Fifty pages into Jordan Peterson’s new book, Beyond Order, I called the Financial Times books editor. I don’t think we ought to review this, I said. I explained that the author had suffered three years of emotional and physical hell, which he dispassionately catalogues in the book’s introduction. He’d become addicted to an anti-anxiety drug, which he started taking after he drank some apple cider that didn’t agree with him. He’d tried to come off the drug, had been suicidal and diagnosed with schizophrenia — after which he flew to Moscow against his doctors’ orders to a hospital where they put him in a coma for nine days to help with the detox, after which he had to relearn how to walk. He ended up in a rehab clinic in Serbia — and contracted Covid-19. Over those same three years, his wife nearly died of cancer, and he had to deal with the stress of going from being an obscure Canadian psychology professor to a global sensation doing a 160-stop world tour and being watched by 200-m...

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