Count Alexander von Schoenburg knows what he writes about: his noble lineage has been growing poorer for five centuries. The author proves cleverly and persuasively that you don’t have to spend a lot of money on clothes, a house, or a car. Your quality of life improves with the right attitude toward the so-called priorities, and true luxury lies not in possessing many things, but in having the ability to refuse the unnecessary. Count von Schoenburg’s book is a protest against the mania of consumerism and a story about learning to be happy when your wallet is almost empty.
The writer Schoenburg is cheerful and not talentless. In essence, his book consists of twisting simple truths: you don’t need to eat in restaurants—at home the food is tastier; you don’t have to do fitness in a club—just run up and down the stairs a couple of times a day.
Schoenburg’s expanded essay is certainly therapy—not psychological, but social. Something like: look, we have a count who lives poorly, shops for ready-made clothes, and takes his children to kindergarten himself.