Himself an atheist, de Botton argues these points in the interview: (1) it’s easy for people of all beliefs to forget moral lessons they’ve learned in the past and continue repeating their mistakes, (2) religions do a good job of creating a “moral atmosphere” that inspires people to think about goodness, evil, suffering, and kindness; (3) art museums should organize at least some of their galleries not chronologically but thematically, taking inspiration from church services that through the senses invite the viewer to consider moral and ethical questions; and (4) atheists should adopt for themselves ideas that they like from any religion just like one may both like and dislike certain parts of the same work of literature.

Can going to a museum make one morally courageous? I agree with de Botton’s first proposition, and I also think that art can remind us of our values. For me, narrative-centered art forms like film, literature, and biography have the strongest impact on reinforcing my beliefs (or challenging them, for that matter). Static forms of art (like painting) or highly stylized ones (like opera) are more difficult for me to apply to my life. Even though I still enjoy them, I lack a mental paradigm to delve into their truths. Music, poetry, and philosophy writing break down for me in the middle: the more their arguments and observations are delivered in a narrative form, the more I am capable of thinking seriously about them.

When people go astray and find themselves lacking in courage, I don’t think they have forgotten what their beliefs are. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have pangs of conscience. What they forget is why they once came to those convictions in the first place. The emotional underpinnings of their philosophy: this scaffolding is often torched by our poor memory for moral lessons.

A narrative-based work of art leads its audience’s emotions along a virtual highway back to their original convictions. I agree with de Botton that immersive museum experiences can help us reinforce good values, just like many other arts venues. But there are obvious limitations. First, the viewer has to be a conscientious person who thinks critically about ideas. Second, it’s hard to imagine a museum inspiring the same sense of community–which also aids in moral courage–as one finds in a religious congregation. Third, as de Botton himself suggests, perhaps slashing undesirable religious ideas from one’s personal philosophy while keeping others may undermine the function of religion as a method of challenging our selfishness.

I don’t think de Botton supplants religion with his philosophy. Rather, I think he tries to dam a certain tributary of Western thought: the idea that morality is no longer a primary human concern because religious institutions have lost their central place in society. Topics like goodness, courage, suffering, and justice should be everybody’s business, says the philosopher.

From left to right: Florence Green (d. 2012; UK), Claude Choules (d. 2011; UK), Frank Buckles (d. 2011; US), and Erich Kästner (d. 2008; Germany)

The last surviving veteran of World War I, Florence Green, died last Saturday. The last American to have served in the war, Frank Buckles, as well as the last veteran to have actually seen combat, Claude Choules, died last year. Their generation saw the accumulation of European culture and technology–the hope of the world–burn for four years on the pyre of war. Theirs was also the first generation to sweep away the ashes and sculpt new strains of Western culture. But almost everything that they (and others after them) wrote, painted, said, and filmed bore the mark of the trauma of World War I.

With the death of these last veterans, we have lost the eyewitnesses to these events. All data now about that time will be secondhand. And collective memory fades quicker when individual memories are stored on hard drives, manuscripts, and film than in human heads.

But there are important lessons to be learned from the experiences this generation recorded. These lessons are best not forgotten, as the men and women would once have told us, who witnessed the radiant procession of humanity in the brilliant summer of 1914 unwittingly march to their oblivion.

The N.Y. Times article suggests three reasons for the decline in popularity worldwide of our Constitution: (1) America’s decreasing influence and reputation, (2) conservative judges’  insistence that the original intent of the Founding Fathers be considered in rulings, and (3) the absence of rights that are featured in other nations’ constitutions (e.g. rights to travel, food, education, and healthcare).

Should these be causes for concern for Americans?

Addressing the first reason, I think the greatest blows to American reputation happen when the U.S. initiates wars of questionable cause. American involvement in Vietnam and Iraq (2003-2011) soured America’s image around the world during a time when we needed support for broader conflicts (Cold War and the War on Terror, respectively). We should become more wary of beginning a war.

I’m split about the second reason. I think such rhetorical devices as “the Founding Fathers intended that…” are specious constructions. There is no singular “the Founding Fathers.” There were several of them, and they hacked away at each other’s ideas and honor in chambers of congress, newspapers, and back rooms just like politicians do today. In other words, they were men, not demi-gods.

