[This Week’s Books] Click Here and More

Soul of Wealth

Persistently making less foolish choices over time brings one closer to wealth than scoring a single big win. Behavioral finance expert Daniel Crosby argues that achieving long-term wealth has less to do with predicting the market or picking the right stocks, and more to do with consistently saving and investing, while protecting your health, relationships, and time. In his 50 concise chapters, he delivers messages such as "Comparison is the thief of joy," "You know your values by looking at your budget," "The perfect moment never comes," "Time is the greatest asset you can buy with money," and "Eliminate the worst-case scenario." Though it takes the shape of an investment book, it more persistently questions what money should enable in your life rather than how much you have accumulated.

The “soul” in the title is not just empty rhetoric. Crosby acknowledges that money is a tool to acquire positive emotions, relationships, and meaning, but warns that the moment numbers become the ultimate goal, money starts to consume your life. When markets are turbulent and you want to run to cash or feel restless only after prices rise, it’s often errors in behavior, not lack of information, that undermine your wealth. This is why the closing chapters head toward ideas like "The essence of money is humanity," "What we really want is not wealth but freedom," and "No one becomes rich alone." If you expect a how-to manual on investing, this book may feel somewhat relaxed, but its redefinition of wealth as a matter of time and freedom of choice, rather than just a bank balance, leaves a lasting impression. (Written by Daniel Crosby | Translated by Ko Young-hoon | Allet)

Click Here

In the marketing industry, every time a new tool arrives, so does the claim that it heralds a new era. Alex Schultz cuts through the hype and revisits an old truth: marketing exists ultimately to sell. As the first Chief Data Officer and former CMO of Meta, and with more than two decades of experience at eBay and Facebook, he covers the entire arc of digital marketing: beginning with North Star metrics, then funnel, conversion, targeting, channels, creative, measurement, team building, search, social, and finally AI. Schultz played a key role in Facebook, Instagram, and Messenger each reaching over a billion users and was instrumental in the Meta rebranding, making his intersection of textbook principles with the actual language of growth organizations especially compelling.

Unexpectedly, the term that recurs most frequently is "fundamentals." One suggestion he made for success at Meta was as simple as aligning video ads with how users hold their phones and adding background music that fits surrounding content. Schultz values measurable conversions, incremental effects, and repeated experimentation over flashy channel strategies, and openly acknowledges that companies often fail to get even basic best practices right. Rather than being a manual for chasing the latest TikTok or AI features, this book instead offers a way of thinking—what to measure, what to discard—that remains valid regardless of channel shifts. While it leans toward the playbook of American big tech, the insistence on scrutinizing whether each "click" truly translates into revenue and growth is especially useful for practitioners. (Written by Alex Schultz | Translated by Kim Tae-hoon | Reviewed by Choi Chang-seok | RH Korea)

Understanding the Uncustomer

In every brand’s meeting room, the customer always has a seat. While loyalty customers’ purchase frequency, heavy users’ satisfaction, and former customers’ complaints are all meticulously analyzed, those who say "I’m not interested" are often written off from the start. Ren Serizawa calls that empty chair the “Uncustomer”—those who have never bought, nor even considered trying your product. He starts from the observation that these non-users and light users might, in fact, make up the majority of the market. Using the familiar example of cheesecake to reinterpret target, benefit, and positioning, then introducing the double jeopardy law, category entry points (CEP), narrative approach, and alternate models, he digs not into "why people don't buy," but "in what context a reason to buy might arise."

Kitchen detergent can expand usage scenarios, job sites can tweak messaging to boost conversion rates, soy food fosters new habits, and smart appliances disrupt old ones. The book even points out that the "rationality" of buyers and actual users can be different, as in the case of high-performance vacuum cleaners. Questioning the conventional wisdom that increasing loyalty automatically drives growth, the appendix also delves into the mathematical structure of the NBD-Dirichlet model and double jeopardy. Ultimately, capturing the Uncustomer is not about forcing the uninterested to care; it’s about understanding why they have not needed your brand thus far, and creating new life scenes where your product might fit. This book serves as a reminder that marketing is as much about accurately perceiving those who currently feel nothing for your brand as it is about loving existing customers. (Written by Ren Serizawa | Translated by Shin Jung-won | Reviewed by Park Se-yong | Chaekman)

The Dignity of Thought

We like to believe we "think," but Turi Munte first asks: How do thoughts "arrive" in us? He traces, within Singapore’s strict social codes, the climatic and microbial influences, examines how geological differences like granite and limestone shape religion and education, and explores how rice and wheat farming have left lasting marks on Eastern and Western ways of thinking. The body is no exception: Munte incorporates sensitivity to danger signals, the habit of turning away from unpleasant images, and even the correlation between food preferences and political leanings, arguing that weather, geography, culture, genes, emotions, and collectives have long been embedded behind what we’ve called "my thoughts." This explains why his 428-page book roams so widely across climatology, evolutionary genetics, and cultural anthropology.

Such breadth risks oversimplifying causality—reading links between hot climates and authoritarianism, or between bodily responses and politics, as if fate. Yet, in the latter half, Munte sidesteps this determinism. Through comparing chimpanzees and bonobos, the left and right, collective intelligence and after-the-fact rationalization, he lands not on "who is right," but on "how differing ways of thinking can jointly produce better judgments." By acknowledging that it is a human instinct to err together as a group rather than be right alone, he reframes debate as a technology for collaborative thought, rather than a contest with winners and losers. The "dignity" of the title refers less to polite discourse, and more to the ability to tolerate that one’s own convictions may also be products of coincidence and environment. (Written by Turi Munte | Translated by Lee Young-rae | 21st Century Books)

Covering Up Depression

The people who are struggling the most do not always appear to be suffering the most. After over 30 years of clinical experience, Margaret Robinson Rutherford coined the term "Perfectly Hidden Depression (PHD)" for people who, in fact, tend to be highly responsible, high-achieving, and attentive to others. The problem arises when these competencies become a shield. In the book, Brittany shares her wounds but quickly wipes away her tears and changes the subject. Others feel unable to rest, gripped by anxiety if they can’t complete their tasks, and come to view taking breaks as a form of guilt. Rutherford’s focus is not on a depressed appearance, but on lives that have become so practiced in concealing sadness, anger, and shame.

