The Professor's Bayonet

Jason Dew

Book reviews and social commentary

  1. 2d ago

    Episode 127 - The Shallows

    Nicholas Carr tells us what we likely already know intuitively: the internet, our iPhones, and AI are rewiring our brains.  His book, The Shallows, which was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, lays out the argument that, while we have a great abundance of information, we are eroding our ability to process it – to think critically about it – by off-loading various tasks to applications sold to us to make our lives easier.  We no longer engage in deep processing because we are quite happy with accepting the answer of a prompt we put into AI.  Our imagination is compromised, our curiosity diminished.  The more we outsource the things that make us human, the less human we become.  And all the while, we remain distracted by the pinging, the alerts, the bells that grab our attention and give us the quick dopamine rush.  What should alarm us all is that the way we are now finding ourselves was intentional.  There is nothing accidental about this rewiring.  To be sure, if we look at the results even for a minute, we can easily see that an illiterate and unthinking population is the end goal.  But for whom?  Perhaps the answer is where the money tends to spill.  But even so, the ramifications of this series of nefarious events are far and wide – beyond merely rendering ourselves, our children, and our grandchildren powerless in the face of those with authentic ideas – ideas meant to horde wealth and power.  Carr writes that “[t]he price we pay to assume technology’s power is alienation.  The toll can be particularly high with our intellectual technologies.  the tools of the mind amplify and in turn numb the most intimate, the most human, of our natural capacities – those for reason, perception, memory, emotion.”  The price we pay for the convenience of technology answering even the slightest of difficult questions is that we willingly surrender some critical part of what it means to be human.  Why we do this at all is a head scratcher.  Where does this impulse to self-destroy come from?  I can only hazard a guess, dear listeners.  Perhaps being human and the struggle inherent in this condition is too difficult.  Living is hard.  So we take a stroll on easy street never mind the harm it causes us – the harm that, at the time, does not seem like harm at all.  And the result?  Our minds atrophy.  The output of our creative endeavors become infantile.  Conformity is codified into our society.  We become easy to manipulate.  And our culture degrades.  As Carr writes, “culture is more than the aggregate of what Google describes as the world’s information.  It’s more than what can be reduced to binary code and uploaded onto the New.  To remain vital, culture must be renewed in the minds of the members of every generation.  Outsource memory, and culture withers.”  I can only hope that the human spirit will somehow bridle against this evil effort.  I am not sure there would be a Luddite-styled revolution – a violent smashing of the machines – but it is not unreasonable to hold out for a decisive reckoning of a technological trend that is clearly wrecking the minds of young and old alike.  Who among us has silently judged the group whose members are all engrossed in their screens?  Who else has decried the acceptance of being in front of a device the majority of one’s waking hours?  What will become of us when we do not even notice that?  When living digitized lives is the norm?  We have put all of our eggs into one technological basket.  Will we eventually be so uncritical that we will forget the outcome, the lesson, the consequence of being so tragically myopic in our thinking?  Nicholas Carr has sounded his alarm.  Let’s hope the day won’t come when we will no longer be able to hear it.  https://www.amazon.com/Shallows-What-Internet-Doing-Brains/dp/0393339750

