NASA’s quest to return humans to the moon has finally gotten off the ground. After being stymied by repairs and hurricanes, the Artemis 1 mission launched from Florida’s Cape Canaveral early Wednesday morning. 

This first mission is an uncrewed test of NASA’s Space Launch System rocket and Orion spacecraft – shooting all the way to the moon and back – so that everything goes smoothly when humans do climb aboard for a trip to Earth’s companion.

But Artemis 1 is more than just a technological test. Success would signal momentum toward a broader vision for a multiplanetary future for humanity. Complete with construction of a permanent lunar outpost, the Artemis program is designed to establish a way station for travel to Mars – and beyond. Behind the audacity of that goal, shared by NASA and numerous private space companies, is a faith in the potential of human ingenuity.

“The capabilities that we will develop for the Moon to Mars Program can and will enable a multiplanet species,” says Patrick Troutman, a NASA space architect for the agency’s Moon to Mars vision.

That future will be shaped by motivations – from security to exploration – that have already defined much of human experience on Earth, experts say.

Money will also be a factor. It’s not a question of whether we can land humans on Mars or establish a permanent outpost on the moon, says Roger Launius, former chief historian of NASA. “The question is, how much resources will it take? And do we want to expend [them] in that particular way?”

God, gold, and glory

One option now is for humans to skip the trip. Plenty of important science missions can be undertaken – more cheaply and with much less risk – using automated vehicles and instruments. But throughout our species’ history, humanity has expanded its footprint across landscapes, first filling spaces devoid of other humans and then jostling with other civilizations for the same places. To some, human spaceflight is a natural next step.

“Expansion,” Mr. Troutman says, “has always been part of what humans do.” 

John Raoux/AP

NASA's new moon rocket lifts off from Launch Pad 39B at the Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, Florida, on Nov. 16, 2022. This uncrewed mission is the first flight test of the Artemis program, which is designed to bring humans back to the moon for longer stays than ever before.

When it comes to outer space, he adds, expansion continues to be top of mind for spaceflight leaders in both the public and the private sectors. Many have used terms like “colonization” to refer to a multiplanetary future, connecting their visions to past expansions.

Historically, expansions have largely been motivated by three themes, says Dr. Launius, which he calls “the three Gs.” God, gold, and glory.

Glory was a strong motivation behind the space race of the 1960s, Dr. Launius says. Then, the Soviet Union launched the first satellite and first human into space, and the United States landed the first human on the moon. The world powers were grappling for prestige on the global stage, using the technological feat of going to space as a measuring stick. (Former President John F. Kennedy famously said, “We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard.”)

Gold and God both came into play when European powers colonized many parts of the rest of the world in the 1500s, Dr. Launius says. Extraction of resources outside Europe established who led the Western powers at the time, and missionaries frequently accompanied colonists and conquistadors to convert Indigenous people to Christianity. 

The cultural belief of “manifest destiny” in the 1800s in the U.S. is another clear example of religious views motivating expansion, as it was quite literally the idea that the nation was destined to spread its political and economic systems across the continent.

Today, there is a “profit motive, which is the gold part of this,” Dr. Launius says. “If we find something we want on the moon or Mars that is economically viable, there will be a gold rush like we have never seen before.”

Scoping out what resources might be on the moon is one of the objectives of the Artemis program, Mr. Troutman says. 

Today’s motivation for human spaceflight goes beyond extraction. One could argue that there is also a “God” component today, Dr. Launius says. And he has made just that argument, identifying how some people relate to spaceflight in ways that fit the criteria for what constitutes a religion in the eyes of the government. 

Some space enthusiasts still make what Dr. Launius calls a pilgrimage to rocket launches, and he has witnessed an outpouring of emotions at such events. 

One primary criteria for considering a set of beliefs a religion, he says, is salvation theology. Advocates for a multiplanetary future often cite the need to establish homes for humanity in other places in order to ensure our species’ long-term survival. The thinking goes, Dr. Launius says, “If we get off this planet, we as a species can be saved.”

There’s likely an additional intangible element driving human spaceflight efforts, too, says Savannah Mandel, an outer space anthropologist and a Ph.D. candidate at Virginia Tech. “The motivations for sending humans to outer space are incredibly emotional and full of heart. There’s just this intense drive to see it with our own eyes firsthand,” she says. “Seeing Florida on a postcard is not the same as standing on a Florida beach. And even though it might be more financially smart or politically smart or socially smart not to go to Florida, you still want to go and stand on that beach.”

