Category: Uncategorized

The Art of Negotiating: Lessons from Hiring Experiences

July 17, 2025

This is just anecdotal and not based on any detailed research. But impressions are essential. The first story started with a knock on my front door. A young man introduced himself and offered to trim my cedar hedge, which is a bit disheveled and can be seen clearly from the street. My hedge needs a trim, so I asked him to provide an estimate. He walked along the hedge and came back to say that his team could do it for $250. Seeing my hesitation, he brought down the price to $200.

That sounded good to me, based on experience with hedge trimming. Before making any decisions, I wanted to learn about his experience and the composition of his team. Six recent college graduates formed a team, he explained, with three of them knocking on doors to generate business, and the other three handling trimming. I thought they had no experience at all. However, he assured me that they possessed all the necessary equipment, including tall ladders and trimming equipment.

Now I am always positive about young people initiating a business, and I told him I’ll think about it and to come back next week. I prefer not to make impulsive decisions. And he did come back a few days later. When I asked him when he could do the trim, he took another walk along the same hedge. He came back, explaining that it is a tall hedge on sloping ground, making it challenging to place the ladders. It is a tall hedge, over twelve feet. So, he concluded that the price would be $600.

I said what? Now, wait a minute, I said. You told me a few days ago that it would be $250. My voice indicated exasperation and disbelief. I even smiled at him, at his chutzpah in more than doubling the price. He suddenly changed his mind and offered to do the job for $300. That offer made me more than upset, and I said that I do not negotiate; you gave me a price, and I expected you to honor it. He decided to walk away.

By the way, I thought his final price was reasonable, but I did not like the way he behaved. What guarantee did I have that his work would be good and the cleanup complete?

Several thoughts crossed my mind. When one starts a new business, one marketing approach is to undercut the current market. One should demonstrate that the new company is superior to existing alternatives in at least one way. Why should anyone pay competitive pricing for a new product or service without testing it?

Next story. A couple of people were trimming the cedar hedge behind my house. I walked to the back of my garden and asked if they would be interested in cutting my cedar hedge as well. If so, I asked them to come over and give me an estimate. They did come over after finishing their job, and a young fellow said that he would message me his estimate later that day. Before leaving, I asked him about his background in landscaping and learned that he was studying to be an arborist. That sounded relevant to the job, and I awaited his estimate.

To my surprise, the estimate came in at $900, significantly above what I thought was fair (by the way, I had asked him to trim more of my cedar hedge than I had asked the young fellow I described above). To my response that he was way out of line, he messaged back that he was a bit high and that he could do it for $700. I responded negatively, to which he answered by asking me what I thought was a fair price so that he could learn from it. I give him high marks for sincerity, but why didn’t he work for a hedge trimming company and learn the pricing in the trade before starting his own business?

Now, these two stories do not provide a definitive characterization of today’s young people, millennials, to be sure. But I found it surprising that both started with a high estimate. Why did they not start with a low estimate (the first one did, but when it came to doing the job, he doubled the price)? Or, why did they not ask me what I would pay for the task? That would not be a bad approach; I think most people would come up with a reasonable estimate. When you start working, do you not need to obtain some contracts and build up experience that you can use as a form of advertising?

The new services introduced by the international telecom company I worked for were offered at less than half the price of those offered by our competitors. The purpose was to have our services used and tested by customers, demonstrating the superior quality and features of our services in comparison to the competition. The point is that the seller, a new entrant to an existing market, has to demonstrate the value of their services before prices can be raised.

I was frankly disappointed in the two young fellows trying their hands at establishing a new business without doing some background work, especially in asking for prices way above market rates.

My Emergency Room Journey: Insights and Reflections

July 6, 2025

I discovered I lost seven pounds. It was not a diet; I spent four days at the hospital, a day in the emergency observation unit, and then three days on a ward. What took me there was high fever alternating with chills in between and a general crappy feeling.

Kathy dropped me off at the Emergency entrance of the Civic Hospital, where I showed my health card and was told to sit down and join the fifty other patients in the waiting room. I observed with interest the people, some of whom did not seem to be sick at all, while others were in wheelchairs. There were people of all ages, and all ethnicities dressed informally.

The elderly gentleman, with a white beard and a black t-shirt featuring a giant fox on the front, impressed me because he wore a t-shirt befitting a teenager while having the demeanor of an academic. His partner gently guided him along while he also brandished a cane.

