"What I was six, [my father] required that I should drink a glass of raw blood every day. To strengthen my mental faculties, he ordained that I should eat calves brains three times per week, washed down with a bottle of beer. Blood, brains, and beer; a noble experiment."

​— David Ogilvy
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I first heard the name Ogilvy eight years ago on some forgotten episode of Mad Men. Intrigued by the idea of potentially meeting a real-life Don Draper, I cracked open the perennial bestseller, Confessions of an Advertising Man, the next day. Inside were some of the most juiciest secrets on business, leadership, and life, putting Don Draper's own to shame; namely, the practical value of honesty in work and at home. ​I've (re)read Ogilvy every year since:
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• Confessions is high-level; witty, eloquent, and mindset-shaping. 
• On Advertising is tactical, creative and packed with direct instruction. 
• Unpublished is a mosaic of letters, notes, memos, speeches, ads, & interviews. ​
• Blood is autobiographical, meditative, yet blunt.

From the father of modern advertising's childhood in a string of religious prep schools to his nomadic twenties in French kitchens and Amish farms in Pennsylvania, Ogilvy's life story shines with a spirit of perpetual restlessness and patient discipline. The college dropout's craving for variety and novelty (the man was a farmer, door-to-door salesman, travel companion, chef, and diplomatist) eventually led him to his life's calling in the advertising world. Spinning copy into gold, Ogilvy eventually quit his comfortable job and trekked to Madison Avenue, turning $6,000 into $60+ million in billings. 

​This book is not just for marketers. Blood, Brains, and Beer is a witty, inspiring, and informative self-portrait of a top creative from the 20th Century. His legacy touches all of our lives dozens of times a day in the form of thoughtfully crafted commercials. Ogilvy wrote the books—literally—on how to create successful ads by way of honest and clear communication, respect for the audience's mind and time, and value-oriented, tasteful stories. His ad agency of "gentlemen with brains" set the bar high in the '50s and '60s—a benchmark that creatives should still reach toward for the sake of their own projects and person.  [JG]

"In advertising, the beginning of success is to be different." 
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"We sell—or else." — David Ogilvy
​

I love the spirit of this small but mighty book. ​Islam and the Future of Tolerance is a much-needed dialogue on the world's second-largest religion and its 1.6 billion adherents.

Formatted literally as a back-and-forth dialogue between neuroscientist Sam Harris (perhaps the most influential critic of modern religion) and muslim reformist Maajid Nawaz, the conversation is candid, passionate, discerning, and thoroughly refreshing. I particularly appreciated these five discussion points:

1. What Nawaz has termed "The Voldemort Effect" for when any mentioned of Islam is censored out of relevant political and violent contexts, including acts of terrorism
2. Harris' concentric circles of muslim populations organized by secular and religious sentiments derived from poll results in Europe, Asia, and the Middle East
3. Nawaz's four steps to radicalization and his recount of his own journey out of it
4. Harris' contextualizing of religious and political warfare in medieval Europe and the Near East
5. Their shared view that the term "Islamophobia" halts, not helps, discussion and thinking

Harris and Nawaz depart at numerous times as they traverse the landscape of jihadists, Islamists, moderate muslims, the media and allegations of Islamophobia, the crusades and tragedies of history, as well as how to achieve a more tolerant future. But their shared values of free speech and secular tolerance, as well as a conviction in the ability for persuasion and personal reform, shines a light through the disagreements and serves as a vital example to emulate. [JG]
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You can stream the new documentary, Islam and the Future of Tolerance on Amazon Prime and iTunes.
 

This classic coming-of-age tale holds the tension of a loaded revolver in a steely hand. When a mysterious gunman emerges from "the glowing west" and rides into a peaceful Wyoming valley, a farm boy's life is forever changed. "Call me Shane," the stranger tells young Bob Starrett, and never says more. Not about his kin or line of work or wilderness adventures.

Shane's Stoic conviction in bridling his past life is matched only by his determination to keep his lethal skillset holstered—or better yet, tucked away in the barn out of sight. Shane never wears his gun, and yet Bob's father, a kindred spirit of Shane, knows that his new farmhand isn't dangerous to the family. The gunman's capabilities for violence are corralled and used to end only those souls who would seek to start a fight. Bob's befriending of Shane is a simple, powerful tale of justice, redemption, and heroic action, when just words just won't do. 

