1 Above deck, ice-scarred, off to Albion. ___ Let it be named so, for the dynastic furies combed into heads, pressed into lines of boys shouting ‘here, sir,’ and ‘not here, sir’ at devotion or on the parade ground, leaping over shadows as the sea broke with their names interred in the same roster,…
Six months ago, my yoga teacher decapitated his girlfriend. The police found her torso in the refrigerator of the RV he drove from New Orleans to Black Rock Desert every September for Burning Man. In this mid-size, decidedly regional Southern city — a site of national myth if not national importance — wars take place…
You will never be again What you never were before. Theodor Storm Every morning Odysseus sits on the beach and casts his eyes across the sun-freckled water. The breeze is fresh and the waves rumble gently as they break. He is crying. For seven years he has been a prisoner in paradise, the unwilling consort…
Albert Cohen died in 1981, hailed in France as one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century. His passing barely registered in the English-speaking world; not even the New York Times ran an obituary, and it is unlikely to correct this particular mistake in its “Overlooked” feature. Cohen was the author of a fictional…
2014 On September 4, 2014, the top brass of the Hellenic Coast Guard held a rare press conference at their Piraeus headquarters. Commodore Yiannis Karageorgopoulos presented a series of slides showing the Aegean and Ionian seas, plus a portion of the east Mediterranean south of Crete, which comprise the Coast Guard’s vast jurisdiction. Against this…
The temple is a latch on the skull where four bones fuse: the frontal, parietal, temporal, and sphenoid. In anatomy courses at art academies students study the latch and its quadruple planes with the help of diagrams and gypsum reproductions. Students draw and redraw these models, accustoming themselves to the relations of the shapes which…
The mind operates by means of emphasis, especially the mind in the grip of fear or anger. When it brings order to the welter of experience, the mind sometimes exceeds the requirements of coherence and proceeds to exercises in simplification. Out of our many identities, we select one; out of our many loves, we select…
I have been a college teacher for some of the happiest years of my life. When I tell people what I do for a living, what I really do, I say I teach people to think for themselves. It’s still a wonderful way to make a living, but over time I have begun wondering whether…
In 2014 I was hired, for two consecutive spring semesters, to teach writing and literature at one of the officially happiest colleges in America. The place was located in a beatific, temperate environment, with mountain views and imposing, elegant architecture; extraordinary foliage and trees burst from the very pavement, flowers were everywhere. There were outdoor…
I am standing on the quay in the Polish city of Szczecin. The north wind from the Baltic Sea brings a thick gray drizzle that envelops the buildings and the port cranes, creating a sense of stagnant timelessness. A tugboat on the Oder River, almost hidden by the curtain of rain and turned into a…
The bars long since closed when the shouting begins down the street Open the fucking door and all my old selves leap to their feet sick with adrenaline rushing to the point of convergence where things go bad. With repetitive force the voice assumes a switched-on hydraulic quality a monotony allowing…
They appear out of nowhere as if they know where all the doors are between our dimension and where they are called by their true name, are not the last survivors of their evolutionary niche. Familiarity does not diminish their curiosity, and even the great plain aligned to the grid of monoculture is not monotony,…
I signed the papers, and the world created out of all I have destroyed honestly doesn’t look much different. A grainy whitish wind blows in from Little Poland, and a human form in heavy gear screams unanswerable questions into traffic. Questions, while inadequate to truth, are faithful to sorrow, so fair enough. Inside…
I can’t make it right. Not the shadow lying on the snow, not the snow, terrain sloping crudely toward the poor outcome of a structure neither representational nor abstract, and the sketched-out town beyond ill-proportioned, depthless, and basic. There isn’t any sense of an origin, of what Plato called the lower soul, to animate what’s…
Each old thing in its new place must prove its worth yet again. Dust is disturbed, having made itself at home among what former tenants have found wanting. A friend brings a gift to brighten my room then leaves a cruel word to move in with me. Good and bad don’t always line…
You shall surely reprove your fellow. Leviticus 19:17 A long time ago, I spent a couple of years reading Calvinist theology and Puritan treatises and sermons (for a doctoral dissertation and a first book).I don’t remember many lines, but one has stuck in my mind. The Reverend Richard Baxter, author of The Holy Commonwealth, described…
