Former FBI agent Joe Navarro delves back into the much-chronicled science of poker tells in the book “Read ‘Em and Reap,” with a little help from the Poker Brat and a set of qualifications for the topic that squashes those of his chief predecessor.

That said, the core of the text was essentially much ado about … well, not quite nothing, but not a whole lot. That’s not to say there isn’t a lesson or two to take away from the book. Navarro is uniquely qualified for the subject and he’s enthusiastic about sharing his views of human behavior and how they translate at the poker table.

Word has it that Navarro was invited to give a speech at one of Phil Hellmuth’s camps, and, his information was so impressive that Hellmuth himself and other grizzled poker veterans such as T.J. Cloutier were captivated enough by his presentation to start scribbling copious notes. Afterward, they gave strong word-of-mouth recommendations about Navarro’s teachings.

Hellmuth lends his name and endorsement to the book, presumably to make an extra buck or two – like he needs the money – and to add a dash of star power to the author’s plight.

Navarro’s teachings probably are similar in a simple way to that of poker tells forefather “Crazy” Mike Caro, whose classic “Book of Tells” remains the seminal authority on the topic. What Caro and Navarro have in common is that their books can reasonably be narrowed down to one useful, powerful lesson:

“Strong means weak, weak means strong,” remains Caro’s most accurate and valuable piece of information to readers. In the former FBI agent’s case, the lesson could be simply stated … pay attention.

You don’t have to read a whole book to absorb this lesson, although it’s a valuable one. Another reviewer said Navarro’s tips were more suited for a flier than a book, and this author agrees. The text gets a little repetitive although the core lesson remains the same.

But this view comes from an author and player who believes tells are overrated. This doesn’t mean they are meaningless, but if you play poker against better-than-novice opponents, it’s rare that you’ll find glaring tells that can add an advantage to your game.

Not that you shouldn’t’ look for them, which harkens back to the basic lesson of paying attention. If you observe that an opponent forcefully pushes his chips into the pot when he has a big hand, but splashes them from eye level when he’s bluffing, then that’s valuable information that you should register and remember when you play against him.

However, if you spend too much time looking for tells at the poker table, you’re going to miss a lot of what’s going on in the game, and this is a bad thing. Navarro estimates that 70 percent of the game is reading people and just 30 percent is about property strategy. I say it’s probably closer to 50-50, but the reading people aspect hinges more on what your opponents do – their betting patterns, frequency of entering pots, etc. -- as opposed to how they move in their seats or how deep they breathe.

Navarro opens the book with an interesting nugget of information about human behavior that he learned from his years in the FBI. Claiming that the feet are the most honest part of the human body, he says people have a natural “fight or flight” response when faced with a conflict, and that their feet will indicate which path they are taking. So if your opponent has a strong hand, Navarro reckons, his feet will either be tapping or wrapped around his chair because he is willing to “fight” and go to battle with his hand.

Which sounds like a nice tip and all, but how practical is it? The next time your opponent raises from under the gun and you look down at pocket queens, what do you do? Rub your eyes, nervously claim that you lost a contact and hit the floor to look at the position of your opponent’s feet? And even if they were tapping wildly, would you still lay down your queens?

That’s where the picture of tells gets murky. They can only take you so far, and you are better off observing your opponents on a broader scale to understand their behavior. The irony of “Read ‘Em and Reap” is provided by Hellmuth, who might be more naturally gifted at reading players than any top-flight player out there and who needs the least amount of help on the topic.

To some degree, teaching people how to read others is tantamount to educating someone on how to be attractive; people either have it or they don’t, and this is something that can only be marginally taught. Hellmuth, coincidentally, also was involved in a televised hand where the basic premise of paying attention would have benefited one of his opponents.

At a 2007 WSOP final table, Brett Richey, a solid young pro who has made a couple of televised tables, opened from early position with pocket kings. I’m often of the belief that it’s never a mistake to refuse to fold this hand pre-flop, but this might have been a rare exception. Behind him, the lovely and (moderately) talented Beth Shak looked down at two aces and re-raised all-in. Behind Shak, Hellmuth peeked down at the other two aces and obnoxiously splashed what few chips he had left into the pot. The raises alone weren’t what should have caught Richey’s attention; the celebrations by Shak and Hellmuth were.

While Richey pondered his decision, Shak walked over to the rail and jiggled another impressive pair while dancing around in front of her husband and an untold number of new male admirers, while verbally exclaiming, “I’ve got it! … I’ve got it!” Meantime, Hellmuth walked over to a crowd that included Phil Ivey and a handful of other pros and declared, “I took me less than half a second to move in … less than half a second! What do you think I have?!”

Aces, maybe? Richey, evidently, wasn’t paying attention. He was asking the dealer to count the pot and doing some sort of calculation, while oblivious to the antics of his opponents. It’s hard to believe he wouldn’t have changed his mind – or at least thought hard about it -- had he witnessed a couple of the most misguided celebrations of all time. In other words, if telling the crowd you have aces isn’t a tell, I don’t know what is. But Richey called anyway and busted out in eighth place.

Would Navarro’s book been of any help in that situation? Well, yes and no. None of Navarro’s in-depth observations of human nature would have come into the play, but the fundamental concept of paying attention would have helped.