  2. Jul 14

    Episode 126 - The Loved Ones

    Cultural critic, poet, and Kentucky farmer, Wendell Berry, is to the publishing monolith what the late Robert Duvall was to Hollywood: a talented force who does not care a bit about changing trends and what is and what is not being liked on some silly social media platform.  In effect, Berry is true to himself and his art, making his words a breath of fresh air in a world where the aims are rarely noble.  He tells it like it is, and in doing so, remains a rarity, which is why his insights are that important, especially when they apply to universal experiences the vain and the self-absorbed can hardly speak to.  I am fifty-one years old, and while I know that this is not ancient, it is an age, I am learning, where certain thoughts are unavoidable.  The cast of characters – family members and even friends – who populated my youth continues to dwindle.  Aunts and uncles are gone.  Cousins.  Folks in town.  We all had that landscape of humanity, and depending on where you are in your own lives, dear listeners, you can also likely understand what it feels like to experience its change.  It is a surreal feeling.  Were they really there, or was I dreaming?  Did they impact me more than I knew at the time?  What does it mean to cross paths in time and space?  Do our souls possess a greater wisdom that cannot be accessed in the here and now but only then: upon our parting?  In my study, rosaries hang from the framed photographs of those who have gone on.  I share some thoughts on the meaning of the rosary in Episode 2 of The Professor’s Bayonet, and I invite you to revisit it.  The rosaries are reminders that death is but a transition – that death, as John Donne characterizes it, is nothing more than a comma – a pause – on the way to something greater.  In this life we can have intimacy with God; in the next, union.  For the latter is more robust than the former.  It is the preferred way.  It is, as the Baltimore catechism teaches us, “to be happy with Him forever” in the next life.  As I write this, Wendell Berry is ninety-one years old.  If certain thoughts for this fifty-one-year-old man are unavoidable, I can only imagine that those thoughts and others are, for Berry, very front and very center.  For this reason, I am grateful for his wisdom: hard-won and given freely in a poem he wrote entitled “The Loved Ones.”  I share it here with you, dear listeners.  I hope it lands well.  The Loved Ones  The loved ones we call the dead depart from us and for a while are absent.  And then as if called back by our love, they come near us again.  They enter our dreams. We feel they have been near us when we have not thought of them. They are simply here, simply waiting while we are distracted among our obligations.  At last it comes to us: They live now in the permanent world. We are the absent ones.

  3. Jul 7

    Episode 125 - Jeff News

    www.48bconsulting.com If memory serves me correctly, Jeff Haight of Jeff News fame was elected class clown for the graduating class of 1992.  We were classmates at Youngsville High School, which is now closed.  The closing was a result of the mass exodus of youth from the “biggest little town” on the map in northwestern Pennsylvania, but not all packed up their stuff and left.  Jeff, it seems, hung around.  While others fled to the four corners, the class funny man remained.  Everybody loved Jeff in school.  He was the very personification of affable, and unlike others from surrounding high schools who were awarded the same moniker, Jeff’s humor was dry and subtle.  He was no loudmouth.  The jokes were clean, and they always landed well, causing many to experience the priceless bellylaugh.  Our tiny class did what classes big and small do – disperse into the world, each member doing or trying to do what was meant for them to do – but recently, I came across something on social media that gave some perspective to how one might respond to the ever-increasing pace of our world.  We are living at a time when print media is all but dead.  Newspapers across the land are putting their content behind pay walls, and most of us learn about current events either through the massive news agencies that are, themselves, in some existential trouble or social media feeds.  Both, I would argue, alienate the population, exacerbating the gulf between self-proclaimed “important” news and the humdrum events of individuals who are just trying to make ends meet, make sense of the world they inhabit, and get a good laugh from time to time.  It seems like a simple order, but we do not have to look very far to see how that is not being fulfilled.  Enter Jeff News.  I happened upon this one-man organization on social media, and after perusing a few reports, it occurred to me that this might be an answer to the fragmentation we are all experiencing.  You see, dear listeners, Jeff Haight, my old high school classmate, was not done tickling everyone’s funny bone.  Indeed, he took his efforts on the road, so to speak, never leaving our common stomping grounds, Warren County – the very same place so many abandoned for so-called greener pastures.  Jeff News returns the very local to the spotlight.  Warren County eateries.  Warren County issues.  Trout season.  Potholes.  The people.  The culture.  I guffawed when I saw Jeff News spoof Punxsatawney Phil, the Pennsylvania groundhog who predicts the coming of spring.  Jeff News showcased another groundhog: Conewango Chuck.  Jeff stands outside on a snow-covered day next to an animal crate, sitting on a small table.  He tells us that some city councilmen are there to witness the festivities and members of PETA to make sure Conewango Chuck is well-treated.  The build-up is genius.  The icing on the cake is when Jeff reaches into the crate to remove Phil’s fellow prognosticator.  Suffice it to say, dear listeners, that the accolades and applause in the comments section were many.  Beyond being able to laugh at more of Jeff’s antics all these years later, I am impressed by how his efforts as a local newsman have clearly filled a need, and I wonder if this is what our nation is currently leaning toward.  The pendulum has swung far, far to one direction – unwieldy news agencies that pound us with “breaking news,” faceless institutions that claim they know best for the populace, distant and powerful entities that pull levers at the expense of ordinary folks.  Small communities across America need Jeff News or, more to the point, their own version of Jeff News.  He gives Warren County what it wants.  Let others, class clowns or not, discover what their communities want.  It may not be Conewango Chuck but, for them, I bet it is something better, a perspective that hits the spot.

