I have two rules for a great book: make me think and make me

The words of Adam Grant shine with clarity and balance: “I have two rules for a great book: make me think and make me smile.” Though spoken in the age of modern learning, they echo truths as old as the written word. For what is a book if not a vessel that carries the wisdom of the mind and the warmth of the heart? To think is to ascend toward the heights of reason, and to smile is to descend into the depths of joy. A great work must do both, lifting the spirit even as it sharpens the intellect.

To demand that a book make us think is to honor the noble purpose of literature: the awakening of the mind. From the clay tablets of Mesopotamia to the scrolls of Alexandria, humanity has treasured texts that challenge assumptions, broaden horizons, and stir the imagination. A book that does not make us think is like a lamp without flame—it may have form, but it cannot give light. Thus, Grant’s first rule belongs to the lineage of the philosophers and the prophets, who knew that true reading is not passive consumption but an act of wrestling with truth.

Yet he does not stop with thought. He adds the second rule: that a great book must also make us smile. Here he reminds us that wisdom without joy becomes brittle, and knowledge without delight becomes a burden. The smile is the sign that a work has not only instructed but also nourished, that it has touched the soul in a way that is human and tender. Ancient storytellers knew this well: Aesop’s fables carried lessons for the mind, but their charm brought laughter to the lips. The wisdom endured precisely because it was clothed in delight.

History gives us a perfect mirror in the life of Marcus Tullius Cicero, the Roman orator. He was famed for his treatises on law and philosophy, which stirred the intellects of his time. But he also cherished humor and wit, often weaving them into his speeches and letters. Cicero understood that the balance of thinking and smiling was the key to persuasion and to wisdom itself. The people remembered not only the force of his arguments but also the lightness of his tone. Grant’s two rules, therefore, are not modern inventions but eternal guides.

The deeper meaning here is that a book must engage the whole person. It must challenge the mind, awaken critical reflection, and broaden vision. Yet it must also honor the heart, offering warmth, amusement, and the joy of recognition. To think without smiling is to risk becoming cold; to smile without thinking is to remain shallow. A great work weaves the two into harmony, creating a tapestry that uplifts both mind and spirit.

The lesson for us is clear: in our reading, in our writing, and indeed in our living, we should seek this same balance. Do not settle only for that which entertains, nor only for that which instructs. Choose paths, companions, and works that both sharpen your mind and gladden your heart. When you create—whether through words, deeds, or relationships—let it be said that you gave others reason to think and reason to smile.

Therefore, let us walk with this wisdom: honor the power of thought, but do not neglect the gift of joy. Read deeply, write truthfully, and live in such a way that your presence, like a great book, becomes both a teacher and a friend. For if you can make others think and make them smile, you will leave behind a legacy more enduring than ink on paper—you will leave behind the memory of a soul that awakened both the mind and the heart.

Thus, Adam Grant’s simple words stand as a timeless teaching. A book that endures, like a life well lived, must strike both chords: the serious and the joyful, the thoughtful and the tender. To think is to grow, to smile is to live; and together, they form the essence of all that is truly great.