On the other hand, I think we can only profit by “including” people such as Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, John Adams, and others in our national dialogue. Our past, when honestly remembered, provides a useful check to our current ideas and actions. The thought-inspiring history of the U.S. Constitution–the world’s oldest active charter–is an American advantage that can’t be replicated by most other nations (the average national constitution is replaced every 19 years).

I also think that there are grounds for improvement on the third reason, the absence of rights. The Democratic Party generally fights to provide food, healthcare, and higher education opportunities for every American even though these aren’t technically constitutional rights. But if they were guaranteed by the document of the Founding Fathers, conservative politicians and judges may be bound to help the needy too.

It seems like the prelude to the Iraq War is now repeating itself with Iran. The bulk of American armies quartered in Iraq flew back home in December. They were met in the United States quietly and with respect for their hard-fought victories. But the nation also remained silent about what the Iraq War has meant for the future of American foreign and domestic policy. There has been no real dialogue about this, and that is worrisome.

Source: NBC News/WSJ Polls via PollingReport.com

America buried thousands of its soldiers in the Middle East, and Iraq lost hundreds of thousands of soldiers and civilians because of the conflict. The Iraq War cost the American taxpayer nearly 2 trillion dollars. This money could have been used to help solve the healthcare problems in America or even just eliminate our chronic budget deficits.

But the public seems willing to sacrifice more blood and treasure in Iran without even discussing the cost. Saddled by a monstrous amount of debt, can our nation even afford another such war?

The president, who may have to take a hard line against Iran as a diplomatic tactic, can’t initiate a national dialogue about the feasibility of war in Iran. That’s the job of Congress, the media, and the public–before the decision is made for us. And the war in Iraq is an excellent reference point for such a debate.

Below is a survey of books that were published in the past month or so and look to me like interesting reads (note: I have not actually read these books yet, and these are previews not reviews).

…

War of 1812

This year marks the 200th anniversary of the War of 1812. Many overlook this conflict, but it inaugurated important changes for America. During the war, America tried unsuccessfully to invade Canada, Washington D.C. was invaded and burned by the British, American Indian unification efforts (which were supported by the British) against the colonists were dealt a punishing blow, and the lyrics of the “Star Spangled Banner” were composed. After the war, British and American relations began to improve until eventually the two nations became each other’s closest ally in the 20th Century.

Several new books are being published in commemoration of the anniversary. Three that were released last year—two popular ones by George C. Daughan and Stephen Budiansky and a more scholarly one by Kevin D. McCranie—focus on the naval conflict. But the best new overview of the War of 1812 is by J.C.A. Stagg and is due to come out on March 31 of this year.

The book I’m most excited to read, though, is David Hanna’s Knights of the Sea: The True Story of the Boxer and the Enterprise and the War of 1812. The ships HMS Boxer and USS Enterprise dueled off the coast of Maine on a brisk autumn day. The captains of the opposing vessels were later buried together in a dual funeral on the American shore, inspiring the poem “My Lost Youth” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

The author, Hanna, grew up within view of where the battle once took place. Unlike most historians, who are either journalists or academics by training, Hanna is a high school teacher. His book also seems to branch out to reconsider afresh the causes of the war. Hanna’s personal connection to his subject, unique background, and scholarly approach to the War of 1812 should make for a stimulating read.

Mr. and Mrs. Madison’s War: America’s First Couple and the Second War of Independence. Hugh Howard. The War of 1812 from the perspective of the President (and First Lady) that witnessed the burning of nation’s capital.

Illinois in the War of 1812. Gillum Ferguson. Two centuries ago, Indians and British soldiers fought it out with American colonists over control of Illinois. Fort Dearborn was a battleground in this forgotten conflict.

…

Current events

Bill Clinton and George Bush Sr., viciously critical of one another in the ‘90s, now chummily cooperate to raise money for international charities. Why is it that politicians from different parties only work together after they’re out of office? Whatever the reason, journalist Philip Taubman has published a new book that elucidates a lesser known bipartisan partnership dedicated to the common good: two Republicans (including former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger), two Democrats (including former Secretary of Defense William Perry), and a scientist who have devoted the twilight of their careers to banish nuclear weapons from the face of the earth. This story deserves to be heard because, since the Cold War ended, the public and media generally choose to repress thoughts about the nuclear threat.

