LETRAS

Today’s workers have more opportunities and mobility than any generation before. They also face unprecedented challenges, including inflation, labor and housing shortages, and climate volatility. Even the notion of retirement is undergoing a profound rethink, as our lifespans extend and our relationship with work evolves. In this environment, the tried-and-true financial advice our parents followed is no longer enough. It’s time for a new playbook.

The return of the beautiful Countess Olenska into the rigidly conventional society of New York sends reverberations throughout the upper reaches of society. Newland Archer, an eligible young man of the establishment is about to announce his engagement to May Welland, a pretty ingénue, when May's cousin, Countess Olenska, is introduced into their circle. The Countess brings with her an aura of European sophistication and a hint of scandal, having left her husband and claimed her independence. Her sorrowful eyes, her tragic worldliness and her air of unapproachability attract the sensitive Newland and, almost against their will, a passionate bond develops between them. But Archer's life has no place for passion and, with society on the side of May and all she stands for, he finds himself drawn into a bitter conflict between love and duty.

Mark Twain was one of the nineteenth century's greatest chroniclers of childhood, and of all his works his beloved novel The Adventures of Tom Sawyer most enchantingly and timelessly captures the sheer pleasure of being a boy. Tom Sawyer is as clever, imaginative, and resourceful as he is reckless and mischievous, whether conning his friends into painting a fence, playing pirates with his pal Huck Finn, witnessing his own funeral, or helping to catch a murderer. Twain’s novel glows with nostalgia for the Mississippi River towns of his youth and sparkles with his famous humor, but it is also woven throughout with a subtle awareness of the injustices and complexities of the old South that Twain so memorably portrays.

"Huckleberry Finn" is set in Missouri in the 1830's and it is true to its time. The narrator is a 13 year old, semi-literate boy who refers to blacks by the N-word because he has never heard them called anything else. He's been brought up to see blacks as slaves, as property, as something less than human. He gets to know Jim on their flight to freedom (Jim escaping slavery and Huck escaping his drunken, abusive father), and is transformed. Huck realizes that Jim is just as human as he is, a loving father who misses his children, a warm, sensitive, generous, compassionate individual. Huck's epiphany arrives when he has to make a decision whether or not to rescue Jim when he is captured and held for return to slavery. In the culture he was born into, stealing a slave is the lowest of crimes and the perpetrator is condemned to eternal damnation. By his decision to risk hell to save Jim, he saves his own soul. Huck has risen above his upbringing to see Jim as a friend, a man, and a fellow human being.

When the United States invaded Iraq in 2003, its message was clear: Iraq, under the control of strongman Saddam Hussein, possessed weapons of mass destruction that, if left unchecked, posed grave danger to the world. But when no WMDs were found, the United States and its allies were forced to examine the political and intelligence failures that had led to the invasion and the occupation, and the civil war that followed. One integral question has remained unsolved: Why had Saddam seemingly sacrificed his long reign in power by giving the false impression that he had hidden stocks of dangerous weapons? The Achilles Trap masterfully untangles the people, ploys of power, and geopolitics that led to America’s disastrous war with Iraq and, for the first time, details America’s fundamental miscalculations during its decades-long relationship with Saddam Hussein. Beginning with Saddam’s rise to power in 1979 and the birth of Iraq’s secret nuclear weapons program, Steve Coll traces Saddam’s motives by way of his inner circle. He brings to life the diplomats, scientists, family members, and generals who had no choice but to defer to their leader—a leader directly responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Iraqis, as well as the torture or imprisonment of hundreds of thousands more. This was a man whose reasoning was impossible to reduce to a simple explanation, and the CIA and successive presidential administrations failed to grasp critical nuances of his paranoia, resentments, and inconsistencies—even when the stakes were incredibly high.

Some laws teach the need for prudence (“Law 1: Never Outshine the Master”), others teach the value of confidence (“Law 28: Enter Action with Boldness”), and many recommend absolute self-preservation (“Law 15: Crush Your Enemy Totally”). Every law, though, has one thing in common: an interest in total domination. In a bold and arresting two-color package, The 48 Laws of Power is ideal whether your aim is conquest, self-defense, or simply to understand the rules of the game.

Hacia 1957 reconocí con justificada melancolía que estaba quedándome ciego. La revelación fue piadosamente gradual. No hubo un instante inexorable en el tiempo, un eclipse brusco. Pude repetir y sentir de manera nueva las lacónicas palabras de Goethe sobre el atardecer de cada día: Alles nahe werde fern (Todo lo cercano se aleja). Sin prisa pero sin pausa -¡otra cita goetheana!- me abandonaban las formas y los colores del querido mundo visible. Perdí para siempre el negro y el rojo, que se convirtieron en pardo. Me vi en el centro, no de la oscuridad que ven los ciegos, como erróneamente escribe Shakespeare, sino de una desdibujada neblina, inciertamente luminosa que propendía al azul, al verde o al gris. Ya no había nadie en el espejo; mis amigos no tenían cara; en los libros que mis manos reconocían solo había párrafos y vagos espacios en blanco pero no letras.

De una a siete de la tarde -mis horas oficiales o "teóricas" de trabajo- me confieso un impostor, un chambón, un equivocado esencial. De noche (conversando con Xul Solar, con Manuel Peyrou, con Pedro Henríquez Ureña o con Amado Alonso) ya soy un escritor. Si el tiempo es húmedo y caliente, me considero (con alguna razón) un canalla; si hay viento sur, pienso que un bisabuelo mío decidió la batalla de Junín y que yo mismo he consumado unas páginas que no son bochornosas. Me pasa lo que a todos: soy inteligente con las personas inteligentes, nulo con las estúpidas.

Alguna noche, suelo ubicar mis horas en la serenidad del barrio de Almagro: empresa que tiene su poco de catástrofe en cada punta, pues para ir y volver es obligatorio descender a la tierra como los muertos e incluirse en una hilera de ajetreos que hay entre la plaza de Mayo y la estación Loria, y resurgir con una sensación de milagro incómodo y de personalidad barajada, al mundo en que hay cielo. Claro está que esas plutónicas y agachadas andanzas tienen su compensación: tal vez la más segura es poder considerar ese grande y bien iluminado plano de Buenos Aires que ilustra las paredes enterradas de los andenes. ¡Qué maravilla definida y prolija es un plano de Buenos Aires! Los barrios ya pesados de recuerdos, los que tienen cargado el nombre: la Recoleta, el Once, Palermo, Villa Alvear, Villa Urquiza; los barrios allegados por una amistad o una caminata: Saavedra, Núñez, los Patricios, el Sur; los barrios en que no estuve nunca y que la fantasía puede rellenar de torres de colores, de novias, de compadritos que caminan bailando, de puestas de sol que nunca se apagan, de ángeles: Pueblo Piñeiro, San Cristóbal, Villa Domínico.