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Don’t Spare the Rod

I teach in the most crime-ridden neighborhood in my city. I am not the best teacher in the building—they won’t make any Hollywood movies about me—but I am a good one. One administrator described my classes as a Jekyll-and-Hyde affair. There may be utter chaos elsewhere, but when my . . . . Continue Reading »

Our Lady of Azakh

There’s a curious little church in the Syrian city of Derik. The Church of Our Lady (kanisat al-adhra in Arabic) is modern, built in 1958 atop the remains of a much older, undated church. The original church was long buried when a local parishioner, so the story goes, dreamt one night in 1940 . . . . Continue Reading »

Angel of New York

On days when the world to me is desolation; when I cannot sit in my seat, or do any productive labor; when I have a terrible desire to be free, and my responsibilities seem not worth the effort, I console myself by walking in Central Park. As I enter by the Lagoon at 59th Street and Fifth Avenue and . . . . Continue Reading »

Fukuyama v. Fukuyama

To the general public, Francis Fukuyama’s name is synonymous with the “end of history” thesis, which contends that since the end of the Cold War and the fall of communism, liberal democracy is the only ideology that has a universal appeal. His detractors often accuse him of triumphalism, but . . . . Continue Reading »

Kafka’s Trials

The job of a translator is both difficult and one of great responsibility. An author can be utterly misrepresented in a language that is not his own: ­David Magarshack, for example, who translated Chekhov’s plays, argued that the entire Western approach to Chekhov was grossly mistaken and based . . . . Continue Reading »

Stay Outside

When I first moved to Toronto, I used to pass a certain office building on my way to work. The windows, main door, and wall facing the street were plastered with signs telling visitors that this space was scent-free, smoke-free, violence-free, a place where harassment and disrespect were “not . . . . Continue Reading »

Christ-Like Holden Caulfield

When I recently ventured to say to an old acquaintance of mine, an academic mandarin who teaches literature at an elite university, that The Catcher in the Rye was a profound work of art, he smiled gregariously as if about to relish a shared ironic joke, then gazed at me with slowly . . . . Continue Reading »

The Simplest Jew

Once upon a time, goes an old Hasidic tale, the great Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev was walking down the street when he ran into a fellow Jew. It was one of Judaism’s fast days, and yet there was Levi Yitzchak’s acquaintance, enjoying a hearty meal. “My son,” said the rabbi softly, . . . . Continue Reading »

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