It feels odd reviewing a book on pure spirituality, especially one that is a record of utterances by a man universally acclaimed as a saint-like figure - no ego trips, no wine and women in the temple basement, no hoarded or blown monies, no controversy, simple as that. Somehow I don't view this as just another book on my shelf for me to judge. But as it's important to me I'll say a few words.
Personally I have no problem with religions and their teachings. Some I like more than others, of course, but I don't recoil and knee-jerkedly react when the subject of religion is brought up. I understand these responses, however; religion is a perennially hot button topic that just gets hotter and hotter, and it's virtually impossible to ignore it, and so many of religions' spokespeople are such insufferable boneheads and bores, and unfortunately these boneheads and bores often have ridiculous amounts of clout.
I don't go in for institutionalized religions. For one thing most of them seem like little more than products of human fancy and imagination and mythologizing run rampant. But often this fancy and imagination (and rioting human reason justifying its own fancies) often makes it impossible to get to the pure heart of a particular religion. Jesus may've been a spiritually realized soul of infinite humility and compassion, but you wouldn't know that when encountering brill-cremed bediamonded grinning hucksters at the television pulpit.
So I go in for spiritual teachings not too overrun with stuck-on mythologies and fancies and egocentric perpetuators, such as Zen and a form of mental yoga by the name of Advaita so purely exemplified by Sri Ramana Maharshi. No gods, priests, or teachers if you don't want them. Both are spirtitual practices that are freely available to any misfit fool looking for something else.
The basic teaching of Advaita is that we are not our minds and bodies, and there are different mental methods available to help one come close to realizing this. Sometimes the methods can feel like post-modern literary tricks (of the self-reflective variety), especially when one is advised to ask simply "Who am I?", and then as soon as one answers to ask "Well then who is answering?" and so on and so on like two parallel mirrors reflecting each other until one's mind is blown. (There's actually an hilarious novel by Harry Mathews that exemplifies this called The Journalist - highly recommended) At other times this method appears very similar to Guy Debord's theory of the Society as Spectacle, as when Maharshi uses the example of the physical world as a movie screen, and even the thoughts in one's head as existing on this movie screen; but it's all in the effort to help us realize that nothing we can see or even think is who we are, which for me helps restore a tremendous mystery to existence itself while at the same time lightening my personal load.