Helen Andrews

The blogger Bad Catholic is sick and tired of the culture wars : The dominant feeling associated with fighting the Culture Wars—whether over abortion, euthanasia, gay marriage, or any of those super-fantastic conversation starters—is not one of righteousness, zeal, passion, hope, or . . . . Continue Reading »

WARNING: Spoilers below, but this movie is like candy, so it doesn’t spoil easily. Damsels in Distress is a light and confectionary film that wants to be loved more than it wants to be thought about. That’s a shame, because the sort of person who is committed to Whit Stillman as a . . . . Continue Reading »

Romanian newspapers are reporting that their country’s education minister, Ion Mang, has resigned after embarrassing revelations of plagiarism—a news story that is suspiciously similar to one published last month by Hungarian newspapers. In fact, the stories are practically identical if . . . . Continue Reading »

Belgrade, World War II: My favorite paper was Pravda [not the famous one —HR], owned by the seven brothers Sokitch. One brother I never met, as he lived in the country. The other six were all over six feet tall, very broad and most of them well furnished with gold teeth. Each brother was . . . . Continue Reading »

If you don’t know the story of the record, the new one, it looks like a Christian record; it looks like I’m getting baptized. But I do like it because it’s related to the video for ” Karibu Ya Bintou .” The whole idea is related to the fact that my name, . . . . Continue Reading »

One morning at breakfast, when she was in the first or second grade, E. L. Doctorow’s daughter, Caroline, asked her father to write a note explaining her absence from school, due to a cold, the previous day. Doctorow began, “My daughter, Caroline . . . . ” He stopped. “Of . . . . Continue Reading »

New York City, 1917: Trotsky bought some furniture on an instalment plan, $200 of which remained unpaid when the family left for Russia in the spring. By the time the credit company caught up with him. Trotsky had become Foreign Minister of the largest country in the world. — Orlando Figes, A . . . . Continue Reading »

May 1930: Lloyd George exchanged a few words with my father and then turning to me said: “What are you going to do, my boy, when you grow up?” “I’m going into the Navy, sir,” I replied, giving what was then my stock answer. He frowned, shook his long mane of white hair . . . . Continue Reading »

Father John Coigley was standing with his hands bound on a scaffold in Kent about to be executed for treason in connection with the 1798 Irish rebellion when, with his wrists still tied, he pulled a knife from his pocket. The crowd gasped for two reasons. First, it was surprising that Coigley had . . . . Continue Reading »

<blockquote As I grew older my father took me with him to see his friends. There were lunches with John Buchan, who gave me six autographs to swap at school, and with Kipling, who balanced a pencil on his eyebrows for my entertainment.   — Julian Amery , Approach March: A Venture in . . . . Continue Reading »