  4. Jun 30

    Episode 124 - Animal Liberation

    www.48bconsulting.com https://www.amazon.com/Animal-Liberation-Definitive-Classic-Movement/dp/0061711306 First published in 1975, Peter Singer’s Animal Liberation is, according to the Chicago Tribune, “a most important book that will change the way many of us look at animals – and, ultimately, at ourselves.”  Riding the waves of other liberation movements – notably, the Civil Right movement and Women’s lib – Animal Liberation changes the question from, Can animals reason, to, Can animals suffer?  In effect, Singer’s thesis dislodges the way we assign value to sentient beings from the framework of reason and rationality and, instead, recognizes the universal truth experienced by all species that being in this world with this life inevitably involves suffering.  My cat may not be able to decipher complex language.  My dog, Arrow, may not be equipped to pen masterpieces of literature.  But they suffer like I do.  And in that common footing, so argues Singer, a new conversation must be had.  Once upon a time, animals were seen as mere automatons: creatures of a mechanical nature who, when injured, emitted sounds akin to mechanical malfunction, not cries of pain, despair, horror, or sadness.  As such, the barbaric practice of vivisection was sanctioned.  Students keen on understanding the inner-workings of some animal would gather round in a large lecture hall, peering down at the learned professor who, scalpel in hand, would slice, say, a bound dog or cat up the middle and peel away its skin to reveal the inner anatomy.  The animal would screech in pain, but no matter, so was the assumption.  It was a malfunction, the cry of unimaginable pain akin to the sound a broken carriage, a squeaky wheel, a rusty pulley might make.  Other experiments – too many to list here – have also been performed on animals in the spirit of scientific inquiry, though the nature and purpose of that inquiry is certainly dubious: Chimpanzee mothers, upon giving birth, were denied physical contact with their offspring in order to observe and record psychological trauma, fevers were artificially induced in kittens, pigs were intentionally shot with rifles so that would-be medics could practice treating gun wounds, the feet of a hundred or so mice were electroshocked to measure who knows what, and so on and so forth – the cruel kids with magnifying glasses burning ants on the sidewalk grown up and given even more power to cause pain, not, as Singer notes, for therapeutic needs but for “commercial returns.”  You heard that correctly, dear listeners.  Much of the experiments done on animals is not meant to ameliorate the suffering of human beings.  It is, rather, to siphon more money into the bank accounts of Big Pharma and the like.  What I am proposing, however, is that the scope of empathy and kindness can and should be widened and that there are even Biblical reasons to justify this necessary shift.  Consider all the animals who were enlisted in the larger Biblical narrative: the animals in Eden, those invited to board the Ark, Balaam’s donkey who saw the angel, and Mary’s and Jesus’  The animal world is not accidental.  It has purpose, true and real.  What Singer seems to neglect in his calculus, though, is humankind’s fallen nature.  We do not do what we should.  We willfully do the opposite.  This is what it means to sin.  As such, while Christian teaching tells us we “should” respect animals, the reality is that we have not much of the time.  Our abuse of animals is more a reflection on our nature than it is on any dictate from on high with regards to an animal’s placement in the great hierarchy.  We and the animals that surround us may be outside of Eden, but this does not mean that the efforts we take to right cosmic wrongs cannot or should not include the furry, the four-legged, the companions who look past the cruel sins of man and wag their tails nevertheless.

