SumMusings

At the start of the year, I set a modest reading goal of 25 books for 2025. Now, three-quarters through the year, I'm happy to report that I have accomplished that goal and am raising the bar!

Here’s a quick recap of my reading journey so far. Which of these have you read? What books should I read next? Comment below.

Related Posts:

How Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning has saved my life

Writer Essentials According to Virginia Woolf

In Defense of Amy and Laurie - Why They’re My OTP

Rebecca vs. Empresses in the Palace: How to Write a Haunting Character Without Actually Writing Her?

Manuscripts Don’t Burn! — Why should I write, even if nobody reads it?

Hot Take? - Margarita Isn’t Just the Master’s Lover

Reflections on Swann's Way, Proust, and French Literature

Babel and the Illusion of Depth

Future Posts:

This book is not for everyone, but it found me right when I needed it.

As an economist, one of the first principles I learnt was the “Time Value of Money”. DO NOT underestimate the power of compounding interest. 

In 2014, Ronald Read, a janitor and lifelong investor, passed away with a staggering $8M net worth. No lottery wins. No secret inheritance. Just living below his means, investing consistently, and letting time do the rest - for over 40 years. 

In 2025, Dan Pelzer gained NYT coverage for having read at least 3,599 books throughout his life. 

At first glance, these impressive statistics seem like extraordinary anomalies. But these people's lives prove otherwise. 

Time is the most powerful force in the world. 

Make time your friend, and improving by 1% every day compounds to 37x growth in a year. Make time your enemy, and deteriorating by 1% every day leaves you with just 2.5% of where you started.

The British cycling team, once unremarkable, took this idea seriously. From 2007 to 2017, they improved every single detail, from bike seat ergonomics to athlete sleep quality, by just 1% and dominated with 178 world championships, 66 Olympic/Paralympic gold medals, and 5 Tour de France victories.

This applies even in the art world, where genius is traditionally exalted above all.

In a photography class at University of Florida, students were randomly split into two groups:

Quality: graded on producing a single perfect photo

Quantity: graded on the number of photos they took

Ironically, the quantity group ended up producing the best-quality photos.

As a writer and as a human, I often battle imposter syndrome and agonize over when (if ever!) my post will go viral.

As a twenty-something young adult, I don’t know exactly where my life is going amidst the chaos in the world.

Disclaimer: I'm not an expert on this history; hence asking for further recommendations. What follows are simply Hannah Arendt's writings on this subject and my own interpretations.

I came across a fascinating claim in Eichmann in Jerusalem about the difference between German Nazism and Italian Fascism.

Arendt wrote that the Nazis had more in common with Stalin’s Communism than with Italian Fascism, especially in their treatment of the so-called “Jewish question.” During WWII, Italy was considered Germany’s only true ally and was respected as an equal, sovereign state. Yet, Italy often served as a sanctuary for hunted Jews.

I found this contrast fascinating and want to dig deeper. Does anyone know of good sources comparing Italian Fascism and German Nazism in the WWI–WWII era?

Arendt claims that generals and political leaders, including Mussolini himself, sabotaged Eichmann’s “Final Solution” in an openly mocking fashion. Mussolini made empty promises; when his generals simply failed to carry them out, he excused them on the grounds of their “different intellectual formation.” When Hitler finally pressured him into introducing anti-Jewish legislation, Mussolini issued broad exceptions for “any former members of the Fascist Party and their parents, grandparents, wives, children, and grandchildren.”

The result was that the majority of Italian Jews were exempted. There could hardly be a Jew in Italy without at least one Fascist Party member in their family. Italians, including Jews, had been flocking to the Fascist movement for two decades, as civil-service positions were only available to party members (not unlike the current situation in China).

Furthermore, anti-Semitic measures were widely unpopular in Italy. Arendt proposed that this might reflect the “automatic general humanity of an old and civilized people.” As much as I love Italy, I find it hard to believe that, as a nation, they were singularly more moral than the rest of the world or merely too bureaucratically inefficient to execute Hitler’s orders.