Creating a lunar future

Following the uncrewed test flight that is the Artemis 1 mission, NASA will send its second mission of the program with humans on board. Neither of the first two missions will land on the lunar surface. Subsequent missions are planned to touch down, however, landing the first woman on the surface of the moon and sending off expeditions.

The vision is for crewed missions to establish a lunar outpost from which research and resource reconnaissance can be conducted. Mr. Troutman likens it to settlements established across the American West in the days of the Lewis and Clark expedition. The government-sponsored explorers went first, and services needed by their outposts were the initial industry in a given location. Then, as the outposts grew, the industries grew too, attracting more people to the now-thriving communities. 

Chris O'Meara/AP

Workers inspect NASA's new moon rocket as it sits on Launch Pad 39B on Nov. 12, 2022, in Cape Canaveral, Florida. “There could be a future where there are scores of people on the lunar surface. They’re enabling science, enabling economic opportunity, and catering to a growing population [there],” says NASA space architect Patrick Troutman.

It’s this kind of outpost that Mr. Troutman envisions could one day lay the groundwork for a full-fledged lunar civilization. 

“If humanity is truly to expand and thrive, there has to be economic opportunity or reason for more people to go,” he says. “We’re trying to do our initial exploration on the moon to identify those places where that opportunity exists. That will give more rationale for extending the human presence on the moon.”

This process, Mr. Troutman says, could potentially be repeated on Mars – assuming success on the moon first. 

Technologically, sorting out how to have a permanent presence on the moon will also hold lessons for Mars. “The moon is a dusty, partial gravity environment. Mars is a dusty, partial gravity environment, except the dust could be a little more toxic than it is on the moon,” he explains. 

“So if we understand how to work on the moon, and operate there for initially 30 days and then expand it longer and longer, we can use those same methodologies for Mars while we’re exploring the moon.”

NASA’s role, Mr. Troutman says, is to explore the cosmos and open the door to a multiplanetary future for humanity. But it’s likely private industry that will pick up the baton and run with it to make this shift in our species’ realm permanent. Once our capabilities and technologies are proved, he expects private industry to step in and take over operations and growth of the outpost on the moon. 

“Look at low Earth orbit,” he says. “We’re to the point now where industry and our partners are ready to provide low Earth orbit platforms” once the International Space Station is decommissioned.

“There could be a future where there are scores of people on the lunar surface. They’re enabling science, enabling economic opportunity, and catering to a growing population [there],” Mr. Troutman says. Trips to Mars would likely follow within a couple decades, the space architect adds. And if that is successful, too, who knows where humans might go next? 

A chance to build a new kind of world?

A multiplanetary future is not written in the stars. Each successive ​step carries big costs. ​And not everyone agrees on the goals or approaches, Ms. Mandel says. ​ 

“The biggest challenge is deciding who is getting a say in why we’re going to space, how we’re going to space, and when we’re going to space, and who is getting left behind,” she says. Right now, NASA and private spaceflight companies are leading the conversation.

When people talk about sending humans to space, “you see these values and belief systems coming to the surface that are very culturally specific and driven by the individuals who are speaking them,” Ms. Mandel says. And who has a seat at the table to enact those values could shape whether humans go to deep space at all. 

As astronauts build the literal architecture of a lunar or Martian civilization, they and spaceflight leaders will have to make decisions about the sociopolitical systems that operate in these new human outposts. 

In Antarctica, which Ms. Mandel points to as a parallel for what could happen on the moon, early explorers similarly established rules and laws for humans on the icy continent, and some tried to stake claims on swaths of land – much of those patterns mirroring existing cultural norms and political systems.

It’s likely the moon and Mars will be no different, particularly because much of the rhetoric around a permanent human presence on those worlds uses terms related to colonialism and capitalism, suggesting that current and historical dominant systems will continue to influence our species’ expansion. 

Ms. Mandel recommends including more voices in the conversations around whether, how, and when to send humans to space, such as multigenerational perspectives and philosophies from Indigenous knowledge that considers “how to inhabit with a space, not on it.”

RJ Sangosti/The Denver Post/AP

Rep. Lauren Boebert and her husband, Jayson Boebert, campaign during an Election Day rally in Grand Junction, Colorado, Nov. 8, 2022.

A district spanning 27 counties defies generalizations. In the past week, Colorado’s 3rd Congressional District has demonstrated that.

