Business, Personal

The formula for success

As part of my project to work through my backlog of books, I’ve recently finished The Formula by Albert-László Barabási, subtitled “The five laws behind why we succeed or fail”.

This isn’t a how-to book, it’s a why-it-works book. It’s about what separates success from mere high performance. It’s clearly written, easy to follow, and refreshingly blunt. Unlike most books in the success genre, it doesn’t offer tips or routines. Instead, it outlines five laws that, together, describe the mechanics of how and when performance translates into success.

Barabási deliberately avoids prescriptive advice—but the framework invites reflection. I won’t repeat the five laws here, as I think they are the key selling point of the book, and that doesn’t seem fair. Yet here’s how I think the five laws could translate into action:

  1. You need to nail the measurable stuff. But if your work is hard to measure, you must also make sure that you are investing in your network, and letting social measurement do its work. Find the people who shape reputations and stay on their radar.
  2. Position yourself. Don’t just be competent—be seen as the one to call. And yes, that might mean telling your story louder than feels comfortable.
  3. Stack visible wins. Say yes to opportunities that put you on stage. And keep your skills sharp—momentum without substance fizzles fast. Don’t just know the new trends, master them.
  4. Lead. Form good teams, absolutely. But step up when it’s time to speak for them. Be the person others credit when things go right.
  5. Play long-term. Keep going. Most people quit too soon.

Barabási’s point is simple, and slightly uncomfortable: performance matters—but recognition matters more. Managing that second part is a skill worth cultivating.

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Personal

Two separate hobbies

There is a saying that “book buying and book reading are two separate hobbies”. I agree with this. I find it hard to resist buying or borrowing an interesting-looking book, especially when they are going cheaply at charity shops, which is my preferred method of acquisition. As a result, my shelves overflow, and the stack on my bedside table is constantly on the verge of landslide. My saving grace is that I do clear out books when I’ve read them; normally back to charity shops—so that others can indulge their bargain bibliomania too.

Early this Spring, I forced myself not to buy any more books until I’d made a dent in the piles that I had. It’s been tough. I haven’t limited my audiobook consumption, which represents around half of the books I read each year. Partly that is because audiobooks don’t take up space, and partly because I use them in different way: they are the soundtracks to my drives, my runs, and my more monotonous chores. The challenge was simply not to buy more tempting physical hardbacks that would languish on the stack for years.

Aside from the practical benefits, there is a broader psychological workout here. Neophilia tempts me to start every shiny new title. The endowment effect guilts me into finishing books I’m not enjoying. Both are distractions from the discipline of reading with purpose. I’m also trying to force myself to ditch books that aren’t delivering, rather than pushing through to the end. There is one book that’s been on my bedside stack for more than a year, as others have disappeared above and below it. I need to accept that this one may just not be for me: if there hasn’t been a good time to read it by now, when will there be? I haven’t quite let go of that unread volume yet—but I’m closer. And maybe that’s what this little experiment is really about: not just decluttering the shelf, but clearing some space in the mind.

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