I love Jack Shaefer's brevity, lyrical passages, visual descriptions, and celebration of heroes and the boys who idolize them. I can't wait to read Shaefer's twenty five other novels. ​[JG]

"Business, like life, is all about how you make people feel," writes restauranteur Danny Meyer in his Introduction of Setting the Table. "It's that simple, and it's that hard." Meyer spells out his recipes for cooking those tasty feelings into his 20+ lunch haunts, happy hour bars, fine dining taverns, Central Park hot dog stands, and late-night pizza joints via thirteen easily-consumable chapters. 

From his early twenties spent studying the dining rooms, kitchens, and markets of Europe to his insatiable appetite for discovering and improving on local specialities in his NYC apartment, Meyer's life-long journey to realize his visions of perennial dining experiences is packed with inspiration for any business venture. I found his later chapters on navigating press and customer reviews, as well as building teams through discerning hiring practices especially illuminating. Meyers' nine traits for successful managers and seven core business teams are imbued with the essence of his mantra of "enlightened hospitality." 

"Hospitality is the foundation of my business philosophy. Virtually nothing else is as important as how one is made to feel in any business transaction. Hospitality exists when you believe the other person is on your side...Hospitality is present when something happens for you. It is absent when something happens to you." But what does this look like in practice? Meyer's feast of examples include the time a couple celebrated their anniversary, but realized they had left a champagne bottle in their freezer. Minutes away from exploding, Meyers' manager arranged to have one of his waiters go take it out and leave a dessert. And the time a reservation was lost in the new tech system's glitches, causing the manager to catch up to the angry couple three blocks away and personally escort them to one of Meyers' other restaurants to enjoy a free meal. But some of the most informative examples oh enlightened hospitality are ones done behind the scenes: 

• Ripping up floorboards and stuffing fabric beneath tables to better absorb sound so that patrons can hold conversations more easily
• Embracing Customer Relationship Management (CRM) software despite the glitches and traditionalists to track idiosyncrasies of guests in order to better serve their needs
• Optimizing menu boxes with lighting, prices, and non-head-scratchy ingredients lists
• Thank you cards for first-time diners with survey information and a coupon for their next visit
• Training reservationists to "plant like seeds in like gardens," in order to increase networking value for patrons at lunch and dinners, but still maintain privacy

I can't wait to begin applying these principles and set the table. [JG]

It's been sixteen years since discovering the novel Eragon and almost stumbling into the real life fairy-tale surrounding its publishing. Back in August 2002, my best friend Dan's family and I road-tripped from Philadelphia to a small town in Montana called Paradise Valley near Yellowstone National Park. Somewhere during the bison-induced traffic jams, altitude sickness, and late-night Nerts marathons, I managed to drag Dan downtown and into a dusty bookstore. There, to our amazement, we learned from the owner that a local boy named Christopher Paolini, who was not much older than us, had self-published a novel about a sapphire blue dragon.

​Already the local celebrity, Paolini was on the cusp of hitting the national stage, thanks to another young boy, the son of writer Carl Hiaasen, who had bought a copy to read during his own family's road trip to Yellowstone. Surprised by his son's sudden interest in reading, Hiassen passed it along to his editor at Random House. Fast forward through not one but four #1 New York Times bestsellers and a painfully long, seven-year hiatus, Paolini has returned, finally, to his teenage creation.

The Fork, the Witch, and the Worm is a dazzling constellation of short stories set in the magical world of Alagaësia. Rather than continue linearly from The Inheritance Cycle's ending, the stories sample from all four corners and cultures of the map, delving into Dwarf cave-ins, soaring into Urgal mountaintop myths, trekking the southern terrain via the series' most complex character, and even excerpting from the childhood adventures of our favorite witch. Returning to Alagaësia after so long and spending an afternoon wandering alongside both new and familiar characters made me feel like a kid again and woke in me a deep sense of gratitude for Mr. Paolini and all the real-life magic of that road trip with Dan to Montana. If this one isn't in the cards for you, maybe it's the perfect New Years kick-in-the-pants needed to finally revisit your own stack of childhood favorites. I'll be sure to do the same.

Wherever you land, happy reading and cheers to 2019! [JG]