Black Earth, Still Water
This book is about the fens. I live on the edge of the fens, a flat place. When the wind blows it stops for no one. But the fens are not about wind. They are about earth and water. Black earth.
The rest of the blog
This book is about the fens. I live on the edge of the fens, a flat place. When the wind blows it stops for no one. But the fens are not about wind. They are about earth and water. Black earth.
Whipple’s Uncharted is less a chronicle of Trump’s comeback than an unflinching autopsy of a decaying liberal order that mistook gerontocracy for stability and denial for strategy
On the Supreme Court ruling in For Women Scotland v. Scottish Ministers
A ruling on the definition of “woman” risks codifying exclusion into law, leaving trans women even more vulnerable in the name of protection.
The Trump–Starmer trade deal and the culture war as foreign policy
Farage’s tanks aren’t new, they’re the tanks of the 1970s, steered by mad generals and aimed squarely at working-class power.
Harry Mulisch’s The Assault is not about what happened in 1945, but about the slow, bitter process by which a man and a society, learns what it meant.
A brutal, brilliant novel that exposes the violence of care, the politics of desire, and the limits of our empathy.
On Ibtisam Azem’s The Book of Disappearance and Michel Nieva’s Dengue Boy