by Johny McFliggen, PhD Literature & Business, Oxford

In "Unreasonable Hospitality," Will Guidara extends an invitation not merely into the world of high-end dining but into a philosophy that might just be more revolutionary than the latest iPhone. Now, as someone who has spent a fair share of evenings dissecting the nuances of both business strategies and literary masterpieces, I can confidently say that Guidara's tome is a refreshing cocktail of insight and inspiration—shaken, not stirred.

Guidara, a luminary from the hallowed halls of Eleven Madison Park, doesn't just recount tales of Michelin-star triumphs; he crafts a narrative that challenges the status quo of what hospitality should mean. It's as if Danny Meyer’s "Setting the Table" had a charismatic younger sibling who took a gap year to backpack through customer service jungles and returned with extraordinary tales.

The book’s central thesis—that hospitality is an art form applicable beyond the confines of a waiter’s apron—is reminiscent of a Capra-esque optimism in its belief in the good that can be cultivated through human connection. One may argue that our current era, clouded with digital detachment, needs a reminder that genuine empathy and creativity can transform mundane transactions into something transcendent.

Guidara’s anecdotes are as rich and layered as a fine mille-feuille, each one serving as both entertainment and edification. His stories from Eleven Madison Park offer more than just delightful vignettes; they provide a roadmap for those seeking to elevate their own interactions, whether at a board meeting or a backyard barbecue. Yet, he does not shy away from the minutiae—attention to detail is his mantra, and he wields it with the precision of a master chef slicing through heirloom tomatoes.

For all its merits, some might find Guidara’s emphasis on luxury dining a tad exclusionary. After all, the average cubicle-dweller isn't exactly in the business of serving caviar to CEOs. However, dismissing his lessons would be akin to ignoring Shakespeare because we don’t all speak in iambic pentameter. The real genius lies in extrapolating these principles to any field where human interaction occurs—which, last I checked, is pretty much everywhere.

In terms of comparisons, while Danny Meyer provides a broader canvas of service industry insights, Guidara paints with finer brushstrokes, infusing personal reflections with industry-defining revelations. His book might not come with the universal application sticker that some critics crave, but its niche focus is precisely what makes it impactful. It's less a cookbook for service professionals and more a manifesto for anyone who believes in the power of going above and beyond.

In conclusion, "Unreasonable Hospitality" is an invigorating reminder that true excellence lies in those seemingly unreasonable acts of kindness and creativity that linger long after the bill is paid. It's a call to arms—or perhaps to aprons—for anyone willing to redefine what service means in our modern world. And if you’re anything like me, you’ll be left pondering how you might apply a dash of this unreasonableness to your own life.

Purchase Link: UNREASONABLE HOSPITALITY on Amazon

by Johny McFliggen, PhD Literature & Business, Oxford

Yuval Noah Harari's "21 Lessons for the 21st Century" is akin to embarking on a philosophical Odyssey, a journey through the intricate labyrinth of modernity, where instead of battling mythical creatures, we confront the specters of artificial intelligence, nationalism, and digital misinformation. Harari, with the wisdom of a historian and the curiosity of a philosopher, crafts a narrative that is both an intellectual feast and a clarion call for clarity in an era clouded by complexity.

In this tome, Harari adopts the stance of a modern-day Prometheus, illuminating the dark corners of our collective psyche. His exploration of technological disruption and political challenges reads like an astute commentary on our current cultural zeitgeist. Harari's treatment of artificial intelligence, for example, is not just an academic exposition but a deep dive into the existential questions it provokes. He juxtaposes this with biotechnology's rapid advances, reminding us that science fiction's dystopian tropes might not be as fictional as we believe.

Harari's exploration of nationalism and secularism is particularly resonant in today's fragmented global landscape. In a world increasingly polarized by identity politics, his call for a global perspective feels both urgent and necessary. Yet, as much as Harari aims to unify with his arguments, there's a sense that he sometimes falls prey to the allure of grand narratives, occasionally sacrificing depth for breadth. This echoes The Guardian's critique—there are moments when "21 Lessons" can feel like a collection of essays rather than a cohesive argument.

The book's structure, divided into five parts, provides a scaffold for Harari's insights, but one could argue it lacks the narrative propulsion found in "Sapiens" or "Homo Deus." While those books offered sweeping historical arcs and bold futurist visions, "21 Lessons" feels more like a snapshot of our current predicaments. It’s a bit like watching an anthology series where each episode tackles a different theme; intriguing, yet sometimes leaving one yearning for more connective tissue.

Comparing Harari to Steven Pinker, particularly in works like "Enlightenment Now," presents an interesting dichotomy. Pinker's unyielding optimism about progress contrasts with Harari's cautious pragmatism. While Pinker revels in data-driven optimism, Harari remains the skeptical historian, wary of data's seductive simplicity and warning against complacency.

Despite its perceived shortcomings in depth by some critics, "21 Lessons for the 21st Century" succeeds in provoking discourse—a feat not to be underestimated in our attention-frayed society. It is an intellectual companion for those who wish to engage with the complexities of our time rather than retreat into the comforting simplicity of past narratives. In doing so, Harari challenges us to adopt what he calls 'resilience'—a fitting lesson for an unpredictable century.

