Allegiance to beauty: Just in time for Valentine’s Day, assistant editor Emily Sun presents a musing on the total irrationality of falling in love. Sun argues that falling in love makes you strange to yourself; even if you try to apply a “rulebook for rational behavior” to love, “potential pleasure or pain become irrelevant.” As she cites Elaine Scarry, John Keats, Sappho, and Robert Hass, Sun muses on beauty, romance, and the “sweetbitter” nature of falling in love, and concludes that, for all its worth, philosophizing might be useless when confronted with the actual act of falling in love.
Elizabeth Eck, senior editor
Comedic fire: The quarter is half gone. Midterms are here and finals loom. Anxiety is running high. Add to this the deep Midwestern freeze and you have a gloomy season indeed. What better time than now to warm yourself at the fire of wit and humor? What better moment to put down the books of legitimate history and to pick up 1066 and All That, a comic reimagining of English history from ancient times up to the early 20th century?
Published in 1930 by two Punch magazine comics, WC Sellar and RJ Yeatman, and reprinted many times since, 1066 and All That is a seminal work of academic parody and, more particularly, a deflation of Late Victorian jingoism. The narrator, a nameless pedant, relates the history of England from Roman times to the outbreak of World War I, pausing every other page to pass judgment on persons and events. Under the narrator’s rubric, history is made up only of Good Things and Bad Things. The Magna Carta, he says, was a Good Thing, but Napoleon’s sack of Moscow was a Bad Thing. Every ten chapters or so the reader is presented with a quiz, the purpose of which is to baffle and to amuse. (“What is a Plantagenet? Do you agree?” As we say today, “Wrong answers only.”)
So if your coursework has you down, take a moment and refresh yourself with 1066 and All That. Read it aloud to your roommates and friends. Take turns answering the questions posed in each quiz. Most importantly, have a laugh. Because laughter, especially now that we’re in the doldrums of the academic year, is a Good Thing.
Published in 1930 by two Punch magazine comics, WC Sellar and RJ Yeatman, and reprinted many times since, 1066 and All That is a seminal work of academic parody and, more particularly, a deflation of Late Victorian jingoism. The narrator, a nameless pedant, relates the history of England from Roman times to the outbreak of World War I, pausing every other page to pass judgment on persons and events. Under the narrator’s rubric, history is made up only of Good Things and Bad Things. The Magna Carta, he says, was a Good Thing, but Napoleon’s sack of Moscow was a Bad Thing. Every ten chapters or so the reader is presented with a quiz, the purpose of which is to baffle and to amuse. (“What is a Plantagenet? Do you agree?” As we say today, “Wrong answers only.”)
So if your coursework has you down, take a moment and refresh yourself with 1066 and All That. Read it aloud to your roommates and friends. Take turns answering the questions posed in each quiz. Most importantly, have a laugh. Because laughter, especially now that we’re in the doldrums of the academic year, is a Good Thing.
Will Dudley, contributing editor
Exercises in irony: The Truce: Progressives, Centrists, and the Future of the Democratic Party, coauthored by journalist Hunter Walker and lawyer Luppe B. Luppen, is a funny book. Not intentionally, of course. Walker and Luppen offer a revealing and well-researched look into the Biden era of the Democratic Party —from the 2020 primaries through the very beginning of his 2024 campaign. The book is full of interviews with senior staffers, party bigwigs, and elected officials—who speak with surprising candor, and describe how Biden’s moderate staffers and the progressive wing of the Democratic party united to avoid the sort of ugly infighting that party insiders believe doomed Hillary Clinton’s 2016 campaign. To the authors, the truce between moderates and progressives portends an exciting future for the Democratic party, one in which a new generation of young progressives make their way into the party fold. Here’s the rub: The Truce was released on January 23, 2024, only six months before Biden’s disastrous debate and sudden decision to withdraw from the presidential race. By the time Harris took the helm and subsequently struggled to build a distinct identity to voters, progressive outrage over Biden and Harris’ support for Israel ensured that the truce had all but died. Reading The Truce now, with the identity of the Democratic party very much in doubt, is an exercise in irony. “‘There’s a lot of reasons people support her. But you’ve got to back that up with: ‘What are you going to do?’” said one senior Harris staffer, explaining Harris’s problems communicating with voters during her 2020 presidential run. Still, for those looking for a revealing look into the dynamics behind the Biden presidency, The Truce offers a fantastic starting point.
William Moursund, contributing editor
Dynamics of displacement: On Friday, January 31, the Pozen Family Center for Human Rights screened the Oscar-nominated documentary No Other Land. The documentary follows Basel Adra, a young Palestinian activist and journalist who documents Israeli-sanctioned demolitions and forced displacement of the Palestinian residents of Masafer Yatta, a region in the Israeli-occupied West Bank. Basel befriends Yuval Abraham, an Israeli activist and journalist, and the two men work together to report on the ongoing conflict, showing the resilience of Masafer Yatta’s residents. Ahmad Qabaha, a visiting associate professor in the University of Chicago’s comparative literature department, introduced the documentary and spoke about the film symbolizing the “sumud”—steadfastness in Arabic—of the Palestinian people. “Sumud” is an ideological and political strategy that emphasizes non-violent civil disobedience and Palestinian rootedness to the land.
No Other Land explores the possibilities and limits of friendship and journalism. Yuval helps Basel’s community with home rebuilding and the two men share their experiences candidly with one another, but Basel cannot visit Yuval’s home in Be’er Sheva, as Israel imposes restrictions on Palestinian movement. When violence increases in the film, a resident of Massafer Yata confronts Yuval, asking how Palestinians could continue to trust him as a reporter when his best friend, or even brother, could be the IDF soldier evicting Masafer Yatta residents. Through intimate conversations and scenes of violence, the film’s dialogue reveals the complicated power dynamics between Israelis, IDF soldiers, and Palestinians in the occupied territories. The IDF soldiers and Israeli citizens often speak in Hebrew during confrontations with Palestinians, while the Palestinians respond in Arabic. Unfortunately, the English subtitles do not indicate a difference in the spoken language, ultimately diminishing the viewing experience for an English-speaking audience. Regardless, these language dynamics reflect displacement on a linguistic level, as well as a literal one.
No Other Land explores the possibilities and limits of friendship and journalism. Yuval helps Basel’s community with home rebuilding and the two men share their experiences candidly with one another, but Basel cannot visit Yuval’s home in Be’er Sheva, as Israel imposes restrictions on Palestinian movement. When violence increases in the film, a resident of Massafer Yata confronts Yuval, asking how Palestinians could continue to trust him as a reporter when his best friend, or even brother, could be the IDF soldier evicting Masafer Yatta residents. Through intimate conversations and scenes of violence, the film’s dialogue reveals the complicated power dynamics between Israelis, IDF soldiers, and Palestinians in the occupied territories. The IDF soldiers and Israeli citizens often speak in Hebrew during confrontations with Palestinians, while the Palestinians respond in Arabic. Unfortunately, the English subtitles do not indicate a difference in the spoken language, ultimately diminishing the viewing experience for an English-speaking audience. Regardless, these language dynamics reflect displacement on a linguistic level, as well as a literal one.
Elena Eisenstadt, contributing editor
Image: Jean-Léon Gérôme, Lion Snapping at a Butterfly, oil on canvas, 1889 (Carnegie Museum of Art, Pennsylvania).