Peace and Plenty by Sarah Ban Breathnach (Grand Central Publishing)

Drawing a comparison between the Great Depression and our current financial issues, Sarah Ban Breathnach explores the inner turmoil that results from losing everything. She places herself at the center of the narrative, describing how she went from being fine to almost losing her house. She opens with a phrase from a 1932 magazine that, in her opinion, serves as a rallying cry for women. Most of the drama takes place in her mind as she struggles to balance her material wealth with her personal values. She makes extensive use of literary allusions and historical quotations throughout. To be honest, the nicest part is those elderly voices. What about the others? You may feel as though someone is talking at you rather than to you.

Breathnach is always front and center. Her journey from plenty to not-enough is supposed to be the guidebook here, but it comes off more like a lesson in how to be morally superior than anything most of us can actually relate to. The other “characters” are the women from the past; those who kept their heads up during the thirties. Their wisdom shines, but it gets drowned out by a tone that feels a little patronizing. Instead of walking alongside the reader, the book talks down from above, leaving you little space to see yourself in the story.

A big chunk of the book leans on this idea that women are somehow built for scarcity, as if being broke is a natural part of womanhood, and that women have some spiritual power to get through it. That idea feels pretty stale now, especially when everything around us already tells us to fix our own problems, even when the system is rigged. By painting financial survival as a mindset shift, Breathnach risks pushing away people who want real understanding, not just another lesson in being thankful from someone who's already had their turn at the top.

She shares many personal anecdotes, but few of them are humble. There is an odd tension when personal confessions are combined with traditional wisdom. She makes an effort to sound comforting, but more often than not, it sounds like she's reprimanding you; it's like being advised to "just cheer up" by someone who has never truly been in your position.

To be honest, I didn't anticipate having such a strong reaction, but I felt worse after finishing the book. Instead of comfort, I received a list of tips for maintaining a cheerful expression when submerged. This book frequently crosses the fine line that separates encouraging others from merely bragging.

If you love digging into history and collecting good quotes, you’ll find plenty here. But if you’re looking for real encouragement, you might want to skip the sermons. True comfort comes from someone who gets it and stands beside you; not someone who tells you how to feel from up on their own hill.

3/5