I would rather play golf than read about it. That being said, there are certain times when playing golf is impossible, such as while at work, or while driving to the golf course. This book is ideal for those times.
Much like my golf game, Kingdom starts strong. The opening holes describe Burningbush, a fictional Scottish dunes course that will resonate with lovers of the game as a close spiritual relative of Troon or St. Andrews. There by chance, a young American protagonist shares a round with the mystical golf shaman Shivas Irons. The youngster fancies himself with the stick, placing high expectations on himself to turn in a cheeky low score before departing. His chutzpah is quickly tested on the windy links and his game spirals out of control with every attempt he makes to win back shots. As his high hopes for his game diminish so does his facade as a handy golfer. Herein lies a lesson known to any lover of the game - that while a course may present us with many obstacles, the largest one to our success in the game is ourselves. By presenting us with this message, Murphy is also suggesting that this lesson applies not only to golf, but also to life. This is important to all golfers as life seems to be a necessary, if not slightly superfluous feature of golf.
Like a long par 4 that you can never quite make in regulation, the book trails on for a while. This is owing to a heavy explanation of the spirituality inherent to the game. At times I have experienced transcendental spiritual episodes on the course, and I relate to some of the zen like philosophy espoused by Murphy. I have searched in deep thickets for a stolen range ball only to return with a Titleist Pro V1 and pondered what universal force of nature caused such an immaculate transformation. In spite of my own experience, I struggled with this part of the book, feeling that Murphy had played a bit of a slice on a dogleg left, where a hook would have been more appropriate. Like fresh slacks from the pro-shop and a glistening white cart bag, spirituality will only take one so far on the course. Eventually one has to concede that natural talent and a lack of daytime commitments are the central components of golf course success.
That is not to say I did not enjoy Murphy's zen framework, I just felt he shot through the green with the philosophy. I ran into a similar issue with Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I agree to a certain extent that mechanical work might take on a consuming and enlightening sense of sublime experience, but at some point even the most Buddhist of mechanics must uncross his legs, stop humming, and fix the motorcycle. I have been to a number of Buddhist temples on my own travels, and have never recognised in any of them a suitable range or practice net to work on my driving. (As a sidenote I have not been to Japan, and I believe the zen rock/sand gardens would provide adequate facility to those looking at improving bunker play.)
In spite of its heavy application of philosophy, this book is by no means a flop shot. It has sold over one million copies, and this is in part due to its touching on a spiritual element of golf that is felt by anyone that has ever struck a ball or sunk a putt. It is also in part due to the fact that golfers will purchase anything that has even a vague promise of improving their game. However, don't judge a player by one scorecard. Golf in the Kingdom goes into the club house with more pars than birdies, but there are a few ugly bogeys along the way. Read it if you love golf.