As of Wednesday afternoon, Trump-backed incumbent Republican Rep. Lauren Boebert had edged about 1,100 votes ahead of Democratic challenger Adam Frisch, a far cry from national forecasts for a shoo-in second term. Today is the deadline for Colorado clerks to receive military and overseas ballots, as well as ballots that needed “curing” over signature issues. It remains unclear when the count will conclude – and whether a recount (state-ordered or otherwise requested by a campaign) awaits. 

Amid the uncertainty since Nov. 8, interviews with voters make at least one thing clear: The race has united CO-3 in a waiting game.

“Every day I check the tally,” says Frisch voter Laura Van Deusen, a middle school math teacher in Rifle who’s concerned about women’s rights and the environment. 

“It doesn’t sound like she wants to listen to the other side,” she says, whereas Mr. Frisch “really talked about working on both sides of the aisle.”

Boebert voter Gene Trujillo, on the other hand, has resisted constant checking of the count, he says, as it “kind of weighs heavy on the heart sometimes.” The retired railroad worker in Walsenburg sees a strong Second Amendment supporter and “pro-life” advocate in his congresswoman. “She comes across as knowing what’s right and wrong, and that pleases me.”

During her first term in Congress, far-right Representative Boebert has been noted nationally for her loyalty to former President Donald Trump, defense of gun rights, and upending of establishment norms – including remarks this summer about being “tired of this separation of church and state junk.” Mr. Frisch, a businessman and former city council member in the luxury mountain town of Aspen, has campaigned as a moderate, downplaying his Democratic status. 

Some CO-3 voters see the race as a residual referendum on the last president (who just announced his bid for 2024).

Sarah Matusek/The Christian Science Monitor

Doug Wight, owner of Gold Ring Pawn, stands before racks of rifles and shotguns in his shop, Nov. 12, 2022, in Silt, Colorado. "She's a loudmouth like Trump,” says the Republican of his support for Rep. Lauren Boebert. “Once they get to Washington, they don't do anything anyway – she's just fun to watch.”

“She’s a loudmouth like Trump,” says Republican Doug Wight, a resident of New Castle on the Western Slope, on his support for Ms. Boebert. “Once they get to Washington, they don’t do anything anyway – she’s just fun to watch.”

He’s in Silt at his shop, Gold Ring Pawn. A red Trump shirt hangs among liberal-bashing signs and racks of rifles and shotguns. The economy and gun control, which he opposes, are top issues for Mr. Wight, who rests his elbow on a Gadsden flag mouse pad.

The tight race is “concerning,” says Mr. Wight, who doubts President Joe Biden was legally elected. But in the end he throws up his hands: “Whatever happens, happens.”

In the southern city of Pueblo, Lynette Baca, who relies on disability benefits, has felt the crunch of inflation. But that wasn’t enough to sway the Democrat’s vote. Ms. Baca says she chose Mr. Frisch, whose sign sits on her lawn, “because I don’t believe in what Lauren stands for.” For one, Ms. Baca, a Roman Catholic, is, herself, against abortion, but she respects other women’s right to choose – a compromise in contrast to the congresswoman’s hard-line stance.

Another red flag: “I’m so against Trump,” says Ms. Baca. She cradles a friend’s baby on the couch, her darkened living room aglow with a Minions movie. 

CO-3 is a three-quarters white, largely rural region, with population centers like Grand Junction in the west and Pueblo to the south. It embraces farmers and ranchers facing drought-wracked fields, upscale skiing in the high country, and university enclaves.

Ms. Boebert won her primary by 32 points in June over Republican state Sen. Don Coram, who went on to endorse Mr. Frisch. The November election “should have been a fairly easy win for Lauren Boebert, but it certainly did not develop that way,” says Justin Gollob, professor of political science at Colorado Mesa University in Grand Junction. Not only was she an incumbent, but being a member of the party opposing the president (especially one faulted for inflation) also seemed to sweeten the deal ahead of Election Day.

SOURCE:

Colorado Independent Redistricting Commissions, New York Times

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Jacob Turcotte/Staff

Colorado “often has been thought of in the not-so-distant past as a purple state,” says Professor Gollob. But given recent electoral trends, he adds, “it’s hard to come to a conclusion other than this is a state that’s trending blue with deep-red regional pockets.”

Democrats here control seats for governor, secretary of state, attorney general, and the state legislature – a monopoly that survived the midterms. But the last time a Democrat won the CO-3 seat was in 2008.

