Diary: I ♥ Concordances

Ian Hamilton, 22 August 1996

What was T.S. Eliot’s favourite colour? Which season – summer, autumn, winter, spring – would you expect to feature most often in the works of Philip Larkin? And which of these...

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Big Bang to Big Crunch

John Leslie, 1 August 1996

The Nature of Space and Time contains six lectures-three by Stephen Hawking, three by Roger Penrose – and a closing Hawking-Penrose debate. As Penrose indicates, it might be viewed as...

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Cool It

Jenny Diski, 18 July 1996

Snow is cold. Some more information I am prepared to accept as plain fact: near 90° South if you take your gloves off for more than a few moments, your fingers die; at its edge, the 5.5...

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Chemical Common Sense

Miroslav Holub, 4 July 1996

The ‘courage of not knowing’ is in fashion among artists nowadays and the new democracies of Central Europe excel in it. Science is almost a dirty word, or, at best, simply one of...

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Revenge!

Francis Spufford, 4 July 1996

This book is presented as a pessimist’s primer, full of circumstantial evidence for the vanity of human wishes. It offers a portfolio of sharp blows to the back of the head, as good...

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The Beast on My Back

Gerald Weissmann, 6 June 1996

‘Bête Noire’ is set in Piccadilly during the long winter between the Battle of Alamein and the Normandy invasion. At the time, the 24-year-old Douglas had pretty much recovered...

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Diary: From the Lighthouse

Peter Hill, 6 June 1996

I spent the most bizarre night of my life on Hyskeir. If I mention The Birds you will immediately understand. 

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Peacocking

Jerry Fodor, 18 April 1996

‘How do you get to Carnegie Hall?’ ‘Practice, practice.’ Here’s a different way: start anywhere you like and take a step at random. If it’s a step in the right...

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Going, going, gone

Raymond Tallis, 4 April 1996

Ageing can be avoided, but only at the unacceptable cost of dying young. Otherwise, it is inescapable, and it starts younger than we think. If ageing is defined as the sum of those intrinsic...

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Wanting to Be Special

Tom Nairn, 21 March 1996

Writing in the London Review of Books in 1994 (8 September) I was incautious enough to make some remarks about alternatives to Eurocentrism that history might have generated. For example...

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Hairpiece

Zoë Heller, 7 March 1996

If anyone knows about the allure of hair it’s little girls. Between the ages of seven and twelve, girls groom their Barbies and each other with an intensity bordering on the freakish. At...

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Simply Doing It

Thomas Laqueur, 22 February 1996

The Facts of Life is symptomatic of the tensions to be found in its sources: it is an elusive book, offering vistas of liberation and oppression. In all but their barest outline the facts of life...

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The Plot to Make Us Stupid

David Runciman, 22 February 1996

‘Why is it,’ asks the mathematician John Allen Paulos in his book about the pitfalls of innumeracy, ‘that a lottery ticket with the numbers 2 13 17 20 29 36 is for most people...

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Diary: Watch the birdy!

Geoffrey Hawthorn, 2 November 1995

One of the more unusual companies in the British register has done what it set out to do. ‘Buntings and New World warblers’, the ninth and last and, at fewer than five hundred pages,...

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Oh, My Aching Back

Roy Porter, 2 November 1995

From the Church Fathers, through St Ignatius Loyola and Pascal to the Marquis de Sade, the problem of pain was agonisingly debated, not least because mortification was holiness and judicial...

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Washed and Spiced

Peter Bradshaw, 19 October 1995

Dr Paul-Michel Foucault, a wealthy and conservative surgeon, is deeply irritated by his young son’s evident disinclination to follow him into medicine and apparently infuriated by his...

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Grumpy

Arthur Goldhammer, 5 October 1995

Like Strachey’s Dr Arnold, Louis Pasteur was all ‘energy, earnestness and the best intentions’. The anti-clerical Third Republic made him its principal intercessor with the...

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Diary: Nuclear Tests in Tahiti

Mel Kernahan, 5 October 1995

‘Tahiti Nui’ is a sad song. It’s been going through my head the last few days in Marie Mariterangi’s voice – a sad throaty, Tauamotuan voice, stilled for ever now by...

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