Should everyone work as hard as the Chinese and Americans? No. Nuh-uh. Nope | Helen Lewis | Comment is free | The Guardian

The fuss about Jeremy Corbyn’s recent holiday is ridiculous. Every human being needs a break

Source: Should everyone work as hard as the Chinese and Americans? No. Nuh-uh. Nope | Helen Lewis | Comment is free | The Guardian

When the idiot George Osborne talked about Britons working as hard as the Chinese, I thought, er, “What an idiot.”

As far as I can tell, the only people who work hard in China are migrant workers, peasant farmers, and foreign teachers on international programmes. As one of the comments on the article said, there’s a lot of presenteeism here from the women in supermarkets who stand around gossiping all day to office workers who only do anything when the boss turns up to school librarians who sit around making sure no one goes near the books themselves.

In China, it’s all about the outward appearance of hard work, but this is really a culture of minimalism. At school, pupils do as little as they possibly can to complete work (e.g. responses to text types – write it once to perfection!), an attitude which follows them through their lives.

When I go back to the office after class, I inevitably have work to do; and even when I’ve finished that, I’m usually thinking about what I need to do next. There is occasional faffing about, but that tends to be the exception rather than the rule.

I also hasten to add that the age of retirement for women in China is 55, and 60 for men, and that’s followed by a lifetime of pension payments (though not necessarily for everyone). And so for a lifetime of turning up at work inhumanly early in the morning (well, to a point; we’re still in a lot earlier than the admin staff), taking 90-minute lunches, and avoiding hard work, there’s a nice little reward at the end.

Disintegration of the mind

Still Alice.

Alice Howland is a 50-year-old lecturer in Linguistics at Columbia (and – thankfully – we’re spared a lot of gushing about what a genius she is) who starts forgetting words, and then things in general, even those which she has only been told moments earlier. She goes to a neurologist who diagnoses early onset Alzheimer’s disease, which she inherited from her father, and which she has passed to at least one of her children.

Howland does what she can to retain her memories, testing herself every day to see whether she’s still capable of remembering basic facts. Before the disease has gone too far, she makes a video to tell herself where she has stashed a bottle of sleeping pills which she is to take when she can no longer answer the questions she puts to herself. The obvious problem is that she’s likely to have forgotten about the video by that stage, and it’s by accident that she stumbles across it later on. Howland’s attempt to instruct herself to commit suicide fails because the nurse arrives, but she struggles to retain the instructions.

The film ends with Howland unable to produce much more than noises.

Julianne Moore largely dominates the film in which the rest of the cast has a supporting role. This is perhaps for the best because otherwise it would be easy for this to have become mawkishly sentimental (little is made of the end of her academic career) or filled with shouting borne of frustration with her inability to recall things. Similarly, Howland’s decline is tragic, but it’s presented as a tragedy which is a natural consequence of the disease.

Avengers: Age of Ultron

Metal Gear Solid.

“Can I have a look at Loki’s Sceptre? Pretty please?” says Tony Stark.

“Yeah, fine” says everyone else, quite forgetting that this isn’t going to end well. (You’s think they’d never seen a single American film in their lives.)

And no, it doesn’t end well. Stark’s defensive program, Ultron, comes to life and decides to destroy the Avengers and humanity. The former will be fractured by a pair of twins, one with super speed and the other with mind control powers. The latter will be annihilated by dropping a central European village on them.

Unfortunately for Ultron, his attempt to upgrade to a living body leaves him open to mind reading, which reveals his nefarious plan, and the twins change sides. (Damned robotists all with their robotism creating a barrier between humans and their metal overlords!)

The village gets fired into the air and falls back to Earth, but somehow ends up in a lake. The Avengers go home, leaving Captain America and the Ginger Assassin to train some new recruits at their new HQ.

Another glossy action flick from the Marvel stable with plenty of fighting and explosions for Third-World audiences.

Queen Anne: The Politics of Passion

By Anne Somerset.

Queen Anne (1665-1714; queen 1702-14) was yet another English monarch who struggled to produce an heir. Henry VIII wanted boys when he had capable girls; Mary I was good at phantom pregnancies; Elizabeth I preferred to avoid making an her herself by importing one from Scotland; James I managed to father Charles and James, although the former failed to produce any legitimate heirs, and the latter, who was more fecund at home, messed up the succession. Mary II produced no heirs, and Anne followed in the same unfortunate tradition in spite of innumerable pregnancies.