For as long as I have been interested in politics, the Republican Party has astounded and repulsed me, and I know I’m not the only conservative who feels this way. That’s why I can hardly wait to read Geoffrey Kabaservice’s new book, titled Rule and Ruin: The Downfall and the Destruction of the Republican Party, From Eisenhower to the Tea Party. Kabaservice describes how the party once dedicated to smart government, limited foreign wars, and civic responsibility became a small-minded creature addicted to the unsavory gruel dished out by corporations and fundamentalist Christians. Even Ron Paul, who most closely resembles a traditional conservative, brandishes his own brand of the party’s signature devotion to ideological purity. Kabaservice’s new book seems like an excellent resource to understand what has happened to the GOP.

The Operators: The Wild and Terrifying Inside Story of America’s War in Afghanistan. Michael Hastings. The journalist whose Rolling Stone article prompted the dismissal of a top general examines the shadowy side of war.

Intel Wars: The Secret History of the Fight Against Terror. Mattew M. Aid. Ten years and hundreds of billions of dollars later, Aid evaluates the improvements and weaknesses of the American intelligence community since 9/11.

All In: The Education of General David Petraeus. Paula Broadwell. The first real biography about the counterinsurgency expert focuses on his efforts in Afghanistan after his successful campaigns in Iraq.

…

Race in America

Ever since reading The Metaphysical Club by Paul Menand, I have favored history books that narrate the story of a small but influential group of individuals as a vehicle for raising broader issues and arguments. This style adds momentum to the narrative by getting the reader involved in the collective struggles of the group as well as the fate of each individual.

Diane Brady has published a new book in this style with an interesting team of characters. It’s called Fraternity: In 1968, a visionary priest recruited 20 black men to the College of the Holy Cross and changed their lives and the course of history. Reverend John Brooks, a white professor of theology at the college, would become a lifelong mentor to these men. Those 20 students would go on to become a Supreme Court justice (Clarence Thomas), a Pulitzer Prize winner in literature (Edward P. Jones), an NFL player (Eddie Jenkins), and successful leaders in business and law. This book provides a powerful example of what one teacher who sticks his neck out for his students can do to help propel them forward on life’s path.

Dear White America: Letter to a New Minority. Tim Wise. Wise claims that whites should become an ally of America’s increasingly multicultural society (instead of rebelling against it like the Tea Party movement).

A Slave in the White House: Paul Jennings and the Madisons. Elizabeth Dowling Taylor. Jennings was a slave for the Madisons who wrote his memoirs–a unique look at the time of the War of 1812–after being emancipated.

…

Notable mentions

Sealab: America’s Forgotten Quest to Live and Work on the Ocean Floor. Ben Hellwarth. While astronauts travelled to outer space in the 1960s, Navy divers were less publicly pioneering a project to explore the ocean depths.

A Line in the Sand: The Anglo-French Struggle for the Middle East, 1914-1948. James Barr. Organizing new research into an appealing narrative, Barr examines the origins of today’s conflicts in the Middle East.

Heinrich Himmler: A Life. Peter Longerich. This is the first comprehensive biography of one of history’s most savage men. Himmler, a down-and-out chicken farmer after WWI, rose to power as a leader of Nazi street thugs.

Vanished Kingdoms: The Rise and Fall of States and Nations. Norman Davies. Ever heard of the kingdoms of Alt Clud, Etruria, Rosenau, or Tsernagora? This book tells the story of one-time nations left out of most history books.

Someday All This Will Be Yours: A History of Inheritance and Old Age. Hendrik Hartog. This book invites contemplation about, as one reviewer put it, “the enduring dilemma in mixing love and economic need.”

The nation that brought the world Lada and Zhiguli cars–which asked of their owners to spend nearly every weekend under their jacked-up chassis salving their ever-irritated metal bowels–produced submarines during WWII that would never quite pass muster in an American or German shipyard. This run-down state of submersible machinery can be fully appreciated by reading Victor Korzh’s memoir, Red Star Under the Baltic: A Soviet Submariner in WWII.

