Ask The Sophist: My grandma can't make me read Suze Orman, can she?
Indignity Vol. 5, No. 94
ASK THE SOPHIST
The Laws of Mommy
Dear The Sophist:
My mother (74) bought several Suze Orman books about 20 years ago, and still has them, but never read them, though recently she has newly resolved to read some of them. My grandmother (96) borrowed and read them not long after my mom purchased them. She has recently remembered their existence and has urged me to read them a couple times. I (42) have read enough financial advice columns in mainstream sources and viewed enough workplace webinars that I’m following standard advice about how much to save for retirement, size of emergency fund, etc. I have no credit card debt and bought my (current, also first) house before the housing market recovered from the Great Recession, so I think I’m in good shape, and my impression of Suze Orman’s style is that I would dislike it.
I can continue giving vague answers to my grandma guilt-free, right?
Signed,
Not That Dutiful
Dear Disinvested:
From your age and your financial profile, The Sophist has concluded that you cannot possibly still be in high school. You are long past the point where anyone can make you read any books you don't want to read. Time is money; you are in charge of managing your own budget; your grandma is asking you to make an expenditure that you don't want to make.
You won't read the books. The Sophist says don't read the books. That is what this column is here to do. We've solved half your problem already.
Now comes the other half. How do you politely continue to thwart your grandmother's wishes? Figuring this part out requires some deeper market analysis on your part, to discern exactly what those wishes are.
Why does your grandmother want you to read Suze Orman? It's not—The Sophist assumes and also fervently hopes—that she was enchanted by Orman's prose style and wants to make sure you don't miss the chance to hear that same music ringing from the page. Suze Orman is a brand, and that brand represents something important to her.
If you've glanced at the spines of the books on your mother's bookshelf, you have some themes to work with: self-reliance, and women's self-reliance in particular. Responsibility. Knowledge, specifically a grasp of world-changing secrets that are also common sense. Security. Success!
And these themes, in turn, mean something to your grandmother. The Sophist notes that this story about your grandmother's desire for you to read the books doesn't begin with you at all. They're not even your books. Nor are they hers. This whole grandmother/granddaughter Suze Orman drama pivots around the noncompliant figure of your mother: the person who bought the books and meant to read them and never got around to reading them but really intends to read them now—in much the same way that a person may mean to get around to saving for retirement, or paying down their loans, or otherwise getting their financial affairs in order. Eventually.
The ages tell a story here. Twenty years ago, when your mother was 54, she bought books about taking command of her finances. Now she is 74. Most likely she's out of the workforce; even if she isn't, there's not much left that she can do to change her overall picture.
Here's another story the ages tell, and a widespread one. Your grandmother was about 22 when she had your mother. We are talking about your maternal grandmother, right? If this is your mother's mother-in-law, instead, we are looking at some truly chaotic intrafamilial dynamics and The Sophist is going to have some follow-up questions.
Pressing on: your mother was about 32 when she had you. You are 42 now, but you are still cast as the child in this particular discussion of life decisions. The presence or absence of great-grandchildren must figure into all of this at some fundamental level, but The Sophist is just going to draw a little box in the air around that subject and leave the opening of said box up to you.
What is your grandmother truly trying to communicate to you, across that gulf of 54 years between when she was your current age and today? Is she worried, at age 96, that she didn't handle her own money well enough? Did she handle her money very well, and she's trying to size up whether her granddaughter would be a worthy steward of a generous bequest? Is she afraid the president is going to destroy Social Security before you and your mother get any?
The Sophist doubts that Suze Orman, who made her name and her fortune-for-telling-people-how-to-make-fortunes back when the alpenglow of the End of History shone on this country, has much to tell you about how to ride out the end of American hegemony and the potential self-inflicted collapse of the dollar. Find a place to raise rabbits for meat and fur; put part of your portfolio into airplane-sized bottles of vodka for barter and disinfectant.
Meanwhile, if your grandma won't stop worrying about the books, see if you can keep her reassured. Instead of vague answers, try giving her very specific ones about how you're doing. Affirm for her that you appreciate Suze Orman's emphasis on wealth-building, then tell her how much home equity you built up by timing the market right, and how glad you are not to have to worry about refinancing. Brief her on how many months your emergency fund has you covered for. Tell her how your retirement portfolio is riding out the market shocks so far. Agree with her that it is very important to care about this stuff. Either she'll be comforted or she'll be so uncomfortable with talking openly about money that she'll change the subject. Either way, you can read whatever you want to read in peace.
Stop the insanity,
The Sophist
Direct your questions to The Sophist, at indignity@indignity.net.
WEATHER REVIEWS
New York City, May 26, 2025
★★★★★ The holiday stretched out under a sky so clean and bright that being indoors brought on a sort of frantic desire for escape. High overhead an egret flapped white wings as luminous as the clouds. Bricks that had lost their beige paint made an unreadable code on a high wall. The breeze coming up Columbus Avenue smelled of distant open water. Outside Barney Greengrass the tables were full and people were standing around to wait. Basswood leaves made pale ruffles overhead. A woman remarked out loud how important it was to be out in the nice days before the rains came back, the way they'd come in the rainy summer of 2019, "right before the world got fucked up." In the Park, people were setting up to barbecue and couples were twining on the grass. The turf of the North Meadow was plush underfoot. Kids tossed a football behind the backstop while older adults played softball. A butterfly flickered over an overgrown patch on the way to the Conservatory Garden. The plantings were luridly intense in the light; the parts of the fountain bronzes not immediately caught in the spray were baked dry. Pairs of dragonflies flew locked together low over the surface of the Meer. The cormorants were near invisible standing black in the shade on their rock by the island, despite their size. Stepping from the sunny black-paved path into the shadows by the Loch was like going through a door into an air-conditioned lobby.
EASY LISTENING DEP'T.
HERE IS TODAY'S Indignity Morning Podcast!
Tom Scocca
Click on this box to find the Indignity Morning Podcast archive.
TOM SCOCCA
SANDWICH RECIPES DEP'T.
WE PRESENT INSTRUCTIONS in aid of the assembly of sandwiches selected from The new Annie Dennis Cook Book, by Annie E. Dennis, published in 1921, and now available at archive.org for the delectation of all.
Lobster Sandwiches
Pound the flesh of a freshly boiled lobster to a smooth paste, adding, while pounding, a sufficient seasoning of salt, pepper, and pounded mace; moisten with a little warmed butter and mix thoroughly. Spread the preparation between some small, daintily prepared croutons and mask the top with thick bechamel sauce.
If you decide to prepare and attempt to enjoy a sandwich inspired by this offering, be sure to send a picture to indignity@indignity.net.
