One problem with this shifting space-time is that as it stretches and shrinks, the density of the energy inside it changes. As a consequence, the classical energy conservation law that previously described all of physics didn’t fit this framework. David Hilbert, one of the most prominent mathematicians at the time, quickly identified this issue and set out with his colleague Felix Klein to try to resolve this apparent failure of relativity. After they were stumped, Hilbert passed the problem on to his assistant, the 33-year-old Emmy Noether.
Noether was an assistant in name only. She was already a formidable mathematician when, in early 1915, Hilbert and Klein invited her to join them at the University of Göttingen. But other faculty members objected to hiring a woman, and Noether was blocked from joining the faculty. Regardless, she would spend the next three years prodding the fault line separating physics and mathematics, eventually setting off an earthquake that would shake the foundations of fundamental physics.
From a whale watching boat near Valdes Peninsula in Argentina, marine biologist Maria Piotto observed a mother-calf pair of southern right whales. As the calf splashed around in the water playfully, a kelp gull hovered overhead and persistently swooped down to nab at the breaching baby whale’s flesh. The gull was attacking with such intensity, Piotto says, “that I thought the gull must be getting a really considerable meal.”
Piotto, a doctoral candidate at the National University of Cordoba in Argentina, wondered what impact this harassment was having on baby whales. From June to December, southern right whales migrate from the frigid Southern Ocean to the warmer waters off the Valdes Peninsula to mate and rear calves. The decade spanning 2003 to 2013, however, saw an unusually high number of calf deaths in the region compared to previous decades. Piotto says she was curious to know how much of a role the gull attacks played.
A 19th-century Asian game is lighting up TikTok. Mahjong, long synonymous with grannies at Chinese New Year, is attracting a new legion of fans. Mahjong clubs with light shows and DJs are forming in Los Angeles and New York; luxury hotels such as the Standard, East Village, in New York City are holding mahjong nights for their guests; and the game has also been given the nod by Hollywood as actress Julia Roberts revealed she plays mahjong every week with her girlfriends. The new generation of players is finding that the game, which the actress said aims “to create order out of chaos based on random drawing of tiles,” is not only helping people create social connections after the Covid-19 lockdowns, but also boosting their mental health.
So strong is this porridge's connection to illness that some people can only stomach it when they're under the weather. Like Yuri Cath, a Japanese Indonesian who recently became a Singaporean citizen. "I had a negative association with congee for the longest time because I only had it when I was sick," she says, echoing a sentiment of many locals. "So, having it kind of made me feel ill." Not for long though, she laughs – the flavours won her over again, "and I love congee now".
It's tempting to call congee the king of flu food, but this is Singapore, one of the most culinary-obsessed nations on Earth, and competition is fierce. A literal melting pot, the island's official languages are English, Tamil, Malay and Mandarin, representing the many cultures that form its core population. Each brings with it enough comfort dishes to soothe an army.
I realize I sound like my grandfather—these kids with their TikToks! Complaining about loud bars certainly ages me. When you’re opposing youngsters, you fear you look like you’re living in a black-and-white film criticizing the Beatles. But as a man staring down 50, I’m not going to take advice from a generation raised on Red Bull and vodka. Age helps wine, whisky, and, I believe, appreciation of the enduring traditions that underlie a good place to drink them.
Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without an exchange of gifts among my two grandmothers, mother, and aunt, featuring the trait they shared: all four were left-handed. Waiting for them under the tree in our sunny Pasadena living room might be left-handed oven mitts or can openers, kitchen gadgets too mundane to pass as gifts for righties, but treasures to the matriarchal quartet. I’ll never forget the crows of delight one Christmas morning as they unwrapped identical packages to find pairs of left-handed sewing scissors, the first designed and widely marketed not just with upside-down handles but with inverted blades to make cutting fabric easy.
We Do Not Part is captivating, moving and from sentence to sentence Han Kang’s sensitive approach to Jeju 4.3 makes us reflect on why we still need to remember and commemorate this tragedy and the many others that still go ignored.
Like the cycle of water, these intertwined stories flow and shift from darkness to light, flood to drought, past to present, from the worst that people are capable of to their very best. Elif Shafak weaves a magnificent and spell-binding story.
I’ve long contended that Anchorage, Alaska’s largest and most complex city, has been denied its proper place in the state’s literature. It’s a void Chiappone steps into three times over with stories that delve into the city’s poverty, homelessness, cultural divides and transitory nature. His characters encounter the emptiness of its busy streets, the dark secrets lingering behind its doors and the futility of trying to change things. It’s hardly a complete picture of an often vibrant metropolis, but in a book plumbing the subsurface of several of the state’s communities, it’s an overdue recognition that the sprawling conurbation that dominates it in both size and influence is as distinctively Alaskan as any of its other towns.