It Was the War of the Trenches is one of the most passionately bleak works in the history of comics. French cartoonist Jacques Tardi is unremitting in his focus on the small, human details of the catastrophe of WWI—not just the look of uniforms and weaponry, but the way one soldier advances in an awkward, stiff-armed posture, “protecting my belly with the butt of the rifle,” and the way another makes sculptures and rings from discarded shells, to sell to his comrades.
The world is going to hell in a hurry. At my age, I ought to be used to it, but I’m not.
Perhaps ignorance is bliss, I say to myself and think of people I know who care little about what goes on in the world. I have sympathy for them. It’s no fun starting one’s day or retiring at night with images of dead children.
When he was old, my father said that he could think of two ways to break his addiction to newspapers: enter a monastery or a lunatic asylum.
Since the Gaza war began, an unprecedented wave of blood lust and racist violence has raged within Israel. Similar manifestations have occurred in earlier periods. What makes the present moment distinct is the incitement by politicians, including members of the cabinet, the Knesset, and other figures within the Israeli establishment.
On Tuesday, Senator Patrick Leahy introduced the revised USA Freedom Act, a bipartisan bill to rein in the National Security Agency’s collection of telephone and Internet records. Leahy’s bill comes not a moment too soon. Two reports issued on Monday bring into full view the dramatic costs to journalists, lawyers, and US businesses of dragnet surveillance without specific suspicions of wrongdoing.
For almost fifty years, the US government has had an especially effective tool for preventing voter discrimination: sending federal observers to polling stations across the country. As recently as the 2012 presidential election, the Justice Department dispatched more than 780 federal employees to 51 jurisdictions across 23 states. Now, that program has largely been suspended.
The barrage rolls forward. Ten minutes. Then they start again from the rear. The continuous deafening explosions, the howling of the flying shell fragments have practically stupefied me. Beside me, between salvos, Miklósik frantically digs himself deeper into his hole. Then a blast quite close to me. Utterly helpless, I give myself up to my fate and, with no emotion, wait for the end to come.
When Israelis and Palestinians appear fated to fight more frequently and with ever-bloodier consequences, and when peace initiatives seem to be utopian pipe-dreams doomed to fail, the liberal Zionist faces something like an existential crisis.
Russia is pregnant with Ukraine. Birth is inevitable. There is more to come: the intensifying labor pains, the tearing of the umbilical cord, the newborn’s first cries… The infant’s name will be beautiful: Farewell to Empire. But what of the mother? The coming labor will be difficult, and there will certainly be complications. Will she survive?
When 300,000 protesters from Thailand’s Red Shirt movement occupied Bangkok’s main commercial district in 2010, they were helped by an unusual ally: motorcycle taxi drivers. Able to navigate barricaded streets, the motorcycle taxis carried messages, money, and the makings of Molotov cocktails to protesters. Now the resilience of groups like the taxi drivers is likely to make it difficult for a new military junta to maintain control.
Raise your hand if you know what the actual sales are for Karl Ove Knausgaard’s My Struggle. This mammoth work of autobiography—presently running at three five-hundred-page volumes with three more still to be translated from his native Norwegian—is relentlessly talked about as an “international sensation and bestseller” (Amazon) and constantly praised by the most prestigious critics. Important newspapers carry frequent articles about Knausgaard and his work. In The Guardian, the academic Sarah Churchwell remarks that after sitting on the jury for the Booker prize she looks forward to being “the last reader in Britain” to tackle My Struggle.