In 1938, British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain arrived home from a conference in Munich. He and other leaders had met with Hitler; they had agreed to allow the German army to annex a slice of Czechoslovakia; in exchange, Hitler offered more dialogue, and promised not to fight any further. To the cheering crowd who gathered to welcome his plane, Chamberlain happily declared that the threat of war had passed: He had obtained “peace with honour….peace for our time.

Illustrations by Miki LoweThe poet Christian Wiman grew up in a Baptist household but progressively strayed from his religion—until he was in his late 30s. At that point, two life-changing events rocked him back to Christianity: He was diagnosed with a rare form of blood cancer, and he fell in love.Having known agnosticism and faith alike, Wiman understands how absurdly irrational religious belief can seem—and also how such irrationality is insufficient to refute a higher being.

When the mayor of Washington, D.C., announced changes to the city’s mask mandate last week, spit hit the fan. As of March 1, District residents will need to cover up in order to attend school, go to a library, or ride in a taxi. But gyms, sports arenas, concert venues, and houses of worship—you know, all the places where people like to breathe hard or sing and shout in close proximity—will be facial free-for-alls.

Among American institutions, Congress is at once the most transparent and the most reviled. Its votes, hearings, and debates are broadcast live for anyone to see; inside the Capitol, reporters can walk up to just about any of its 535 members and ask why they voted a certain way, or whether the latest reported scandal is true. Unfortunately for lawmakers, all of this visibility has helped make Congress only slightly more popular among U.S. citizens than Vladimir Putin.

Donald Trump was supposed to have changed the world, robbing America not just of its luster but of its allies’ trust. Here was a president of such gauche ignorance and hostility, it seemed impossible that American power would ever be seen in the same light again. For Europe, in particular, Trump’s jingoistic belligerence was poised to be an adrenaline shot to the heart, Pulp Fiction–style, jolting the continent out of its American dependency.

In the summer of 2019, Ronson Chan, then an editor for the independent news outlet Stand News, took a delayed honeymoon to Germany with his wife. The timing was terrible. Prodemocracy protests in Hong Kong were at full tilt. Chan was distracted. He checked his phone at all hours, obsessively looking for updates from his colleagues.

Almost a century ago, the revolutionary idea of the biosphere gained a foothold in science. Defined as the collective activity of all life on Earth—the tapestry of actions of every microbe, plant, and animal—the biosphere had profound implications for our understanding of planetary evolution.

The romantic comedy was once a tentpole of Hollywood. The genre defined A-list careers, won awards for studios, and made piles of cash. Then one day, rom-coms seemed a thing of the past, and their relative absence from theaters has been an open mystery for the better part of a decade.