This is a completely new-to-me thesis on how English language inflections changed over the decades based on cultural and economic facts. It is an idea I’ve never encountered before. Yet, it felt plausible, if not perceptive. In other words, it was/is well worth considering. Check it out and let me know if you think she’s up to something.

I haven’t written many book reviews this year – but not because I’ve slowed down on my reading. My average rate is about a book a week. I always read at least one book of fiction for the Mules (my book club). The other three are usually nonfiction.

In looking over the recent reviews that I have done, I can see that, for the last six months, anyway, most of them have been more like mini-reviews. Well, I’m going to remedy that in this issue with a fairly in-depth look at the Mules’ selection for November: Waiting for the Barbarians by J.M. Coetzee. It’s an interesting book and served as rich fodder for a vigorous debate on its quality and an edifying discussion of literature and literary fiction in general.

As you’ll see, I have a lot to say about all of that.

Waiting for the Barbarians 
By J.M. Coetzee 

192 pages
Publication Date: April, 1982

Waiting for the Barbarians, written during the apartheid regime in South Africa, examines and questions the legitimacy of colonialism through the eyes of its protagonist, an unnamed Magistrate who governs a province that borders lands inhabited by a population of so-called barbarians.

Amazon describes it as “an allegory of the war between oppressor and oppressed. The Magistrate is not simply a man living through a crisis of conscience in an obscure place in remote times, his situation is that of all men living in unbearable complicity with regimes that elevate their own survival above justice and decency.”

Most of my fellow Mules gave it very high ratings, but a few of us were more critical.

What it was lacking was a compelling plot line. The actions – such as there are – take place in an unnamed desert outpost of an unnamed colonial power whose ostensible purpose is to “protect” the empire from the barbarians. But, as one might expect from the set up so far (and the good reviews it got from the leftist press), the barbarians behave like Rousseau-like innocents and most of the colonial soldiers behave like… yes, you guessed it, barbarians.

Most of what happens in the story happens within the mind of the Magistrate, the outpost commander who, in contrast to Colonel Joll, a bureaucrat sent by the central government to try to wipe out the encroachment by the barbarians, has a conscience, which fuels his constant and actually incessant worrying about the treatment of the barbarians, and a heart, which he used to develop some sort of emotional attraction to a female barbarian that he keeps in his bedroom as a sort of pretend-lover and anthropological subject.

What I Liked About It

The interior monologue is well written, as are the external monologues and the descriptive passages. This is where Coetzee shows his skill set. There’s no denying he is a master of diction and a skillful assembler of sentences.

What I Didn’t Like So Much

But as to the development of his characters, I was disappointed. Apart from the protagonist, the players in this drama are more types than flesh-and-blood people with all the complications that flesh-and-blood Homo sapiens have.

On top of that – and this might be me – it was difficult to read this book as an existential novel, which is what I think Coetzee meant it to be, because of all the parallels and associations in the plot and characterization that whisper (if not shout) “Apartheid South Africa.”

So, would I recommend Waiting for the Barbarians?

Before I answer that…

A Few Words About the Way I Evaluate the Books (Fiction) That I Review Here

My approach to every serious novel that I read (and my contributions to the Mules’ discussions) is guided by a very helpful lesson about how to understand and appreciate modern drama that I learned in graduate school from Robert W. Corrigan, a visiting professor for whom I served as a teaching assistant and from whom I learned more than I ever expected to. (See “Notes From My Journal,” above.)

Here’s the gist of it:

In Professor Corrigan’s view, modern theater could be understood best by looking at it from the perspective of Aristotle’s Poetics. In that treatise, the greatest philosopher of all time identified six elements of drama: plot, character, thought, diction, song, and spectacle – basically in that order of importance.

Writing a great plot, Aristotle understood, is the most difficult of the dramatist’s challenges because a great plot is much more than one-thing-led-to-another. It is a very detailed and delicate fabric that, if not woven together by a master, will unravel faster than a ribbon in a windstorm.

Next in line is character. And then thought. (Let’s call it the psychology of the characters.) Then diction and song (the poetry of the drama). And, finally, spectacle (costumes, scenery, visual and sound effects, etc.).

What modern dramatists do, Corrigan argued, is reverse the importance of these elements, prioritizing diction, song, and spectacle while diminishing the attention given to plot, character, and thought. The clearest example of this is Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot.

But it’s not just modern drama that has been affected by this inversion. It’s also poetry, fiction, and – this may surprise you – art.

The inversion in aesthetic values that took place in modern art in the second half of the 20th century paralleled what happened in drama and literature. The three core elements of traditional art – draftsmanship, perspective, and story – were abandoned and replace by their opposites: abstraction, expression, and thought. (I just made that up. But it’s pretty good!)