  5. Jun 23

    Episode 123 - Laurel and Hardy

    https://48bconsulting.com/ It was difficult to hear the news.  Out of two classes, nobody, not a soul, had ever heard of Laurel and Hardy, the comedy duo who earned international fame in the early 20th century.  The lesson for the day had to do with the evolution of humor.  Students had the choice of writing down their thoughts on the matter and then bringing that small essay to class.  Writing.  Critical thinking.  The boxes were checked for a typical composition class.  But Laurel and Hardy were not to enjoy any commentary.  They were strangers to my students – relics from the past so old that seeing them in black and white pretty much summed up the situation.  Laurel, the slim Englishman who was prone to, in his words, “dumb” behavior and crying while kneading the hair on the crown of his head was in cahoots with Hardy, the portly, hotheaded leader of the two with the toothbrush moustache also made popular by Charlie Chaplin and Hitler.  Together, they entertained millions with situational routines that involved a lot of slapstick and even Three Stooges-styled physical violence.  In one bit, Hardy mistakenly believes that Laurel had a leg amputated.  Feeling bad, he pledges his undying devotion to caring for his friend before getting slapped by someone who is trying to reclaim the wheelchair Laurel is using and then physically carrying his two-legged friend to his car.  Hardy stumbles and struggles, drops his bowler hat, gets doused with a water hose, and eventually falls over. The routine is amusing and indicative of what counted as funny in the 1930s.  While Laurel and Hardy proved to be an archetype for a certain kind of comedy duo – think Abbott and Costello, Jerry Seinfeld and George Costanza, Chris Farley and David Spade, John Belushi and Dan Ackroyd, Steve Martin and John Candy, and even Kristin Wiig and Melissa McCarthy – what stood out was that, while the two were making people laugh with strong physicality and sometimes violence, the world in the 1930s was experiencing something quite telling.  Nazi Germany.  Fascist Italy.  Imperial Japan.  We do not, dear listeners, need to walk through a history lesson, but suffice it to say that while Laurel and Hardy were entertaining audiences far and wide, the world was steadily marching toward world war.  Violence beget violence; the first alarmed, the second was to cope.  Put another way, the violence on screen mirrored the violence in the world.  What is interesting, though, is that we laughed at Laurel and Hardy.  What does that say about how we collectively dealt with the rise of naked aggression?  The Laurel and Hardy bit mentioned in this episode takes place in a convalescence home for veterans.  Laurel is a patient; Hardy – again with the toothbrush moustache -- is the visitor.  The joke is centered on Hardy’s belief that Laurel is an amputee.  He believes he only has one leg.  Viewers, though, know the truth that Laurel is very capable of walking by himself, yet the physical comedy pokes them in the ribs.  The comedy, in one sense, might be called dark.  Dark humor for a dark time.  Only when Hardy sees Laurel walking away does he realize his folly – the last to know – making the end of the bit all the more hilarious.  Or that was, at least, the intention.  Even so, we might conclude that the best way to face our fears is to laugh at them.  This is Laurel and Hardy’s lesson to us.  What is more, we might see how other funny men and women throughout the decades make us laugh and then imagine what they might be reacting to.  We project our fears onto the stage or screen and allow those steeped in the craft of comedy to translate those fears into laughter.  What were we afraid of when Seinfeld was popular?  Or the Blues Brothers?  Or Bridesmaids?  There have been many iterations of Laurel and Hardy.  What else were they iterating beyond being skinny and fat?

