisfactory way, or to the greatest degree.
Similar questions:
What is the most impactful book you’ve ever read?
What is the most influential book you’ve ever read?
What book changed your life?
I could be wrong here, but I think the default feeling is positivity – great books come to mind, books you’ve loved and cherished and never hesitate to recommend to someone.
What about books that impacted you in a negatively (yet, paradoxically) positive way? (negatively positive? – damn, I’m a good teacher!)
What about books that, with that definition of best in mind, were the most suitable or satisfactory, especially at that particular time you experienced them?
This is where The Alchemist comes in.
It routinely pops up as an answer to the questions posed above. It features regularly in various top 10 life-changing/inspirational/momentous books.
It’s one of the most powerful books I’ve ever read.
I hated it, and I’m so glad I did.
Loving, Losing, and Loathing The Alchemist: a Lesson I Didn’t Expect
Chicago, August 2005: a couple of weeks before I was due to start my first full-time teaching job in Lviv, Ukraine, I had an epic whirlwind of a weekend with my good pal from high school. Two to three days of reminiscing, boozing, barhopping, football-watching…
The day before I was to return to Belfast for a few days before heading off to Lviv, I fell head over heels for a Belfast-born barmaid.
Barely a few hours after we met, she begged me to stay in Chicago.
‘Ukraine will be there forever; I won’t,’ she told me.
I wavered. I delayed my flight by a day…and then another…and another…I ended up staying in Chicago a few days longer than originally planned.
As agonising as the choice was, I couldn’t resist – Ukraine was pulling me, and even though the Irish barmaid in Chicago had told me that Ukraine was going to be there forever, I just couldn’t stay away.
(She was right about Ukraine, thankfully; as for her taste in books...)
We vowed to keep in touch and she said she’d visit and we’d see how things went and perhaps after my stint in Ukraine we’d make it work (blah blah blah).
As a present, she made me a mix CD – which to be fair, was terrific and I still listen to it (opening track: ‘This Modern Love’, Bloc Party) – and gave me a book. A book she said was life-changing and inspirational and (blah blah blah).
Yep, you guessed it - The Alche-fucking-mist.
A mercifully short history of my book snobbery
I’m much less of a book snob now. The only books that really bother me are the over-the-top, mega bestselling self-help books. Not all of them, mind, just the ones I’ve attempted to read or managed to read. The only one I care to mention for now is Atomic Habits, which I gave up after the introduction (TL;DR – I can’t take books full of bravado and boasting, like look at me, I’ve sold a million books and I’m going to change your life, blah blah blah; it’s a book about fucking habits, you can paraphrase it in a paragraph. Give me the likes of Oliver Burkeman and Tim Harford and their self-deprecating humility any day: “We think this book might be of some use in making your life less shit, so let’s give it a go and stay open-minded, shall we?”).
I’ve tried to rein in my snobbery as I’ve mellowed with age (while turning up the crank settings a few notches in other areas to compensate). Any reading is good reading, right?
Two decades ago, I was still way too judgmental about certain books. I can’t quite recall why The Alchemist was on my shit list though. It might have been down to my contrarian nature – it was such a profound book, people said. It was always on top 10 lists. It was there staring at me at the airport. I probably decided that it was a stinker of a book based purely on being a snarky contrarian.
At the time, if I had to choose the most influential books that changed me in a liberating, enlightening and positive way, I’d opt for Earthly Powers (Anthony Burgess), which was therapeutic during a rough patch in Nigeria; The Sheltering Sky (Paul Bowles), the bleak existentialist quest story I read as I was moving on from a long-term relationship and onto a different life path; and The Soccer War (Ryszard Kapuściński), the book that piqued my interest in West Africa, which led me to fall for an African woman at university in Edinburgh and then work together in Nigeria (until things fell apart). Those were inspiring reads.
So there I was, an emotional wreck, turning down the potential love of my life in search of adventures in Ukraine.