So how does all of this apply to Waiting for the Barbarians?

What I see in that novel is a gifted writer who prides himself on his poetic skills and recognizes that if he can create the right sort of socio-political scenes and write the dialogue and descriptions beautifully he will win praise from post-modern illuminati, even if the plot is boring and the characters are cardboard thin.

Coetzee gifted us with well-chosen words, artfully crafted sentences, knowingly selected metaphors, poetic density, and rhythm – and that’s a lot. But I felt that it was not enough to compensate for an anemic plot, thin characters, and thought content that borders on a Morality Play.

Bottom Line

Yes, it’s a good book. Maybe even a very good book. But not by any means a great book.

Which brings me back to the question: Would I recommend Waiting for the Barbarians?

The answer: Well, maybe. I will say this, though, I do intend to read another of Coetzee’s novels.

About the Author

John Maxwell Coetzee is a South African and Australian novelist, essayist, linguist, and translator. The recipient of the 2003 Nobel Prize in Literature, Coetzee is one of the most critically acclaimed and decorated authors in the English language.

I had my first meeting right after I checked in to my room at Baltimore’s Hotel Ulysses, which is a few blocks from Agora’s headquarters in central Mount Vernon.

Yesterday, my partner and I met with the CEOs of six of Agora’s profit centers – three publishing franchises, one real estate marketing company, and two specialized investment services – all of which are doing well. Surprisingly well, if you consider the marketing environment we have been in for the last four years.

Today, we began at 9:00 am and went until 5:00. I was back in my room by 5:30, took a nap, and was down here at the hotel bar writing this at 6:30.

Agora’s holiday party – always a gala event – will be held at the historic Maryland Club, and it begins at 7:30. I could easily be there on time if I stop writing now – but being on time for a party, I’ve been told, is très déclassé. So I’ll finish up this Journal entry and plan to show up at 8:00.

When I checked in, the receptionist told me that Hotel Ulysses is three years old, which surprised me because I hadn’t heard of it until Gio booked it for me. (Since I abandoned my pied-à-terre in downtown Baltimore years ago, I’ve been trying out the hotels within walking distance of the company’s headquarters and I thought I knew them all.)

Like several other hotels in the area, it’s a converted apartment building. But unlike the rest, this one is charming. Charming is hardly five-star, but it’s about 300% better than the best of the others.

Let me see if I can describe it to you…

I’ll start with the bar. It’s modest in size – seating at max maybe 40. It’s funky, stylish, and plush with good lighting. The bartenders are young and Brooklyn hipster-looking – i.e., tattoos (not sleeves but that apparently cooler random style), unique hair styles, bracelets, earrings, nose rings, and who knows what. They are dressed mostly in black. They aren’t mixologists, but they are modestly skilled and eager to learn. Most importantly, they are efficiently friendly (which is the only way a server should ever be) and quick to notice an empty glass.

The bartender waiting on me now is a blonde with black lipstick, a beguiling smile, a small nose ring, a few tattoos, and a voice that doesn’t help me identify his/her gender. If I were younger than a baby boomer, I could say “Dude” and get away with it. Old as I am, my mind is rifling through a series of alternatives: Champ, Sport, Pal, Chief? All masculine and all from my father’s generation.

Maybe Comrade? Is that gender-neutral?

Oh well. Never mind. Let me continue.

The prevailing décor of the hotel works for me – an eclectic selection of furniture, fabrics, curtains, carpets, floor and wall finishes, collectibles, art, and artifacts, curated with a respect for the budget and an authentic sense of humor. It is not high concept, for sure. But neither does it make me suspect it was designed by someone’s “really creative” sister-in-law.

The color scheme is also working for me. Reds from scarlet to crimson to claret. Blues from sapphire to turquois to midnight blue. And best of all, a very evidently conscious knowledge of effective lighting.

This is true throughout the hotel. Every space (and there are many distinctly different ones) feels exactly like it should.

Here are some photos…

The Entrance

The Foyer

The Restaurant Bar

The food

The Feeling of the Rooms

My View

I’d like to tell you about Baltimore – the city I met about 35 years ago, after I gave up on my first attempt at retirement and went back to work in the information publishing industry with a former competitor. He – BB, the founder of The Agora Companies – chose Baltimore for the birthplace of his then-fledgling business because he was able to buy a building there for a single US dollar. (He’s a value investor.)

Today, 40-something years later, The Agora Companies is the world’s largest financial information publisher, larger than The Wall Street Journal and Barron’s put together.

I’m proud to have been a part of that history.

