It is wonderful how Alexander’s writings show that he's got great respect for his readers, and in this book he used the best writing method I’ve ever seen. In his own words at the very beginning of the book:

The 542-page book was written as an enormous essay in which each sentence is distilled value—these are the headlines Alexander mentions. He breaks down the meaning behind each of them in paragraphs that follow, which are so well written that I never felt the need to test the under-one-hour reading method.

Alexander writes about an objective quality that is present in people, buildings, and towns that are alive—the problem is that this quality cannot be named.

Every room and space around us has a character, and this character is defined by patterns of events that take place in them. The coffee shop you’re sitting in right now, or your bedroom, your office, the bathroom—patterns of what takes place there (and what could take place) are what gives them their character. These patterns can be alive (by setting us free), or dead (by locking us into conflicts).

Alexander claims that through the ages, by iterating and transferring the knowledge of the building process, humans developed a language formed of these patterns. When the ways of building became professionalized, this language fell from use, broke down, and went extinct. My understanding of his work is that he is trying to help rediscover patterns of life so that the pattern language can be rebuilt and shared.

A living beautiful flower cannot be generated, it needs to grow from a seed—in the same way, patterns that make a building alive cannot be created, only generated by actions of people using the space. Alexander’s view on development of complex environments is to throw away the master plan (flowers made of plastic in a one-mould factory), and let the space unfold and evolve.

It is an organic, bottom-up approach to architecture, which stands in sharp contrast to almost all of modern architecture.

While reading The Timeless Way of Building, I felt very excited as Alexander’s thinking resonated deeply with me on a theoretical level. While many authors stop after they develop a theory, Alexander and others put together a practical guide of 253 patterns spread over 1000+ pages: A Pattern Language.

I skimmed through the book, focusing mostly on patterns about neighborhoods and houses that I’m most interested in at the moment. These are short, one or two page descriptions of what makes a pattern alive and how to apply it.

Beyond architecture, A Pattern Language was applied in software development, and if you’re into product management, then most likely you’ve heard of Ryan Singer (previously of Basecamp) whose work was heavily influenced by Alexander.

One of my targets for 2022 is to cover Alexander’s four-book opus on The Nature of Order.

So far I’ve read five of Lewis’ books, all of which are his explorations into various aspects of Christianity. The clarity of his logic and the way he lays out his thoughts and considerations is stunning. After every one of his books I’m left wondering: who is the Lewis of today? Who are the writers of today who can compose with such thoughtfulness, lucidity, and power of argument?

The Problem of Pain is Lewis’ exploration into why an omnipotent and good God who loves creatures He created, also allowed for pain to exist in this world.

A brilliant deep-dive into affection, friendship, eros, and charity—the four types of loves we experience, how they differ, and what they mean.

The most powerful insight Lewis offers in this book is the difference between Gift-love, and Need-love. Gift-love is what moves you to give your love in whatever way to other people. That is when you want to be there for another, provide care and comfort. Need-love makes you feel and request that others should provide love to you. It is expecting and craving for the affection of others.

The brilliance of Lewis is in his ability to debate with himself and point out a wide spectrum of perspectives on what seems at first glance to be a matter of black-and-white.

This year I also re-read Lewis’ Mere Christianity, The Screwtape Letters, and The Great Divorce. Besides the books, one essay of his that I keep returning to and believe to be immensely important is The Inner Ring.

My son loves the LOTR + the Hobbit movies, and is full of questions about Tolkien’s legendarium. Mentions of the city of Gondolin caught his ear and I realized that I had to find out more about what took place there and how Morgoth managed to find and annihilate this elven city.

It’s a brilliant and emotionally charged short story, also excellent as an audiobook.

Whether Lucilius was real or an imaginary addressee of Seneca’s, letters he composed are an excellent introduction to the stoics—better than Aurelius’ Meditations. I haven’t read the modern stoics, and I intend not to—the OGs of old deliver their wisdom in a timeless way, and you’ll be less tempted to see them as gurus, unlike the authors of modern riffs on stoicism.

Some of the topics covered by Seneca in these letters are reading, friendship, complacency, death, the effect of crowds, having a model, running away from yourself, etc.

If you haven’t, read Seneca or Aurelius first, and if you have tasted them, read this to balance out your perspective.

The book is a wonderful read and could be a great present—I recommend Penguin’s Classics hard cover edition.

The subtitle of the book is /An Atlas of Depression/, and Solomon does cover an immense breadth of issues related with depression. The greatest value you can get from the book is that it will help you recognize patterns of depression and develop empathy towards those around you who are down.

He laid bare his own experiences, realizations, and lifelong struggles with depression. In the book he also writes about other people who suffer from depression and ways in which they managed to cope, along with the horrifically numbing account of Phaly Nuon.

Essential reading.

This book gets you to either see Thiel as a force of good that put an end to an abomination, or as a capricious billionaire who suppressed free speech and media. No middle ground. That’s what makes it a good read, unlike books that are pure whitewashing or hit pieces.

Ryan Holiday did a great job of laying out all sides of the story: the US legal system, Hogan, people of Gawker, and obviously Thiel and his co-conspirator.

Very enjoyable, even as an audiobook.

Peter Thiel brought me to him. In a nutshell: we do not know what we should want, so we imitate others. This is what Girard calls mimetic desire, and it seems to form the basis of Girard’s anthropology. It sounds benign at first, yet Girard claims that imitated desire is one of the main drivers of conflict, which in turn leads to violence.

Anyone who had the opportunity to speak with embittered nationalists noticed this paradox and the extent of resemblance among those who intensely hate each others. Yet, mimetic desire is a good thing—without it we would be focused on predetermined things and could not change the objects of our desire.

Another phenomenon that he introduces is the scapegoat mechanism. I See Satan Fall Like Lightning is Girard’s exploration into how the crucifixion of Christ is the turning point in history of mimetic desire and scapegoating.

The twist introduced by Jesus is that instead of imitating the desire of others, he invites his followers to imitate God. That’s the turning point, the protection against and attempt at abolition of the mimetic desire.

What you just read is probably an example of terrible nutshelling, yet to do better I would have to write at length about so many implications of this book. Highly recommended to read it whole—or at least the wonderful foreword by James G. Williams.

I would also love to discuss this book at length, perhaps chapter by chapter—if you’ve read this far and have read or intend to read I See Satan Fall Like Lightning and would like to seriously discuss it, shoot me a DM.