As the sun sets on Grand Junction, the race is marinating in the minds of grocery shoppers outside a City Market. 

Sarah Matusek/The Christian Science Monitor

Democrat Lynette Baca holds a friend's baby outside her home in Pueblo, Colorado, Nov. 15, 2022. Ms. Baca says she chose to vote for Adam Frisch, whose sign sits on her lawn, “because I don't believe in what Lauren [Boebert] stands for.” Another red flag: "I'm so against Trump."

As she loads bags into a car, Republican voter Lori Chandler says she wasn’t too surprised by the close count – and not just because of the state’s leftward trend. 

“Half my friends are conservative, and about probably half of them are liberal,” says Ms. Chandler. She credits her ability to get along with both sides to her being a teacher. 

Across the parking lot, unaffiliated voter Danielle Garcia hopes for a Frisch win. 

And yet, “whatever the people vote for is what we need to go with,” says the nurse. That’s why she votes – so that “my voice is heard.”

It’s a case that would make headlines anywhere: On his way to the station, a popular radio host is shot dead by two motorcycle-riding assailants. A dramatic investigation ensues, implicating the country’s top prison official whose flashy lifestyle had been the subject of a recent radio segment.

But the fact that the wheels of justice appear to be turning for slain broadcast journalist Percival Mabasa, popularly known as Percy Lapid, is especially newsworthy considering how many journalists have been killed with impunity in the Philippines. The Committee to Protect Journalists ranks the Philippines seventh on a list of 11 countries with “the worst track record in solving murders of journalists during the past decade.” The country has been on the organization’s Global Impunity Index for 15 consecutive years.

Within a month of the Oct. 3 shooting, investigators homed in on Bureau of Corrections (BuCor) Chief Gerald Bantag, as well as deputy security officer Ricardo Zulueta and several inmates believed to be involved in the hit. Last week, President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. urged relevant agencies to keep going “until we’re satisfied,” and the justice secretary dared Mr. Bantag to face his charges “like a man.” On Tuesday, the Department of Justice ordered subpoenas to be served to the suspects. 

While friends and commentators say the speedy response is more of an anomaly than a budding trend, they do see reason for hope. So far, Mr. Mabasa’s case proves that when it behooves the government to solve a journalists’ homicide, authorities can make it happen. 

“While we welcome the development in the case, we know for a fact it happened at a time that a new president is going out of his way to present himself as a leader who is committed to human rights,” says Carlos Conde, a senior researcher with the Asia division of Human Rights Watch. “If Marcos Jr. did not mention the case of Mabasa, it’ll be swept aside.”

Aaron Favila/AP

Filipinos light candles for Percival Mabasa, more popularly known as Percy Lapid, during a rally in Quezon City, Philippines, Oct. 4, 2022. Jason Gutierrez, president of the Foreign Correspondents Association of the Philippines and a personal friend of the Mabasa family, says the fight for justice for Mr. Mabasa “is far from over.”

Mr. Mabasa is one of three journalists killed since President Marcos assumed office in July. Radio broadcaster Rey Blanco was stabbed to death in Mabinay, a town in Negros Oriental province, on Sept. 18. Benharl Kahil, an editorial cartoonist, was shot dead in Lebak, in the southern Philippine province of Sultan Kudarat, on Nov. 5. Both cases are still under investigation and perpetrators are unidentified. 

In addition to the timing, it also doesn’t hurt that Mr. Mabasa was a prominent, Manila-based journalist, says Jonathan de Santos, chairperson of the National Union of Journalists of the Philippines (NUJP).

“Most of the slain journalists were based in the provinces where there is barely government and media attention. Another probable reason why authorities have reacted quickly to this case is because Mabasa had many listeners and followings both on air and online,” he says. 

“Culture of impunity”

At least 198 Filipino journalists have been killed since 1986, according to the NUJP, and judging by recent government figures, fewer than a third have reached a conviction.  

“Most of the cases remain unsolved,” says Mr. De Santos. “The culture of impunity still prevails.”

And while some hope justice for Mr. Mabasa will deter future violence, media watchers are wary.

Jason Gutierrez, president of the Foreign Correspondents Association of the Philippines and a personal friend of the Mabasa family, says the fight for justice for Mr. Mabasa “is far from over.”

“His murder was just a tip of the iceberg,” he says. “It saddens me, but we must admit that this case has become a horrible proof that the country has many problems in its justice system and the web of corruption is a tangled mess.”

