Understanding the Role of Labor Laws in Shaping Business Mechanisms Across the USA and Canada

The fundamental strength of Why Empires Fall is that we now have a better understanding of Rome's fall and the development of external influences that contributed to its demise. But going from that insight to advocating for a variety of progressive policies to save the West, primarily directed at the United States, is straining the fall of Rome analogy. In Margaret MacMillan's book The Uses and Abuses of History, American historian John Lewis Gaddis warned that if we merely use history as a rearview mirror, we risk ending up in a ditch. The saintly editors at The Hub have consented to use one of my two monthly articles for the site as a monthly transatlantic journal. For readers unfamiliar with the format, which is more typical in British journalism, the diary is a collection of brief articles, some on a common theme, others not. In my case, they have one thing in common: they are either too insignificant to warrant a whole piece, or I can't be bothered to come up with anything other than a knee-jerk reaction or a flip comment. This is September."The harvest is passed, the summer is ended, and we are not saved."It's no surprise that Keats' "To Autumn" is the most popular poetic reference for the arrival of fall. That opening phrase about the "Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness" is cosier than a plaid wool blanket, but for me, literary ideas of autumn bring to mind Shallow's orchard, as described by Kenneth Tynan in his criticism of the Old Vic's 1945 production of Henry IV, Part II.

Tynan is one of those strange characters who must exist in every era.

the literary genius who plateaued. At the age of 23, Tynan released He That Plays the King, the best compilation of twentieth-century theater criticism, much of which he composed in his late teens. Here's how he characterized the scene with Falstaff (Ralph Richardson), Shallow (Laurence Olivier), and Silence (Miles Malleson).[I]f I had only half an hour more to spend in theaters and could chose everything I wanted; no question, I'd go with these. Richardson's performance, along with that of Miles Malleson as Silence, beak-nosed, pop-eyed, many chinned and murmuring, and Olivier as Shallow, cast a golden autumnal veil across the stage, making the idle chatter of the lines shine with the same kind of delight as Gray's Elegy. There was a pungent aroma of plucked crabapples and pork in the larder: one got the sensation of life going on in the background, of rustling twigs underfoot and the wide accusing eyes of cows peering through the twilight. Shakespeare never topped these sequences in the sense of absolute naturalism. The introductory discussion between the two didderers, which bounces between the price of animals at market and the philosophical actuality of death, is worked out with fugal delicacy.

When I originally read that paragraph, I felt bad about missing. 

the performance, but now I don't. I don't see how the scene could have outdone the 18-year-old Tynan's description, and his generous record suffices for me. The complete review is well worth reading, and I recommend it to anyone who wishes to experience the euphoria of superb literature. Tynan is buried at Holywell Cemetery, an overgrown part of Oxford, and I visit his tomb every few months, along with those of two other prominent writers, Walter Pater and Kenneth Grahame. I don't suppose anyone else does, judging by the tangled ivy.September began with a quick trip to Quebec City for the Conservative Party convention. En route, I sat next to one of those new airplane windows that, rather than opening and closing with a flimsy shutter, dims and brightens based on some technical magic implanted in the glass. I'd seen these shadowy portals before, but this was the first time my window—all of the cabin windows, in fact—was permanently set to "dark."

I approached a flight attendant, who said that it was. 

"so that passengers could sleep" because even one "open" window would "flood the cabin with light." I noticed that it was 2:30 p.m., and that if people wanted to sleep during the day, they should be prepared to face sunlight. Whether she agreed or not, she went away and unlocked the kid lock on my window. I'm not sure why I find this new technology so scary, but I believe it is a natural human reaction to corporate control over our life and technical manipulation of our reality. The airlines want us subdued, preferably somnolent, even if it means limiting our exposure to the natural light outside our window. Well, I don't like it. If Air Canada wants us to sleep, it can provide nice red wine for free in all classes on domestic flights while giving us back control over our windows.