The argument of Peter Watson’s hugely ambitious The British Imagination: A history of ideas from Elizabeth I to Elizabeth II is that “The essential arc of British history – intellectual and creative history, just as much as political, economic and military history – is of a small, indeed tiny, country sequestered on the north-west coast of Europe that over the centuries would forge the largest and most unlikely empire the world has seen”. It may seem odd to be reading this in the present depressed state of the nation, although Watson stresses from the outset that the concept of “the British imagination” embraces its hospitality to foreign influences and eventually to the power of a wider “Anglosphere”.
English virtue battles the pagan
The genesis of Far from the Madding Crowd
The texture of etcetera
What smartphones can’t record
Freeing Thomas Mann
Modern English translations that do justice to the work
Turner is on our banknotes, Constable in our hearts By Ferdinand Mount
Coming out of Tate Britain just before noon on Budget Day, you are blinded by a blistering white sun behind Vauxhall Cross. The steepling glass towers south of the river are washed in an opal mist, the ziggurats of the MI6 HQ eclipsed to a ruined beige. Vauxhall Bridge gleams in the scarlet and yellow of a Turner sunset. J. M. W. would have rushed to the Embankment, whipped out his sketchbook, then worked up the whole shimmering scene into a six-footer and called it something like “The End of England”. John Constable would probably have turned away to catch the next coach to Hampstead Heath to paint Branch Hill Pond again.
‘One day, they’ll find me out’
How the young Dylan Thomas repeatedly stole from others By Alessandro Gallenzi
Mother was always right
A love-hate relationship recalled by France’s ‘greatest living writer’ By Marie Darrieussecq
The notebook fallacy
Why stylish stationery won’t change your life By Ian Sansom