Instead, there might be another explanation (which Arendt implied through irony): Italians considered their 15,000 native Jews, whose roots traced back to the Roman Empire, to be fully assimilated into the Italian identity. For nationalist Italians, being Italian trumped any other differences the Germans tried to impose. In that sense, their resistance may not have arisen from a grand humanitarian principle, but rather from a difference in priorities: eliminating non-Italians v. eliminating Jews. Perhaps this could be read as a case of “I am part of that force which eternally wills evil and eternally works good”?

It took me eight months to finish Eichmann in Jerusalem, and one concept stayed with me:

“The Banality of Evil.”

A phrase popularized through the Stanford Prison Experiment and the Milgram Experiment, it is often (mis)interpreted as “everyone is capable of evil” and has often been misused to excuse “morally grey characters” or romanticize “villains.”

What Arendt actually means by “banality” is that Eichmann, the man who orchestrated the murder of six million Jews, was NOT a radical, monstrous, “Dark Lord”-like figure. On the contrary, he was banal: small, pompous, full of clichés, and completely unable to think for himself. Eichmann couldn’t grasp a world of plurality, so he sought to eliminate what was too different.

This thoughtless evil — one that can only view the world through borrowed eyes, provocative slogans, and extremist propaganda — has spread like a fungus, now accelerated by social media, and threatens to lay waste to the world.

Arendt never meant “the Banality of Evil” as an excuse for Eichmann. In fact, she made this abundantly clear in the book’s final chapter: Eichmann’s participation in the “final solution” maybe circumstantial, and in theory, many would have done the same in his place, but that doesn’t lessen his guilt. The law judges the actuality of a crime, not the potentiality of guilt. 

On the other hand, good can be ordinary, but never banal.

One thing I love about Schindler’s List is how it spends two-thirds of the film showing just how ordinary Oskar Schindler is. It is not grand ideology that drives him to save 1,200 Jews at the cost of his entire fortune. He is, above all, a businessman who hopes to profit from the war and retire in comfort and fame. He succumbs easily to luxury and lust, unable to stay loyal to one “Mrs. Schindler.” He even objects to Itzhak Stern’s secret plan to save Jewish intellectuals.

Yet, Schindler has not forgotten how to think and how to feel. He is learning. He is making up his own mind, slowly but surely. That contrast is what makes the image of the little girl in red and his final decision to make the list so powerful.

While Eichmann warns of the danger of thoughtlessness, Schindler demonstrates the power of an original thought, a self-determining act - even from a feeble mind, even from weak hands. Good is not some out-of-reach ideology. It might not even be consistent. But it is a concrete, humanizing act and it is life-saving. 

“We’ve all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on... that’s who we really are.” — J.K. Rowling “The line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being.” — Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn “I am part of that force which eternally wills evil and eternally works good.” — Goethe

The duality of good and evil has been written about countless times in Western literature, yet it still surprises modern readers as “radical” whenever it reappears.

To me, the true difference between the Banality of Evil and the Ordinariness of Good lies in originality: the ability to think for oneself, despite how difficult it has become.

Instead of asking, “What would Hannah Arendt do?”, Arendt challenges us to describe the reality we find ourselves in, so we can resist it.

Because Thinking IS Good.

In my "25 books for 2025" post, I claimed this was my most hated book of the year. Many people were surprised since this "dark academia" piece is so well-reviewed, so here's my full rant as requested. Who this post is for?

Anyone on the fence about whether to read Babel (TL; DR: Don't!).

Anyone who read it, disliked it, and felt uncomfortable (not because the message is meant to make you feel uncomfortable) but does not have words for it - or simply want to know you're not crazy to hate it.

Babel fans: Something that speaks to you doesn't have to speak to me. Someone used the analogy of MLK v. Malcolm X: both civil right activists, radically different path towards justice. If we can keep that in mind, read on.

I finished Swann’s Way! Now I need your input on what to read next.

Vote in the poll below!

