Welcome to “Potomac Land”, an environment Dana Milbank, in the book Homo Politicus, has entrusted himself the role of chief specialist in the ways of this miscomprehended world.  To Milbank, his apparent expertise should be obvious to the reader through the assortment of detailed anecdotes, and therefore his opinion unabashed. However, Homo Politicus is mistitled, misadvertised and thus, purely misleading.

By only looking at the title of this book by Dana Milbank, it is suggested that Homo Politicus is a political science book; by no means is this true. Instead, what the reader is given is a modern American book of fables, with the characters just happening to have some sort of connection to politics. This is seen at the outset with the telling of the story of the infamous Jack Abramoff. At times the genre of Homo Politicus comes across more as mythological, with the various “tribes” and “shape-shifters” along with the “Potomac language” and of course, the “Potomac man”.

Homo Politicus is a book of cynicism compounded by — more cynicism. It is a collection of stories, which Dana Milbank himself denotes at the end of the book, that have been written about at-length in his articles. This is not the problem, but rather it is the lazy attempt to deceive the reader that his book actually has something to say.

             A subject matter that dominates the air waves, rankles the positions of politicians and has inserted itself in the mind of every citizen and resident of the United States: the question as to whether America is in decline, and if so, how can its downward spiral be reversed. This is the central theme of That Used to Be Us, a book by Thomas Friedman (the three-time Pulitzer Prize winning New York Times writer and author of the famed book The World Is Flat) and Michael Mandelbaum (a professor at Johns Hopkins University).

            That Used to Be Us regards itself as a sort of manifesto for centrist and practical politics, adamantly asserting that for the United States to get back on track it must respond to globalization, the IT (Information Technology) revolution, the deficit, and the means of energy consumption. Friedman and Mandelbaum declare that the United States must reapportion itself among the “radical center” through the “American formula” of striking the right balance in regulation, reforming immigration, focusing more on education, investing in our infrastructure and pushing forward advancements made through research and development.

            This is best illustrated when the authors state “The term combination of taxing, cutting and, investing is mandatory in the short term to achieve what must be America’s primary policy goal in the long term – the economic growth to fulfill every American’s individual and national aspirations.”

            The authors maintain the tone of pragmatism with references to films, deriving metaphors that are applied to the state of U.S. politics as well as slotting in the occasional anecdote to highlight their points. However, in particular periods of the book there are an array of statistics from varying sources to endow the reader with the empirical evidence that brought them to their own emphasized beliefs. Yet, Friedman and Mandelbaum do not recognize the magnitude of various obstacles, they themselves highlight as hindering the ability of the United States to return to its prized “formula”, such as special interests and lobbying groups.

            That Used to Be Us is not a theoretical exposition employing abstract models and intangible suppositions. And for this reason it is likely to appeal to a wide audience. That Used to Be Us strikes a balance with the common reader in that it does not invoke a level of specificity that only a policy wonk is capable of deciphering it, and is not broad to the point of relating its ideas through platitudes and commonplace political redundancy insulting the intelligence of the reader. Rather, That Used to Be Us reads in the same line as to what it advocates: a “hybrid” of differing viewpoints.

Pertaining to this, The Problems of Philosophy can be seen as an introductory book to the subject of philosophy. That, the book certainly is, introducing the reader to philosophical theories ranging from Plato to Hegel. Seemingly the most basic topics are broken down into a serious philosophical discussion.

The Problems of Philosophy is a brief, but thorough introductions to exactly what the title illustrates: the problems of philosophy. For anyone who has not delved in the field of philosophy before, patience in reading this book is advised. However, there is a great payoff upon the completion this book. The Problems of Philosophy not only allows one a glimpse into the brilliant mind of Bertrand Russell, but also reels one into the infinitely-ranging subject of philosophy.

A nightmare scenario with a dream team cast, Contagion, directed by Steven Soderbergh, commences with a quickening pace radiating a tone of stirring suspense, all while taking a shot at the blogosphere (“Blogging isn’t writing. It’s graffiti with punctuation,” stated emphatically by Elliot Gould’s character). However, it is important to note that over the course of this film the quickening pace eventually takes a backseat to a tone that is gloomy, murky and focused on bureaucratic breakdown. For this reason audiences may find Contagion to be a disappointment and not as advertised.

Contagion opens with Gwyneth Paltrow as Beth Emhoff on day two of the outbreak of the disease. However, the outbreak of the disease, which she has acquired, is not known to have begun. Matt Damon portraying her husband, Mitch Emhoff, receives his wife at home in a fatigued state without any abnormal symptoms. From here the disease takes off, setting into motion a series of events that varying institutions and individuals grapple with in desperate and uncertain ways.

Without giving too much away, the cast features Kate Winslet as an agent from the CDC relentlessly attempting to track down the rapidly spreading virus in Minnesota. Laurence Fishburne plays the director of the CDC forced to deal with managing the outbreak of the disease in the United States, as well as dealing with its political affects.  Bryant Cranston is a high ranking official from the military assisting Fishburne in dealing with the outbreak. Jude Law, here at his best, plays a blogger with a strong following, disseminating information that can be perceived as either potentially groundbreaking or harmful. Marion Cotillard is a doctor from the World Health Organization investigating the origin of the virus. The list is endless, with even Elliot Gould making a distinguished cameo.

