Review of The Unfakeable Code®
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Lyn Biyaki
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Review of The Unfakeable Code®
[Following is a volunteer review of "The Unfakeable Code®" by Tony Jeton Selimi.]
There’s a moment in *The Unfakeable Code®* where Tony Jeton Selimi describes a client—famous, wealthy, outwardly fulfilled—who, in a quiet session, admits he doesn’t know who he is without the persona he performs. That moment could have been lifted straight from *Living My Illusion*, the documentary Selimi co-created, and in some ways, the book and the film feel like twin mirrors reflecting the same uncomfortable truth: success, as we’re taught to pursue it, often has little to do with freedom. What Selimi does in this book, though, is turn that realization into a method—not just to diagnose the illusion but to walk us back to something real. And in doing so, he calls out one of modern self-help’s biggest paradoxes: the more we “fake it till we make it,” the more we drift from our authentic selves.
It’s a risky message in a culture where curated personas and hustle affirmations are practically gospel. But that’s exactly where Selimi finds his strength. He doesn’t offer soothing inspiration. He offers clarity. And for me, one of the most striking themes running through the book is how often people chase professional success while simultaneously abandoning their internal truth. In the chapter that ties closely with Principle #4—“Liberate Your Being”—Selimi lays it bare: success built on compensation for unworthiness is just another prison. It’s a bold stance, especially since he critiques much of traditional self-help in the process. I’ll admit, as someone who’s underlined a few “manifest your dream life” quotes in the past, I felt slightly called out. But I didn’t feel dismissed. There’s a difference.
Where the book really lands, in my opinion, is when Selimi peels back the layers of self-betrayal. Not in some theoretical or clinical sense, but through deeply human stories—both his own and his clients’. You don’t need to be a public figure or CEO to recognize the exhaustion of performing success while quietly unraveling. The stories are piercing not because they’re dramatic, but because they’re familiar. The woman who keeps smiling through burnout. The man who achieves everything on his checklist but can’t shake the ache of something missing. And while Selimi critiques performance culture, he also provides a scaffold for moving beyond it. His emphasis on values—real ones, not Instagram-friendly ones—and inner alignment gives the book a practical, almost architectural quality.
Still, I think it’s fair to say that readers who genuinely enjoy traditional self-help might feel a bit jarred. Selimi doesn’t hold back in his criticism of “positivity culture” or the idea that thinking good thoughts is enough to transform your life. There were a few sections where I caught myself thinking, “Okay, but not everyone is ready to go this deep, this fast.” The book can be intense. And while I appreciated the depth, I wonder if more bridges could’ve been built between conventional motivation and his deeper, sometimes spiritual framework. A little more gentleness in those critiques might have opened the door wider for skeptical readers.
But then again, maybe that intensity is the point. Maybe we’ve all had enough diluted advice. Selimi’s book doesn’t pander to comfort—it points to what it costs us. And I think that’s why I kept reading. Because even when I didn’t fully agree with the delivery, I couldn’t deny the truth in the message. When success becomes a costume, and when freedom starts to feel performative, something’s gone missing. *The Unfakeable Code®* doesn’t just name that loss—it offers a way back. For that, I’m giving it 5 out of 5 stars. It’s not a cheerleader. It’s a call to come home. And in today’s world, that feels a lot more valuable.
******
The Unfakeable Code®
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon | on iTunes
There’s a moment in *The Unfakeable Code®* where Tony Jeton Selimi describes a client—famous, wealthy, outwardly fulfilled—who, in a quiet session, admits he doesn’t know who he is without the persona he performs. That moment could have been lifted straight from *Living My Illusion*, the documentary Selimi co-created, and in some ways, the book and the film feel like twin mirrors reflecting the same uncomfortable truth: success, as we’re taught to pursue it, often has little to do with freedom. What Selimi does in this book, though, is turn that realization into a method—not just to diagnose the illusion but to walk us back to something real. And in doing so, he calls out one of modern self-help’s biggest paradoxes: the more we “fake it till we make it,” the more we drift from our authentic selves.
It’s a risky message in a culture where curated personas and hustle affirmations are practically gospel. But that’s exactly where Selimi finds his strength. He doesn’t offer soothing inspiration. He offers clarity. And for me, one of the most striking themes running through the book is how often people chase professional success while simultaneously abandoning their internal truth. In the chapter that ties closely with Principle #4—“Liberate Your Being”—Selimi lays it bare: success built on compensation for unworthiness is just another prison. It’s a bold stance, especially since he critiques much of traditional self-help in the process. I’ll admit, as someone who’s underlined a few “manifest your dream life” quotes in the past, I felt slightly called out. But I didn’t feel dismissed. There’s a difference.
Where the book really lands, in my opinion, is when Selimi peels back the layers of self-betrayal. Not in some theoretical or clinical sense, but through deeply human stories—both his own and his clients’. You don’t need to be a public figure or CEO to recognize the exhaustion of performing success while quietly unraveling. The stories are piercing not because they’re dramatic, but because they’re familiar. The woman who keeps smiling through burnout. The man who achieves everything on his checklist but can’t shake the ache of something missing. And while Selimi critiques performance culture, he also provides a scaffold for moving beyond it. His emphasis on values—real ones, not Instagram-friendly ones—and inner alignment gives the book a practical, almost architectural quality.
Still, I think it’s fair to say that readers who genuinely enjoy traditional self-help might feel a bit jarred. Selimi doesn’t hold back in his criticism of “positivity culture” or the idea that thinking good thoughts is enough to transform your life. There were a few sections where I caught myself thinking, “Okay, but not everyone is ready to go this deep, this fast.” The book can be intense. And while I appreciated the depth, I wonder if more bridges could’ve been built between conventional motivation and his deeper, sometimes spiritual framework. A little more gentleness in those critiques might have opened the door wider for skeptical readers.
But then again, maybe that intensity is the point. Maybe we’ve all had enough diluted advice. Selimi’s book doesn’t pander to comfort—it points to what it costs us. And I think that’s why I kept reading. Because even when I didn’t fully agree with the delivery, I couldn’t deny the truth in the message. When success becomes a costume, and when freedom starts to feel performative, something’s gone missing. *The Unfakeable Code®* doesn’t just name that loss—it offers a way back. For that, I’m giving it 5 out of 5 stars. It’s not a cheerleader. It’s a call to come home. And in today’s world, that feels a lot more valuable.
******
The Unfakeable Code®
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon | on iTunes
