Flávio Bolsonaro e Alexandre de Moraes viajaram no mesmo jatinho, segundo reportagem da revista Piauí. Bolsonaro disse que não pegou carona em avião de Daniel Vorcaro, mas no de Willer Tomaz, seu amigão de safári e muito mais, acusado de estar enrolado na roubança do INSS. "Desculpe, foi engano", como se dizia ao telefone antigamente. O escândalo seria outro, nos corrige Flávio. O tal avião, enfim, seria de uso compartilhado dos escandalosos, por assim dizer -seria propriedade de sócios, entre eles Vorcaro e Tomaz. Leia mais (09/24/2026 - 22h09)

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‘Siege’ became a key metaphor in Olga Freidenberg’s analysis of her own life and that of Soviet society; and she experienced Leningrad during the blockade as a ‘domestic concentration camp’ into which she had been forced by the ‘bloodthirsty serpent’, Stalin. She blamed Leningrad’s sufferings during the blockade as much on Stalin as on Hitler.

War-fi accounts accurately depict the frontier between Europe and Russia as being in an unstable equilibrium. But they all conveniently ascribe this to dynamics endogenous to Russia, which figures as a metastasising cancer for which one is either prepared or not. The risk of war derives from the existence, or non-existence, of Obmanshchikov or Belov or Putin. 

William Golding didn’t push back on any of the suggested revisions: you get the impression that he would have done just about anything to get the novel published. He readily accepted that ‘Strangers from Within’ was a weak title. Alan Pringle, his editor’s colleague, eventually suggested ‘Lord of the Flies’. On 11 February 1954 – more than a year after Golding had first sent out the manuscript – Charles Monteith accepted it for publication. Golding was pathetically grateful. 

For a certain kind of northern man, Burgess has always been – for once the term is apt – something of an icon. A bit mouthy and contrarian. Not part of the self-regarding London literary establishment. A Big Canvas man, equally at home with Beethoven or Shakespeare. The local hero did have an Achilles’ heel, though. Burgess had to leave his birthplace early to find – or invent – himself. 

Artists used to learn their craft through imitation, and one could learn a lot from copying Johns’s paintings: where the pictorial commas are; the way an image becomes an object; how an edge changes the meaning of a surface. They reveal almost everything about the way they are made, and almost nothing about how they are meant to be read. The lesson, perhaps, is that paintings teach us to look before they ask what we’ve seen.

Alexander Pope’s works are full of the voices and characters of other people, friends and enemies, the living and the dead, and his writings are intensely committed to ideas of companionship and community. They are also intensely involved with psychologically astute visions of solitude and abandonment. 

British politics has long been complacent about the power of big money. The relatively low price of access to politicians here – admission to the Leader’s Group of top Tory donors costs just £50,000 – has often been interpreted, wrongly, as a sign of probity. The current Representation of the People Bill reflects this view.

Almost in exchange for the trustingness of his subjects, Peter Hujar became a different person when he was behind the camera: his rage, which caused one of his close friends to describe him in an obituary as the ‘angriest person’ he knew, would disappear. He was ‘possessed’ by the act of taking photographs.

Luke Kennard’s Black Bag spans several genres while not belonging to any of them. It’s not quite a campus novel but has things to say about what it’s like to teach at a university. It’s not quite a satire on the theatre world but says more about acting than Rachel Cusk does in her latest novel, Life of M. It’s not a surreal parable but the central bag image is as haunting as Kafka’s Metamorphosis. 

With its crude Courier typeface, Fuck You/ A Magazine of the Arts was the publishing equivalent of a punk 7-inch single – spontaneous and scabrous, capturing the raw energy of the moment. Or, to use an analogy more in tune with the early 1960s, these poetry magazines had the force of protest music, and amid the bohos and beatniks of Lower Manhattan, the two often overlapped.

It’s not enjoyable to look at a crap painting (though Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, two of the biggest Hollywood hitmakers of all time, each own a large collection of Norman Rockwells), and most people, even if they like bad books or music, don’t like them because they’re bad but because they think they’re good. Why, then, are some bad movies so much fun? 

The spirit of modernity would influence zoos for generations. Dialogue between reformed conceptions of society and the zoo energised a mutually sustaining ideology. It was no longer acceptable for the lion to be king of the beasts because, as the director of the Jardin des Plantes commented, ‘there are no kings in nature.’

Unregistered and undetectable fleets cut into the profits of the big tanker companies. After the first Trump administration imposed sanctions on Iranian and Venezuelan oil, the number of ghost ships carrying these countries’ oil tripled and the price of old ships due to be scrapped increased because they started to be redeployed as ghost ships.

Hegelians will admire the encapsulation of the era’s contradictions in a single individual. Most of us will be puzzled by his fickleness. Louis Bonaparte’s personal life reinforces the sense of his shallow inconsistency. He was a philanderer, but one who neither felt nor elicited great passion. One of his conquests remarked on the swiftness of the rendezvous: ‘It had taken only half an hour to make me an empress.’ 

In an interview Claude Chabrol suggests that ‘real writers’ – real crime writers, that is – ‘are interested in the behaviour of those who kill others. That is not the case with the authors of noir, who are content to tell the stories of murders.’ We could hardly arrive more tidily at The Unfaithful Wife. The writer in this case is Chabrol himself.

It is hard to imagine any other painter or sculptor, living or dead, ever attracting this kind of attention, but it is equally hard to attribute it to Leonardo’s artistic talent, especially as he is chiefly known for one work, the Mona Lisa (or two, if one considers the almost wholly repainted Last Supper). Leonardo is considered to be not just an artist, but a man with an astonishing range of interests and insights, someone for whom there is no historical parallel.

In storm, the rain drives hard into the choppy canals –churning them white against this glittering grey.The lagoon, no longer black and flat, seems part of the rainand splashes back all day,...

In 2014, Hindu nationalists won the general election in India: power was now held by admirers of Savarkar, who had been tried as an accomplice to Gandhi’s assassination, and of Nathuram Godse, who had fired the gun. The assassins’ point of view – that Gandhi was a misguided pacifist who had appeased Muslims and compromised Hindu interests – had become the establishment’s.