BY JON CARROLL for most of us who read, the bestseller lists are a strange mixture of the utterly familiar (books reviewed in every supplement; books by old anchormen or young cartoonists; crossover novels by Amy Tan or Toni Morrison; and potboilers by the eternally prolific Clive Clancy Ludlum) and the entirely strange (the books purchased by people who do not read the other books, the novels from another planet and the self-help books from entire spiritual upheavals that have barely penetrated our literary radar). For every "Alias Grace" there is a "Conversations With God," for every "Dilbert Principle" there is a "Make the Connection." It is my plan here, from time to time, to read the books that no one is talking about, those bewildering books that have moved mountains and purchased yachts, and then tell you what I've found. As of this writing, "Chicken Soup for the Soul" has spent 140 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list. It is such an elderly bestseller that it contains an inspirational story ("Make It Come True") featuring that can-do guy O.J. Simpson. In fact, Nicole Brown Simpson was still alive when this book made it on to the list. That seems impressive until you compare it to "The Road Less Traveled" by M. Scott Peck, which first achieved listdom during the latter years of the Reagan administration. "Chicken Soup for the Soul" is subtitled "101 Stories to Open the Heart and Rekindle the Spirit." This is not strictly true. The book starts with narratives, but soon wanders off into original poetry, extended versions of old jokes and lists — lots of lists. "Chicken Soup for the Soul" resembles nothing so much as a collection of unsolicited e-mail — a purchase would amount to self-spamming. Essentially, the book is a greatest hits album for motivational speakers. The two listed authors, Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen, contacted their colleagues in the inspirational seminar business, and the colleagues responded with their most surefire routines — like the tale of Felix Mendelssohn's humpbacked grandfather. "Chicken Soup for the Soul" was only the first of what now appears to be a cottage industry — "Chicken Soup for the Soul for Women," another collection, is also on the bestseller list (10 weeks), and the "Chicken Soup for the Soul Cookbook" is also available. The entire five-page contributors list at the back of the book is a frantic network of cross-promotion; videotapes, audiotapes, books, posters, bumperstickers, you name it. Many of the inspirational stories are about motivational speakers and how they achieved success. The transitive verb "to keynote" figures often in these tales, as in "he keynoted the conference." These are the names of the seminars led by the contributors to this book: "Tough-minded Management," "Prosperity Consciousness," "You Were Born Rich," "Self-esteem and Peak Performance," "I x V = R (Imagination with Vividness Become Reality)." Here's what you'll find a lot of in this book: crippled children, rare blood diseases, people taking time out to say "I love you," executive vice presidents, wise-cracking athletes, wise and calm old people, fund-raising techniques. Here's a sample of the prose in the book: "The startled boy started to sob and sob, and he couldn't stop crying. His whole body shook. He looked up at his father and said through his tears, 'I was planning on committing suicide tomorrow, Dad, because I didn't think you loved me. Now I don't need to.'" Because "chicken soup" is, historically, a specifically Jewish panacea, I decided to count the number of times the word "Jewish" appeared in the book. I also looked for mentions of Jesus, Mohammed, African-American (or its variants), gay, God, sex and anvil — "anvil" was the control word. "Jewish" appears not at all, although among the contributors are a Shapiro and a Cohen. Jesus and Mohammed don't make it either, although God (or "the Lord" or, surprisingly, "Y*W*H") rates a dozen mentions. "Gay" is not mentioned, although "sex" does rear its lovely head from time to time, mostly as a topic for seminars. And, although "African-American" does not appear, sundry code words ("ghetto," "slums" and "Harlem") pop up with some frequency. The ghetto is a place that you have enough belief in yourself to leave (if you're there), or that you deliver turkey dinners to (if you're not). So who is buying this book? Who is reading it? Is it evidence of a deep spiritual malaise combined with an equally deep spiritual cluelessness? I think so. This book comes from the same world as disease-of-the-week TV movies, Hallmark cards, oil paintings of seascapes found in better motels and Clinton's second Inaugural speech. It exists in a comforting imaginary world without ethnicity or pain — a mechanistic world where everything makes sense, has a meaning, teaches a lesson. I think it's used by camp counselors, middle managers, lay preachers and confused parents who are called on to explain something which cannot be explained, to offer canned hope because the fresh stuff is not available. This book provides the wan, temporary solace of a Duraflame log. What's sad is that so many people think that's sufficient. Mostly, then, this book is the secular equivalent of a prayer breakfast. It creates an island of warm emotions and calls it common ground. These stories, and the seminars that produce them, are the spiritual arm of the corporate culture. They are vague and bland the way a memo is vague and bland; they provide uplift but not underpinnings. By the end of the book, I felt oddly as though I had been listening to pious speeches at a testimonial dinner for a Mafia don. The most problematical figure is co-author Mark Victor Hansen, described in the author's bio as "a big man with a big heart and big spirit." In one of the stories, he tells the tale of a 13-year-old Girl Scout who sells cookies with such pathological avarice that none can deny her. Hansen presents her as a model of healthy motivation. In another, Hansen claims to have cured a child of terminal leukemia by having an audience of believers chant "Yes! Yes! Yes!" Hansen's 800 number is thoughtfully listed, should you yourself be troubled with unwanted metastasization. Have you read "Chicken Soup for the Soul"? Do you have an explanation for its runaway success? Join Jon Carroll in Table Talk and talk amongst yourselves.