There are some great anecdotes in here and some interesting ideas, but it’s fucking insufferable:

Math is a tool well suited to every manner of ends. When I encounter someone who doesn’t know its uses, even at the relatively simple level our work requires, my heart sinks. Everyone’s math should be at least good enough that they can take measure of the world they inhabit.

…

Beginning twenty years ago, I worked with one architect through three successive projects. He squirmed and struggled as he was dragged hither and thither by the demands of a triumvirate of clients who cared little for his theories. He was thwarted at many a turn. None of the jobs panned out as he had envisioned them.

…

Life is full of little fiefdoms. DMV workers, tax clerks, traffic cops, and border agents might have limited agency outside of their bailiwicks, but within their designated spheres, they rule supreme. Service elevator operators are a sleepy breed. Perhaps neurologists will someday discover that brains designed for wandering thither and yon are adversely affected by perpendicular travel. From behind their pantograph gates, they are the sole arbiters of who goes up and who goes down. One may dislike them, find them coarse, even capricious and unfair, but they must be befriended.

…

This is all from the first half of the book, before I started skimming. The guy has a bad case of Engineer’s Syndrome. 

Dollar-store Dickens sums it up himself later: 

Like most inventions, language exposes our shortcomings and weaknesses. We know we’re flawed, so we engage in a constant struggle to appear better than we are.

If you can get through that without cursing, then (a) this book might appeal to you, and (b) you’re made of stronger stuff than I am.

Honestly, it’s not worth going into detail about the other things that turned me off — his smug superiority, his disdain for pretty much everyone else, and his mistaken impression that he comes from dirt. The New Yorker article is a good read, leave it at that.