In ‘‘Thank You and You’re Welcome,” a book handed out at concerts, West and J. Sakiya Sandifer turn the producer⁄rapper’s infamous arrogance (he prefers ‘‘self-confidence”) into a motivational tool, with moderate success. He gives some good advice and coins a few catch-phrases — I can see it now, the 2010 ‘‘Believe In Your Flyness, Conquer Your Shyness” Tour, complete with a faux feud between West and Dr. Phil to boost ticket sales.

In fact, there are more than enough good things about ‘‘Thank You and You’re Welcome” to talk about. The idea is an interesting twist on self-help. The layout is bright and vibrant without being hard on the eyes and the book is easy to read. It will probably be hailed by more than a few critics as an important tool to help inspire ‘‘urban” youth.

But like West says in the book, ‘‘You can learn more from a critique than a compliment!”

Though West makes a few good points about the importance of high self-esteem and looking for the proverbial silver lining, he drifts into borderline rants, trying to defend himself for various things he’s done in the past. It’s fine to want to justify your actions, but when you’re trying to give people advice, it’s best to keep the self-important bravado to a minimum.

In a section called ‘‘The Best Sees the Best,” West displays his mastery of the backdoor compliment. Before getting to the point — ‘‘the importance of surrounding yourself with energy that supports your goals” — he spends some time talking about his own ability to recognize the best in others (hence, he himself is among the best) and that’s a ‘‘testament of [his] taste level.”

More importantly, he clings to a sort of semi-literate theme throughout the book. In the second sentence of the book’s dedication, he makes a joke by correcting his own grammar (‘‘me and Sakiya wrapped it up ... I mean ... Sakiya and I”). But by the end of the page he’s compared his 52-page coffee-table piece to the ‘‘super long novels” he ‘‘didn’t choose to read” like ‘‘The Secret”— which, at a whopping 198 pages, would stump any of West’s fans or peers, or so he implies.

Instead, he said, ‘‘I wanted this book to sound like me. I wanted this book 2 sound like a real person.”

West completely forgets to finish a sentence in one glaring instance. And if he’s trying to write in his own voice, it comes across pretty whiny.

‘‘For whatever reason, after he got signed, he chose not to buy any beats from me,” West wrote about an artist who snubbed him after working with him in the studio. ‘‘In the midst of being completely heartbroken, and I know that sounds soft, but you just don’t understand!”

...and that’s it! Nothing happened in the midst of West’s heartbreak. That idea gets left hanging as he goes on to explain that he was so sad because he had worked hard on those beats, ‘‘AND [he] had already started putting leather coats on lay-away.”

‘‘Sometimes it takes a little polishing to truly shine,” the book reads. Sandifer and West should have polished ‘‘Thank You and You’re Welcome” a little longer. The heart of the book is there, but there’s still some junk that doesn’t let it shine the way it could. Thank you for the book, you’re welcome to try again in a year or two.

(Author’s note: West’s concert at the Nissan Pavilion on May 10 was amazing.)