As the chief engineer aboard these subs, Korzh knew every nut and bolt and describes their mechanical failures with the technical detail befitting a master. But the inability of Soviet designers and shipyards to perfect submarine design is no stain on the reputation of the Russian sailor. On the contrary, the Russian submariners’ ability to not only survive but also sink many German merchantmen in the unforgiving seas of the Baltic is a testament to their boldness and technical ingenuity.

In one story among many, Korzh describes how a shoddy repair job in a Finnish dry dock left his submarine, L-21, with broken stern hydroplanes (which help control the diving and surfacing of the boat) after a nasty storm. To fix this, Korzh kept L-21 resting on the seabed for two days as teams of sailors pounded away with four sledgehammers at the mounting of the stern hydroplanes in an effort to remove enough steel from it to fit in there the still-working control mechanism from the bow hydroplanes (which weighed hundreds of pounds and had to be lugged from the very front of the ship to the back). The ricocheting of the sledgehammers drew inquisitive German submarines like sharks to the scene, but they were powerless to attack L-21 while she lay submerged.

I’ve read more in the past about American fleet boats and German U-boats than about Russian submarines. There are some interesting differences between the conditions and doctrines of these naval services.

Korzh’s memoir begins during the Siege of Leningrad, where the Baltic Fleet’s submarines were relocated after their forward bases in the Baltic countries were captured by the Germans. The dire shortage of almost everything in that city meant that the submarines had to make do with substandard repair work, and the sailors themselves had to scrounge around Leningrad for raw materials to repair their boats. Korzh admits, “we were showing the old ships no mercy; we were repairing their machinery just enough for them to stagger on to the end of the war, creaking and groaning.”

Operating in the Gulf of Finland and Baltic Sea also meant that the subs had to slither through shallow water in enemy territory, which usually spells death for the submarine. Luckily, the German crews weren’t as skillful or equipped for anti-submarine warfare as the British were against the U-boats. There is only one story in Korzh’s account of the Germans ever using active sonar (the ping one hears in sub movies which means another ship is locating the sub). If the British and American hunter-killer groups were chasing these Soviet subs in the Baltic, I think the latter would never stand a chance.

Another amazing difference is how the Russian subs navigated German minefields, which they couldn’t avoid in the Gulf of Finland. These mines would be floating on the surface and have a cable attached to them descending to the seafloor. The procedure for going through a minefield was for the sub to submerge, all of the sailors to be quiet, and everyone to listen for the scraping of a mine cable against the ship’s hull. When they would hear the cable sliding across their hull, the captain would order an emergency turn to avoid snagging it and triggering the mine. Considering that this is the crudest method imaginable for dodging mines, it’s amazing Korzh survived these ordeals.

Korzh was lucky. On his second patrol, his boat S-12 triggered two antenna mines, and the explosions sent waterfalls into the ship. On that same patrol, they also got caught in an anti-submarine net ringed with canisters of explosives (which went off), but they managed to escape. Dozens of situations presented themselves to Korzh over the course of his patrols that would have resulted in capture by the enemy or death if an ingenious technical fix wasn’t found for a critical malfunction. That Korzh survived all of these trials is really amazing and speaks highly of his resourcefulness.

The steel boats hunting alone in ice-rimmed Baltic waters. The men inside shivering from condensation endlessly dripping off pipes onto their damp clothing. The scramble of activity to fix broken machinery, heads and hands submerged in greasy engines and chloric batteries. It’s a story best read while sitting inside of a warm house.

Inside, there is a scramble of activity. A general checkout line stretches from the cashier stands far back into the dairy products aisle. Lines are everywhere—to the seafood stand, the deli, the aisle with the cooking oils—but they are all rapidly moving forward.

Men in suits coming back from work squeeze through the narrow space between shelves to get around other shoppers: young women with strollers, older ladies in puffy black coats with fur collars, hipsters sampling different flavors of olive oil, a gray-browed man pounding an air piano with one hand as he listens to an iPod.

Two employees hidden in a nook are busy servicing a separate line of customers wanting to get coffee. They take orders, scoop pungent black beans from barrels, sprinkle them into grinding machines, pack the resulting powder into paper packets, and give it to the customers. The nook is heavy with the sweaty scent of crushed beans. Ahead of them is an even larger nook whose three walls are resplendent with fine cheeses.

