What I Read in 2020

Here we are at the dawning of a new year, which for me means it’s time to post an update on my reading over the last year. For my previous lists, you can see them here: 2019, 2018, 2017, and 2016. It’s hard to believe this is my fifth reading list!

TitleAuthorDate CompletedPages
1Creative CallingChase Jarvis22-Jan304
2The Age of Surveillance CapitalismShoshana Zuboff25-Jan704
3Animal FarmGeorge Orwell27-Jan112
4Alexander HamiltonRon Chernow02-Feb818
5RangeDavid Epstein12-Feb352
6The Bookshop on the CornerJenny Colgan29-Feb384
7Call Sign ChaosJim Mattis12-Mar320
8The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the GalaxyDouglas Adams19-Mar208
9The AlchemistPaulo Coelho22-Mar208
10Guns, Germs, and SteelJared Diamond06-Apr496
11UpstreamDan Heath16-May320
12SymposiumPlato18-May144
13Gulliver’s TravelsJonathan Swift25-May432
14Anything You WantDerek Sivers11-Jun96
15Extreme OwnershipJocko Willink & Leif Babin18-Jun384
16The Code. The Evaluation. The ProtocolsJocko Willink 23-Jun93
17How Will You Measure Your LifeClayton M. Christensen28-Jun236
18The Last WishAndrzej Sapkowski05-Jul384
19The Expectant FatherArmin A. Brott & Jennifer Ash06-Jul336
20The Coaching HabitMichael Bungay Stanier14-Jul234
21The Immortal Life of Henrietta LacksRebecca Skloot23-Jul400
22WorkingRobert A. Caro08-Sep240
23Crime and PunishmentFyodor Dostoyevsky15-Sep544
24Every Tool’s A HammerAdam Savage18-Sep320
25Love SenseDr. Sue Johnson20-Sep352
26NaturalAlan Levinovitz22-Sep264
27The Kite RunnerKhaled Hosseini06-Oct363
28My Own WordsRuth Bader Ginsburg10-Oct400
29Kitchen ConfidentialAnthony Bourdain20-Oct384
30Stillness is the KeyRyan Holiday06-Nov288
31The Oxford InklingsColin Duriez07-Nov276
32The Infinite GameSimon Sinek14-Nov272
33The Ride of a LifetimeRobert Iger21-Nov272
34As a Man Thinketh & From Poverty to PowerJames Allen26-Nov182
35Medium RawAnthony Bourdain06-Dec320
36A Christmas CarolCharles Dickens06-Dec112
37The Little Book of HyggeMeik Wiking12-Dec288
38Nicomachean EthicsAristotle30-Dec400
Total12242

Overall, I’m happy with how the year went for reading. In reviewing the list, a few things stood out to me. First is that I surpassed my total books read for the year over 2019 by 13 entries. While we can certainly have a discussion about the merits issues of using the number of books read as an accurate key performance indicator of comprehension or progress, it was nice to see that I stepped things up a bit. I was fairly consistent in making my way through the books, with only a dip in April (likely because of the life-adjustment that came from working from home) and the silence seen from mid-July to the start of September thanks to the birth of our son in early-August.

I’m also happy to see that I read fewer self-help and business books last year and instead dove into more fiction, memoirs, and books about history. In my previous roundup, I had commented about wanting to be more intentional with my reading after feeling burnt out on certain genres of books.

One significant change in my reading habits this past year was that I joined a reading group/book club. A friend organized it just as things went into lockdown in March. We meet online every few weeks to discuss books selected in a rotation by the group. I commented earlier that I read 13 more books this year than last, and I’d attribute the book club to being the single biggest reason for the boost in completions (we cleared 12 by year’s end). Here are the books that we read:

  1. Call Sign Chaos by Jim Mattis
  2. Symposium by Plato
  3. Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift
  4. How Will You Measure Your Life by Clayton M. Christensen
  5. The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot
  6. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
  7. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
  8. Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain
  9. The Oxford Inklings by Colin Duriez
  10. As a Man Thinketh & From Poverty to Power by James Allen
  11. A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
  12. Nicomachean Ethics by Aristotle (finished in the final days, though we haven’t met to discuss it yet.

