" While singing praises to physical, blue-collar work, Matthew B. Crawford can't help but take aim at the white-collar world. He doesn't make this a book about clash of the classes, which is perhaps a precarious point. Instead, he describes how manual work can be wholesome, meaningful, and truly productive, while the modern workplace can be silly, backward, and void of virtue. Crawford's assault on the the idea of a "creative class" is worth the read, as is his critique of Marxist ideas. However, I can't help but take notice of how Crawford spent his childhood in a California hippie commune, which, at least in my mind, is an environment of questionable morality. My own notion of a hippie commune seems similar to the way Crawford describes a modern office as a place that is slippery and deceiving, filled with squishy interpersonal demands and flawed structures. It is no wonder that Crawford prefers work that is straightforward with clear purpose and direct outcomes. While I believe our modern world needs more thinkers like Crawford, this book can sometimes come across as a letter to himself, justifying his professional choices. Then again, we might need this justification for ourselves. Pardon me while I go crank up the classic rock and change the oil in my car. "
— Spencer, 1/21/2014