The Wisdom of Finance is a book that certainly promises a lot. What lessons can we glean from the academic discipline of finance that will help us lead better everyday lives? In turn, what can examples from art, philosophy, literature, or film provide to help us understand our economic relationships better? Indeed, any volume that manages to conflate in a compelling way the truth and beauty of the humanities with the practical realities of managing financial opportunities would seem to be a noble and intoxicating venture.
And yet, that is not quite what has happened here. Unfortunately, despite the best intentions and considerable erudition that Mihir Desai brings to the project, I found some elements of the book’s development to be too flawed to get past. Starting with the premise that finance can be separated into either asset pricing or corporate finance applications, the author divides the analysis into chapters focusing on a different economic topic—such as diversification, the capital asset pricing model, the use of leverage, or principal-agent problems—that he explains in lay terms while “illuminating” them with fictional and real-life anecdotes.
A recurring problem with this approach is that these illuminations from the humanities are often stretched beyond reason. For instance, the notion that the main character in Herman Melville’s Bartleby, the Scrivener sinks into inaction because he had too much “optionality” in his life is a tortured interpretation, at best. (Incidentally, Bartleby was employed by a law firm and had nothing to do with finance.) Also, the metaphor the author uses to explain the institution of marriage as equivalent to a corporate merger is of limited usefulness beyond explaining the behavior of an extremely small number of families who lived during the Italian Renaissance or the Hapsburg dynasty. Finally, using Lucy’s “muddle” in A Room With a View (i.e., being true to oneself versus satisfying society’s expectations) is a highly questionable example of a principal-agent conflict.
More troubling, though, are the places in the book where the author also gets the economics wrong. Two passages stand out in that regard. First, the discussion of high-beta assets being “…not highly valued because of their limited diversification value” is simply not correct. As a measure of an asset’s systematic risk, beta is calculated as the ratio of the total volatility of the asset and the total volatility of the market, which is then multiplied by the correlation between them. That is, an asset can only have a high beta (i.e., greater than 1.0) if its volatility ratio exceeds 1.0, irrespective of its correlation level. However, this fact did not support the author’s suggestion that we need to deemphasize the high-beta people in our lives because they do not diversify our personal portfolios.
A second inexplicable error occurs near the end of the book when the author tries to reconcile the existence of nefarious and seemingly insatiable characters, such as Gordon Gecko in the film Wall Street or Eric Packer from Don DeLillo’s novel Cosmopolis, with what he sees as the true wisdom in finance. To support his notion that greed is not inherent in the discipline, he describes the concept of the diminishing marginal utility of wealth as follows: “Beneath all of finance is this underlying idea: the pursuit of more will yield less and less. And any expectation other than that is not consistent with the ideas of finance. The game of accumulation is one that will leave one less and less satisfied as one gains more and more.” That interpretation of what he calls the “bedrock idea of finance” is so egregiously wrong that it is truly shocking to have come from an economist of the author’s stature. Diminishing marginal utility refers to a situation in which each additional dollar you acquire makes you better off than before, but at a decreasing rate. So, if you achieved, say, 100 units of satisfaction from the last dollar you received, the next dollar would only increase your happiness by 99 units. Clearly, though, you would still have the incentive to acquire more or more dollars because you would still be better off when you do. I suspect that Desai actually understands this but, once again, an accurate portrayal of finance theory would not have been consistent with the argument he wants to make.
I suppose it is worth noting that this is a book that I really wanted to love. Simply recognizing that finance is a topic inextricably linked to everything we do in life is a valuable enterprise to undertake. In fact, the author succeeds in his goals in many ways; his non-technical explanations of the corporate finance topics are very good and the link he creates between the financial topic of leverage and the commitments we make in our lives (e.g., friendships, marriage, having children) is a profound and useful way to look at the world. I only wish that that the entire volume had risen to that level.