And then a huge African Canadian man squeezed himself into the narrow chair next to me, in a cloud of perfume, wearing multiple chains around his neck with his long hair neatly braided. Excuse me, I thought there were signs advising against using any perfume. Then he got up when the loudspeaker system called for Josephine.

Then the triage nurse took my vital health signs and gave me a bottle for a urine sample, assuming I could void at that time. I rejoined the waiting room after completing what I was instructed to do. An hour later, I was called to the registration station, where an agent placed a paper bracelet on my wrist with my DOB, name, and ID number.  

Then it was back to the waiting room again, where a sudden commotion broke out with three large policemen pushing a hollering woman into the room. Many people averted their eyes while I wanted to see why she was yelling, “I cannot take this anymore.” The policemen waited for the staff to take the hollering individual off their hands.

Complicating this atmosphere of general buzz, a young girl was throwing up, and people were getting up to register at different windows. Ambulance drivers were also pushing gurneys through the waiting room. You would think that waiting for treatment would be boring; I found the entire scene fascinating to observe. It appeared to be controlled chaos. 

I thought of getting a cup of coffee and some food to carry me through after a few hours of waiting, only to discover that the vending machines were not working. Kathy went outside and entered the main hospital door, where there were fast food places, and picked up some food for me. I wondered how people without a companion would obtain food without missing their turn when called. Finally, they called my name and instructed me to follow the yellow dots on the floor, which led to the “urgent care” door. Nine colored dots were running in parallel and then peeling off in different directions.

In one of the examining rooms in the urgent care unit, they took my blood from both arms and put me through tests. An hour later, a medical student interviewed me and said he would advise the emergency doctor, who would then advise me on the next steps. In the meantime, I socialized with my neighbor, a young woman with sepsis, who showed me a portion of her arm from where four skinny hoses hung out of a port. I did not think I wanted to further our medical conversation about her history of sepsis.

 I had been here for over five hours when the Emergency Department doctor showed up and explained that I seemed to be alright overall but had an infection and ordered a CT scan of my pelvic region. My mind did not connect the CT scan with my complaint that brought me in here; it was beyond my comprehension. I just waited to have the scan completed and then waited again until the nurse showed up with a couple of pages of text and a prescription for two medicines. One was an antibiotic, while the other had something to do with acid reflux and GERD; the latter was a complete mystery to me. But I was drained and happy to get out after seven hours in the ED without asking any further questions.

The antibiotic prescription did not work; after four days, I still had a fever and chills. I found antibiotics to work in a day or so in the past, so it was time to go back to the hospital, this time to another one, the Queensway Carleton. After seeing the triage nurse, I was pleasantly surprised when a young attendant quietly asked me if I was Andy. When I said that it was me, she asked me to follow her into the ED observation rooms, where they put me in a cubicle. I asked the attendant how she knew who I was and found out that I looked my age and was the only one of my age in the waiting room, one benefit of growing old.

They performed all the blood work and testing again, and then it was a matter of waiting again. However, I knew I could ask for some food that they provided for lunch, a nice feature. In this ED, a doctor came around to discuss my symptoms, and later the internal medicine doctor came and provided a diagnosis that was satisfying, knowing that he was pretty convinced I had a tickborne infection called anaplasmosis. The reason the previous antibiotic did not work, in his opinion, was that it did not address this infection; it targeted Lyme disease. By the way, I have recently read several articles about the proliferation of ticks in the Northeast, attributed to the warming climate.

So, the treatment started with an IV drip and doxycycline pills, a double attack to begin the healing, while waiting for the blood analysis proving that it was anaplasmosis. Start the treatment and save time while waiting for confirmation.

Now, if you have ever been in an ED space overnight, you know that it is not the place for a quiet sleep. The traffic was constant all night, in addition to the nurses taking your vital signs every couple of hours. So, little snippets of sleep, each two hours in duration, was my night. The next day, they found a room for me upstairs, advising me that my infection had to improve before they would let me go home.

I was miffed to find out that I was in a geriatric ward until my daughter informed me that I was one of them chronologically, if not by physical condition.

Sleeping in the ward was a bit better than sleeping in the ED space, although bells were ringing all night, patients were requesting attention, and the nurses still checked my vitals every three hours, day and night.