While audiences may find Contagion to be forgettable, technically the film pulls off some monumental feats. Soderbergh does a great job coordinating a complex compact screenplay without a tint of confusion. Scott Z. Burns, who wrote the screenplay, successfully illustrates a multitude of storylines and subplots, with none of them becoming substantively thin.

Contagion is not a thematically lost film. There are explicit points made, such as the very real possibility that our institutions would not be capable in responding swiftly and thoroughly if a disease of pandemic proportions were to occur. Also, many questions are raised as to what one may do under certain circumstances. Nonetheless, there is a more underlying theme; one in which we must acknowledge that chance plays a far bigger role in our daily lives than we have come to realize. It may come across as absurd, but Contagion bears in mind a sort of metaphysical edict made my by Machiavelli “that fortune is the arbiter of one-half of our actions, but that she still leaves us to direct the other half.” Contagion makes us well aware that we must take care of that other half, the one we can control, otherwise in any future point in time we will succumb to the whole.

A History of Violence received rave reviews from the outset, marked as “shocking” and thought provoking. Yet, this apparent deliberation and exposé on the nature of violence reveals itself as a pseudo-analysis of the transformation of a seemingly simple man. For those who are not aware, A History of Violence is not exactly a-history-of-violence. The term history insinuates, whatever it is attached to, depth and that a worthy examination is warranted by it.  A History of Violence is accurately summed up as violence, and for this reason it will be referred to as Violence. 

Viggo Mortensen plays Tom Stall, a small town man who becomes a local hero overnight. However, his act of heroism, and violence, leads to a sequence of events that spiral out of control. Along this format, Violence drops along with it. Although this downward spiral carries Violence to its absolute conclusion, the ensuing chaos leads to a number of predictable scenes and moments.

Violence wages on with the building of suspense for the first hour, drawing questions as to the true nature and identity of Tom Stall. Yet, the culmination of Violence is loathsome, bringing the wrong closure, plunging to the point of coming across more as a waste of time.

William Hurt received an Academy Award nomination for a cameo that approximately lasted 10 minutes of this film. His appearance was welcome, but not to the point of recognition that he attained for this film. Ed Harris, whom is respected among many,  relayed a caricature portrayal of a gangster. Viggo Mortensen was fittingly cast, but the intrigue simply wasn’t apparent. He was just there, as was the film; not groundbreaking, rather a ground of terrain that would wisely be avoided.

The Departed is rightfully labeled, among many, a great film. The Departed focuses on an entire police department’s chase of a top mob boss in Boston. The plot may not seem highly original, but the film gives off a unique feel with the intensity of a consuming drama and the awe of an action film.

Leonardo DiCaprio plays a rookie cop receiving his first assignment. As a result of his family’s history of criminal activity his first allotted work is to work undercover, gathering intelligence in the dealings of a mob boss played differently, yet brilliantly, by Jack Nicholson. This goes without notice as Nicholson has his own man on the inside as well. On the opposite side of the spectrum, Matt Damon also plays a rookie cop starting out of the box with a position that warrants respect, though as a result of his distinguished family history. There’s also an array of forthright supporting performances by Martin Sheen and Ray Winestone as well as a breakout performance given by Mark Wahlberg.

Despite so many explosive performances this film is driven by its story, as it is perfectly directed by Martin Scorsese. With this film Scorsese elucidates his refined skill, while displaying techniques employed early on at the start of his career. Illustrating the hard and gritty life on the streets, something he did often early in his career, The Departed develops a hard-nosed touch. Scorsese, with his fine attention to detail, allows the story to story to develop with amazing plot dynamics. What both of these things culminate into is a well-rounded and balanced film with an unlimited scope attached to a cops and gangsters film. 

Scorsese and William Monahan, who adapts this film so vividly, combine for one of the most thrilling and psychologically explosive movies in recent years. The Departed reminds one that profiles and background checks can only go so far.

Casey Affleck had a breakout year in 2007, capping it off stupendously in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. Affleck gives a strikingly authentic and complex performance as Robert Ford, the aforementioned assassin of Jesse James. The Assassination of Jesse James explicitly displays the superiority in acting Casey holds over his older brother Ben Affleck. In many ways Casey Affleck serves as the glue to this film, portraying an awkwardness and subversive bizarre quality that is not often seen on-screen.

While Casey Affleck delivered the most memorable performance in The Assassination of Jesse James, Brad Pitt stealthily provided a convincing and compelling portrayal of his own. Pitt’s presentation of Jesse James corroborates with the statement made in the film by Robert Ford, uttering “he’s just a human being.”