Purchase Link: 21 LESSONS FOR THE 21ST CENTURY on Amazon

by Johny McFliggen, PhD Literature & Business, Oxford

Kristen Kish’s "Accidentally on Purpose," co-authored with Stef Ferrari, is a delightful mélange of memoir and culinary muse, an offering that takes its readers on a journey not merely through Kish's life but also through the philosophy of cooking as an art form defined by serendipity. Kish, who made a name for herself as the first female chef to claim victory on "Top Chef," uses this platform to weave a narrative that is as much about embracing the unpredictability of life as it is about mastering the precision of gastronomy.

In a world where chefs are often portrayed as titans of perfection, wielding knives with the precision of a surgeon and delivering dishes with the flair of a Broadway performance, Kish's book is a refreshing reminder that even the most polished chefs are forged in the crucible of their mistakes. Her narrative is akin to that of Gabrielle Hamilton in "Blood, Bones & Butter," yet Kish stakes her own territory by emphasizing how accidents can be a powerful force for creativity and reinvention. This isn't just another kitchen confessional; it’s a manifesto for those who dare to let life spill over the edges.

Kish's story begins in South Korea, and like a Zelig of the culinary world, her journey whisks her from Michigan to Le Cordon Bleu in Chicago, and eventually to the esteemed Menton in Boston. Her tale of adoption and identity is not merely an addendum to her professional narrative but an integral part of it, offering depth and authenticity that resonates far beyond the kitchen. For those familiar with Marcus Samuelsson's "Yes, Chef," Kish's exploration of her roots and identity offers a parallel yet distinct narrative, one that is deeply personal and resonant.

The inclusion of recipes interspersed throughout the text serves not only as an invitation to engage with her culinary ethos but also as a testament to her belief that cooking is both art and accident. The dishes echo her diverse influences, a culinary passport stamped with experiences from around the world. It’s not unlike stepping into Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory—each recipe is a golden ticket to understanding the mind of its creator.

While Kish’s honesty is commendable and her insights inspiring, it might not satisfy those hunting for a conventional cookbook or memoir. Her tale is not about neat conclusions or perfectly plated courses; it’s about finding beauty in chaos and purpose in accidental moments. For those willing to forego predictability, "Accidentally on Purpose" offers a narrative as complex and rewarding as any Michelin-starred dish.

In the end, Kish has crafted more than just a memoir; she’s created an ode to life's beautiful unpredictability. Her book is a siren's call to all who have ever stood at a crossroads, spatula in hand, pondering where the next step might take them. It’s an invitation to embrace the accidental and find purpose in the unexpected—a philosophy that might just be Kish’s most savory creation yet.

Purchase Link: ACCIDENTALLY ON PURPOSE on Amazon

by Johny McFliggen, PhD Literature & Business, Oxford

"CHANGE THE RECIPE" by José Andrés with Richard Wolffe might be one of those fascinating literary concoctions that slips under the radar, not unlike a hidden speakeasy tucked behind the facade of a nondescript eatery. Though I have yet to devour its pages myself, the mere prospect of such a collaboration between Andrés and Wolffe is enough to ignite the imagination. Imagine the culinary maestro known for spinning gastronomic gold out of humble ingredients joining forces with a journalist who navigates the corridors of power like Ariadne with her thread.

In pondering what this book might offer, I am reminded of "The Omnivore’s Dilemma" by Michael Pollan, which masterfully dissected the food chain with the precision of a surgeon and the passion of a poet. If Andrés and Wolffe have chosen a similar path, then we might expect a culinary narrative that delves into the social fabric and political landscapes as deftly as Pollan explored cornfields and feedlots. With Andrés at the helm, sustainability and innovation would surely be served as main courses, while Wolffe's pen ensures the prose is garnished with a side of political insight.

One can speculate that "CHANGE THE RECIPE" would not merely be an exploration of culinary technique or a collection of recipes, but rather a manifesto on how food can be a catalyst for societal transformation. Andrés has always been more than just a chef; he is a humanitarian with a mission akin to that of a modern-day Prometheus, bringing not fire but nourishment to those in need. His World Central Kitchen operates on a philosophy that food is more than sustenance—it is salvation.

If the book strides through the realms of food policy and social change, it might resonate with those who found resonance in "Eating Animals" by Jonathan Safran Foer, where ethical considerations take center stage. The potential for "CHANGE THE RECIPE" to challenge readers' perspectives on consumption and responsibility is tantalizing. I envisage it as a call to arms—or perhaps a call to forks.

Without specific chapters to critique or passages to ponder, I can only surmise that this book will be as much about changing mindsets as it is about changing recipes. José Andrés and Richard Wolffe might very well have crafted a tome that is both instructional and inspirational. It would appeal not only to foodies and chefs but to anyone willing to consider how their plate connects to the planet.

Should you encounter this literary feast in your local bookstore or online marketplace, approach it with the same curiosity and zest one would reserve for an untried dish from an acclaimed chef. For in "CHANGE THE RECIPE," there lies the promise of stories that feed the soul and ideas that nourish the mind.

Purchase Link: CHANGE THE RECIPE on Amazon