Funfare for the Common Man

Devil, Thomas Theodor Heine When I look at the joy and delight in my daughter’s face, as she bounds around the living room like a small elephant, galloping around the house, giggling endlessly, calling me ‘daddichka’, my heart simultaneously melts and breaks. A question bounces around in my head: what on earth have I done? Why on earth did we bring a child into this world? Into such a cruel, nasty world?  Confessions, revelations and yet, perhaps, nothing new: This and my previous blog from 2009-present, in no particular order: existentialist crises…fatherhood…fatherhood in an age of anxiety…wistful peregrinations…tales of sordid shenanigans and flirting with barmaids and waitresses…students and their antics…teaching…travelling…love and romance…philosophy…reading…reading…more reading…quotations…bugbears and pet hates…Ways of Escape…the future…optimism v pessimism…sports…gambling…investing…weddings…buying flats…heartbreak…anguish…angst…technology…being a Luddite…medical experiments…...

We’re a bit of a ways past that time of year when people make their [futile] resolutions, read articles about ‘the top 100 ways to improve your life’ and perhaps even reflect a bit on the past year. We’re constantly being inundated with life advice, top 10 lists, unsolicited tips and hacks on how to better yourself and it can be tricky to navigate through the minefield, separating the good stuff from the noise. To take just one example from early in 2022: 100 ways to slightly improve your life without really trying (The Guardian) Have a look at that list, now or later. Sure, there are some nuggets there and a handful that I like and want to adopt, but some of them are…odd? Unusual? Just plain weird? But hey, it’s all in the eye of the beholder, right? What’s odd to me might not be so odd to you. Let’s take three examples of each – three examples I really like and three I think ‘what the…!?’ Three good : 1 ‘Consider going down to four days a week.’ (ah, but if only I could…) 2 ‘Laugh sh...

Holosiivskyi Park, Kyiv, August 2021 In previous posts I’ve expounded upon the benefits of having down time, your own ‘me time’ to contemplate life and perhaps even your entire existence and purpose. It really doesn’t matter what you do with it, but some of the most precious time we have is time to reflect and think. Combine that with walking, another one of life’s underrated, unadulterated pleasures. It’s also unbelievably beneficial for the health of your mind: it’s one of the cheapest and most nourishing brain foods. I haven’t been able to do any travelling this year but I’ve been able to find plenty of consolation in city walking.  As much as I yearn to walk through the countryside, maunder amongst meandering hills, up winding mountain paths, through thick, luscious forests, along riversides, there is still plenty of joy to be found walking in cities. Sure, the heat may be unbearable at times so you have to pick your days carefully, but there’s so much to discover even in your ...

Deal with it. Accept it. That’s the reality. In all likelihood. ‘…as we barrel toward the first anniversary of the World Health Organization declaring the coronavirus a pandemic, the physical consequences of extended disruption, isolation, and stress have begun to make themselves known en masse, in doctors’ offices and telehealth video calls.’ Closing in on a year of this, with some kind of end in sight, hopefully, and we aren’t really sure of the ramifications as of yet. Everyone’s suffering. To some extent. Everyone’s struggling. To some extent. We’ve all got our issues and problems. But face it: your problems are inconsequential. We’re all wrapped up in our own solipsistic worlds. We’ve all got our own stuff to worry about. A month ago I came across yet another pandemic-themed article, from the Atlantic , entitled ‘Yes, the Pandemic Is Ruining Your Body :  Quarantine is turning you into a stiff, hunched-over, itchy, sore, headachy husk.’ You don’t need to read it. The title says...

(Given to me by one of my Latvian students, 2007) Or perhaps you’re better off burying your head in the sand and reading something else. At first, I wanted to provide an objective (as possible) take on current events. But I try to steer clear of politics on these pages.  And, get your 2021 off to an introspective, contemplative start with a few philosophical yet practical articles that have nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with politics or pandemics.  Feel free to skip down to the reading list. Otherwise… My upbringing I grew up in democracies – Western Europe and the United States – during the Cold War era. I studied and learnt about various coups and insurrections in other parts of the world: the Middle East, Africa, Latin America, Asia, Europe even…but North America? Not so much. I studied history and politics at university and graduate school. Again, much of the same, but in more depth. Over the years, my students have asked me various questions about history and politic...

It’s my annual year in review. I think I’ve done one of these every year. Or most years. I don’t remember. In keeping with the spirit of the holiday season last couple of months, which have been oh-so-frenetic, this too will be a rushed, whirlwind recap of what was truly a raucous annus horribilis. And if that makes no sense, that’s because this year hardly made sense. The biggest positive to emerge from 2020? One of my most productive years of reading ever. But that also came at the cost of other things. When people ask ‘how do you find the time to read?’ I answer: ‘because I don’t do most of the stuff I should be doing instead of frittering away my time reading!’ Herewith 2020 in review. The books are a selection of my favourites and highlights. Mercifully, not all of them. January and February: months like any other, for the most part Grand Hotel , Vicki Baum; Flights , Olga Tokarczuk; Love, Poverty and War , Christopher Hitchens; Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation , Michae...