Dialogue: Why seize a day when you can seize a year?

By GORDON McLAUCHLAN

I walk into a bookstore in Santa Monica, Los Angeles, and on the magazine stand is O, the Oprah Winfrey periodical that's so glossy you should wear shades as you flip through it, for staring at the adverts could damage your eyesight like staring at the sun.

Self-improvement springs from every page, first defining my frailties with accurate alacrity.

Yes! My life and career suffer from indolence and lack of positivity; and Yes! Yes! I would be a happier, better, rounder person and make more money if I could Seize the Day.

And how do I seize this jolly old day? Learn from George Bernard Shaw, urges Oprah.

Not by the arduous process of reading his prefaces or plays, but simply by reading and rereading two sentence-long quotes, one from Man and Superman and one from a speech he gave at Brighton in 1907.

I daydream for a moment about how the egocentric and cranky but whimsical GBS would react if he came across O in some celestial bookstore.

This is a start, he might say in his condescending way, but why not seize the year, uplift yourself and read all my work.

But, mindful that self-help and how-to books grossed $US588 million last year compared with $356 million for mystery and thriller books, I peruse the shelves and pick up How to Think Like Leonardo da Vinci, written by a bloke called Michael J. Gelb, acclaimed author and innovator in the field of creative thinking, accelerated learning and leadership development.

Phew! Leonardo's CV would not get him the job ahead of Mike, whose dust-jacket picture, however, seems mainly testament to the brilliance of his dentist and does not suggest that he's ever chiselled the marble, splashed colour on the canvas or doodled some amazing engineering specifications.

Be that as it may, it was Mike's multiskills that led him to the penetrating aphorism that genius is made, not born.

The book was successful enough as sucker-bait to merit a sequel, The Work Book for How to Think Like ... I look around for a "Five-Minute Bible," or "The Seven Key Steps to Beatification" or "Nietzsche in Nine Seconds" but find only Queen Elizabeth I, CEO, which extols the administrative and executive virtues of the Virgin Queen and urges aspiring business leaders to emulate her decisive style - although a quick flick does not reveal whether the author recommends beheading as a management tool.

It's easy to laugh at Americans. Often they ask for it with their underdeveloped sense of irony but their politeness, openness and lack of cynicism can be refreshing after Europe. And it is dangerous to underrate them. For years, I have been repelled by the grossness of their food, with plenitude on the plate towering over quality. Gassy and tasteless beers and wine that was overrated and very badly handled accompanied it.

Well, that sort of food might still dominate their national cuisine, but times are changing. The best of their beers are now better than ours.

And I enjoyed one very good meal in New York and two excellent dinners in Paris (where food seems so often hand-tailored to one's taste).

But I was astonished by a dinner that surpassed all the others, in a restaurant in Santa Monica - seared tuna with encrusted coriander beautifully cooked and served, and accompanied by a rich and curranty merlot from the Central Coast, which I believe is the area in California behind Santa Barbara.

Came home on Tuesday to find Ruth Dyson had drunk too much and foolishly driven her car. She made no attempt to use power to extricate herself and handed in her resignation, which Helen Clark wisely accepted. Hardly treason, child abuse or fraud. Just stupidity.

So why the prolonged questioning by journalists trying to make it a political issue once the simple facts were revealed? Why were Opposition MPs - many of whom must have thought, "There but for the grace of . . ." - trying to make it an issue of political principle?

Well, it signals I'm back in a tiny country constantly engaged in family spats which so often drown out things that matter for days at a time.

Winced, though, to hear the Prime Minister talking about Dyson "fessing up."

It is one thing to be a woman of the people and avoid the flatulent language of Lambton Quay, but quite another to trade in the patois of back-street Berhampore.

Fessing up may one day reach respectability along the same road as "coming clean" travelled, but let's not put it in the fast lane.

Phoned around relatives and friends to make sure they're all okay, and a retired former journalistic colleague assured me he was better than ever because he had uncovered the route to success.

Sincerity, he said, is the great secret. If you can fake that, the world is yours.