A New Year… and an Outrageous Proposition 

(One You Will Almost Certainly Disagree With) 

It wasn’t exactly a New Year’s Resolution. It happened circumstantially. But since the beginning of this year, my three brothers and I have been doing something that we did sporadically in 2025: having Zoom conversations after dinner on Sunday evenings.

One Zooms in from California. Another from Massachusetts. The youngest and I take the call from the Swamp House (in Paradise Palms) at 6:00 pm, after the friends and family (and HF, K’s mom, who’s 93) that gather there every week have caught up with one another and gone back to their homesteads, leaving JF and I alone on the porch with our alcohol and smokes.

The most recent conversation was about something we’d talked about before: the idea of virtue.

Here’s how it played out…

Confessions of a Not-Naturally Early Riser 

I’ve been working late these past several weeks – into the wee hours after midnight. That’s not good, because my best hours are in the morning when I have more energy and a clear head. What is good is that I’m not sleeping late, which is what I would have done in the past. I’m getting up at 5:30 regardless, which gives me the time I need to get some important work done before my quotidian business demands kick in.

To compensate for the lost hours of sleep, I take two half-hour naps during the day. It’s surprising and encouraging to discover that this seems to work.

When I am sleep-deprived, as they say, I have a strong urge to tell my trainers and grappling companions that I’m injured and must postpone exercise until the following day. But these guys know me too well to believe me. “We will start out easy and work up a little sweat,” they say, “then see how we feel.”

After 10 minutes of riding the Airdyne and five minutes of calisthenics, my physical and mental ennui evaporates and I feel – quite miraculously – okay. I then agree to put on a 40-pound weighted vest (to match the 40 pounds of body weight I’ve lost in the last 6 months) and get to the training, which is always some version of brutality… but the sort that leaves you feeling good when you’ve survived.

Today, when I was on the bike, my trainer was listening to some YouTube news channel featuring a young black woman complaining about how she felt victimized by White Privilege, and especially by “Old White Rich Men.” Which left me wondering, “Is she talking about me?”

Why I Do What I Do 

From MH re my Jan. 2 “Predictions” issue: “I’m enjoying your newsletter. I’m glad you took 14 hours to plan your 2026. I started a journal this year with my goals, tasks, and inspirations, and it’s really helpful.”

 

From RT: “I wanted to share something meaningful with you. I recently translated your English Wikipedia page into Bangla so that people in my country can better understand who you are and learn from your work. Your ideas on business, long-term thinking, and sustainable growth resonate deeply with me. While our contexts may differ, I see a strong alignment in how we both value clarity, realism, and impact over hype. Translating your work felt like a small way of giving back and making thoughtful ideas more accessible to Bangla-speaking readers.”

What Does Literary Fiction Have to Do with Figure Skating?

I just read The Last Painting of Sara de Vos by Dominic Smith, this month’s selection for the Mules (my book club). Smith is impressively adept at constructing sentences and in selecting le mot juste. In those regards, he merits A+. But good fiction is more than wordsmithing. It’s about creating stories that not only arrest our attention, capture our imagination, and somehow expand our minds and hearts, but do so in a way that is beautiful.

So how do I rate this book?

Aristotle wrote the foundational treatise on literary criticism with the Poetics, where he defines the essential elements that make a piece of literature work. Though his focus was on drama (tragedy, in particular), I’ve always found it very useful in helping me understand what I like and don’t like about the plays, movies, and other visual media I consume, as well as the books I read.

It is less than perfect, however, in helping me explain how much or how little I like them – which means that I’ve had to come up with my own way to evaluate the recommendations I make on this blog.

I came up with a system that I had great hope for at first – a rating based on the work’s “horizontality” and “verticality.”

Horizontality was about how well it created its fictional world (a time, a place, and a culture).

Verticality was about how well it portrayed – through plot, characterization, and dialog – a deep sense of what a human being is and is capable of being.

These analytical tools have not only been helpful to me in writing my recommendations, they have been helpful during book discussions at our Mules meetings, giving us terms we can use to better communicate our ideas and feelings.

Which gets me back to where I started…

How do I rate The Last Painting of Sara de Vos?

After finishing the book, I had two seemingly incompatible feelings about it.

On the one hand, I was much impressed by the author’s skill as a wordsmith. On the other hand, I felt that the story itself, while good, was not great. And that the way it was told – including the action, the plot, the characterization, and the theme – was handsome, but not beautiful.

So as a reader who very much appreciates the poetic aspects of literary fiction (the diction, the syntax, the metrics, etc.), I would have rated the book very highly. But in terms of my experience of the novel as a whole – the overall aesthetics – I would have rated it good, but not great.

The problem stuck in my craw, and I went to bed without a solution. But today, I had an idea – a very simple rating system that has been used successfully for decades. I’m talking about the way they rate ice skating performances at the Olympics. Competitors get two grades: one for technicality and another for beauty.

So now I’m thinking that it might be helpful to introduce this idea to the Mules: that in addition to the other frames of reference we can use to critique the literary fiction we read, we can provide two additional numeric ratings, one for technical and another for aesthetic virtuosity.

I’m thinking this could work.

Let me know what you think.