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...major problem with this collection is that it suffers from too much editorial fussing. There are too many letters which consist of a single sentence (sometimes a sentence fragment) bookended by ellipses bound in brackets; too many paragraphs wrenched out of context and tossed into another section of the book; too many references to paragraphs being deleted because they've already appeared in a previous collection of Wilson's correspondence, "Letters on Literature and Politics: 1912-1972," which has clearly been thought of, unhelpfully, as a template for the present volume. The editors seem to be working under the assumption...
...Afghanistan and Palestine, the literature on international affairs is suddenly ripe with articles whose authors seem to be channeling Rudyard Kipling. "A new imperial moment has arrived," Sebastian Mallaby, a columnist for the Washington Post, wrote in Foreign Affairs this year, "and by virtue of its power, America is bound to play the leading role." In a much-talked-about new book, The Savage Wars of Peace--the very title is a line from Kipling--Max Boot, the Wall Street Journal's editorial-features editor, argues that the U.S. should not fear engaging in small wars to improve...
They were right, as the Administration of George W. Bush implicitly acknowledged in 2001, when Bush sought a strategic partnership with Vladimir Putin, Yeltsin's successor. Talbott's book is a useful reminder of a larger truth: Clinton had his successes. In the 1990s, American policy was bound to be messy, as the world escaped the shadow of the cold war. Often, the best option was to hope that things would turn out better one day and do what little one could to help them along. Clinton's team managed to do that with Russia. That's worth raising...
Chen Da boards a train bound for Beijing with a bamboo flute, the equivalent of $1.50 pinned to the inside of his pants pocket and a small bag of soil from the riverbank of his remote southern-Chinese hometown. As a matriculating student at the Beijing Languages Institute, which in 1979 is China's most cosmopolitan school, he is the ultimate rube. He has never laid eyes on a foreigner, listened to a radio, tasted coffee or seen a refrigerator, and when he opens his mouth to speak?whether in English or his heavily accented Chinese?his classmates and teachers...
...Players slouch. Players hunch over with headphones on. Players sit like emperors with arms folded. Yet here is Ichiro, on a chair in front of his locker: feet drawn up, heels pressed against his butt, knees together?a position physically impossible, not to mention unacceptably precious, for the muscle-bound types populating major league clubhouses these days. Twenty minutes pass. Ichiro doesn't move. His head is tilted up to watch a TV set hanging from the wall. He stares, grinning. He would look like an amused child, except he's too alert. He looks about as harmless...