I’d normally create a separate post about my top reads for the year, but I’ll include it here for simplicity. In chronological order of when I finished, my top 5 reads of the year are:

  1. Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow (among my top reads ever; I was fortunate to see the stage play before the shutdown in March)
  2. Call Sign Chaos by Jim Mattis (the first book I chose for the book club; I was struck by how Mattis talks about self-education and reflection)
  3. The Expectant Father by Armin A. Brott & Jennifer Ash (since we were expecting this year, this book was a nice roadmap to know what to expect, and it provided some comfort along the way)
  4. The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot (I recommend everyone read this book; it reminds me of the important work we do on the research ethics boards I sit on, and why we must be critical of research)
  5. My Own Words by Ruth Bader Ginsberg (I started this collection of writings and speeches before RBG died, and was sadly reminded after finishing of what we lost in her death).

This was a pretty good year for reading. It felt good to get lost in more fiction, and I’ll have things to say in the future about the value I’m finding in reading as part of a group. In the meantime, Happy New Year, and it’s time to keep tackling my reading backlog.

Stay Awesome,

Ryan

Aristotle and Moral Education in Art

silhouette of three performers on stage
Photo by Kyle Head on Unsplash

I spent a large chunk of my weekend grading essays from my students. Their task was to watch the movie The Road, adapted from the novel by Cormac McCarthy and write a paper based on themes and ideas presented in the course. Based on the course content presented so far, I encourage students to examine the story’s protagonist and argue whether he is a good candidate to be considered a tragic hero as defined by Aristotle.

While grading papers, I mused about Aristotle’s strict criteria for what makes for a tragic hero. The tragic hero must be noble and good (though not a paragon of virtue), but possesses a minor flaw of character or error in judgment (hamartia), which when applied to circumstances brings about some sort of downfall or negative consequence (an inevitable reversal of circumstances, or peripeteia). It’s not that the character is vicious, but merely that their minor flaw is the cause of the negative outcome. However, the negative outcome must be caused by the character (and not, for instance, by the gods), and the consequences of outcome must be in excess of the original cause. The character must also see that they are the reason for their suffering (anagnorisis – the move from ignorance to knowledge). In the context of a narrative or telling of the story, this would elicit pity and fear, a purification of emotions (catharsis) for the audience.

On the one hand, Aristotle is spelling this all out as a way of formalizing and categorizing types of art (Aristotle was a philosopher and biologist by vocation). He might have even considered writing this down as a way of formalizing a set of guidelines to critique plays, finding a way to point out what makes some plays good and others not.

But I had another thought. Aristotle’s teacher, Plato, took a dim view of the arts. In his Republic, Plato was comfortable with banishing the poets from his ideal city, and only allow art that held up the moral authority. I’m wondering if Aristotle had something like this in mind – that art could be used as a moral education tool.

Maybe, the best examples of art are ones that teach the audience lessons, albeit in a less direct route (than, say, fables). If this were true, then we could interpret Aristotle’s criteria the following way. A piece of art is valuable as a moral training tool when the audience can build an emotional connection with the suffering of others. Rather than it being a spectacle for them to lose themselves in, the art gives the audience a moral framework to judge themselves against. The tragic figure is like them: not a god or immortal, but an example of a good person trying to do good things. The tragic figure might even be a little aspirational, something the audience can work towards. They aren’t depraved in the soul, but they are responsible for their actions, even if those actions have negative consequences.

Instead of blaming their suffering on an external cause, the tragic figure realizes that they are the cause of their own suffering. The audience sees this, sees that they could be this person, and through their emotional connection, learns to empathize with the tragic figure. In a sense, they could be the same person, were the circumstances be different. The audience feels the pain, takes pity upon the otherwise good person, and maybe even fears this happening to them.

Given that Aristotle’s ethics was predicated on relative moral excellence, it’s possible that he intended art to be educative, though I don’t have the scholarship background to confirm whether this is true (or plausible). To be clear, I don’t think art must function in this capacity. I think it’s perfectly reasonable to have art for its own sake, or for the creative expression of what’s inside the artist.

Still, the thought of morally educative art is interesting. I’ve often thought of what kinds of art I’d want to expose my own children to in the development of their moral character. What kinds of lesson would I want them to absorb and learn from as they develop an internal sense of ethics and morality?

Stay Awesome,

Ryan