  6. Jun 16

    Episode 122 - In Praise of Detours

    https://48bconsulting.com/ https://mainstreetragbookstore.com/product/in-praise-of-detours-rachel-landrum-crumble/ Rachel Landrum Crumble’s collection of poetry, In Praise of Detours, might be deemed a study of the individual’s plans versus the plans of the Divine. We have all heard the joke: Want to make God laugh?  Make a plan. The title poem certainly speaks to this conundrum of the human experience.  Crumble writes, “At the starting line of my white / suburban guilt, I first foresaw a tweedy / liberal blue-blood in my future, / a family friend.”  The reader soon learns, however, that the speaker’s “one,” so to speak – the true intended spouse – was nothing like what the speaker had imagined.  A detour occurred, and the speaker ends up falling for a man who was on his way to “winning / a black trophy wife to please your father, / who always disappointed you. / You were this quirky drummer / with a blowout ‘fro, a laugh and a stutter.”  Thirty-five years and three children later, the speaker pronounces him her true “home,” at least in the earthly sense, and the poem concludes with a bright, sentimental note.  And that would be fine but for the possibility that the raw material of this particular poem – race, time, expectations, and reality – seem to orbit something much greater: The very Source of a trajectory that leaves at least one mortal, the speaker, pleasantly surprised.  I certainly do not want to see what is not there, as it were; however, the tone of the very first line suggests naivete borne out of inexperience. Crumble had expectations in the beginning.  We all have expectations at some point.  But Providence always gets the best of us.  Providence, dear listeners, is also a character in this poem.  He is, if you will, the road worker who puts up the detour sign at all, making Crumble’s poem relatable to those who have experienced similar changes of plan.  Ultimately, it is a lesson in letting go – a lesson, I hasten to say, that is not easy in the least.  It almost seems counterintuitive, but the fact of the matter remains that it is essential for freedom to be experienced.  Take, for example, another poem in Crumble’s collection entitled, “Threads for a New Robe.”  The word “threads” itself implies something used, something old, yet it is out of the threads that something new emerges.  The poem is about a mother’s need to let her child grow up. What began with youth and love became a precious child that the speaker is somehow expected to “swallow my heart / and let my youngest son be delivered / into the rough hands of circumstance, forced / to walk on his own two feet / in a dangerous / world.”  The speaker’s motherly anguish is evident, and, in my estimation, no parent can come away from this poem without echoing back that anguish.  The lesson is painful, but it is necessary, for this is part of the rhythm of raising children since time immemorial.  They “grow under our heart” until it is time for them to take off on their own or, as Crumble tells it, “run in the rain.”  Crumble’s “Lessons of Loss in January” reinforces the relationship between parenthood and Providence by returning that relationship to where, in the Biblical sense, it all began: the Garden.  In a series of observations of trees in the dead of winter, Crumble elucidates that part of being human that has us experiencing loss and pain but finding a way to move on, not so much by our own volition but, to bring our study of Crumble’s work full circle, by the sheer insistence of life: through loss, through coming together, through letting go, through trusting what we cannot see, what we cannot hear life will come our way.  Life wins.  Providence is victorious.  "Leave me my heartwood,” Crumble writes.  “I am evergreen.”  This is the constant.  The unshakeable.  The true.  Far from ending on a nebulous note, Crumble seems to deliver her readers to the doorstep of something good, something accessible to all if only their own “heartwood” is right.

  7. Jun 9

    Episode 121 - Like Water on Leaves of Taro

    https://48bconsulting.com/ https://www.amazon.com/Like-Water-Leaves-Taro-Himalayan/dp/1964271282Tulasi Acharya’s memoir Like Water on Leaves of Taro begins with a young family’s wish to celebrate the first birthday of their only child with their extended family in Nepal. There is much to be thankful for, and by all measures, the prospects are bright; however, soon after arriving in Nepal, Acharya’s mother-in-law – his sasuma – dies of a heart attack, leaving the family bereft.  The meditation on her loss is profound enough, but soon thereafter, his father-in-law becomes ill.  Most of Acharya’s memoir is about, not only how he struggles with what his sasuraba’s cancer diagnosis really means – imminent death – but also what death means, in general: his in-laws, his own, that common fate for everybody.  Between appointments at various doctor’s offices in Nepal, many staffed by abrasive, seemingly uncaring personnel, Acharya wrestles with the “Big” question, sometimes even bouncing ideas off of his wife, Kripa, who is still dealing with the loss of one parent while contemplating the loss of the second.  In a chapter entitled “Declaration of God’s Death,” Acharya quotes his wife as saying, “I always thought there was a God, that God existed, but for me God is dead today.  My God is dead.”  Here and there, Acharya seems to share this sentiment.  Instances of intentional and even spiteful carelessness crop up such as when he lights up a cigarette, knowing full well that smoking tobacco is a well-known carcinogen.  But what sets him apart is that, as the memoirist, he indulges in philosophical digressions where he quotes popular poets and writers as if trying to seek wisdom from long-dead mentors.  At some point, Acharya confesses that “life ... is both beautiful and fragile,” a conclusion that seems to begin to afford an emotional framework in which to work out his frustrations and fears.  It is a truth that grants him freedom, in other words, to recognize the paradoxes that make up a life – that make up all of our lives.  To be sure, Acharya’s fatherhood greatly informs his working comprehension of two overlapping seasons – birth and death, a beginning and an ending.  He quotes Robert Frost that though “the woods are lovely, dark, and deep,” which is to suggest a nebulous but peaceful end, he has “miles to go before I sleep,” Death is present but not for him.  He has work to do.  His mother-in-law and soon his father-in-law have clocked out.  Their race, to quote scripture, is done.  But not his. This revelation seems to be his way to make sense of the passage of time and what that means: gaining some while losing others, but in his case, as with many other men, being a father throughout.  This is his toehold.  This is the beginning of an answer that makes any sense.  It is his sasuraba or father-in-law's parting gift that eventually gives Acharya any peace.  The advice is rooted in family and the precious time we have with them, and for Acharya to end on that note underscores the real possibility that he knew the answer all along, even deep down: the memoir begins with family, and it ends with family, and time, like the intruder it is, makes its demands along the way.  Tulasi Acharya’s Like Water on Leaves of Taro, therefore, is a story for everyone of us.  Its themes are universal, and the struggles of the memoirist are relatable.  Grief is more than just what it is on the surface.  It is also fear and confusion, anger and desperation.  In this memoir, readers bear witness to a young man with a young family openly and honestly bearing his heart to the world with the implicit wish that the reader do the same or at least recognize the common experience of losing loved ones and having to get up the next day to go to work, earn a living, and, infinitely more importantly, love their families every hour, every minute, every blessed second.  So pick up a copy.  Your lives will be enriched if you do.

