Field notes on epicretold

Good news is, this need not 'work' to make this work; I need not have a 1,000 followers hanging on to my every tweet (though that would be nice). As someone said to me the other day, the pleasure is in the process... The 5 Ws, H of an attempt at tweeting the Mahabharata.

Dr Sprint

PhD by publication, I fear, kills the romance of research. The destination is too near, the path too flat and straight to produce anything but 'normal science'. This is a collation of short-term efforts, a series of sprints -- which, though a valid demonstration of academic sportsmanship, invovles a different kind of training.

Ka-boom! Varoom! The Old Man is back!

One Giant Leap to Nowhere is not your average feet-on-the-desk-smoke-a-cigar-and-pontificate column, but vintage Wolfe -- founded on original reportage from the days when he was working the beat, delivered in his trademark tone of breathless excitement, with ellipses, exclamations, and...ka-booms!

Harry Potter and the gayness of Voldemort

Half-Blood Prince opens up the possibility that Voldemort was gay. Or at least that he – pardon the pun – swung that way in his youth. The 11-year-old Tom Riddle manages to look sinister and pretty at the same time and the scene with Horace Slughorn, where he extricates the secret of immorality from the teacher, is a study in silky smiles … and snaky seduction.

Why do research?

Thirty-two research staff crowded around a conference table late one afternoon to apply their combined intellectual might to a foundational question: why do we undertake research? Do we do it for others? Or do we do it for ourselves?

Kiss, kiss, the English way

For a people who are painfully private, the English are pretty public when it comes to kissing. There they would be walking down the road, upper lip stiff and at the ready, when suddenly romance overcomes them. The next thing you know, they have grabbed hold of their partner and are kissing the life out of him/her. If there is no partner handy, they might even go for the nearest person available, which I think is the correct way to go about such things.

Something Shylockian

This is about a 24-year-old girl who wanted to do a master’s in England with all her heart. Late in the summer of 2005 she boarded a bus from a town on the edge of Russia, clutching a first-class undergraduate degree, £110 in borrowings, and a handful of English words she had picked up at school.
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