TagLiterature

My Brilliant Career

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By Wayne Allensworth Two roads diverged in a wood, and I — I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference The Road Not Taken — Robert Frost It’s been a year and half since I retired. Friends warned that I would be bored or lack any direction or sense of purpose and that, in turn, might lead to bad consequences. It didn’t. I find plenty of purpose and direction in my...

Re-enchanting Our Disenchanted World

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The fate of our times is characterized by rationalization and intellectualization and, above all, by the disenchantment of the world. — Max Weber: Essays in Sociology By Wayne Allensworth I craned my neck to see the magnificent ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. I felt the exhilarating sensation of a tingle running through my scalp as I gazed at the Creation, the Fall, the Expulsion from the...

The End of Innocence

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By Wayne Allensworth That time is past,And all its aching joys are now no more   — William Wordsworth, Tintern Abbey Sometime in the 1990s I admitted to myself that a return to our golden age, however one might imagine it, could never happen. Not a golden age, not even a silver one. A baser metal would have to serve.  In researching my book, The Russian Question: Nationalism...

Goodbye, Mr. Bond

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By Wayne Allensworth You only live twice Once when you are born And once when you look death in the face —  James Bond, after Japanese poet Basho in You Only Live Twice My first encounter with James Bond at the movies was quite memorable, partly because I was trying to watch Goldfinger from the backseat of our family car at Thunderbird Drive-in in Houston, Texas, and partly because my...

Please Support American Remnant

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Please consider supporting American Remnant: A green “Donate Today” button has been added at the end of each article (Near the comments section) appearing on the website. If you value what AR is doing, please consider supporting the website financially. $5, $10, or any amount that you can afford. Regular donations would especially be appreciated. Thank you!

Weak Coherence: Madness and Modernity

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By Wayne Allensworth (Edvard Munch, The Scream) Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold… William Butler Yeats, The Second Coming This is the third of my articles on Iain McGilchrist’s hemisphere theory, and its implications. An overview of his ideas is found in A Hole in the World and Between Two Worlds: Iain...

We Heard the Chimes at Midnight (On Friendship)

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By Wayne Allensworth In Act 3, Scene 2 of King Henry IV, part II, Shakespeare’s grand comic knave, Falstaff, reminisces about old times with his friend Justice Shallow, particularly a memorable night more than 50 years in the past.  They recall a woman, Jane Nightwork, who, like Falstaff and Shallow, has fallen victim to advancing age, as time flows on, and the chimes will eventually toll for the...

The Light Bearer: Cormac McCarthy, R.I.P.

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By Wayne Allensworth (Factfile.org) The man who was our greatest living writer, a man who wrestled with God along with the ghosts of Faulkner, Melville, Dostoevsky, and Conrad, has passed away at the age of 89. May he rest in peace after having struggled mightily as an artist with the big questions—meaning, purpose, God and Man, life and death, good and evil–he never let go of in his...

A Manner of Speaking: Language, Technology, and Culture

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By Wayne Allensworth I’ve always known there were dogs that wouldn’t hunt, and that you should let sleeping dogs lie. I’ve walked in high cotton, bit off more than I could chew, kept tabs on something or someone, had to be careful what I’ve wished for more than once, and have been disturbed to find the fly in the buttermilk (or ointment). Your humble servant is always fixing to do...

Nostalgia

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By Wayne Allensworth Some readers have occasionally criticized my writing for amounting to “mere” nostalgia, which is apparently supposed to be a bad thing. To that I plead guilty. Americans have long been conditioned to think of themselves as living in the land of tomorrow, a tomorrow without any yesterdays. I look back to a past that never seems distant to me, as dreamlike as it can be. Without...

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