And Which Is More

I'm only halfway through reading Craig Mullaney's new book, The Unforgiving Minute, and I feel justified already in saying that it's every bit as good as you've heard (the crowd at COIN Prom last night clustered around him was too thick to fight through, which is a stunning review in and of itself).

I also want to say something really inscrutable, that will no doubt befuddle both of my readers who weren't classmates of mine at Yale: The rhapsodic, wonderful chapters describing Oxford are probably the single best description of our Yale experience you could hope to read.  Don't worry about the strange pretension of that comment, just buy the book, and you'll know what I mean.

One particularly beautiful passage is when Craig Mullaney finally tracks down his thesis supervisor:

"Hullo. You must be Mullaney."

"Yes, sir."

"Quite." He cleared his throat and adjusted his bifocals. "Interested in the Congo, are you?" I had emailed my intention to examine American involvement in a secessionist insurgency there in the 1960s."

"Yes, sir."

"Why don't you write something up before next term, and we'll have another chat in February."

"In February?" It was three months away.

"Seems about right."

"What should I write about? How long should it be? Where do I start?"

"Let me think." He rattled off a dozen books from memory, and I quickly wrote them in my notebook. He must have picked up my distress signals. "It's easy, really."

"It is?"

"Yes. Just find a question and then answer it." This sounded like a bad college application essay. "Read and think." He paused and swirled his tea. "Simultaneously if possible."