Meanwhile,
When one group of people was given six jams to sample and another group was given twenty-four jams to sample, both groups tasted about the same number of jams. Thirty percent of the people who had the six-jam array actually bought a jar; but only three percent of the people with the larger array did.
This sums up one of the themes of The Paradox of Choice: Why More Is Less by Barry Schwartz. Having too many choices confuses us, makes us second-guess our decisions, and makes us ultimately unhappy with our choices. Other themes of the book deal with comparisons--how we rate ourselves against other people; memory--how we give a higher weight to the end of an experience rather than the whole of it; and adaptation--the way we get used to a good thing and learn to expect it rather than appreciate it.
There are a lot of good thoughts in this book, but I wish it had been 100 pages long instead of 200. He repeats himself. Sometimes what I take to be a repetition might actually be a slight alteration of the theme, but such subtle nuances are lost on me. I keep thinking I'm reading the same thing over and over again.
A couple--but only a couple--of his themes bugged me.
In the chapter, Everything suffers from comparison, he states, "Comparisons are the only meaningful benchmark." Huh? A benchmark is a standard which is used for comparison. So the statement is saying, "Comparisons are the only meaningful standards for comparisons?"
He goes on to say that when we evaluate an experience, we always do so by comparing it with other experiences, and that always causes it to suffer by comparison. Who compares a sunset? A child's laugh? A strike in bowling? I, personally, have seen "the best movie I've ever seen" many times, and I see no inconsistency in that statement. It is the best. There are a lot of bests.
I also disagree with the statement in a later chapter:
"The result of having pleasure turn into comfort is disappointment."
The point he's trying to make is this: buying a new car is thrilling; the first few weeks of driving it makes you happy; after that, it's just comfortable and therefore, boring. You want a new new car.
Maybe that argument is true of movies--the third time you see a movie, the thrill is gone--but I'm not sure it's true of things you use, like cars or clothes or computers. Maybe it's just me, but I'm pleased every time I start my car and hear the quiet hum; put on my hoodie and feel comfy; turn on my computer and see the welcome screen. The pleasure will only vanish when the owned thing starts to wear out.
Maybe my satisfaction is a result of my advanced age. I expect that the younger you are, the more relevant this book will be.
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