As far as I can tell, Anne wasn’t quite the cully that, say, Sarah Churchill, the Duchess of Marlborough, thought she was, but she does seem to have been prey to all sorts of muddle-headed ideas, especially during her (seemingly one-sided) feuds with her stepmother, Mary of Modena (who seems to have been a nice enough person misrepresented by Anne’s religious bigotry), and William and Mary (although William seems to have been a colossal tosser).

However, Anne was gullible enough to believe that her half brother was a changeling smuggled into the palace in a warming pan.

Her relationships with her confidantes are only partly covered because we have plenty of material from the highly opinionated Duchess of Marlborough (who doesn’t really seem to have ever cared that much for Anne; for one thing, their politics were diametrically opposed), but much less from Lady Masham (Abigail Hill, a relative of Churchill’s). As far as I can tell, Anne was not so swayed by the latter as she was by the former.

Accusations that she was having a lesbian relationship with Lady Masham seem implausible because her relationship with her husband, Prince George of Denmark, seems to have been too close and affectionate for her to even have considered some same-sex alternative. She went into mourning for two years after her husband’s death. In reality, relationships between women at the time seem to have been characterised by extreme expressions of fondness between friends.

Anne’s religiosity seems to go back to a previous age, and it poisoned her relationship with Mary of Modena. It also meant that Dissenters, who liked Catholicism no more than Anne, were seen as a threat because of their heterodox views.

If Anne’s half brother, James, had been king, it’s hard not to imagine her being resentful of missing her turn in the Big Chair just because he was a boy. Although she may have been fervently religious, she doesn’t seem to have espoused her grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s views about the divine right of kings.

Anne’s great misfortune was her health, having had so many miscarriages, having had a surviving child who was born with the odds heavily against him, and having suffered from painful gout, lupus, and obesity.

The early 18th century was an age of vicious, partisan party politics. While the queen was not the shrewdest political operator herself, she had, it seems, fairly sound guidance from Lord Godolphin. The picture of Godolphin in the book is of a man who tried to do his best for the queen, although it’s difficult to judge whether he was more honest and decent than his usually corrupt contemporaries. He frequently lamented the strain that politics and the queen placed on his health. Regardless of what Godolphin was like in real life, Anne seems to have trusted him.

Anne also had the War of the Spanish Succession to deal with. On the one hand, she a great general, Marlborough, but on the other, the war was economically ruinous for both sides, and party politics were always in the background, making things even worse. She saw Union with Scotland, thus creating a supposedly united Britain.

The queen was less keen on the Hannovers with frequent pressure on her to let one reside in Britain. Her response, that they should be kept out of the country, was probably for the best because with party politics there were already enough troubles in Britain without the potentially disruptive presence of the heir to the throne.

I thought the book was ultimately a bit like wading through mud because it frequently resorted to primary sources to tell and drag out the story, but didn’t do much pro history until the final chapter. Ultimately, the reader is left to make their own mind up about the queen and her supporting cast. She was perhaps not quite the incompetent she appeared to be; Sarah Churchill was immoderately passionate about her views; Lady Masham may not have had quite the influence everyone thought she did, but could’ve been a victim of social snobbery given that she rose from low estate.

The book needed a chronology for quick reference and, perhaps, a few short biographical notes about the major players in Anne’s reign, including some sort of character sketch.

Homeland (Series 1 & 2)

More twists than the Nürburgring.

Carrie Mathison works for the CIA. She hears that some US soldier who’s been held prisoner by some extremist group has gone over to the beardie side. Not long afterwards, Nicholas Brody is released from captivity. “He’s a mad beardie!” screams Carrie. A lot. “No,” Brody keeps saying in a flat monotone, and everyone believes him.

In fact, Brody is working for Abu Nazir, plotting to kill the Vice President, who gave the order for the drone strike that killed Nazir’s son, Aisa to whom Brody had become deeply attached. (Just as an aside, how is it that when Brody is rescued, he’s a dishevelled mess, but he was perfectly all right while he was teaching Aisa?) The cunning plan is to herd the VP and everyone to a safe room so that Brody can then blow himself up, but the bomb fails to explode, and then his daughter rings him, and he can’t go through with it.