Furthermore, I found out I was in a ward with Alzheimer’s patients, and my next-door neighbor was either yelling, listening to a radio, or crying. I heard the nurse coming, informing her colleagues that she brought some “great” music for the gentleman next door: Nat King Cole and Dolly Parton. Fortunately, I enjoy a wide range of music. By the way, I couldn’t leave the ward without someone taking me, due to the type of ward I was in.

And then the nurse came in with the news that I would have to wear a pulsating sleeve on my leg, powered by an air pump, to prevent a blood clot from forming due to lying in bed all day (the name of the gadget was a sequential compression comfort sleeve). Wait a minute, I said, what do I do when I have to void at night? No problem, the nurse said, “You just take off the sleeve. I didn’t like the idea at all, since I get up a few times a night. Without saying another word, the nurse left and consulted with someone. When she returned, she explained that instead of the sleeve, I would get a shot in my belly to thin my blood. I had no choice at this time.

With the daily blood work showing improvement, they decided to let me go home in three days with a doxycycline prescription for another four days. And a follow-up visit with the infectious disease doctor.

Overall, I would have preferred not to have the experience. But going from feeling awful to good was worth it. The amount of attention I received from the nurses and doctors was genuinely excellent at the Queensway Carleton Hospital. Also impressive is the amount of paperwork I found on my account, which documents all the tests and the extensive reporting by doctors on X-rays, CT scans, ECGs, and the opinions of specialists in emergency medicine, internal medicine, and infectious diseases. And don’t forget, I’m still down seven pounds!

My Journey Through Various Cars: A Personal Reflection

June 21, 2025

A blogger’s description of his experiences with cars over the years sparked memories of myown time with the vehicles I’ve driven.

Like many others, I wanted to have a car when I was a student in Vancouver, British Columbia. With limited funds, I searched for something within my budget. I had my heart set on the curvy Mustang, which I found appealing in design. However, when I started looking, the used models began at $2,000, far beyond what I could afford.

On another used car lot, I came across a Peugeot 403 priced at $800. This was more manageable for me, and the car was in good condition with no rust. For me, the Peugeot had some interesting features, including a hand crank to assist with starting the engine in colder weather. You had to be careful with the crank; if you didn’t let go as soon as the car started, it could potentially injure you by taking your arm out of its shoulder socket.

The Peugeot 403 received excellent service from European mechanics in Vancouver, and parts were easily accessible. When properly tuned, the car purred like a sewing machine. The situation changed, though, when I drove my Peugeot to Chapel Hill, North Carolina, where I entered graduate school. My route took me south to California, where I joined Route 66 and journeyed east across the Mojave Desert to North Carolina. The car performed well in temperatures above 120 degrees.

During my stay in North Carolina, snow arrived only once, and I was able to use the crank successfully. However, problems arose when I needed repairs. The mechanics seemed puzzled when they saw my Peugeot; they had never encountered this model before. More importantly, they didn’t have any parts, and the parts that I needed were in the metric system, not the imperial system. This meant that no North American part would fit. Fortunately, the mechanics were resourceful and managed to install General Motors parts that worked in some fashion, but only for a short time. The car sputtered, but it continued to run until it eventually broke down on a rural highway. I removed the license plates, left the vehicle on the shoulder, and hitchhiked back into town.

With my first professional job and a better salary in Norfolk, Virginia, I sought a stylish car. A yellow hardtop Dodge Coronet 440 caught my eye, equipped with a powerful V8 engine that rumbled in a confident roar. The black leather hardtop contrasted sharply with the yellow body, making it look sharp!

The car performed beautifully and even had air conditioning, which was a big deal since I didn’t have AC at my graduate dorm in Chapel Hill. We also lacked air conditioning at our rental unit in Norfolk, where temperatures often soared into the 100s.

I will never forget the rental furniture in Norfolk; the bed was made of Styrofoam! It was uncomfortably hot at night without air conditioning. The only relief we had during that time was from large fans and open windows, but we could always take a drive in the car with its AC system to escape the heat.

We later moved to Washington, DC, and then to Ottawa in this car. It was a reliable vehicle that took our family, which included three children under ten at the time, and our dog on several trips to Florida. With a two-door sedan, we had to push the children and the dog into the back seat before we could get going. We enjoyed car camping and visited various sights along Highway 95 as we headed south. One of our favorite stops was the Battleship North Carolina in Wilmington, NC.