Gunman Joel Escorial surrendered to police several days after the shooting, and started naming co-conspirators. Shortly after, New Bilibid Prison inmate Cristito “Jun Villamor” Palaña, who allegedly acted as a middleman on behalf of the mastermind in Mr. Mabasa’s killing, died in detention. 

An independent autopsy showed that he was suffocated with a plastic bag. Authorities have charged Mr. Bantag, the now-suspended BuCor chief, in both killings.

Fighting the chill

When journalists are killed with impunity, it can have a severe chilling effect on the press.

Aaron Favila/AP

Activists raise press freedom signs during a rally in Quezon City, Philippines, on Oct. 4, 2022. The fact that journalists can be killed with impunity in the Philippines leads to self-censorship among the press.

The fact that Mr. Mabasa was killed in Las Piñas City, on the outskirts of Manila, could make that self-censorship worse. Danny Arao, journalist and associate professor at the University of the Philippines, says the last time a journalist was killed in the capital was 2016. 

“How many times have we seen some journalists in the provinces, where most of the media killings occurred, toned down in their reporting after a murder of a co-media worker?” says Mr. Arao. “A lot! ... The murder of [Mabasa] has shaken some media practitioners, not only community journalists but also those who are working in the mainstream media, in the capital region.”

Mr. Arao believes that it is the duty of the media to resist that feeling of intimidation.

“We should not let our young people who plan to enter the media industry fear engaging in investigative journalism and hard-hitting political commentaries,” he says. “We need to push back, harder and harder each day until justice is served.” 

If there’s one positive takeaway from the Mabasa case, it’s that pushing back can work. 

Many journalists say a key reason the national government mobilized its justice department and law enforcement to respond to Mr. Mabasa’s homicide was the reaction from the community.

“Immediately after the news broke that Mabasa was killed, media workers, students, and human rights advocates rallied to denounce the murder and to put pressure on the government to hold the perpetrators accountable, because we know that press freedom is not complete if journalists are being killed,” says Mr. De Santos, a news editor at Philstar.com.

For Mr. Conde, the whole situation surrounding the Mabasa killing “could prove to be the impetus for the Philippine government to act on the safety and protection of media workers.”

“The challenge for Mr. Marcos Jr. is not only to stop the killings and human rights violations, but also to provide justice and accountability for those who were killed and whose rights have been violated,” he says.

I crossed paths with Chadwick Boseman only once in this lifetime – during the red carpet premiere of the James Brown biopic “Get On Up” in Augusta, Georgia, in 2014.

He had only recently gotten into the business of playing Black icons. A year prior to his performance as the Godfather of Soul, he took on the role of Jackie Robinson in “42.” 

The only thing that might have given away Mr. Boseman’s sense of royalty, other than the fact that the event was at Regal Cinemas, was a sharp hairline and a checkered suit that either looked purple or blue depending on the beholder – a preview of the vibranium-infused threads he would soon wear as King T’Challa in Marvel’s “Black Panther.” 

Everyone who was close to Mr. Boseman – the people who profoundly loved him – called him Chad, a modest name that described his workman’s approach to his craft and belied his star-studded talent.

“Black Panther: Wakanda Forever,” the just released sequel, is a love letter to Chad, who died in 2020, both in how it honors him and how, in the true essence of the business, the show must go on. But how does the show go on without its source material? And what happens when that source material is a person?

Comic book fans obsess over the details of narratives in what we commonly describe as “canon,” the literal gospel of a hero’s origin, abilities, and fate. His life and death broke through such meddling restrictions, and it is sadly ironic that he became the Black Panther in the same year that he was diagnosed with colon cancer, 2016. It is in how Mr. Boseman persevered, despite illness, that we see the true nature of being a superhero, that what one might perceive as weakness, he would embrace with strength and dignity.

He became the backbone of the “Black Panther” franchise in a way that transcends flesh and bone. His performance affects how we view the character, the same way Adam West’s did with Batman in the 1960s and Jack Nicholson’s did with his 1980s Joker. While I empathize with calls to recast the Panther, they also seem insensitive to me. None of us, not “Black Panther” director Ryan Coogler, nor co-stars such as Letitia Wright, nor fans, had a chance to mourn Chad on the silver screen. We needed that catharsis, the same way we need to profoundly mourn the lives lost around the world since we lost our Black Panther.

Marvel Studios/AP

Angela Bassett stars as Queen Ramonda – defiant diplomat, mourning mother, and courageous commander – in "Black Panther: Wakanda Forever."