Two men—one on a ladder—empty a wooden cart onto an unreachably tall pyramid of oranges. It has a sculpted shape formed by perfect layers—like bricks—of fruit, but I notice that the men aren’t forming the newly-plumped oranges into the pyramid themselves. Does this mass of fruit just take on its own shape?

…

I FLY INTO New York City yesterday morning, the plane’s landing pattern taking it into a swooping turn over the center of Manhattan on its way to land at LaGuardia Airport. The sun rises over a clear atmosphere. Bridges from the other boroughs stretch over waters—pink-lit—and onto Manhattan Island like ropes over Gulliver.

Flying over Brooklyn toward LaGuardia, I see an enormous patch of elevated dull green ground amid a landscape of brownstones and projects. It is a group of cemeteries, and their yellowed grass seems to be sprinkled, like salt on a wound, with tiny white specks—tombstones. Two busy highways run through the cemeteries like arteries coursing through a dry heart.

What is there? A whole swarm of New Yorkers—dead. Citizens, civic leaders, strong-hearted men and women, contemporaries of Whitman and the Roosevelts, some once rich and some once poor are now all dry bones collected in durable boxes. The dramas and struggles of their lives continue in the city all around them, passed on to more animated hands and hearts.

…

TODAY, I WALK down the streets of Manhattan to a café near my brother-in-law’s apartment. There are people everywhere. They abound in the shop-lined avenues that intersect streets with multi-storied ancient townhouses. They run and walk their dogs in Central Park, that enormous sculpture of stone, hill, grass, tree, and lake loved by wildlife.

At the bottom of a hill, an old white woman in gray coat and a young black man in a varsity jacket are talking. Their dogs, leashed, play tag in a circle around their legs.

Even on a snowless winter day, Central Park is beautiful. The park benches have dedicatory inscriptions. I read them and think about the New Yorkers—now gone—that they commemorate. Who were they, these citizens that looked upon these same trees and boulders as I do? The inscriptions on the benches are a narcotic: I lose myself in these thoughts.

Halfway down a ridge overlooking a vista of forested hills furrowed by walkways, there is a bench and an inscription that I stop for. It reads, “Dear Leonard, / Meet me here. / I love you.” Two whole lives and a wish for immortality are summed up in those three lines of poetry.

…

I WALK ON Columbus Avenue. Window cleaners slop soapy water onto a tall shop window and squeegee it down with a long-handled mop to reveal an invisible surface. A sturdy man in a coarse blue-gray jacket prepares to unload boxes from a parked white truck in the salty mid-winter morning air. A fragile old woman sits with her head buried in a fur coat. She has jade-colored jewellery flowers in her faded blonde hair. As I pass her hunched alone in the outdoor seating area of a corner café, her leashed puppy lunges at a nearby pigeon. The bird flies away.

A man emerges from the metal door-flaps of a basement cellar carrying a large uncovered basket of freshly-quartered onions. He walks into a door below a maroon awning on which is written in white letters, “Indian Bistro”. There are many such cellars in New York City. They are twenty-foot traps gaping in the sidewalk with descending iron ladders. Their doors are flung open for much of the day. If you don’t look when you walk—and if you are really unlucky—you could actually fall in.

This first of a series of posts, called “In the Abstract”, are ideas for topics for new history books. Sometimes historians, I think, shoot themselves in the foot by framing their research projects in an uninteresting way. Others, though, do this masterfully and create history books that are engaging, relevant, insightful, and bring the characters and world of another age to life not only for the academic community but for the general public too. Often the path of success or failure begins in the choice of topic. In an effort to sharpen my skills in framing historical topics, I welcome your criticism and comments of my imaginary abstract.

…

ART is frequently seen as flourish to life for those that can afford leisurely activities. Love of art is something that supposedly dies in people when other, more basic, human needs are not being met. But to a select group of Russian writers, poets, artists, and musicians that lived in Leningrad during the siege of 1941-44 by the German army, the drive to produce new creative work did not vanish. Amid the base struggle for survival in that city under blockade, with starvation, violence, death, cannibalism, terror, and inhumanity permeating their existence, many artists in Leningrad later wrote that they experienced the strongest artistic drive of their lives. There has not been a book in English devoted to their stories. A book about the individuals, meeting places, and creative works that these artists produced (among them Dmitri Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 7–the “Leningrad Symphony”) under the most unpromising circumstances would be a testament to the basic importance of creativity in human life.

