December 19, 2024

— Charles Dickens

↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓

Hey look, a chance to support the newsletter!

Sponsored by: Mode Mobile​ Did you hear abou the tech company that grew 32,481%? (No, it’s not Nvidia.) Meet Mode Mobile, Deloitte’s fastest-growing software company of last year. Mode Mobile is disrupting a $1+ trillion industry with an incredible 32,481% revenue growth from 2019 to 2022. Now you can invest for just 26 cents/share. Mode Mobile’s innovative $martphone empowers users to earn and save money through everyday use, already putting over $325 million back into the pockets of consumers. Now, with their newly secured Nasdaq ticker $MODE, Mode Mobile is primed for even greater growth. The deadline to invest and receive your shares this year is 12/20. Join 30,000+ shareholders and invest at $0.26/share today. Learn more and invest now

​

Please let me know here if you can't see the ads. Thanks!

↑ ↑ ↑ ↑ ↑ ↑

A huge gamble ...

The year was 1843, and Charles Dickens was exhausted. He'd just poured everything into completing the serialization and publication of his novel Martin Chuzzlewit—a work he thought might be his masterpiece, but that hadn't been received as well as the ones that had made him famous, like Oliver Twist and David Copperfield.

Part of it might have been the environment in which he wrote. Dickens had begun to feel disillusioned with the state of society; the divide between the rich and poor in London, and the indifference of the wealthy toward the suffering of the poor.

He had become more vocal about social issues, particularly the treatment of the working poor, but he felt he needed a way to reach the masses—not just through his regular novels, but in a way that would touch their hearts.

It was late October by now, and the Christmas season was approaching. Yet Dickens couldn’t ignore how many people, particularly the poor, were left out of the celebration. For the masses of the early 1800s, Christmas was not the festive, family-oriented holiday we think of today. It was largely an afterthought in England, a time for drinking and revelry, not for charity and community.

Dickens became obsessed. What if he could write a story that not only entertained but also moved people to reflect on the moral failings of society? What if he could write a story that could change hearts, especially during the holiday season?

One night, the idea came to him—a tale of a cold-hearted miser, a man so wrapped up in greed and selfishness that he couldn’t see the world around him. Ebenezer Scrooge was born in that moment, but the real twist of the story wouldn’t come until later. Dickens knew that the old man’s eventual transformation had to be more than just a story of redemption—it needed to be a parable about human decency, about the possibility of change, no matter how far gone someone seemed. Scrooge’s awakening had to remind the reader that anyone could make a difference, no matter how big or small.

What speaks to me most about the story of how Dickens came up with A Christmas Carol, the first edition of which was published on December 19, 1843, so 181 years ago today, is that he had to do it all quickly, and while dealing with the kinds of ordinary, prosaic pressures of life that we all deal with. He was already one of the world's best-known writers, but he wasn't yet independently wealthy—and he was supporting a family with five children.

Meanwhile, from a practical standpoint, A Christmas Carol as a complete departure from the format of the stories he'd previously sold; Dickens had thrived as a serialized novelist whose audience would react to each chapter he published, and who would even revise the stories based on reader feedback as he went along. A standalone novella like A Christmas Carol would be different.

He feared that the publishing world would not embrace it, that the book would flop and, perhaps worse, that it would ruin his other works. He finished it in just six weeks, and made the fateful decision to self-publish it, with all costs paid from his own pocket. His publisher, Chapman & Hall, was very skeptical, and it was a huge gamble; the book was released quietly, with no great expectations (pun intended).

But then, word spread quickly about the book. Dickens' social critique was woven seamlessly into a compelling narrative that was both entertaining and deeply emotional. Within a few weeks, A Christmas Carol was sold out. The public was drawn to the message, and Christmas, as they knew it, began to change.

A Christmas Carol didn’t just shift the holiday; it shifted the way people thought about Christmas charity. The novella turned the holiday into a time of giving, reflection, and community, and many of the traditions we now associate with Christmas, such as charitable giving and the idea of the Christmas spirit, took root in the public consciousness.

In the years that followed, A Christmas Carol would be adapted and re-adapted in countless forms, from theater productions to film adaptations. But it wasn’t just about the adaptations—it was about the message that Dickens had delivered. The message of redemption, of second chances, of transformation through kindness—this was a message that transcended time and place.

For Dickens, A Christmas Carol was a reminder that even in a world weighed down by injustice and greed, change was always possible, as long as people were willing to look inside themselves and rediscover the spirit of generosity. Today, even if you've never actually read any of Dickens's other works, almost everyone has read this one.

Oh, and we need a quote. How about this one, for our last Big Optimism newsletter of 2024?

Quick programming note: As I said above, this is the last Big Optimism newsletter of 2024. If you aren't also subscribed to Understandably, you can follow me there; I will likely have a few more original items before Christmas, and then go into "low power mode" for the rest of the year. Thanks for being with me here, and all the best for a fantastic new year!

Did you see ...

• It seems increasingly likely that we might end the year with a federal government shutdown. Elon Musk criticized a bipartisan funding bill on Twitter Wednesday and urged Congress to pass no legislation until after President-elect Donald Trump is sworn in. Soon afterward, Trump excoriated it as well, throwing the stopgap measure into chaos just as leaders of both parties were hoping to pass it. The bill would have kept the government open until March 14; a shutdown will occur at 12:01 a.m. Saturday without action. There is currently no announced fallback plan. (NBC News)
• In the days since former President Bashar al-Assad's fall, Syrians have begun the anguished search for family members who vanished under the dictator's regime. Mohammed Saeed Zidane and his wife live in the bombed-out Ein Tarma suburb of Damascus, struggling to get by, but a new home is not what they want most. They want their 39-year-old son back; he disappeared in 2012 after being stopped at an Assad checkpoint. His parents say they have never heard from him again. Still, they have hope. (CBS News)
• Allies of Donald Trump are pushing for him to file a lawsuit against Illinois Gov. JB Pritzker, who railed against the now-president elect on the campaign trail, calling him a “adjudicated rapist,” after Trump recently settled a defamation lawsuit against ABC News and George Stephanopoulos. (Politico)
• One man's mission to (finally) make the bald eagle the U.S. national bird: After learning that the bald eagle is not officially the national bird, an "eaglevangelist" in Minnesota is working with Congress to remedy the omission. (NBC News)
• When it comes to financial resolutions for 2025, there’s one goal that often lands on the top of the list — paying down debt, according to a new survey. That’s as a majority of Americans — 89% — say they have a main financial goal for 2025, the November survey of almost 2,500 adults found. (CNBC)
• At the Florida Senior Games, pickleball is the crown jewel. Here's why. (NPR)
• BTS Army. Arianators. Tater Tots. Swifties. Directioners: These are just a few of the fandom names stans worldwide have given themselves to honor their favorite celebrities. While being a “stan” is mostly harmless, it’s important to know exactly what a stan is and how it might be affecting your children—especially as fandoms continue to grow in power and popularity online. We break down everything you need to know about the cultural phenomenon, including when standom can turn toxic. (Parents.com)