Some reflections for context:

This is such a dense and rich book. Beautifully written, with a lot of layered imagery, literary and artistic references, extended metaphors, and interwoven story arcs…

Time itself seems to dilate and contract as one read: some parts of the prose are so rich in imagery that I had to slow down and reread several times, while others flow effortlessly with the stream of thought.

It is peak stream-of-consciousness: less about the actual childhood memories, more about the act of thinking and remembrance.

Proust literally teaches us how to read his book. He invents the fictional writer Bergotte, celebrated not for his narrative alone, but for his “flow of melody, old-fashioned phrases, and idealist philosophy,” which reveal sublime images of the world, so beauty is within reach of the ordinary readers. This is Proust’s artistic motto, and he accomplishes exactly that. 

That said, I’m not swept away by these marvelous tangents. I am more drawn to the psychology of the characters and the dynamics of young love. Sometimes Proust’s metaphors feel a bit too literary, verging on pretentious (though very much in character for Proust). 

Still, the images of the madeleine soaked in tea and pink hawthorn flowers shall stay with me long after I close the book. 

Swann in Love

Now, this is exactly what I’m looking for. It reminds me of Stendhal’s The Red and the Black in the way it methodologically dissects love and infatuation and almost destroys the illusion of “romance”. 

I was reminded of a popular meme:

Yet for all their talk of love, the way they over-analyze love makes me think French authors are the least likely to “die for love”. 

Just contrast:

“When Odette ceased to be for him a creature always absent, longed for, imaginary, when the feeling he had for her was no longer the same mysterious disturbance caused in him by the phrase from the sonata, but affection, gratitude, when normal relations were established between them that would put an end to his madness and his gloom, then no doubt the actions of Odette's daily life would appear to him of little interest in themselves…” - Swann in Love by Marcel Proust

Vs: 

“Follow me, reader! Who told you that there is no true, faithful, eternal love in this world! May the liar's vile tongue be cut out! Follow me, my reader, and me alone, and I will show you such a love!” - The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov

So, what should I read next?

Continue reading Proust’s In Search of Lost Time: The later books dive into Proust’s own infatuation with Gilberte, Albertine etc. 

Read My Struggle by Karl Ove Knausgard:  a six-book autobiographical series often compared to In Search of Lost Time in its exploration of private pleasures, dark thoughts, commonplace needs and pursuit of higher arts, but plainer in style and meant to be read more quickly. Especially, A Man in Love and Boyhood, explore childhood and young love I’m most interested in.

Read something shorter, non-fiction: perhaps Love and Limerence? Open to other suggestions. 

Read some light-hearted fiction: open to suggestions. Ideally experimental and intergenerational narrative.

Others - leave a comment

Yes, Rory has read a lot of books.

According to the Gilmore Girls reading challenge, 408 titles to be exact! (Follow my #gilmore girls reading challenge.)

But the better question is: has she engaged deeply with any of them?

Disclaimer: Personal opinion partially inspired by Popsplaining’s amazing video. I am a big fan of Gilmore Girls despite my loving critique. Would recommend watching if you’re into light academia. 

Rory doesn’t read critically:

She name-drops books but has no real conversation with the texts.

Her reading serves as a status symbol of an Ivy League–educated literary elite.

She displays breadth, not depth.

This reflects a common flaw in “light academia” culture: reading becomes aesthetic, not life-changing. Something I aim to challenge through my own reviews and fiction.

What are the consequences of this shallow reading?

She never learns to investigate like a journalist. Mitchum Huntzberger’s brutal but memorable critique comes to mind:

“You don’t got it. You don’t have the drive to put yourself out there… to get a story, to dig.”

As harsh as it sounds… he’s not entirely wrong.

1. Her internship is painful to watch.

Mitchum is right: a good intern speaks up, pushes to be in the room, asks for more than just getting coffee. Rory is undeniably a great assistant, “confident, smart, terrific at anticipating needs.” But journalism isn’t about being polite and prepared. It requires guts, pressure, and persistence, “It’s not enough to just do what we’re asked.”

