Review of The Unfakeable Code®
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Albert Okwoyo 1
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Review of The Unfakeable Code®
[Following is a volunteer review of "The Unfakeable Code®" by Tony Jeton Selimi.]
There’s something refreshing about reading a book that doesn’t tell you how to fix yourself, but instead dares you to unearth who you’ve been all along. *The Unfakeable Code®* by Tony Jeton Selimi isn’t your typical self-help manifesto. It doesn’t hand you a to-do list for success or whisper hollow affirmations in your ear. Instead, it extends a mirror. Not a soft, flattering one—but a clean, uncomfortable mirror that invites you to sit with yourself, masks off. From the opening chapters, where Tony recounts moments of emotional nakedness—from surviving war and homelessness to navigating boardrooms—it’s clear that this book asks a lot more from you than passive consumption. It asks for your honesty. And I think that’s what makes it so different.
At its core, the book is an excavation project. Tony talks about the “unfakeable self” as the version of us that exists underneath the layers: underneath the child molded by parental expectations, the adult performing roles at work, the friend, the lover, the social media user playing to invisible crowds. According to him, every fake smile, every people-pleasing decision, and every moment of silent self-betrayal is a veil. And living with all those veils on? It’s suffocating. I can say with confidence that this idea—of not needing to become anything but rather remembering who you already are—hit harder than I expected. Especially in a world obsessed with reinvention.
But here’s the thing—I won’t lie—Tony doesn’t go easy on the reader. His writing cuts deep. Not in a literary sense, but emotionally. It’s raw and heavy. At times, I felt like I had to put the book down just to breathe. He shares intense personal stories, including ones where he faced rejection, violence, and intense self-doubt. I admired the transparency. It built a sense of trust early on, almost like he was saying, “I’ve been there too.” And that emotional honesty? That’s what I loved most about this book. It felt like a real conversation, not a lecture.
Still, I wonder if some readers might be turned off by that same intensity. Especially those who aren’t used to that kind of introspective work. There’s very little fluff here—no “think positive and move on” advice. This book demands you confront your emotional patterns, your coping mechanisms, your fears. That’s not everyone’s cup of tea. If I were reading this in a particularly rough season of my life, I’m not sure I’d have the bandwidth to handle it.
Tony structures the book around five core principles, each one peeling back another layer of pretense. “To Unmask Yourself Is to Know Thyself” is where he opens the gates, asking readers to look at how often they pretend, even unconsciously. The metaphors he uses—like comparing trust to a Bluetooth connection or fake personas to outdated software—help ground his teachings. They’re vivid and sticky. He tells the story of a client named John, a CEO grappling with addiction and ego-driven leadership, and how shedding those facades helped him heal—not just emotionally, but physically. That kind of storytelling made the concepts feel tangible.
Would I recommend this book? Absolutely. But with a caveat: only if you’re ready to do the work. It’s not a casual weekend read. It’s the kind of book that seeps into your day-to-day thoughts, the kind that nudges you to say “no” more honestly, to stop performing, to show up as you—really you. And yes, I’m giving it 5 out of 5 stars. Not because it’s perfect (it’s intense, sometimes a little too much), but because it’s sincere. And in a genre that’s often full of recycled fluff, sincerity is rare.
******
The Unfakeable Code®
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon | on iTunes
There’s something refreshing about reading a book that doesn’t tell you how to fix yourself, but instead dares you to unearth who you’ve been all along. *The Unfakeable Code®* by Tony Jeton Selimi isn’t your typical self-help manifesto. It doesn’t hand you a to-do list for success or whisper hollow affirmations in your ear. Instead, it extends a mirror. Not a soft, flattering one—but a clean, uncomfortable mirror that invites you to sit with yourself, masks off. From the opening chapters, where Tony recounts moments of emotional nakedness—from surviving war and homelessness to navigating boardrooms—it’s clear that this book asks a lot more from you than passive consumption. It asks for your honesty. And I think that’s what makes it so different.
At its core, the book is an excavation project. Tony talks about the “unfakeable self” as the version of us that exists underneath the layers: underneath the child molded by parental expectations, the adult performing roles at work, the friend, the lover, the social media user playing to invisible crowds. According to him, every fake smile, every people-pleasing decision, and every moment of silent self-betrayal is a veil. And living with all those veils on? It’s suffocating. I can say with confidence that this idea—of not needing to become anything but rather remembering who you already are—hit harder than I expected. Especially in a world obsessed with reinvention.
But here’s the thing—I won’t lie—Tony doesn’t go easy on the reader. His writing cuts deep. Not in a literary sense, but emotionally. It’s raw and heavy. At times, I felt like I had to put the book down just to breathe. He shares intense personal stories, including ones where he faced rejection, violence, and intense self-doubt. I admired the transparency. It built a sense of trust early on, almost like he was saying, “I’ve been there too.” And that emotional honesty? That’s what I loved most about this book. It felt like a real conversation, not a lecture.
Still, I wonder if some readers might be turned off by that same intensity. Especially those who aren’t used to that kind of introspective work. There’s very little fluff here—no “think positive and move on” advice. This book demands you confront your emotional patterns, your coping mechanisms, your fears. That’s not everyone’s cup of tea. If I were reading this in a particularly rough season of my life, I’m not sure I’d have the bandwidth to handle it.
Tony structures the book around five core principles, each one peeling back another layer of pretense. “To Unmask Yourself Is to Know Thyself” is where he opens the gates, asking readers to look at how often they pretend, even unconsciously. The metaphors he uses—like comparing trust to a Bluetooth connection or fake personas to outdated software—help ground his teachings. They’re vivid and sticky. He tells the story of a client named John, a CEO grappling with addiction and ego-driven leadership, and how shedding those facades helped him heal—not just emotionally, but physically. That kind of storytelling made the concepts feel tangible.
Would I recommend this book? Absolutely. But with a caveat: only if you’re ready to do the work. It’s not a casual weekend read. It’s the kind of book that seeps into your day-to-day thoughts, the kind that nudges you to say “no” more honestly, to stop performing, to show up as you—really you. And yes, I’m giving it 5 out of 5 stars. Not because it’s perfect (it’s intense, sometimes a little too much), but because it’s sincere. And in a genre that’s often full of recycled fluff, sincerity is rare.
******
The Unfakeable Code®
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon | on iTunes
