The Age of Narcissus

He didn’t fall in love with himself. He fell into the silence of a reflection that never spoke back.

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We were told it was vanity. That the myth warned us against self-obsession. What if it was never about beauty? What if the real danger was misrecognition? The subtle violence of mistaking imitation for essence, charisma for coherence, applause for alignment?

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The Age of Narcissus begins where most leadership books end: at the edge of collapse. In an era obsessed with performance, the mask has become indistinguishable from the face. Institutions rehearse humility while cultivating spectacle. Influence is measured in metrics, not meaning. The echo grows louder than the signal.

 

Some leaders sense it. They’ve built careers on projection: crafted, strategic, frictionless. But late at night, or in the space between meetings, something flickers. A growing dissonance. A fatigue that no keynote can fix. They are followed by admiration, but untouched by dialogue. Surrounded by noise, yet increasingly alone. The system still praises them, but they no longer believe it.

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This book is for those standing at that threshold.

 

Drawing from ancient myths, fractured regimes, and the sterile glow of modern boardrooms, The Age of Narcissus does not offer comfort. It offers recognition. In these opening chapters, Narcissus is no longer a fable, but a structure, alive in our leadership, baked into our culture, rewarded by our systems. What collapses in the myth is the illusion that feedback was ever real.

 

What remains when the mirror shatters?

 

There are leaders who continue the performance until it breaks them. And then there are a few, very few, who walk away from the mask and begin to build something else entirely.

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The first stones are cold. The silence is unfamiliar. But the foundation holds.

You may not want to read this book. But if you’ve ever wondered whether the applause is getting quieter, you already need to.