Yet, the indubitable transforming aspect of The Assassination of Jesse James was its cinematography and direction. Roger Deakins, who has shot such critically acclaimed films as The Shawshank Redemption, No Country for Old Men, The Reader and Fargo, greatly assists in accomplishing the task no Western has fulfilled since Unforgiven: depicting the raw and true nature of the American West. In fact, it can be said The Assassination of Jesse James provides a more complete emphasis on this theme than Unforgiven.

The modern Western’s goal has often been to highlight the honest real life on the American Frontier. Through such films as Open Range and Tombstone the film industry has attempted to redefine the genre of the Western. Films, like the ones mentioned, have drawn praise, but failed to deliver the abundant proof that such a film can be, and is worth being, made. The Assassination of Jesse James resoundingly illustrates that every hero and villain of the Old Wild West was “just a human being.”

            Wholeness, equilibrium and balance: themes at the crux of literature and philosophy, as well as synonymous with the inner discourse of any one human being. Pertaining to this, as to any other philosophical matter, entanglements and a dose of confusion are a given. However, in this book by Gideon Tolkowsky, the abstract terminology and mind-bending logic so pervasive in philosophy are not to be found.

            Tolkowsky states his points with immense clarity and extensive imagery, tying in these techniques with an array of historical facts and references: “The Great War, as it was called then, was a product of sweeping ideology whose umbilical cord to reality was not only cut off, but also thrown into the garbage bin together with the baby attached to it.” Through the persistent use of metaphors, and further literary techniques, a constant flow is maintained in this book.

            Homage to Stretcher Bearer mainly focuses upon balance through two distinct balance-seeking approaches: voidish wholeness and intellectual wholeness, the former more akin to Eastern philosophy and the latter to Western philosophy. These “two world systems” are respectively described as being “human non-centric” and “human-centric.”

            Through the course of Homage to Stretcher Bearer Tolkowsky poses questions at timely benchmarks of the book, and to those that read philosophy, that are reminiscent of Kant’s theory of knowledge, Aristotle’s concept of essence and even the debate between the philosophical schools of the rationalists and empiricists. Yet, this is not what bridges the gap between the philosopher and the layman. It is the ultimate core question that Tolkowsky consistently asks throughout Homage to Stretcher Bearer: “what’s going on?” It is a question every person asks themselves through life.

            Homage to Stretcher Bearer does not answer this question, that is a tall order for even the likes of Socrates, Descartes and Bertrand Russell, but Tolkowsky sets one on the path to possibly answering this question. It is an epic extract on the views and perspectives of philosophy. This book is a catalyst to read and investigate the works of the deep-thinkers mentioned above. Homage to Stretcher Bearer simplifies and abridges ideas, at least in comparison to the theoretical works of Leibniz and Spinoza, but it preserves the essence of philosophy, taking on its own unique form.      

            Highly recommended for those who fear philosophy and the seemingly unapproachable academic world.

“I hate tennis.” Not quite the statement you would expect from a man who is one of four men in the Open Era to have a career Grand Slam (winner of French Open, U.S. Open, Australian Open and Wimbledon). Yet, when reading the book this statement becomes more easily understood.

Tennis is more of an impulse to Andre Agassi than an unquenchable desire. It’s one that is impossible to put up resistance towards and can only be embraced.  Not only is Agassi this honest when it comes to his opinion of his tennis, but also when it comes to his personal life. He allows the reader to enter his mind, hear his thoughts.

Agassi writes of his complex relationship with his father, his marriage to Brooke Shields and the pressure of being a national tennis prodigy, which begins as far back as his earliest memories. It becomes difficult to think that he is only 41 years old. Agassi surrounds himself with a strong support group of family, friends and coaches that can only make one smile.

It is fitting that Agassi titles his autobiography Open, which at a first glance of the cover can seem to be a bit of a cliché. Agassi’s book is a work of courage. It is not often that such honesty is so forthrightly put out, let alone publicly.

A History of Western Philosophy is a book that not only forces someone to take a step back and think, but to take extensive breaks and allow the mind to fully process what has been written. The author of the book is Bertrand Russell, certainly one of the most profound and complete thinkers of the 20th century. A History of Western Philosophy is not a textbook; it is a book that sets out to establish the philosophical beliefs of the greatest and most impactful philosophers, and thus prove them wrong. This is done through highly intellectual, and sometimes complex, arguments that have to be read twice or three times over.

It is this book that helped Bertrand Russell win a Nobel Prize in Literature in 1950, and with good reason. A History of Western Philosophy begins with Thales and ends with John Dewey, as the book was first published in the mid-1940s. Not only does the book explain the theories created and modified by philosophers, but illustrates subtly the impact it had on Western civilization.

Substantial portions of the book are devoted to the philosophers that had the greatest impact. This is the case with Plato, Aristotle, John Locke and Rene Descartes. However, A History of Western Philosophy finest teachings are put on full display with its analysis of Catholic philosophy and the rise and fall of the papacy.

Anyone who is interested in gathering an immense knowledge in philosophy and history is highly advised to read this book. Nonetheless, patience and discipline is needed, as the book is approximately 800 pages. A History of Western Philosophy is not an easy read, but when finished one feels a strong sense of accomplishment and intellectual fulfillment.