Nearly all observers today agree that politics in the United States is in a dire, poisoned state. For this they generally blame “polarization” — and the other political camp. In fact, the reasons are both more complicated and more distressing, and cannot be blamed on any single political grouping. In his pre-pandemic best-seller Enlightenment Now,…
Alongside the industrial and the digital revolutions, the modern era has witnessed a happiness revolution. The scientific study, laboratory refinement, and industrial production of happiness are all big business. If we count among its products the dopamine rush with which we are awarded for our small efforts online, the happiness industry is now the largest…
Delight is an orphan. Many other moods and emotions have had champions in literature and philosophy, patrons invested in their cultural standing. Melancholy can claim The Anatomy of Melancholy, Robert Burton’s strange masterpiece from 1621. It generated a fashion for melancholy that has not entirely faded, which the Romantics powerfully refreshed, lionizing melancholy for its…
Figs are sweet, but don’t last long. They spoil fast in transit, says the shopkeeper. Like kisses, adds his wife, a hunched old woman with bright eyes. Translated by Clare Cavanagh
Good government, Buon Governo, and the good judge — we see how Siena thrives under the just ruler. Peace reigns over all, revealed. The peasants work serenely, grapes swell with pride, a wedding party dances in the street. But bad government sets out to torment justice, who bears the lovely name Iustitia, it…
Let’s try to imagine it: a little like old Tolstoy he strolls the fields of Picardy, where funny tanks once clumsily defeated the terrain’s slight elevation. He visits the town where Bruno Schulz died or sits on a riverbank above the Vistula’s dim water, a meadow scented with warm dandelions, burdocks, and…
And then when you entered the empty garage a trumpet called as in the Fifth Symphony And it suddenly grew clear that there is joy and death and mad flies that circle the table where all of you sat just moments ago calmly chatting
The old painter stands by the studio window, where his brushes and colors lie. Poets wait for inspiration, but objects and faces assault the painter, they arrive shrieking. Their contours, though, have blurred and faded. Objects turn blind, mute. The old painter feels only a dim wave of light, a longing for…
You like to read biographies of poets You rummage through another life That sudden shock of entering another life’s dark forest But you may leave at any moment for the street or the park or from a balcony at night you may gaze at stars belonging to no one stars that wound like knives without…
In articles that appeared in the American Journal of Psychiatry in 1969 and 1971, three army psychiatrists boasted that the policy of embedding psychiatrists in Vietnam’s combat units had been a wonderful success. And so the army’s statistics seemed to show. Peter Bourne, who headed the army’s psychiatric research team, announced that henceforth “psychiatric casualties…
The controversy over whether Proust was in any sense a Jewish writer or, on the contrary, in some way essentially a Jewish writer, began in France only weeks after he was buried. It still persists there. But before we dip into these muddied waters, some clarifications are in order about the…
We yearn for great leaders, but we seem to resist them when they come along. This is a paradox inherent to democracies, between the demand for liberty, equality, and self-reliance among citizens and the continuing need for leadership in the unruliness of an open society. We vacillate between power and drift, between embracing strong leaders…
On July 15, 1945, Rembrandt’s 339th birthday, the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam re-opened with the most emotionally charged exhibition in its history. Called “Weerzien der Meesters,” or “Reunion with the Masters,” the show gathered one hundred and seventy-five paintings that had spent the five years of the Occupation hidden in bunkers. During those five years, private…
An epitaph — the short inscription on a tombstone — normally names and praises admirable qualities of the person buried there, and then hopes for a benevolent future after death. The gravestone may speak to the viewer in the dead person’s voice (as Coleridge imitates the Latin Siste, viator: “Stop, Christian…
Strictly for the birds. – Holden Caulfield Easy to think of what’s different, what’s broken or chastened somehow now that I’ve lived longer than my father ever did. No nightlights back then, for example, those steady little stars we plant and grow about the house now like nightflowers to make us…
Pride comes before a fall, Solomon says, but any fool knows that’s not true. Take Jesus, for example, or Gump Jaworski, who did a double half gainer and most of a triple solchow on his last day of working for Gutters ‘R’ Us (“Gutter Problems? Gutter Call Us!”) when he fell off a company ladder trying…
They say Lady Godiva put everything she had on a horse, but what if the wager had grown from speculating whether everything on earth is always growing steadily, incrementally, or whether things are inevitably falling apart? The safe bet would be the latter, of course, the smart call. You’d have gravity on your side, that…
