One of the most pressing issues of the members of today’s generation is what they should do with their lives. In generations of old, social and family pressures kept people in line. You took up the same occupation as your father before you, or else you’d become a heretic. You married and raised children like your mother before you, or else you’d become an old maid. But today, the whole world is before you, too many options, and it can get rather confusing.

This is especially true for the young woman of today, who can literally do anything she wants to, and sometimes she feels as though she must in fact do everything—succeed in a career, become rich and famous, and manage a family, including a useless, good-for-nothing slob of a husband, all in her spare time.

Don’t get me wrong; it’s not necessarily easier for young men, just different. Both sexes come to adulthood with dreams and ambitions, but with no means to achieve them other than focus, hard work, and perseverance, which is boring, difficult, and boring, respectively.

This state of affairs has given renewed rise to a class of books, which I honestly think may be the silliest man has ever known. They are more exciting than the most explicit romances, more far-fetched than the most absurd science-fiction, and more boring than the dullest religious tome. But romances are at least about love (or at least about sex). And science-fiction is at least about science (or at least someone’s conception of it). And religious tomes are at least about religion. But these other books are about nothing. Or rather, they are about SUCCESS.