  8. Jun 2

    Episode 120 - Half-Truths

    https://48bconsulting.com/ https://www.amazon.com/Half-Truths-Carol-Baldwin/dp/1957656859 Kate Dinsmore is like many characters in coming-of-age stories who early on discover the power of words to reveal and defend the truth.  The seed was planted early, perhaps with the death of her brother, Jake, but readers soon learn that even her small southern town cannot keep her cooped up.  She must spread her wings, which is why she goes to Charlotte, North Carolina to immerse herself in the formal study of words.  Kate Dinsmore wants to become a journalist, wants to use her words to champion justice and stand against men like her Papaw who assert between drags from their cigarettes or spitting tobacco juice that “we’ve got to keep them coloreds from taking over.”  Carol Baldwin’s debut novel, Half-Truths, is a powerhouse of a story.  Readers will quickly see why this book has already won many reputable awards.  A quick and lively pace combines expertly with insights on Jim Crow bigotry and the justice that must come out on top to create a narrative that is engrossing and a list of characters as complex as they are nuanced.  Baldwin does not work with caricatures; indeed, she understands that the culture of the Jim Crow South was multi-dimensional, even paradoxical.  There were no clear good guys or bad guys, just flawed ideas and modes of thinking that tragically tampered with everyone’s moral compass.  In Charlotte, Baldwin’s ingenue protagonist, Kate, find friendship in Lillian, an older, more sophisticated city girl.  To be sure, she is the country mouse to Lillian’s city mouse, and the contrast is unnerving – there is even some conflict -- but soon enough, she finds a way forward, discovering to her great surprise that she and Lillian, who is Black, happen to share a great-grandfather.  With Kate poised to become a society girl, having a Black relative anywhere on the family tree would be a disaster for both Kate and her well-to-do grandparents under whose charge she is as a new resident of Charlotte.  The Ku Klux Klan otherwise known as the invisible empire is very much visible to Kate and her kinfolk.  Stepping out of line could be dangerous.  Yet Kate still has her words.  And her truth.  The battle lines are drawn, and young Kate, like David, is about to take on her own Goliath.  Baldwin gifts her readers with a story that refuses to gloss over or otherwise forget the past.  For this reason, this book is invaluable to readers of all ages who are not timid about wrestling with old norms and old practices, asking themselves questions about their origin and how they were able to be sustained at all over the years.  Half-Truths lends itself to a discussion on history, yes, but beyond that, readers can also explore human psychology.  Readers might ask themselves: How did we let ourselves get so hateful?  What did these Jim Crow laws really say about us?  It is more than about racial segregation, more than about one race systematically scuttling another race.  Perhaps there was something spiritual going on: an unseen malice that kept everybody on edge and pointing fingers.  Ultimately, Baldwin’s Half-Truths ranks up there with other books including Black Like Me by John Howard Griffin, which was published in 1961.  Though nonfiction, Griffin’s book also tells the story of a journalist who immerses himself in the world of the Jim Crow South in order to uncover truths that could both undermine the status quo and bring people together across racial lines.  Baldwin accomplishes the same.  Brave Kate refuses to be cowed by what older, gruffer, and arguably more threatening men promote.  Though it takes time and a battery of tests that make her stronger, Kate comes out on top.  Truths are revealed, and healing begins. Baldwin’s Half-Truths is a small triumph, and those eager to secure a story that both entertains and edifies should not wait to get a copy.

Ratings & Reviews

5
out of 5
7 Ratings

About

Book reviews and social commentary