At this point, we needed a second car to transport the children to their separate sports events. I purchased a used VW Squareback, which was economical, and I found the standard gear shift to be fun to use. However, the gas heater proved to be a challenge! Imagine driving the VW in minus twenty-degree temperatures during winter. The gas heater took time to start working. While waiting for it to warm up, I had to open the windows to prevent them from fogging up with my breath in the car. To cope with the biting cold wind coming through the windows, I wore a heavy parka, a tuque, and gloves. Unfortunately, the Squareback was not built for the freezing winters of Ottawa.

The car was lightweight, and even with snow tires, I slid into an intersection where oncoming vehicles collided with me one day. That was the end of the VW. The worst part was that my neighbors witnessed the wreck with me init, and the gossip in my neighborhood was about how incompetent I was at driving on ice.

A similar situation ensued with my fancy Dodge SE, a V8 that boasted ample power and a fabulous interior. This car had been given to me by my father when he retired, and I had it transported by train from Vancouver to Ottawa. It was a gem, but in humid weather, it was challenging to start. I am not sure why. I kept a screwdriver with a long stem in the glove compartment to help me short-circuit the starter engine in humid weather. Unfortunately, sliding on ice on a curvy road led me to crash into a tree, ending the life of this remarkable car.

After joining an international telecom company in the high-tech sector and becoming an executive, I rewarded myself with a Toyota Camry, which I dubbed the “silver bullet” because of its shiny silver color. It was a trouble-free car, and I drove it for an impressive 300,000 miles.

In a memorable event, I hit black ice on a rural road one night and flipped the car, leaving me hanging upside down by the seatbelt. Once I got my brain into gear, I opened the window and shut down the engine that was still running. Then I tried to figure out how to extricate myself from being upside down without banging my head when I unhook the seatbelt. Once I turned myself right up, I climbed outside through the window and flagged down a motorist. The insurance company paid for the rehabilitation of the car.

Before our next driving vacation, I had the vehicle inspected by service professionals to ensure it was still in excellent condition. They called me back in half an hour to inform me that the engine was about to fall out of the chassis at the next pothole due to the rusty frame.

We traded our Camry, with its limited value, for a Mercury Cougar station wagon to accommodate our hockey gear. The large hockey bags require plenty of space. I was impressed by the salesman’s story that the previous owner was the football coach of the Ottawa Roughriders. Despite the incessant rattle of loose parts, the car served us well.

When the Cougar became a rattletrap, we moved on to a Chevrolet Caprice Estate, another spacious station wagon. My most vivid memories with this car were transporting the boys to soccer tournaments from Montreal to Toronto, Syracuse, and various locations in between.

One trip left a lasting impression. The boys played cards in the back, sitting in a circle, when suddenly, the card game devolved into a farting contest. I had to open all the windows to let the foul smell escape, and when the boys continued to pass gas, I stopped the car and told them to control themselves or risk missing a game. That worked!

When we became empty-nesters, we decided to upgrade to a leased Honda CR-V. Now, we are on our third CR-V. The leasing arrangement allows us to get a new model every three to four years. Our current vehicle is a hybrid, and while the fuel efficiency is excellent, I was shocked to find out that it doesn’t come with a spare tire—the battery occupies that space. Fortunately, we’ve experienced very few flat tires on the road, so the absence of a spare may not be a significant issue. Keep your fingers crossed!

Overall, the quality of cars has improved considerably over time. At the same time, the number of gadgets and the use of chips in vehicles have increased substantially. I used to enjoy working on cars in the past, tinkering with things like changing spark plugs, but that has become too complex for me now. Thankfully, the newer cars tend to be more reliable.

Exploring the Ismaili Imamat: A Cultural Landmark in Ottawa

June 13, 2025

The Canadian Headquarters of the Aga Khan, known as the Delegation of the Ismaili Imamat, is situated at 199 Sussex Drive in Ottawa. The Ottawa Imamat itself is a secular building. However, the Aga Khan serves as the spiritual and hereditary leader of the Nizari Ismaili branch of Shia Islam, tracing his ancestry back to Muhammad.

The Delegation of the Ismaili Imamat Building on Sussex Drive

The Aga Khan once noted that, in the West, religion is often viewed separately from social and economic initiatives. In contrast, the Ismaili tradition sees helping the poor and fostering connections between people and cultures as integral to the practice of religion.