Don’t worry about it, says Nazir. You can still be evil. “How?” asks Brody. Become a politician.

And so Brody ends up becoming a Congressman, and tipped as a potential Vice President.

There’s one small fly in the ointment. Carrie is temporarily reinstated with the CIA so that she can go and have a chat with the wife of a terrorist commander in Beirut, who has some information. In typical Carrie style, she shouts hysterically and runs into the house where the commander lives so that she can gather intelligence. It seems to be no more than his shopping list until Saul finds an SD card sewn into a bag which has the video in which Brody explains why he blew himself up (but never did).

Thus, the CIA turns Brody, although to save Carrie, he gives Abu Nazir the serial number of the VP’s pacemaker so that the beardies can hack into the man’s heart and kill him. Job done.

The CIA eventually get their man after Carrie rants and raves hysterically again, but he gets them back by blowing up Langley with a bomb. “What’s my car doing there?” says Brody. “That’s not where I parked it.” Oh, f… says Carrie, getting cut off by the explosion. You did it! You did it! she screams wildly. “No,” replies Brody in a monotone, and for once he’s telling the truth. They go on the run, and Saul is left in charge.

Carrie is a manic depressive, but has hidden this from the CIA. She ends up having sex with Brody. In one episode, Saul Berenson (Carrie’s mentor) suddenly declares that she loves Brody. Really? There’s no real chemistry between Claire Danes and Damian Lewis, and Danes has the wild-eyed loon thing down a treat.

Brody’s daughter, Dana, is also prone to Carrie-like mood swings and hysterical rants. I suspect the writers didn’t know what to do with the character of a teenage girl, thus turning her into mini-Carrie. The character seems to be constantly on the verge of rumbling her dad, and she discovers that he’s a Muslim (I note that Jessica Brody doesn’t confront him with a bacon sandwich).

Homeland is both compelling and ridiculous at the same time. It’s as if the writers sat around trying to think of more and more implausible plot twists. The character of Carrie gets more and more annoying as she rants and raves at regular intervals. “Don’t do it, Carrie!” says Saul. Does she bother listening? No. If she was a World War I general, she’d be telling her men to charge straight at the machine guns because bullets only sting a little bit.

While the plot twists may make Homeland compelling, they can feel relentless, and although art requires the suspension of disbelief, it has little power against eye-rollingly inane plots.

A pot pourri of reviews

Dark Mirror.

Dark Mirror is a series of one-off stories about modern technology, either how it affects us or how it might affect us in the future. Charlie Brooker (sometime Guardian wit) does his best work with political satire (the first and last episodes) and strains himself to get sufficient material for the rest, none of which were worth more than a ten-minute vignette.

Mrs Brown’s Boys (Third Series).

I knew of Mrs Brown’s Boys, but was at a disadvantage, having never seen it before. Once I got to know the characters, I was on a sounder footing with it.

The programme revolves around Mrs Brown and her family, which is not wholly boys, neighbours (well, the slightly dozy Winnie), and friends, with everything shot at home or in the pub. The performances appear to be done live, hence they film through the spontaneous retakes that sometimes interrupt.

I don’t know whether there’s ever been anything else between Father Ted and Mrs Brown’s Boys, but the latter has the same sort of surreal humour as the former. Must see if I can find the first two series sometime.


I’m trying to recall how it is I read the comic on line many years ago, but I can’t, and I certainly read it long after the TV series (2000) had come and gone.

Sarah Pezzini is united with the Witchblade so that she can go on cut-price adventures in New York, battling supernatural forces, Mr Blond (who may or may not be on her side) and Mr Blond’s minion (or son), who is in love with her.

I’m not surprised the series didn’t last even if Yancy Butler’s alcoholism hadn’t been a contributory factor in its cancellation. It didn’t help turning the second series into a reboot in which Pezzini has visions of the events which happened in the first. Another problem, I think, i that it took itself a bit too seriously. Mr Blond being outed as a cross-dressing Nazi in suspender belt and stockings being leaked on the Internet in some colossal rant about predictive texting on mobile phones might’ve been just the shot it needed.

Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

This time it’s contemporary satire. Shield has been infiltrated by the NSA Hydra, led by Robert Redford (who also leads Shield). Only Captain America can save the day, but he has to fight the Winter Soldier, who’s actually his old friend, Bucky, who was captured by the Germans and given a metal arm with, strangely enough, a red star on it.

There’s a big fight on some flying battleships, which are reprogrammed to shoot each other down. Oddly enough, where the other two blast each other’s engines to pieces, the third only sustains a minimal amount of damage so that it can crash into a building.

Another competently done action flick in the seemingly endless Marvel series which has plenty of fighting and explosions for Third-World audiences, and a bit of satire for good measure.

Pacific Rim.

Most of the few comments about this which I’d seen on line were dismissive. It’s the live-action version of RahXephon or Neongenesis. One after another, the kaiju have been coming through a wormhole and wrecking havoc on Earth. Humanity responds by building giant mechas which can only be adequately controlled by two people who happen to be compatible. But the construction of a massive wall around the Pacific is seen as the ultimate, but rather wrong answer.

It may not exactly be how the Japanese would do mecha anime, but a lot of the elements are there such as the nitwit scientists who discover that the attacks are a prelude to an invasion or the somewhat shy Japanese girl who wants to be on the team (and gets to be without the unnecessary ado which would be found in the American version).

A film for anime fans, but won’t make a lot of sense to anyone not familiar with this sort of thing.


Lucy has to deliver some blue powder to some Korean gangster (no, I think this one comes from south of the 38th parallel) who then decides to use her as a drug mule by shoving the drug, which is some sort of baby-grow powder, inside her. The bag leaks, and Lucy develops superpowers, eventually turning herself into a computer and transcending time and space.

There were times when the film was reasonably engaging, and times when it was just being overindulgent because it had nothing of consequence to say.

Jupiter Ascending.

A sci-fi faerie tale about a girl called Jupiter Jones who happens to be the reincarnation of the mother of the galaxy’s ruling family, whose various ageing, but eternally young offspring all want to use her or kill her. Don’t worry. She has a space werewolf to protect her. The family’s especially dirty little secret is that they harvest planets inhabited to create the elixir that keeps them perpetually young. Well, there you go – satire on the parasitic consumerism of the tiny minority who have most of the money.

Having started life as a cleaner on Earth, even though Jones may own the whole planet, she goes back to being a cleaner, and she doesn’t quite hate her life so much. So another message – common people, know your place.

Last Knights.

A fantasy romp in which Morgan Freeman is executed for clashing with a corrupt official and Clive Owen pretends to be an alcoholic while secretly plotting his revenge.

Good triumphs. Well, sort of. Good gets massacred and improbably survives a twenty-foot fall off a balcony on to some fairly hard-looking flagstones to give the corrupt official the lumps he richly deserves. But the emperor decides someone needs to be punished because an attack on his officials is an attack on him.

Another of those weird fantasy films where everyone has a different accent.

Kingsman: The Secret Service.

Samuel L. Jackson is some nutjob who wants to kill off a lot of people to save the planet from being destroyed. It sounds like the same sort of weird logic that fuels Intelligent Design. Only the Kingsmen can stop him. Perhaps.

In the meantime, some new recruits are being put through their paces to see which of them can ultimately shoot a dog and become part of this elite band.

At the end of the day, Eggsy thrashes the chief henchman and the villain, saves the world, and snogs a princess before he pops home to give the local bully a smack or so.

If the film had focused on one side (the main plot) or the other (the selection of a new recruit), it might’ve worked a little better even though the two parts were eventually melded together as Eggsy took up where Harry had left off.

Ender’s Game (book)

By Orson Scott Card

As Earth’s only hope, Andrew “Ender” Wiggin is packed off to Battle School at the tender age of 6 to become a great military leader. He is, of course, already a genius, and in spite of all the psychological torment the school puts him through, he manages to survive and shine.

But why has he been sent to battle school? Because mankind is fighting a war against the buggers.

Buggers?! Yup, buggers, Card’s (Scott Card’s? NB. Americans, please choose sensible names) unfortunate term for the race of insects against which the human race has fought two wars and is on the verge of fighting a third.

Having endured Battle School, Wiggin is sent to Command School because time is running out. He’s reunited with some of his classmates from Battle School, and after a series of supposed tests, the pass mark for the final exam is genocide (insecticide?). Wiggin becomes a great hero, but can’t return to Earth, and having been sent to a former insect colony, he discovers something unexpected.