But never mind. That’s another story.

Let’s get to what I really want to talk about in this issue… some simple, basic concepts about why and how businesses work that every aspiring business builder should know.

“Speedoo” was a big hit during my high school years. I still remember the lyrics, but I never saw it performed until a friend sent this link a few weeks ago.

What is especially interesting about the song is how little content it has. This is pretty much all there is to it: “Well now, they call me Speedoo / But my real name is Mr. Earl.”

My focus today is on the dismal state of higher education in America today… but I’m starting on a positive note with my idea for a new system based on free-market competition and the demands of the upcoming age of AI.

Investing in a New Education System for Colleges and Universities

The week before we went down to Nicaragua last month, I attended an advisory board meeting for the English Department of a local university in Florida. Among the topics discussed was the school’s system of teacher evaluations. (Once a year, teachers are rated by their students, their colleagues, and their departments.)

I asked about the carrots and the sticks. The benefits for the teachers were as expected: the satisfaction of being highly rated and the potential for greater raises in their salaries. The sticks were presumably the opposite. But the emotional sanctions were blunted by the fact that the ratings were not published. And when I asked about the maximum differential in dollar terms between receiving the best rating and the worst, I was shocked to discover it was only 2%.

“2%?” I repeated. “2%!”

I’ve always been interested in methods to improve employee performance. Over the years, I’ve read more books, essays, and opinion pieces than I can count. Whatever ideas I gleaned from them were processed through many earnest efforts at testing them. The conclusion that I finally came to was that there are only three truly effective ways to improve the overall performance of professional workers.

1. Every year, fire 10% to 15% of the worst-performing employees. (This was one of Jack Welch’s rules when he was running GE.)

2. Give large incentives (financial and otherwise) to the best-performing 10% to 15% of employees.

3. Push the most productive employees to be even more productive.

A college or university has two products to sell: its public reputation and the value of its courses. And the rating system the English Department is using now for its teachers (with a maximum financial benefit of 2%) will not improve either one.

The school can improve enrollment in certain classes by designing them to be more appealing to students. But many college teachers and administrators object to doing that because they believe – correctly, in my opinion – that the value of individual courses can’t be merely on their popularity. In terms of a general education (as well as a career orientation), some courses are definitely more valuable than others.

On my plane ride from Miami to Managua, I conjured up a new education system tailormade for the age of AI and all the life challenges that young people will be facing.

Here are some my ideas so far…

Education will be partitioned into three categories: specific knowledge; general knowledge and theory; and, for some subjects, performance.

Specific knowledge (the acquisition of facts and figures) will be taught entirely through AI systems to students on an individual basis. Specific knowledge grading will be done with proctored tests.

General knowledge and theory will be taught in lecture form by scholars incentivized by their enrollment numbers. General knowledge grading will be done with three oral examinations administered by practitioners trained to assess each student’s grasp of general knowledge and ability to convey it.

In addition to the lecturers and testers and graders, there will be a cadre of “student coaches” whose job will be to pay attention to any problems individual students may be having.

The big salaries, along with the big bonuses, will go to the lecturers, who will be paid a percentage of the “gate” they bring in. Seven-figure compensation for popular lecturers will be the norm.

To insert some top-down judgement into the curriculum, course credits will be decided by the faculty, with more points allotted to courses that are considered essential or important to a future career.

And finally, there will be no degrees. Just a hierarchy of certificates of accomplishment for each field of study.

It’s still a little foggy in my mind, but every day that fog seems to be lifting a bit. The way I’m feeling right now, I’m confident that the system I’m proposing here – or something very much like it – will be standard operating procedure for colleges and universities in America.

Hint: It was sold Nov. 21 by Sotheby’s for $54.7 million – the highest ever paid at auction for the work of a female artist, surpassing the previous record ($44.4 million) set by Georgia O’Keeffe’s Jimson Weed/ White Flower No. 1.

Answer: El Sueño (La Cama) – Spanish for The Dream (The Bed) – a 1940 self-portrait by the Mexican surrealist Frida Kahlo.

Who says classical musicians can’t make modern music fun? 

Watch this.

Impressive: Tenor Steps Up to the Piano in Italian Restaurant 
I’m convinced that these videos are planned, not accidental. But they work. First, because it’s fun to watch the response of the crowd. Second, because sometimes, like in this clip, the performance is truly impressive.

Equally Impressive: When All You Have on the Table is “Gots” 
This one takes me back to my teens when I spent half of my weekends at the Rockville Center Cue Club, playing pool and sometimes in awe of the old guys who knew how to shoot. The shot in this clip is amazing for the “leave.” Do you know what I mean?