Sussex Drive, often referred to as the “ceremonial route,” is also home to the embassies of Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, France, and Japan. The award-winning National Gallery, designed by Moshe Safdie, is located nearby, adjacent to the Canadian Mint and across from the Notre-Dame Cathedral Basilica. Additionally, the Prime Minister’s official residence is located at 24 Sussex Drive, which is currently awaiting renovations.

The arrival of the Ismailis in Canada goes back to Pierre Trudeau, a friend of the Aga Khan IV, invited the Ismaili community to Canada when Idi Amin expelled them from Uganda. Currently, approximately 2,000 Ismailis reside in Ottawa and around 80,000 across Canada, out of a global population of approximately fifteen million.

The architecture of the Imamat left a lasting impression on me during my visit. Designed by the Pritzker Prize-winning Japanese architect Fumihiko Maki, the project originated from a three-page letter from the Aga Khan, in which he requested Maki to design the building. He sought a design concept inspired by the visual qualities of rock crystal, emphasizing its transparency, translucency, and opacity.

Maki and his team carefully analyzed the letter to grasp the Aga Khan’s intentions fully. To gain further insight into the characteristics of a crystal, Maki even brought his wife’s diamond ring into the office to study its reflections from different angles. The Aga Khan’s request was for the building to be mysterious, esoteric, and intriguing, yet aesthetically pleasing, incorporating themes of Islamic architecture.

The Imamat features a large atrium crowned with a multi-faceted dome and includes a courtyard that contains an Islamic garden known as a Char Bagh. Additionally, the building provides office space for the staff of the Aga Khan Development Network (AKDN) and serves as a residence for the Aga Khan when he visits Ottawa.

The AKDN operates numerous educational, conservation, social, and economic programs in Africa and Asia, spending approximately one billion dollars annually. For instance, AKDN founded a university in Karachi, which initially focused on Islamic studies but has since expanded to include liberal arts education. Additionally, the organization has launched a microfinance program designed to support small businesses. This emphasis on helping the less fortunate aligns with the objectives of the Ismaili sect.

Related to the Aga Khan’s interest in architecture, he established a triennial architectural competition for works of Islamic design, including residential, religious, and conservation projects.

The Char Bagh

The purpose of the atrium is to host conferences, meetings, and study groups that focus on improving the condition of humankind worldwide. It features a patterned screen made of cast aluminum that reflects themes of Muslim architecture. The atrium’s floor is composed of maple wood tiles arranged in a seven-square pattern in both directions, with each square approximately ten feet by ten feet. This configuration results in a total of forty-nine squares, symbolizing that the current Aga Khan IV is the forty-ninth Imam of the Nizari Isma’ili sect. The use of mathematical concepts also serves as a symbol in Islamic architecture, reminiscent of the mathematical ratios seen in the gardens of the Taj Mahal.

The three-layered glass dome, composed of panels in various shapes, illuminates the atrium while diffusing direct light through a patterned layer of glass. The glass panels attach directly to the structural frame without the use of hardware. The design of the dome originated in Toronto, with the glass sourced from Austria, the structural steel from Poland, and the panels fabricated in Germany. The construction was completed in Canada. The multi-sourcing of the dome represents “pluralism,” a core principle of Ismaili Shia philosophy.

When I visited the Imamat, I felt relaxed as if I was at home. The parquet-like maple flooring created a warm ambiance, and the filtered lighting was visually soft. The hexagonal pattern of the cast aluminum screens hanging around the walls added a sense of enclosure and intimacy. People were seated around the perimeter of the atrium on large, comfortable couches, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

The acoustics in the atrium were excellent, even with many people conversing. The wood floor, screen wall, and triple glass ceiling effectively absorbed sound. The gentle buzz of conversation in this relaxing environment was pleasant, leading me to reflect on the life of Aga Khan IV, who passed away in February 2025.

I learned from the tour guides on the floor that he was born in Switzerland and held citizenship in that country, as well as in the UK, France, and Portugal. He was also an honorary citizen of Canada. In his youth, he was part of the Iranian Olympic skiing team and later earned a degree in Islamic studies from Harvard University. Throughout his life, he became a prominent horse breeder and achieved significant success in business, with his estimated wealth reaching around $12 billion as of 2024.

If you find yourself in Ottawa, I recommend visiting the Imamat not only to appreciate its stunning architecture but also to gain intellectual insight by learning more about the Ismaili community.

