The Alchemist: one of those ubiquitous books that I constantly see online, in bookstores, or on friends’ bookshelves. I figured that, at some point, it would be my calling to read it, so I wasn’t surprised when my friend Cole recommended the book a few months ago.
My concern about buying yet another book while I was in the midst of alternating between two others was eased when I saw that The Alchemist was only two hundred pages. I had an upcoming trip back home to North Carolina and figured it would be the perfect book to bring with me.
I began reading Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist the morning of that flight and the first thing to catch my attention were the initial pages of reviews proclaiming that the book was paradigm-shifting and perception-transforming. I’m used to books being prefaced with overly effuse reviews, but these were just one level further. I admit that I was also skeptical of the author’s ability to leave such a resonating impact on readers with so few pages, but ahead I proceeded; I had seen enough reviews online to be convinced of the book.
Unlike most fiction books I’ve read, The Alchemist’s plot is incredibly linear in time and minimal in complexity. There are no alternating plotlines, no irrelevant side stories, and not many characters. Whereas most fiction books tend to be loaded with superfluous passages, Coelho cut straight to the chase. Though it took some time to adapt to the direct writing style, it didn’t subtract from the book and quickly explained the thinness. Honestly, once I recognized the writing style, I found myself reading the book with far more care so as to not miss any critical plot points that were only allocated a sentence or two.
Over the next handful of chapters, I found the book to be engaging and the plot was interesting enough. It was when I was almost seventy-five percent done with the book, though, that I began to get a bit skeptical. Based on everything I had heard in the reviews, I was waiting for the book to magically blow my mind. Yet, there I was, with less than fifty pages remaining, feeling as though I hadn’t learned anything.
As my plane landed in North Carolina, one of the flight attendants recognized the bright orange cover and told me how it was her favorite book to reread. I expressed my concern about not having any takeaways so far but was reassured when she told me to wait until the end.
On the return flight later that week, I pulled the book out of my backpack and looked forward to finishing it. For the sake of avoiding any spoilers, I won’t go into specifics; however, I reached the end of the book and somehow felt as if I hadn’t learned anything meaningful. Yes, the plot was warming and the end of the book wrapped everything up clearly, but I felt like the message from the book was almost…obvious? All of the main themes felt like anecdotes I’d heard growing up which contradicted my expectation of learning something ‘new’.
Looking back, I realize I had set my expectations for this book to be too high. If I had known nothing about The Alchemist or hadn’t read any of the reviews, this post would likely be fundamentally different. The book was undeniably interesting and insightful, and I’m aware that I let my expectations guide my experience while reading. In an alternate world, I would’ve read this book with no foresight and written a review that was equally as compelling as those printed in the first few pages.
Cole, thank you for recommending this book to me. I know this review was not the most positive, but you should know I did truly enjoy the read given how fast I flew through the pages. In all honestly, I’m glad that you were the one who recommended this to me because I would’ve felt a lot worse telling anyone else that I didn’t love the book they suggested. You have my word that I won’t read reviews of the next book you suggest until after I post mine. Aside, I hope all is going well in Spain; it’s been great to stay in contact with you and am hoping we can find a way to see each other before you decide to stay indefinitely.
Rating: 3/5