Below is a survey of books that were published in the past month or so and look to me like interesting reads (note: I have not actually read these books, and these are previews not reviews).

…

Africa

I’m currently reading William L. Shirer’s The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, and one of among many striking things about Nazi Germany is how easily a multitude of religious leaders in that country kowtowed to Hitler’s religious decrees (which needless to say were staggering in their impiety—replacing the Bible in pulpits with Mein Kampf, for instance). Religions like Christianity derive their power from writing and oratory. But if those mesmerizing words are not backed by deeds when the going gets rough (i.e. when the Gestapo will kill you if you continue practicing authentic Christianity) then such sermonizing appears in hindsight like idle chatter.

That’s why I can’t help but admire a guy like Sam Childers. After he converted to Christianity, he traded a life of drugs, motorcycle gangs, and chasing women in America to become a machine-gun armed protector of orphans and other destitute children in violence-ravaged Sudan. That’s some tough, in-your-face Christianity and not of the “Have you heard the Good Word? Here, take a pamphlet” variety. Childers has published a memoir of his experiences.

Fr. John Kaiser, a priest raised in Minnesota who was killed in Africa while standing up to government authorities on behalf of the poor, had a similar mission as Childers. Journalist and author Christopher Goffard has just published an account of Fr. John’s life in Africa called You Will See Fire: A Search for Justice in Kenya. These life stories of hard-bitten Christians exhibiting physical courage while helping others are just the thing to read for suburban Christians experiencing ennui in the faith.

Life Upon These Shores: Looking at African American History, 1513-2008. Henry Louis Gates Jr. A prominent scholar musters the latest research to chronicle the varied experiences of blacks in America.

…

Russia

Seven years ago, I read memoirs of Russians who lived through World War I in the city of Petrograd. I realized how hard it was to pick apart the truth from varied and contradictory accounts of the past. The Russian history professor who was supervising my project was scathingly critical of Tsar Nicholas II’s leadership. The autobiography that I read of a commander in the tsarist White Army, though, praised the deposed monarch to no end. A historian needs to form his own opinions by looking at the facts, which is the most challenging and also the most ennobling part of the profession. And one of the most confounding mysteries in recent history–one that requires the historian to marshal her utmost skills–is the cause and culprit of World War I.

Recent research in this area of Russian history has focused on the political climate of the capital of Tsarist Russia: Petrograd. Professor Mark D. Steinberg of the University of Illinois in Urbana-Champaign has just published a book examining the works of writers in that fateful city between the two revolutions of 1905 and 1917.

But the most stunning contribution to the subject is the salvo delivered by Sean McMeekin across the bow of the academic history community with his publication on November 30th of The Russian Origins of the First World War. His thesis that Russian politicians’ aggressive drive toward annexing territories from the Ottoman empire was the primary cause of World War I flies in the face of the accepted wisdom (championed by 20th century historian Fritz Fischer) that Germany was the culprit of 1914. This book is sure to ruffle some feathers and unnerve some minds, but I think McMeekin’s work is worth reading to understand the complexities of the diplomatic fiascoes that precipitated worldwide catastrophe.

The Jewish Dark Continent: Life and Death in the Russian Pale of Settlement. Nathaniel Deutsch. An expedition before WWI documented the life of Jews living in shtetls in the Tsar’s empire before those communities vanished.

It Was a Long Time Ago, and It Never Happened Anyway: Russia and the Communist Past. David Satter. Satter examines Russia’s Communist past—a rare project today—because authoritarianism rears its ugly head there again.

…

Natural resources

If you’re really into some natural object, there’s probably a history book out there about it. Coffee, fruit, cod, salt, spices, tobacco, chocolate, and many other resources have been featured in cultural histories over the past couple of decades. Other well-known contemporary works, such as Guns, Germs, and Steel and 1493, focus on the effects of biology on history and vice versa. My hunch is that this trend in historical writing may be inspired by the environmentalist and foodie movements.

