The Course of Love

Es el mejor libro que puedas leer sobre lo que implica amar y ser amado. Te explica cada una de las etapas por las que pasa el amor, de una forma tan única como sólo Alain lo sabe hacer.

Great read, great insight, a delightful read for anyone exploring the topic.

Contemporary philosopher Alain de Botton's long awaited second novel follows the relationship between Rabih and Kirsten. De Botton's thesis is essentially this: While most love stories tell us everything we need to know about how love begins, there isn't enough focus in our society on how it continues. Combining Rabih and Kirsten's fictional story with his own insights and commentary on their relationship, De Botton proposes that "enlightened romantic pessimism" is a healthier and more realistic alternative to Romanticism, the latter of which gives us unrealistic expectations of relationships and sets us up for inevitable failure. There's no "right person," suggests De Botton, and in each and every longterm relationship we are doomed to encounter a variety of suffering and unfulfillment; therefore, committing to another person is akin to saying, "I've surveyed the different options for unhappiness, and it is to you I am choosing to bind myself." Whether readers find this depressing or comforting will likely vary. (For me, it was the latter.) Much like De Botton's first novel, many of the insights he provides in The Course of Love are accurate to the point of discomfort. It's not easy to identify with his propositions, yet there is universal truth to them, and there's something distinctly comforting in that. It's always special to read a book -- particularly a work of fiction -- and feel as if the writer is communicating truths about yourself that you've never been able to adequately acknowledge, let alone convey. As a fan of both philosophy and fiction, I find great satisfaction in De Botton's ability to translate profound ideas and insights into accessible and entertaining prose. The Course of Love is a captivating read, but seems as if it would be especially meaningful for individuals in the beginning phases of longterm commitment.

Once, early on in my marriage, my husband and I had a particularly intense fight over a ridiculously trivial matter. I barely remember the topic – something about where to hang some artwork – but I vividly recall that frightening feeling that I had made a ghastly mistake in joining our futures together. Enter Alain De Botton. I wish I could advise my younger self to have read his book. De Botton employs an everyman and everywoman – in this case, Rahib, a non-religious budding architect from Beirut and Kirsten, a woman who had been abandoned early on in life by her father. Sparks fly and we follow the two of them through the course of love – infatuation, wedding, children, disillusionment, adultery, and finally, maturity. Rahib and Kirsten are just foils for the author’s theme: falling in love is easy but maintaining that love is the real challenge. No one, after all, is perfect. “Rather than split up,” the author writes, “We may need to tell ourselves more accurate stories – stories that don’t dwell so much on the beginning, that don’t promise us complete understanding, that strive to normalize our troubles and show us a melancholy yet hopeful path through the course of love.” Each step of Rahib and Kirsten’s relationship is met with an evaluation – even an analysis – of what, precisely, is going on in their heads. The primal needs of this everyman and everywoman still demand attention as they reach adulthood and parenthood and much of their disillusionment stems from a desire to have the partner magically understand what those needs are…without appearing too vulnerable. There is a problem with presenting the course of love through the eyes of surrogates. This reading experience is bound to be intensely personal, and when it deviates too much from the reader’s own experience, there is a waning interest. My husband, and I, for example, never had kids together, and I found myself not all that interested in Rahib and Kirsten’s parenthood experiences. Yet the conclusions – that Romantic ideas of love are a recipe for disaster and that one can only be in love when one has given up on perfection – is compelling. “Rather than notional idea of perfect complementarity, it is the capacity to tolerate dissimilarity that is the true marker of the “right” person.” My husband and I are still going strong after reaching that conclusion. To my mind, this book should be de rigueur reading for every couple contemplating marriage and every couple who wonders why their own marriage isn’t 100% perfect all the time (which is the vast majority of us!)

el libro llegó un poco sucio por fuera (logré limpiarlo con borrador) páginas en buen estado, nada maltratado ;)