(by someone who would strongly discourage you from caring who wrote this Forward)
It is customary, when presented with a book, to assume that the book wishes to be read.
This is a misunderstanding that books have done very little to correct over the course of time. Few can be found that have taken a stand against this assumption. Few history books make note of those that opposed being read. An irony, yet true.
However, some do wish to be opened and absorbed. Some books wish to be read carefully. Some wish to be skimmed. Some wish to be displayed prominently so visitors may infer things about you that are only partially or negligibly true. A rare few would prefer to be dropped accidentally into a bath, where they can do the absorbing, swelling to three times their original size and then be thrown away with a sense of quiet relief.
This book has expressed a preference, though, and that is to be understood as unnecessary and be thrown out or gifted to someone and to tell that someone to not read it either, as it is unnecessary. Either option being a refreshing shift in the request of a book containing supposed "knowledge".
You may, of course, dive into it completely and read every word. You may argue with it in the margins and nod thoughtfully, scoff audibly and catch yourself reacting to a book as unnecessary as this one. You may choose to carry it around for a week, feeling faintly superior and slightly annoyed no one has asked you about it. You are, after all, waving it quite publicly and saying things such as, "Wow!" and "Jeez, what a mind-bender," while pointing at it with your eyes. This is all perfectly acceptable behavior and, in some circles, considered very good manners. Not my circles, but I know these circles exist elsewhere.
You may also choose to reject it entirely. This is not a failure on your part. In fact, it may be the most accurate response available given its content.
The trouble with books that explain things is that they tend to hang around afterward, insisting that they have done so, loudly, and on their spines and in their pages. This book makes no such claim. It does not wish to improve you, rearrange you, or assign you homework. It will not be offended if you stop halfway through, leap to the appendix prematurely, or use it to level a wobbly table while thinking about something else entirely.
If you find yourself enjoying it, do so lightly. If you find yourself irritated by it, do not worry - this suggests you are paying attention. If you feel compelled to take it seriously, put it down immediately and step outside until the feeling passes.
At some point, you may reach a sentence that feels important. I assure you that this is unfortunate but usually only temporary.
Should you finish the book, you are encouraged to forget most of it. Should you not finish it, you are encouraged to forget what's been read and never gain an ounce of curiosity for what wasn't. In either case, the book will have performed admirably. And so will have you.
You are under no obligation to agree with what follows. You are under no obligation to agree or disagree. The only mild request - made politely and without enforcement - is that you resist the urge to believe that this book has done anything to you or for you.
It hasn’t. It won't.
Now then. If you’re still holding it, you may as well begin. And, when proceeding with the highly unrecommended purchase of this book, be prepared to promise to the store clerk to throw it away immediately when tired of its pretentiousness. Or, as we mentioned before, gift it to someone else and instruct them not to read it.
You don't need my permission. You are your own person. Proceed forward as you wish.