While Wiggin is at Battle School, his psychopathic brother, Peter, plans to conquer the world along with their sister, Valentine. Together, using the pseudonyms Locke and Demosthenes (writing as their alter egos to muddy the waters further), they establish themselves as major commentators on the nets, influencing politics and international relations. Wiggin is a blend of the other two. He can be decidedly deadly (the incidents with Stilson and Bonzo Madrid), but he also has a conscience (the egg). It seems strange that although both of the older Wiggins were rejected from Battle School, no one seems to have considered that they, being just as brilliant as their younger brother, might pose some danger to Earth in the right or wrong hands.

Ender’s Game is an odd book in that it’s a story of institutionalised child abuse and, ultimately, casual genocide. Card writes Wiggin as a highly resilient child who endures everything that is thrown at him and yet survives largely unscathed by his experience. The book is about war as a game, and although the characters of Peter and Valentine are used to explore political ideology, Wiggin isn’t subject to any sort of racist indoctrination. (Tellingly, this article on Wired says “The only time his beliefs came up in our conversations was a comment he made about fiction being a totally inappropriate venue for any kind of ideological proselytizing.”)

The original story goes back to 1977, and the book was first published in 1985. At the time, the Vietnam War would’ve been recent history, but the Cold War had not yet come to an end. Although the threat to Earth is external, in a bout of unintentional foresight, Card writes of the Russians preparing for a terrestrial war in spite of a treaty which is intended to keep the peace on Earth while the insects remain a threat. The alien race could still stand for the Russians at the time or Communism (totalitarianism) in general.

Thus, if Ender’s Game is a Cold War yarn, is Ender Wiggin a reflection of Card himself, who, it seems reasonable to suppose, was quite possibly a child whose precocity isolated him from others? Wiggin perpetually shines throughout the book, coming close to defeat in some battles, but never losing one. His fatal fights with Stilson and Bonzo Madrid are the sort of scenes of wish fulfilment that would appeal to clever people who have been bullied by stupid ones.

Ender’s Game is well written, but ambiguous. Wiggin’s treatment raises intermittent comments; the extermination of the insects ultimately doesn’t bother anyone; and Wiggin’s discovery of the egg potentially undermines his genocidal victory. What is the reader meant to think? What’s the message? And do you have to be a Mormon to understand it?

The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas

By John Boyne.

Bruno’s dad is someone important, although Bruno isn’t really certain of what he does. It does mean that the family has to leave its nice home in Berlin and go and live outside a camp in Auschwitz where everyone wears striped pyjamas.

Having little else to do, Bruno goes exploring and soon meets a boy called Shmuel, who lives on the other side of the wire. The pair are precisely the same age, and they become friends, although the wire almost always interposes. At one point, Shmuel turns up at Bruno’s house, and gets into trouble for allegedly stealing food when Bruno disowns any familiarity with him. In spite of the consequences at the hands of Lieutenant Kotler, Shmuel resumes his accustomed place beside the wire.

Eventually, they make arrangements for Bruno to enter the camp where he discovers not only how wretched their lives are, but also their fate, although Bruno dies in blissful ignorance.

I think the story strains credulity just a little too far, an observation made in other reviews. Bruno seems stunningly stupid and ignorant even for a nine-year-old whose entire life would’ve been spent under Hitler’s reign. It’s a touching enough story about the son of the man in charge of Auschwitz making friends with a Jewish boy and dying with him in tragic innocence in the gas chambers. It’s not, so I’ve read, meant to be faithfully accurate or among other things, Bruno would’ve been electrocuted when he wriggled under the wire. But like other readers young and old alike, I felt the protagonist needed to display a little insight, or there needed to be some insight from somewhere.

Sci-fi, fantasy, or faerie tale. Same story, but done as one of these with a more aware Bruno and the same tragic ending. Thus there would be no need to distort the truth.

The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas is another of the books which I considered as a possible replacement for To Kill a Mockingbird for the higher-level English B students next year. From a practical perspective, it doesn’t fit with the rest of the course (also a problem with To Kill a Mockingbird) and even our pupils may find Bruno somewhat irritating.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time

By Mark Haddon

15-year-old Christopher Boone has Asperger’s Syndrome. He likes red, Maths, and confined spaces; he can’t read expressions; he doesn’t like the colours yellow and brown; hates being touched; cannot cope with crowds of people or strangers; has problems understanding non-literal language and inexplicit instructions; and doesn’t like the food on his plate touching.

