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In a 1954 New Yorker essay “Howtoism,” writer and critic Dwight Macdonald states that authors of how-to books are to other authors as frogs are to mammals, and encourages people to read other genres. Even psychologists have compared self-help authors to snake oil salesmen that promise ineffective solutions. This peculiar genre of nonfiction has its opposers.

Despite criticism from academic circles, self-help has surged in popularity in recent years. With over 15,000 self-help books published in the United States each year, the industry is expected to rise to $14.0 billion by 2025.

It is undeniable that self-help titles have found a secure audience of readers. Thus, rather than trying to fight against it, the genre should be considered an accessible starting point of one’s reading journey, and an introduction to other forms of writing and cultures.

The use of self-help as an introduction to other genres such as fiction is a rather old one. In 1859, British author Samuel Smiles published “Self-Help,” writing about the industrial revolution and money and promoting individualism through self-improvement. Besides enjoying popularity in the English-speaking world, the text was translated into Japanese in 1871, becoming a bestseller by selling over a million copies, and business-wise, greatly influencing the founder of Toyota, Sakichi Toyoda.

Beyond descriptions of middle-class workers and their successes, “Self-Help” also included quotes from the literary works of Shakespeare and Keats among others, and unintentionally served as an entry point into English literary classics.

In the 2020 book, “The Self-Help Compulsion: Searching for Advice in Modern Literature,” Harvard associate professor Beth Blum analyzed how the authors mentioned by Smiles were widely translated in Japan, whereas others remained unnoticed.

Not only is Smiles’s “Self-Help” an early example of the popular self-help text, it also shows how incorporating other genres in an accessible way can be a means of connecting readers across countries and cultures.

On a similar note, contemporary popular self-help titles can help introduce readers to more intimidating genres. “The Daily Stoic,” which has sold over two million copies since its publication, incorporates lessons from Greek and Roman philosophers to teach about motivation and productivity. Since philosophy readings can often be challenging, beginning with an accessible self-help text can incentivize more readers to finally pick up a copy of Marcus Aurelius’s “Meditations.”

Self-help books themselves can tread the line between direct instruction and literature. Paulo Coelho's “The Alchemist” tells the story of Santiago, an Andalusian shepherd boy and his search for a treasure. Combining mysticism and folktales with lessons about self-discovery, it has been immensely popular, selling over 150 million copies worldwide — one of only nine books to do so.

Questions arise whether “The Alchemist” could be considered as self-help or literature, with the New York Times deciding on the former. Still, it is an example of a book that, while seeking to instruct, chooses to utilize a literary format, and for the interested reader, can act as an entry point into exploring different genres of literature.

Self-help readership is also tied to a particular age group — young people. A 2023 study by Nielsen BookData found that more than half of self-help purchases in 2022 were made by people under 35 years old. With young people in search of advice, self-help titles can be a way to bridge other genres for younger generations. Mortimer J. Adler’s “How to Read a Book” is a guide on reading critically across traditions of writing, and serves as an example of promoting accessibility.

Besides novels, self-help can draw connections to poetry as well. John Kenney’s “Love Poems for Anxious People” is categorized under self-help, yet its musings on anxiety are expressed through verse. As starting to read and understand poetry can be difficult, Kenney’s poems are a way to introduce self-help readers to other types of creative writing.

Conversely, contemporary literature itself can feed off of self-help frameworks. Lorrie Moore’s acclaimed short story collection, aptly titled “Self-Help,” utilizes the second person perspective for most of its entries, mimicking the way a self-help book would address and instruct its reader. The stories use the framework of giving advice to rather comment on individual relationships and the female experience, showing the potential for rethinking the general self-help structure and making it more personal.

Similarly, Charles Yu’s novel “How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe” contrasts “Howtoism” with science fiction, touching upon themes of how we live, time, and memories, centered around a father-son relationship. Connecting the implications of the familiar “how to” — usually referring to realist scenarios — with the fantastical world of science fiction presents a way for fiction writers to utilize and work around the preconceptions associated with the self-help genre.

At the same time, the proposition behind self-help titles as offering advice to readers can be another way to look at literature itself. Literary novels offer examples of living and building relationships that can turn into advice, whether intended by the authors or not. For example, a fan of “The Power of Positive Thinking” can be inclined to learn about positivity from Lucy Maud Montgomery’s “Anne of Green Gables.”

Self-help and creative writing, whether fiction or poetry, are different, but reading journeys are different for everyone as well. While an ardent enjoyer of self-help may not always reach out for a novel, every reader can benefit from the literary enjoyment of exploring another way of writing, especially one that doesn’t present instruction at first glance. Self-help titles, especially those that diversify their advice by borrowing from different genres, can push the expectations of what such books can be, and serve as accessible starting points to other forms of creative writing.

—Staff writer Erlisa Demneri can be reached at erlisa.demneri@thecrimson.com.