‘Long Bright River’ Review: Thrills and Shortcomings

June 5, 2025


I read a book that isn’t typically in my usual genre, but I reviewed it nonetheless. I will first summarize the book, followed by my mostly negative comments, reflecting my bias towards this genre.


“Long Bright River” by Liz Moore is a captivating blend of biography, thriller, and social commentary. Published in 2022, it became a New York Times bestseller. Set in Philadelphia’s Kensington neighborhood, the story centers on two sisters raised by their grandmother after their mother’s drug overdose causes their guilt-ridden father to abandon them.


Kacey, the social and outgoing sister, succumbs to addiction, while her introverted and intelligent sister, Michaela, becomes a police officer. Michaela’s life experiences and thoughts about her neighborhood, sister, and colleagues are woven into the narrative, which includes a biographical element and her self-analysis and introspection.


Michaela narrates the story in the first person. As their grandmother struggles to raise them, Kacey ends up living on the streets. Meanwhile, Michaela patrols the neighborhood where her sister now lives. Despite having shared a bed and a close bond during their childhood, the sisters are now separated by their very different lifestyles. When Kacey disappears, Michaela searches for her but finds that Kacey is avoiding her, partly due to feelings of shame about her situation.

Interwoven with the story of the two sisters is the troubling issue of the murders of four women living on the streets. Michaela fears Kacey may become the next victim. A significant twist occurs when Kacey gives birth to a boy fathered by Michaela’s boyfriend; Michaela then adopts the child. As a single mother, Michaela faces many challenges, including securing housing, finding babysitters, and balancing these responsibilities with her work as a police officer.


The plot builds to a crescendo as Michaela searches for her sister, while the police work to uncover the identity of the killer. During her investigation, Michaela discovers her father in Delaware after finding information in her grandmother’s files. As the story unfolds, a new theme of reconciliation between Michaela and Kacey emerges. The grand finale takes place in an abandoned church, where Michaela confronts her sister, her sister’s boyfriend, and the killer. In the end, the father and the sisters reunite, leading to a happy conclusion.


Having enjoyed works by Clive Cussler, Ken Follett, John Grisham, and others, I found this book to be lacking in sophistication in terms of plot, excitement, and context. It explores themes of a dysfunctional family and police work, including rogue cops—topics that are quite prevalent today.


Almost 500 pages, I found the first half of the book boring, as it delves into excessive detail about the sisters’ upbringing. The author could have described the girls and their environment more concisely.


The book’s structure is gimmicky, employing a non-linear format that alternates between the past and present, jumping back and forth. This structure feels tiresome and artificial. Why couldn’t the author have told the story chronologically? I don’t believe it would have diminished the narrative.


Another structural choice the author makes is to speed up the events towards the end, building up to a crescendo that is far more exciting than the first half of the book. Many thrillers I’ve read are thrilling and eventful from start to finish, making them true page-turners.


This book uses common tropes found in the police/detective thriller genre. For instance, every writing course I’ve taken recommends starting with a hook to capture the reader’s attention, such as a murder, which indeed occurs right at the beginning of this book. Thrillers often involve identifying multiple suspects through mistaken accusations before revealing the real criminal. This story follows a familiar pattern, presenting three false leads before unveiling the actual perpetrator. The author’s tried-and-true storyline was a winning formula—the formula I have seen before.

One major issue with this book is that the identification of the murderer lacks a proper investigation. There is no detailed explanation proving the suspect’s guilt; the police simply name the guilty party, providing no evidence. In most other books I’ve read, there is a thorough investigation that uncovers evidence supporting the conclusion of guilt. This book deviates from the usual pattern of these types of stories, which typically involve a more comprehensive investigation.

I also find it interesting that a New York Times bestseller addresses a wide range of arguably unpleasant social and economic issues, such as prostitution, fentanyl, corrupt police officers, dysfunctional family structures, out-of-wedlock childbirth, abandoned houses, decaying neighborhoods, and addiction. Do all these social problems need to be included to create a “bestseller”? Or would one or two of these topics be sufficient to form the foundation for a successful book?

I’m not saying this isn’t a good book; many people have enjoyed it, which is why it became a bestseller. The writing flows well and captures the interest of some readers. Although I wouldn’t personally buy this book since it’s not my preferred genre, I can understand how it might appeal to others seeking entertainment. It’s the kind of book one would read on a long airplane ride, which is precisely what I did when I flew from Ottawa to Vancouver and back.