2. Her reaction proves the point.

When your mentor criticizes you, it’s natural to feel crushed. But if journalism were truly Rory’s passion, she should’ve made an effort to bounce back and challenge Mitchum. Being a journalist means people will tell you no. They’ll lie. They’ll try to silence you. And if one rejection breaks you? That’s telling.

So what was Mitchum’s agenda?

Here’s my theory:

He wants Rory to give up journalism and become the perfect housewife for Logan. Logan’s family doesn’t want a working woman. They want an Emily Gilmore 2.0: someone to run the household, host events, and uphold the family brand. Rory begins slipping into that role through her DAR involvement.

Alternatively, he may want Rory to drop out of Yale and out of Logan’s life entirely, so Logan could marry someone more “suitable.”

Is Mitchum’s critique fair?

Given what follows—Rory quits journalism, loses academic motivation, and drops out of Yale—it’s hard to argue that Mitchum was entirely off-base.

I stopped watching the show at this point, so I can’t speak to how she eventually returns to Yale. But based on what I’ve seen from A Year in the Life, Rory’s lack of critical thinking continues into adulthood.

People often call The Master and Margarita a love story. Margarita is the Master’s devoted lover who struck a deal with the Devil to save him. But what moves me isn't romance - it is her mercy and her devotion to the Master’s story. And I too am writing a Margarita who carries the same fierce compassion into a different world.

50th-anniversary Deluxe Edition, Penguin Classics

Margarita as a Reader

Margarita loves the Master, yes, but she loves his novel even more. 

Movie stills from "The Master and Margarita" (2024) dir. Michael Lockshi

“The book cast its spell over her…She ceaselessly read and re-read the manuscript…She waited impatiently for the promised final words about the fifth Procurator of Judaea, reading out in a loud sing-song random sentences that pleased her and saying that the novel was her life.”

The Master’s novel gives her words for an essential part of her soul - her mercy - which had until then been ineffable.  

Mercy at the Ball

Mercy is central to Yeshua’s teaching: “there are no evil people on earth”. Even the cruel “Rat Slayer”, he claims, is just an unhappy man whom he can change. Margarita embodies this spirit which sees the struggling human beyond the “evil deeds”.

Movie stills from "The Master and Margarita" (2024) dir. Michael Lockshi

At Satan’s ball, Margarita uses her only wish not to reunite with her lover, but to free Freida, a stranger. 

Freida, a victim of rape, is tormented for 30 years by the “handkerchief with a blue border”, which she used to smother her son. 

Margarita defends her, silences Behemoth’s ridicule, and chooses mercy before love. 

Compassion creeps in through the narrowest cracks.

Mercy for Pontius Pilate

At the novel’s end, the same mercy closes the circle.

"Pilate and Banga", Photographer Elena Martynyuk

I feel her. I feel the mountain shake.

Even Pontius Pilate, a coward and executioner of Yeshua in the world where “Cowardice is one of the worst human sins”, deserves peace. 

Margarita as an Archetype

I cannot see Margarita just as a lover. To me, she is first and foremost, a woman of mercy.

Coincidentally, I am also writing about an original character named Margarita who embodies this same complex compassion. I’m building a world where true power comes from less than perfect people, from forgiving without forgetting, and where the conviction“I shall not kill” can be as brave as standing up to your worst enemy. 

Very thought-provoking video by Kate Alexandra on originality for aspiring artists!

“Tomorrow’s culture is always dictated by the artists.” — David Bowie “Artists have the advantage of being able to build a chain of influence retrospectively.” “(Although) the first Velvet Underground record sold only 30,000 copies in its first five years… everyone who bought one of those 30,000 copies started a band!” — Brian Eno

Authors like Marie Corelli or George du Maurier were huge bestsellers in their time, but they aren’t read anymore because artists aren’t influenced by them the way they are by Pride and Prejudice or Moby-Dick.

"If writing is associated with any divine spirit, it is not a sweet Muse, but closer to selling your soul to the devil..."

Writing is the hardest thing I have ever done. Harder than getting into Harvard. Harder than working at McKinsey.

