Monday, January 12, 2026

Immoderate.

My favorite adjective in all of literature is "immoderate."

It's not a $12 SAT word, or an especially indecipherable word. But I'm sure I've never used it when speaking to someone, and until this evening, Sunday night, as I am writing this after a tough weekend, I'm not sure I've ever used it it writing.


I came across the word in the great Emily Wilson's fairly new translation of Homer's "Iliad." While I've always been an "Odyssey" -guy, Wilson's rendition of Homer--which is really the story of immoderate Achilles is winning me over quickly.

BTW, Emily Wilson is one of the world's great treasures. When the decaying of the world is too much with you, when you've been too thoroughly noemed and tumped and hegsucked and millered and disad-vanced, read a little something by Wilson. The Odyssey large and small and without direction will do you well.


What does Wilson mean by "immoderate"? It's an odd word after all. In my lifetime, and yours, it's hardly been used at all. According to Google's Ngram which tracks the frequency a word or phrase appears in the aggregate corpus of the language, "immoderate" seems to be printed about once every ten-million words or one-hundred-million.


Yet, it's the perfect word to describe Achilles. And maybe a perfect word to think about if you ever, in a dark moment, ponder the death of the West.

Wilson call Achilles immoderate because he has his code and he sticks by it. When he is slighted, mistreated, insulted, hurt, lied to his is a "deadly refusal to accept any of the traditional forms of compensation for the various losses he experiences."

He does not accept apologies.
He does not accept lavish compensation.
He does not accept the thousands-of-years-old rules of war.
He does not accept life, if accepting it will deny him his place.

When Agamemnon steals the beautiful captive Breisias from him, DAMN Agamemnon! Achilles will not fight. Even if it means the Greeks will lose, he will not fight. Not for riches. Not for slaves. Not for bended knee. 

He is immoderate.

When Patroclus, Achilles' closest friend, puts on Achilles' armor, when he dresses as Achilles to rally the Greeks and when Patroclus is then killed by Hector, Achilles' revenge goes against all the principles of war. 

Achilles kills Hector. Binds him by his ankles and drags his dead body seven times around the city of Troy, through the dirt and dust, as his grieving family watches.

He is immoderate.

When Achilles goes ballistic and turns into a killing machine to try to defeat once and for all the Trojans, he chooses a short bloody life over a long boring one.

He is immoderate.

Someone I'm very close to is, like Achilles, like me, immoderate. This someone is nearing seventy and just as immoderate as he ever was.

He believes in himself.
He believes in how he gets work done.
He believes in how he wins clients and their revenue.

His firm, after almost four decades, wants him gone.

He is immoderate.
He scares the people he works with.
He's too too by half.
They want him gone.

How many directors became persona non grata because they were persona immoderate? Or Creative Directors because they put the long-term value of the work (and therefore the agency) ahead of the compromise that was being demanded of them?

How many people, immoderate people, were cast aside for their immoderate-ness? As Shaw said in "Man and Superman,“The reasonable man adapts himself to the world: the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man.”

Yes, you can substitute Shaw's unreasonable for Emily Wilson's immoderate. 

You can make a leap from Achilles to my friend in this paragraph. And yes, "wrath," though we're meant to be polite and collaborative bridge-builders is how so many Achilles-like performers get ahead.

They are extraordinarily talented. Quick-footed. Fighters. Perhaps with divine blood. And they are never never never given adequate compensation.

“Achilles’ wrath is driven by a belief that he, an extraordinarily talented, quick-footed fighter with divine blood in his veins, should never have to suffer loss without adequate compensation. His wrath can end only once he recognizes that no mortal, even the son of a goddess, can ever hope for such good fortune.”

More,

“The limitless wrath of Achilles can end only once he recognizes that no absolute, permanent victory is ever possible. Everyone must bear unbearable losses, for which no compensation could ever be enough. In the end, we all lose.”

The tragedy of work is that the people who drive us forward often drive some people crazy. And so they are driven away. And most-often, work is driven backward.

I believe in immoderacy. In sticking to who you are. In opposing the prevailing winds--especially the ill ones which are buffeting us today and show no signs of abating.

Immoderacy.

Embrace it whole hog.

Be piggy about it.





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