Teach your tongue to say: I do not know, lest you be duped. Talmud Berachot 4a The phrase “Joshua Katz,” as it is ground down and churned out by the national rumor mill, refers not to one character but to many. He is a conniving fiend; a wronged and saintly genius; a bitter man who…
“So Socrates!” he teased, “you are still saying the same things I heard you say long ago.” Socrates replied: “It is more terrifying than that: not only am I always saying the same things, but also about the same things.” Xenophon, Memorabilia, IV.4.6 (translated by Jonathan Lear) In the plenitude of discouragements that…
What is happening on the Supreme Court of the United States? The Court has overruled Roe v. Wade. It has rejected the whole idea of a right to privacy. It is sharply restricting the ability of federal agencies to protect safety, health, and the environment. It is limiting voting rights. It is expanding the rights…
As I write these words, articles are mushrooming in newspapers and magazines about how privacy is more important than ever after the Supreme Court ruling that has overturned the constitutionality of the right to have an abortion in the United States. In anti-abortion states, browsing histories, text messages, location data, payment data, and information…
The Emperor Nicholas was alone in his accustomed writing-room in the Palace of Czarskoe Selo, when he came to the resolve. He took no counsel. He rang a bell. Presently an officer of his Staff stood before him. To him he gave his orders for the occupation of [the Danubian] Principalities. Afterwards he told Count…
I My title may appear provocative, but I doubt whether anyone is likely to disagree that of all the great composers Liszt is the one most frequently accused of bad taste, and also that the accusation has never threatened his status among the great. Indeed, as Charles Rosen once suggested, the accusation in some sense…
* * * The Earth, stuffed to the gills with burning coals and consuming itself from its birth bristling with folds that sharpen into peaks, sometimes of short hairs sometimes forming dark dense beards and hollowed out with giant cavities filled with restless water from which emerged the grand debris of its genesis…
* * * Over our heads masses are moving, whitish cottony, ghosts on the weather maps Windings, swirls, languid scrolls under the sting of the wind, wandering herds Floating bodies. Appearing. Disappearing. In our own image. We, more unstable than plants fixed to the ground or the fish sheltered in water…
On the sandy path that goes by my door and leads to the station of dreams, where I had just walked, a muffled cry reached my ear. I stopped walking and saw a clump of dry, drowsy grass. The cry came from the ground. A root deplored being without news from the stem up there…
Leaning in summer tuxes across the balcony or reclining like nudes with their hair thrown back, some trees, after high conversation, complained about having to go back to the deaf earth again. The leaves pulled on their arms to keep them from going and to get even closer to whom?…
* * * Mother death you came to him so mildly so cruelly alternating authority with seduction He out-of-breath following you or fleeing you In the end you wore the features of Morphine and clasped her to you cruelly mildly I gave his body to flames married his ashes to…
I As a political thinker, the German philosopher Carl Schmitt was enamored of symbols and myths. His biographer has shown that during the 1930s Schmitt was convinced that providing National Socialism with a rational justification was self-contradictory and self-defeating. The alternative that was conceived by Schmitt, a conservative who was an eminent member…
Back when I was an idealistic young soul, I enrolled in a PhD program in French and Comparative Literature, intent on making a career in academia. Those were the days when New Criticism and Semiotics held sway, and texts were to be read without interference from outside influences. The approach we were taught,…
Last year, a student came to my office hours to discuss her post-graduation plans. She said she wanted to travel, teach, and write. “How about joining the Peace Corps?” I suggested. She grimaced. “The Peace Corps is problematic,” she said. I replied the way I always do when a student uses that all-purpose put-down. “What’s…
This is the work of your own hands strange to say, all these stories carved with a certain severity, each woodcut brought forward in strokes, a register of darkness removed. There’s a tower and a bridge. A figure midway across watches the shadows below. Midway between what? Today and tomorrow, if you like,…
It is not wholly myself, this shadow tugging itself loose as though it knew better where to go from here what to do and see before the ship leaves with the tide. Not a thousand ships, you understand, just the one. Tall and proud, I suppose, and in a dreadful hurry, what with the wind…
It has been here as long as I have I think, settling in the sand. The current drags through like a wind, carrying small reef-building creatures to this outpost. When I was a child it looked different. It was a room then, the brass knobs spit-shined and the drawers filled with carefully folded clothes;…