Writing is isolating. It forces me to confront my particularities: thoughts nobody else will ever understand, or care to understand, as much as I do.

Writing reminds me that everything I hold dear is transient. A thought can fade. A line I poured my soul into can vanish unread, lost in the sea of information, deleted without a trace.

"Writing a letter of endorsement" by Harry Furniss

Above all, writing is hard work. It is not the romanticized Muse whispering perfectly crafted verse in one's ear, but hours upon hours at a tiny desk, struggling to make sense of the cluttered mess of human life. (Why does no one talk about the physical strain of sitting sixteen hours a day?) Drafting, reading, rewriting, rereading, searching for the right word — only to delete the line altogether.

And the reward? A post, or if lucky, a publication — one or two likes, then crickets. Juxtaposed against some trending pieces that, despite their confident tone and impeccable aesthetic, seem not to say what they really want to say.

I begin to question: why write at all? It feels like a terrible investment: the downsides are obvious, and the upside so unlikely.

In despair, I found this phrase: “Manuscripts don’t burn!”

And my mind went to a quote from Tony Fadell (creator of the iPod and Google Nest):

He was speaking of entrepreneurship. I find it applies to writing too.

If writing is associated with any divine spirit, it is not a sweet Muse, but closer to selling your soul to the devil — letting yourself be haunted and tormented in the hope that something true might emerge.

In The Master and Margarita, the master says:

Art work by Jamie Whyte

In Little Women, Jo learns this too:

Little Women (2019) dir. by Greta Gerwig; quote from the book

I write because I am seized by this frenzy. I renounce my name and surrender to my characters. Their story demands to be written. Otherworldly or not — isn’t it all the same?

I write because it is all I can do. To rage against impermanence. Because “Everything changes, but nothing perishes” (Ovid, Metamorphoses).

Bulgakov wrote The Master and Margarita never expecting it to be published. He made me realize I have been confusing reasons to write with reasons to publish.

Yeshua Ha-Nozri says of Matthew Levi’s parchment:

Artwork: "Christ before Caiaphas" by Mattias Stom

Matthew Levi’s parchment, often interpreted as a reimagining of the Gospel of Matthew, went on to be widely read and highly influential. But it did not make Matthew Levi a master.

So all the “writers” who never poured their souls into their work, who never allowed themselves to be possessed by their writing — whether by God or the Devil — no matter how widely read, how “successful” — are modern “Matthew Levi”s: disciples, scribes at best.

Real writing demands soul.

Starting today, I challenge myself and invite you to join me: if a writing, picture, music, any art resonates, don’t just scroll past. Leave a comment. Reblog with additional thoughts. Start a conversation. And here's why.

Stock image, quotes added by me

There is this constant push to monetize everything in this capitalist society: our mind, our time, our relationships, our body. But what if I don’t want some corporate to own all of my life? What if I don’t want anyone to own my thoughts, my writing?

So I tell myself: I’m simply not gonna monetize it, no paywall. That’s the answer, right? Right?

Then I find myself being sucked into and stuck in the black hole of stats: reblogs, likes, views, follows…

Image and sculpture by Arnaud Nazare-Aga; quotes added by me

“Look! My post has gotten 100 notes!”  “Oh, what a well-written, impactful post that is!”

How sobering! I’m afraid I’m becoming this grown-up…but how can I not be?

I know some people will say, “Just don’t look at the stats.”

But I’m human. I want to be seen.

I want to be free with my writing, and to be recognized and celebrated.

Sometimes posting online feels like howling into a void full of people. All you really get is a bunch of cold stats.

-------

But we can change this!

Starting today, I challenge myself and invite you to join me: if a writing, picture, music, any art resonates with you, don’t just scroll past. Tell the artist. Leave a comment. Reblog with your thoughts. Start a conversation.

Because in the end, the only thing we truly crave is connection.

🏈American high school romance + 💌Asian restraint and subtlety = The Half of It.

This hidden gem is unique in its quiet, genuine strength.