And there she was, giving me The Alchemist as we made our tearful goodbyes.
Gulp.
I tried reading it on the plane back to Belfast but couldn’t (though that might have had something to do with my mopey state and the amount of scotch I drank). I tried to read it a couple of days later with an open mind but just couldn’t. I promise you, I was so madly in love with this woman that I wanted to see the beauty in this book, to understand what made it so unbelievably popular.
I failed.
The reason, from what I remember, is simple: it’s completely lacking in any subtlety or nuance. Its message of ‘chase your dream/treasure/whatever’ is so blindingly obvious that its impact falls flat. It kept beating me over the head with the same so-called philosophy. Yeah, yeah, we get it buddy.
‘Really, that’s it?’ I thought as I finished it. Hasn’t Siddartha (Herman Hesse) already covered this territory in a more elegant and powerful way?
That made what happened a couple of months later much less painful and more pleasing.
‘Daniel, I know this is wierd, but I have a boyfriend and can’t be in touch with you anymore.’
That was the email I received in late October while I was at the school preparing for my lessons. It floored me.
We’d been in touch via email, exchanging lovey-dovey messages. This came as a bolt out of the blue.
My first thought was disbelief. What? How? Why? Huh?
My second was, ‘How could she have misspelled weird?’
My fourth, which came a day or two later, was one of relief. As much as I was enjoying Lviv, I think the barmaid might’ve been holding me back. Now I could fully embrace life in Ukraine and make the most of it.
My third thought?
‘Hey, this is a great activity I can use with my classes!’
With my teenagers that week, I wrote the email on the board, told them the whole sob story, and we did an agony aunt writing activity where we came up with similar messages and replies, and snarky and witty responses (which I never sent - lost opportunity for sure).
There was a fifth thought that came to me as some point as well: recalling The Alchemist, there was no way it was ever going to work out. Not a chance.
That book indirectly set me free to actually pursue whatever my true treasure was (I might still be looking for it, I’m not sure). Or perhaps the joke is on me and the book was more inspirational than I thought. Reverse psychology or something?
A 2025 Reading Challenge update
As a reminder, I asked you, dear readers, to help me select some of the books to read for 2025. I’ve got some wonderful recommendations, and it’s difficult narrowing it down to a final list.
Of the 8 criteria, this was the 6th: There is one author, I will not name him, that will immediately get you disqualified and I will be forced to unsubscribe you if you mention him. Please don’t!
Thank heavens no one recommended Paulo.
I was looking for 12 books in total, one for each month (and the other 30+ books would be from my already owned – not TBR – list).
If you did recommend a book – thank you – and don’t see your name or pick here, fret not, don’t get your knickers in a twist, hang tight! There’s still much to be decided and I’m seeing where the year takes me. Various Substackers keep recommending books and my pile is growing and growing.
The year in reading so far:
The Spider,
Anomic Bombs,
Tiger Skin Rug, Joan Haig
Deep Work, Cal Newport
On Writing, Stephen King
In progress: (thank you,
, and damn it, Thomas, your sticky fingerprints are everywhere)
Up next
Save the Cat! Writes a Novel, Jessica Brody
The Last Days of Roger Federer (and Other Endings), Geoff Dyer
How to Say Babylon, Safiyah Sinclair, on audiobook, read by the author (thank you
Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris (’s influence yet again)
Over to you
Have you read The Alchemist? Does my take upset you? Are you never going to speak to me again?
What are some of the best/most influential books you’ve ever read, and were there any that impacted you in the same way The Alchemist impacted me?
In case you missed it, my previous post:
Serialising fiction, a podcast with Hanna Delaney, 'prolific hack' and leader of the 'inarticulate cretins'
I’m billing this as a so-called selfish podcast. I was eager to hear more about serialised fiction directly from a master practitioner of the craft.
Earthly Powers has the best opening line of any novel.
It's lame as fuck. If someone says it's their favourite I immediately know we won't be great friends.