These internal contradictions typify The Celestine Prophecy's overall sloppiness. Apart from its crude pseudo-science, its lazy caricatures of machinegun toting Latin American troops, and its indistinguishable characters mouthing wooden dialogue and kindergarten economics while observing each other "with regard," Redfield's book implodes under the slipshod presentation of his self-contradictory message.

Then there's the matter of the form in the back of the book. For $20 you get his newsletter. For $50 Redfield will personally record an audio tape — just for you! — analyzing your unique astrological aspects within the context of his Insights. Redfield accepts check or credit card — but makes no provisions for paying him with your own energy or insights. At least not in my edition. What gives? I read the book. My energy can't be all that bad. I glow nice.

Since the book's success, Redfield has squeezed every penny from the sequel gravy train. Warner has released a Tenth Insight and Eleventh Insight, and some other books expanding on Redfield's Insights. There's even a Pocket Guide to the Nine Insights for readers who find his dummied-down first book too intellectually taxing.

Of course, nothing I say can dampen The Celestine Prophecy's popularity, because its appeal is not based on significant or original insights, but on making its core fan base feel good. It tells its readers exactly what they want to hear about themselves and their future. Not that there's anything wrong with enjoying a fantasy (however crudely written), but pity those who read the Celestine series for real spiritual insight.