Review: Lessons on Living, by Nigel Latta

When Nigel Latta passed away recently, he left behind a gift – Lessons on Living. His latest book was released on the exact same day as his passing, a day also now associated with how to live.

The psychologist and broadcaster lived much of his life according to three simple principles. And they always served him well. But when he was told he may only have months to live, Latta’s personal toolkit was put to the ultimate test.

‘How can a little mental toolkit built from three fairly simple ideas compete with death?’ he writes. ‘How can words and abstract ideas have any hope of standing against that?’ On the next line, Latta answers his question with trademark simplicity.

‘They can.’

Having held up under the toughest of circumstances, Latta decided his approach was worth sharing. Yet Lessons on Living is more than a self-help book. Delving into his eventful life, he shows us how he found a way through life’s ups and downs – especially during the turbulence of cancer.

His final challenge left him little choice, he says, but to contemplate his life journey. ‘… when you get a diagnosis of incurable cancer, it pretty much punches you in the face over and over until the only way out is to do some reflecting on your life.’

And what a life he led. After growing up in Oamaru – ‘as boring as boring can be’ – Latta set out to find the road less travelled, seeking as many ‘wonders and horrors’ as he could find. ‘I wanted to see the far edges of it all, the extremes that exist in the world, life and death, and everything in between … and I have.’

Latta artfully colours his many yarns with evocative details. Describing a session with a prisoner, he writes: ‘The guy was old, in his late sixties, with leathery skin and fingers stained yellow, lacquered with alternating layers of tobacco and ill intent.’

As Latta walks us through his principles for living, blending in extraordinary life moments – from grappling with a violent foster care child to making a television show in Antarctica – he has a knack for making concepts seem simple. Wisdom, he says, needs to be easy to carry. ‘That’s what this book is all about: pocket-sized wisdom for every conceivable conundrum you could find yourself in, and that will also help you to get the right compass bearings for every mountain you decide you want to climb.’

Latta says there’s always a small space between something happening … and what we do next. The trick is to notice that space and make intentional choices in the moment. Essentially, in Latta’s words, to drive the bus – principle number one. Then he wants us to focus on the things we can control – to lock in on the thoughts and actions that add to our life. Thirdly, he points out that it always takes a team. ‘Anyone who thinks they are where they are solely because of what they alone did is foolish, and arrogant, and wrong,’ he says, going on to detail what it takes to create effective teams.

It all makes for a life-affirming read, Latta making light of even the toughest subjects. ‘Not today Death, you sooty old rooster, not today,’ he writes in the chapter: Optimism is a Superpower. Metaphors are a superpower too; there are ducks, a cheese grater, and black balloons.

Most of us apparently drag around black balloons – messages from prior experiences that bob about and try to tell us who we are and what we can and cannot do. Surprisingly, a young Latta used to carry around a black balloon that said: People don’t like you.

He eventually managed to shake the black balloon by putting his psychological training into practice – learning to consciously act as if he believed people found him likeable and interesting. No doubt the nation’s fondness for him also helped him banish the erroneous notion.

In the final chapters, Latta gives a blow-by-blow description of his walk with cancer. Tears, fears and misplaced anger are laid bare. But in his darkest moments, he works his toolkit, one so easy to remember it can be summed up in a single sentence: ‘I climb back into the driver’s seat, I focus on the things I can control – my thoughts and actions – and I lean on my team.’ And his principles make all the difference. ‘In truth, without them I don’t know how I would have got through all this.’

Latta leaves one final gift – ‘the last enduring truth’ – concluding: ‘There is only one metric that really matters when we measure ourselves against the way we’ve chosen to live our lives:

‘In the end … there is only love.’

Vale Nigel Latta. You were indeed beloved by the nation.