The most recent addition to the collection of books glorifying the fruits of the earth is Tom Mueller’s Extra Virginity: The Sublime and Scandalous World of Olive Oil. Anyone who has read about or travelled to that cradle of Western civilization—the nations around the Mediterranean Sea—knows the symbolic importance of the olive and its juice. From cleaning the naked torsos of the Greek Olympic heroes to anointing the bodies of the Jewish and Christian faithful, this oil of the craggy trees that lend the Mediterranean landscape its senescent and unruly forms has become a fixture in Western culture. Mueller’s new book not only explores the history of the oil but also the current state of the olive oil industry, which apparently is filled with deception and corruption.

Stone of Kings: In Search of the Lost Jade of the Maya. Gerard Helferich. The story of how two prospectors searched for the source of the Mayans’ elaborate jade stone carvings and reignited a lost art in Central America.

…

Notable mentions

Pricing the Future: Finance, Physics, and the 300-year Journey to the Black-Scholes Equation. George G. Szpiro. A book about the origin of the mathematical financial model that transformed finance from an art into a science.

Saladin. Anne-Marie Eddé. A lengthy biography—translated from the French—takes a hard look at existing sources to peel back the centuries of effusive mythology about the Arab warrior and sketch a balanced portrait of the man.

American Nietzsche: A History of an Icon and His Ideas. Jennifer Ratner-Rosenhagen. A virulent critic of modern society, Nietzsche lived a tragic life. His pronouncements live on, and this book is about their influence in America.

A Convenient Hatred: The History of Antisemitism. Phyllis Goldstein. The Nazis would never have risen to power if the culture of Weimar Germany wasn’t first poisoned by centuries of hatred. This is the story of a sentiment.

Paul on Homosexuality. Michael Wood. This book marshals historical context to help Christians baffled by the Apostle Paul’s seemingly brazen homophobia understand what exactly he was criticizing in his letter to the Romans.

Because of songs like his and the Russian culture of my upbringing, the symbolism of World War II (or, as the Russians call it, The Great Patriotic War) has stayed with me as a kind of arch-metaphor for the human condition.

I was listening today to one of my favorite songs by Vysotsky called Pesnya lyotchika-istrebitelya: “Song of a Fighter Pilot”. It is one of the greatest poems about friendship that I have ever read, and I decided to translate it into English. My translations skills are limited, but though my version inevitably may have errors, I have done my best to convey both the meaning and the flow of the song. The original, like most Russian poems and songs, has a rhyme scheme.

The song is about two Russian fighter pilots in World War II that find themselves embroiled in a losing battle with a larger German fighter formation. You can listen to the original song on YouTube and read the lyrics in Russian here.

…

Song of a Fighter Pilot

By Vladimir Vysotsky
(Translated by Alex L.) 

Eight of them and two of us. Our prospects before battle
Aren’t bright, but we’ve committed to the fight.
Seryozha!* Hold on, it’s looking dim,
But we we have to get an edge in the game.

I promise to not run away from this airspace.
The numbers don’t matter to me now,–
Today my friend guards my back,
Which means we have evened the odds.

A “Messer”† perches on my tail, puffing smoke,
His propellers whining and hacking the air.
They don’t even need crosses on their graves,
The ones on their wings will suit them.‡

I say, “Number One! Number One! They’re right under you,
I’m turning to cut them off.
Put out your fire! Hide in the clouds! I’ll cover you!”
In battle, there are no miracles.

Sergey! You’re on fire! Put your hope, man,
In the strength of your parachute chords.
No! Too late–a “Messer” too has sets his sights on me.
Farewell! I’ll meet him head on.

I know that others will deal them justice.
But sliding along the clouds,
Our souls now rise, like two airplanes,
That can never fly alone.

The Archangel will tell us: “There’s not much room in Heaven.”
Coming before the gates, they close.
We’ll ask God, “Write my friend and I
Into some celestial regiment’s rolls.”

And I’ll ask the Father, Spirit, and Son,
To fulfill this, my will:
May my friend guard my back in Heaven
Like he did in this, our last, battle.

We’ll ask of God wings and arrows,
For the angels need aces too.
But if they have many fighters already,
Let us be guardians then.

To protect–that too is an honorable mission,
Carrying good luck on one’s wings,
To those like we were–Seryozha and I–in life,
Up in the air and once walking on earth.

…

Notes

* “Seryozha” is the informal version of the Russian name Sergey

† Messerschmitt Bf 109 fighter planes

‡ German planes had black crosses painted on their wings