In a remote American town, Ellie Chu, a talented but lonely Chinese-American high schooler, helps Paul Munsky, a football player, write love letters to his crush, Aster Flores. Through their correspondence, an unexpected “love triangle” unfolds…

"This is not a love story. At least not the kind where everyone gets what they want." - Ellie Chu

What I love most about this film is precisely its lack of an ending. It’s not the bittersweet yearning of Call Me by Your Name. Here, “no ending” is the perfect ending for our fleeting youth. None of them ends up “with the one they love” — but what does it even mean to “end up with the one you love”?

“Love is messy, horrible, selfish… and bold.”

First love is impossible to untangle, so why force clarity?

Instead, ask yourself: Is this really the boldest stroke I can paint? Do I dare risk ruining an already beautiful picture for the chance to create a masterpiece?

Read Part 1: Mortality Is a Human Gift: Secular Faith and the Iliad.

The second half of This Life on “spiritual freedom and democratic socialism” is somewhat scattered and repetitive, but Hägglund raises a question worth pondering.

Hägglund offers his own interpretation of Marx’s theory. He argues that because our lives are finite, capitalist regimes not only extract surplus value but also alienate us from our labor by depriving us of the ability to engage in work that is meaningful to us. 

To solve this problem, we must either:

1) Find meaning through our work (c.f. Viktor Frankl Man’s Search for Meaning) if we can; or

2) Minimize the time we spend working to sustain our lives and devote more of it to what we truly care about.

In my view, the rapid advancement of AI presents an immense opportunity to liberate our time and life from meaningless, alienating work - but only if used well. Agentic AI can already, or soon will, replace many administrative and routine jobs, creating more free time. Yet, the benefits of AI are disproportionately reaped by capitalist corporations and the super rich, while much of the middle and working class suffers from AI-driven burnout and employment anxiety.

Though laundry and dishwashing would technically fall under automation rather than generative AI, the general sentiment still resonates.

Hägglund believes we need socialism to redistribute resources, shorten working hours, and improve public welfare - thereby liberating time from the control of capital, allowing people to gain spiritual freedom.

💬This prompts the question: what can society, governments, and tech companies do to ensure AI does not strip away livelihoods, but frees us to pursue the meaning of life?

Further Readings:

Read Part 1: Mortality Is a Human Gift: Secular Faith and the Iliad.

Immortality has been the ultimate fantasy for many across all times and cultures. But Swedish philosopher Martin Hägglund firmly rejects this supposed gift: “I do NOT want to be immortal.”

After reading his This Life, I agree.

Secular Faith

Hägglund believes the meaning of life lies precisely in its finitude — the fact that we all can die at any moment — yet still strive to live longer and live more fully. He calls the faith we place in such finite things, which require significant time and effort to sustain, “secular faith.”

If humans were immortal, Hägglund argues, we would no longer care about anything. If a child could grow up strong and healthy without any parental investment, why spend time tending to their needs when you could be doing a billion other things? Yet, without that investment of quality time, how could bonds of love ever form?

Similarly, if we had infinite time, there would be no urgency to act. If nothing could wither without care, why do something today rather than tomorrow — or at all? Our choices would have no impact on an immortal world. Without impact, choices lose their meaning. And without meaning, we do not truly have choices at all.

The Iliad, through the lens of Secular Faith

Hägglund’s “secular faith” enriched my reading of The Iliad. 

The Iliad lives in a world of war, where death is not only inevitable but imminent. Mortals are “those who will die”: every mortal life has a fixed length, and even the love of the gods can only enhance a mortal’s glory, not their lifespan.

As a result, mortals feel death deeply: they love; they rage; they grieve; they commemorate; they fight for glory and honor; and they tell stories to ease the pain.

Juxtaposed are the gods, whose infinite lives allow them to face even the most heartbreaking deaths with serenity.

In their endless, immortal existence, there will always be another time, another love, another city to destroy. Everything is at once meaningless and transient. Thus, for the Greek gods, anger — not love or sorrow — is the primary emotion.