Andrew Tolkmith

As many as possible should share in the ownership of the land and thus be bound to it by economic interest, by the investment of love and work, by family loyalty, by memory and tradition. —Wendell Berry, The Unsettling of America In the coming days, weeks, and months, scores of elegies will pour into the discourse grieving the loss and celebrating the life of Wendell Berry. I am not well versed in his work; I’ve only read a tiny fraction of his mammoth output as a poet, novelist, and essayist.

Desire destroys, consumes my mortal fears, Transforming me into a shape of flame. I will come out, back to your world of tears, A stronger soul within a finer frame. —Claude McKay, “Baptism” The release of the first English translation of Eric Rohmer’s novel Élisabeth is a welcome occasion for cinephiles. Many will find here a first opportunity to explore another dimension of the esteemed auteur’s approach to narrative art.

Acedia. Heavy sadness. Emphasized by the Desert Fathers a millennium ago, despondence of soul has never exhausted its currency. “Acedia,” writes the theologian Reinhard Hütter, “creates a void that we try to fill with transient rushes of pleasure—primarily venereal pleasure—to ward off the ennui of life bereft of its very center. But the simulacra that promise the rushes of pleasure we seek betray us. . . .