Until the return of Spider-Man, every film’s box-office performance during the pandemic had come with an asterisk. Some movies, such as Black Widow and The Suicide Squad, were available to stream the day they opened in cinemas, helping explain somewhat depressed ticket sales. Others, such as No Time to Die and F9, relied on international revenue to boost domestic takes that were middling by pre-coronavirus standards.

Grocery-store scallions repotted on windowsills. Sourdough starters in the fridge. Cooking, knitting, jigsaw puzzles. Hobbies could not cure the coronavirus, but for a moment it seemed like they could cure the anxious stagnation of pandemic life. Time had become unsettlingly abundant, but we tried our best to avoid falling into idleness and despair.

Paul Dirac was one of the greatest physicists of the 20th century. A pioneer in quantum theory, which shaped our modern world, Dirac was a genius when it came to analytical thinking. But when his colleagues asked him for advice, his secret to success had nothing to do with the traditional scientific method: Be guided, Dirac told them, “by your emotions.”
This article was adapted from Mlodinow’s forthcoming book, Emotional: How Feelings Shape Our Thinking.

Even people who know about the First Amendment still have trouble believing that someone can make false, irresponsible, even dangerous statements without paying any penalty. For instance, when Francis Collins, the director of the National Institutes of Health, spoke with National Public Radio to promote COVID vaccinations and boosters just before Thanksgiving, he sharply criticized people who intentionally spread misinformation about the vaccine’s safety.

Move over mimosas, because America has a fresh New Year’s tradition: struggling to get tested for COVID before returning to school or work. The line for brunch was replaced, last weekend, with line after line after line of weary citizens waiting to receive their viral clearance. Testing backlogs are only going to get worse from here, as case numbers continue their ascent.

This is hardly the time to talk about plastics is what I think when Dad, hovering over the waste bin at a post-funeral potluck, waves me over, his gesture discrete but emphatic. He has retrieved from the trash a crystalline plastic cup, with fluted, rigid sides. “Polystyrene,” he grins, inverting the cup to reveal its resin code (a 6 stamped inside the recycling symbol). “But not my kind.