Importantly, "Perfectly Hidden Depression" is not an official clinical diagnosis, but a concept proposed by Rutherford. The book is not about coining another new disease name but about helping readers identify the rules they’ve imposed on themselves and reconnect with long-suppressed emotional pain—through the five steps of awareness, immersion, confrontation, connection, and change. For those who feel praise is never enough, that asking for help is a sign of weakness, and that their worth is tied to achievement, this book relentlessly exposes the flip side of perfectionism. The Korean edition’s choice of the title "Covering Up Depression," accompanied by a special commentary by Song Seombyul, is apt. This is not a book about erasing depression, but about reopening the well-concealed pain that had remained hidden. (Written by Margaret Robinson Rutherford | Translated by Song Seombyul | Originals)

The Human Replica

On a clear May afternoon, a man who looks like a sewing machine salesman comes to visit. "I," the writer for the radio program "Hello, Martian," am grappling with criticism that the show, especially after the Mars rocket launch, is full of nonsense. Then, the man claims to be a devoted listener—and cautiously reveals that he is a Martian. Soon after, a woman who claims to be his wife calls, warning that her husband has schizophrenia, is prone to violence, and not to provoke him. The reader now falls into the same trap as "I" do. Is this man human, a Martian who looks too much like a human, or a human pretending to be a Martian? Originally published in 1967, Kobo Abe’s science fiction shakes the very foundation of our sense of reality, far closer than outer space.

Abe does not aim to solve the riddle. The man claims to be a Martian real estate broker, urges "me" to write a novel based on his life, and consistently pulls out the bottom of logic. As the story unfolds, initial assumptions—"I" am the normal one, the other is delusional—grow dubious. The author who shook identities and homes in "The Woman in the Dunes" and "The Face of Another" here places the very category of "human" on the laboratory table. Though styled as a product of 1960s space-race culture, reading it now—when fiction and reality blur, and a counterpart’s words invade reality—it feels even more contemporary. What’s frightening about a stranger is not that they resemble a human, but that, in the end, you may no longer be able to prove you’re human yourself. (Written by Kobo Abe | Translated by Kwak Hyung-deok | Hyundae Munhak)

The Writing Ghost

The person most likely to say "I’m quitting poetry" is the one who has held onto poetry the longest. In her debut essay collection, winner of the 43rd Kim Sooyoung Literary Prize, Yoon Jiyang reflects less on how to write poems well and more on why, even when you decide not to write, you end up writing again. Forty-one essays—plus three secret, hidden drafts—are organized into three sections: 'poem,' 'between,' and 'not-poem.' The topics range widely, from fantasy, dreams, anxiety, and memory, to pen names, jealousy, discrimination, and even software development, cats, driving, and swimming. The juxtaposition of a life as both poet and developer is particularly intriguing; the moment good code is compared to concise, readable documentation, the divide between the poetic and the non-poetic blurs. Even the hiatus wasn't idle time—there were always people seeing, walking, hurting, and loving, even on days she didn’t write poems.

Thus, the "ghost" in the title is not a romanticized creative urge. Life experiences—sexual harassment as a child, misogyny in online spaces, bizarre collaboration proposals after debut, alienation as both outsider and woman—shape the body of writing. From her belief that "all poetry is a memorial" to her examination of the kinship between artistic intervention and violence, Yoon Jiyang’s view of literature emerges: poetry is not just beautiful language, but a stance that observes the world for a long time. Yoon is someone who, more than being curious about poetry, is curious about the world, writing in order to get closer to its shadow. Perhaps, then, the ghost is not poetry itself, but the conscience that keeps you from pretending you haven’t seen what you have. (Written by Yoon Jiyang | Louders Books)

Don’t Ever Flinch

Stephen King’s villains are most terrifying when they don’t see themselves as villains. His 66th novel, "Don’t Ever Flinch," features two such criminals, both addicted to unwavering conviction. One, a serial killer named Trig, commits "justice" for a wrongful death by concocting the twisted logic that "the death of an innocent must be avenged by the death of another innocent." He inverts the presumption of innocence, vowing to kill thirteen innocents and one culpable person, following the Blackstone Principle. Meanwhile, women’s rights activist Kate Mackay, with 12 million followers, is threatened on her book tour by a stalker who opposes abortion rights. These two streaks of madness run on separate tracks, with Holly Gibney caught in between.

King’s power to sustain suspense through long narratives, even without supernatural elements, comes from his deep understanding of how "conviction" licenses violence. Holly, who debuted as a minor character in "Mr. Mercedes" and has since starred in "The Outsider" and "Holly," is no reckless hero. She’s anxious and cautious but stands her ground in decisive moments. Interestingly, the novel was first inspired by the 2021 Lady Gaga dog kidnapping and then dramatically changed direction during writing. Ultimately, "Don’t Ever Flinch" is not an exhortation to banish fear. It is about people who, when faced with those seeking to monopolize fear and subjugate others, hold onto their place despite being afraid. King’s horror endures not because of monsters, but because he never trusts human certainty. (Written by Stephen King | Translated by Lee Eunsun | Hwanggeumgaji)

This content was produced with the assistance of AI translation services.