Books

George Saunders’s luminous new novella Vigil begins with a fall of a kind – lower-key, sinless and very funny: “What a lovely home I found myself plummeting toward, acquiring, as I fell, arms, hands, legs, feet, all of which, as usual, became more substantial with each passing second.” With the fallen narrator landing headfirst, ass “in the air and fresh new legs cycling energetically,” the story’s tone is set. Though explicitly modeled after Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol, Vigil is quintessentially Saunders in its combination of user-friendly stylistic innovation, straight-faced satire and a deep dive into Big Moral Questions. Ever since the spirit/ghost/guardian angel – Saunders himself has confessed that

Personally, I regard Mount Rushmore as an excrescence on the mountain and a monument to the horror that Edward Abbey called industrial tourism. Beyond that, it is an expression of a naive piety and a patriotic sentimentalism that no longer exists in America. Matthew Davis correctly views the presidential sculptures carved into the face of Mount Rushmore in the Black Hills of South Dakota by Gutzon Borglum in the 1920s and 1930s as very much a period piece, an expression of popular American patriotism in the early decades of the 20th century. His “biography” of the mountain is equally a cultural work reflective of its time. Preeminent among Davis’s concerns

Nicolas Sarkozy’s prison memoir is a slender book about a short sentence that nonetheless makes for compulsive reading. It is unintentionally comic, occasionally moving and almost always politically calculating. This, despite the weight of its author’s self-importance, moral evasions and intermittent self-awareness. Sarkozy, 71, was sentenced to five years for criminal conspiracy linked to Libyan money in his 2007 presidential campaign. He served less than three weeks in Paris’s La Santé prison before being released under judicial supervision to finish his punishment at home, pending an appeal to be heard in March. He used the time efficiently, producing more than ten pages of writing a day. The result is a

The scene is the imperial palace on the Palatine Hill in Rome in the 2nd century. The philosopher Favorinus is waiting to greet the emperor Hadrian when a grammarian corners him and launches into a lecture on the grammatical qualities of the word penus, meaning “provision.” “Well and good, master, whatever your name is,” Favorinus replies wearily. “You have taught us more than enough about many things of which we were indeed ignorant and certainly did not ask to know.” A thousand years later, the Muslim polymath Ibn al-Jawzi tells of an Arabic grammarian, notorious for punctilious use of archaic language, attempting to negotiate with a carpenter. “What is the