After he finds his neighbour’s dog dead, skewered with a garden fork, he decides to investigate the matter to track down the killer. In the course of his enquiries, he uncovers a secret, which briefly takes him to London before he returns to Swindon to sit his A-level Maths exam.

The book ends with Christopher reflecting on his successes and his firm conviction that he can do anything.

The final message is a bit clumsy because of its obviousness, and it felt a bit abrupt. Christopher succeeds because the story requires him to do so, but I was also left wondering whether the message could possibly be true because of level of support which the boy would need to become a scientist.

Christopher’s parent seem to be archetypes. His dad is more patient than his mum, but even he has his limits, and he makes his son promise to stop investigating Wellington’s death. It’s after his dad takes his book away that Christopher discovers a secret, and it is also when his father really loses his patience out of the frustration of dealing with someone who lacks the ability to effectively interact with others. Christopher’s mum had less patience and that put the marriage under pressure.

The book is written as if Christopher himself had written it, although there are times when certain passages (especially some of his reasoning) can be skipped without any great loss.

I’ve thought about buying The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time several times over the past few years, but had never got round to it till now because we’ve been talking about replacing To Kill a Mockingbird (mainly because of issues with the language and style; also, I think the book is overrated, but that’s just me). Would The Curious Incident be a reasonable replacement for it?

I think our students would relate to Christopher to some extent. They like Maths, they’re literal-minded, and they have a limited understanding of the world. (They are, I believe, more ignorant than I was at their age even if they can do Maths at a third-year university level.) The language in the book is mostly undemanding, but there are a few tortuous passages where they’d give up, and it’s sometimes adult (which may or may not get through the vetting process to which, I assume, the book is probably subject).

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time would tie in well with TOK and mental health (which we’ve been doing as a second-year topic).

The book is a distinct possibility as a replacement for To Kill a Mockingbird. It’s more contemporary, less obscure in its language, more cohesive, and about a subject which is less alien to our students.


By C.J. Sansom

When Catherine Parr’s book, Fifty Shades of Religion [Really? –ed.], goes missing, she turns to her favourite PI, Matthew Shardlake to find what has happened to it. It seems that the wrong people have probably got it and will publish it any day… Any day now… Or perhaps not.

Shardlake’s day doesn’t get any better when his searches get him tangled up with the oily Sir Richard Rich, who has been involved in a little extrajudicial interrogation of Anne Askew, the religious fanatic who got burnt at the start of the book. She managed to write an account of her time in the Tower which is at risk of being smuggled abroad, and indeed is after a desperate battle at the docks. Yet in spite of that volume going abroad, there’s no sign of the Queen’s modest tome which, she fears, is going to annoy the King if he gets his pudgy little hands on it.

In his usual OCD style, Shardlake just won’t let go, and his two sidekicks won’t let him go alone in spite of the near-fatal injuries done to Jack Barak.

As Shardlake eventually discovers, there are some top people involved, and he manages to live to fight another day, but sent packing with a right royal flea in his ear.

Six months later, Henry has died, and the threat from Sir Richard Rich increases with his promotion to Lord Chancellor, but the Dowager Queen has a solution, and they all live happily ever after – at least until the next novel.

As with other books in the series, some judicious cutting might’ve helped, and once again, there was a certain amount of repetition, not just words, but also passages where the same ideas were repeated.

Once again, Shardlake has problems with his steward, who is open to blackmail because of his son; he keeps falling out with Guy of Malton; he nearly gets Barak killed (and seriously annoys Tamasin because of the deceit surrounding Barak’s other injuries); and while the reader hopes that he’ll succeed in spite of the opposition against him, he’s not the most endearing character.

Although Sansom may have other Shardlake novels in the pipeline, I’m inclined to think that the death of Henry VIII should see the end of the series. After all, what’s he going to do with Edward VI? “You, peasant,” demanded the gangly adolescent king, “find my iPhone for me, the one which has all my naked selfies, which I sent to Jane Grey.”

Life and whatever in the imperium sericum.


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