Mr. Coogler understood this, which is why in a movie about a comic book, wrapped in a movie about colonialism, with the perspective of community, he chose camaraderie. He was Chad’s friend first and his message of care resonated with viewers, as evidenced by a $330 million global weekend at the box office, including some $180 million in North America.

It’s why the scene in “Wakanda Forever” that memorializes T’Chad – I mean, T’Challa – resonates so deeply. It’s not just the pageantry of the mourners in white, nor is it the backdrop of royal Wakandan architecture. It’s the humility of the clay structures, draped with a mural of the once and future king. It’s a beautiful simplicity that matches the legacy of our protagonist. That scene could have played out in Wakanda just as easily as it could have played out in his native Anderson, South Carolina.  

“Wakanda Forever,” in turn, is about how we deal with trauma, not just in the world around us, but within our own homes and spaces. Angela Bassett’s depiction of Queen Ramonda – defiant diplomat, mourning mother, and courageous commander – deserves some Oscar buzz.

She, Mr. Coogler, and an assortment of characters, both new and old, take the adage of “turning lemons into lemonade” and turn lament into legacy.

Marco Ugarte/AP

Director Ryan Coogler signs autographs on the red carpet at the premiere of “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” in Naucalpan, Mexico, Nov. 9, 2022.

I only crossed paths with Chad once, but as a native South Carolinian, I am proud to call him a brother. I will miss him because of commonalities, such as summers spent in small towns like Anderson and Belton, South Carolina, with their dirt roads and country quirks. I distinctly remember the ambience of being surrounded by lightning bugs and how powerful it made me feel. 

Personally, I will miss him because of shared communities – my mom used to attend church with his parents. And I will miss Chad because he saw a life beyond South Carolina’s manufacturing industry. He crafted interpretations of factual and fictional characters that endeared him to the world – forever.

Ken Makin is the host of the “Makin’ a Difference” podcast. “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” is rated PG-13 for sequences of strong violence, action, and some language. 

Staff

1. The Magic Kingdom, by Russell Banks

Measured and thoughtful, the latest novel from Russell Banks details the promises – and limitations – of utopias. In 1902, Harley Mann and his family find belonging amid the Shakers of rural central Florida. “We were being welcomed back into Paradise,” he muses, and indeed life is good ... until infatuation and doubt upend Harley’s world. Banks effectively explores the tensions between individuality and idealism.

2. Blackwater Falls, by Ausma Zehanat Khan

Denver Police Detective Inaya Rahman – a devout Muslim – investigates the murder of a Syrian teen. She faces
a wall of resistance, including racist officials, as well as a terrified Muslim community. The story examines our current political moment with freshness, nuance, and compassion. 

3. Gilded Mountain, by Kate Manning

It’s 1907 in Moonstone, Colorado. Quarrymen toil in the perilous marble mine while their families, like 16-year-old Sylvie’s, scrape by. But Sylvie escapes, first to the local paper run by a fearless woman, and then to the mine owner’s manor to work for his frivolous wife. A steady-eyed look at the costs of justice, Kate Manning’s latest novel is a solid, sweeping read.

4. Godmersham Park, by Gill Hornby

Gill Hornby, who wrote “Miss Austen” in 2020, follows governess Anne Sharp as she navigates upstairs and downstairs at the family home of Jane Austen’s brother. Thoroughly immersive, witty, and moving, Hornby’s novel features sparkling prose that makes this novel unputdownable.

5. A World of Curiosities, by Louise Penny

Louise Penny’s 18th Chief Inspector Gamache mystery is simply outstanding. It’s springtime in Three Pines when past and present criminal cases collide. Danger threatens Gamache’s home, friends, and family, but thankfully, Penny’s gift for intelligent and transcendent storytelling delivers light, bringing themes of forgiveness and redemption to society’s darker moments.

6. Flight, by Lynn Steger Strong

A large family comes together at Christmastime to divide its matriarch’s estate. Lynn Steger Strong brings illuminating prose and nuance to the familiar themes of loss, marriage, parenthood, relationships, and art. When the family bands together to help a mother and daughter in crisis, love fuels joy, hope, and new beginnings.

7. Winterland, by Rae Meadows

Rae Meadows’ captivating 1970s Soviet-era tale echoes the stark landscape of its Siberian setting. A ballerina goes missing; her husband pieces his life together, as their young daughter is ushered into the grueling sport of Olympic gymnastics. Meadows testifies to the invincible human spirit.

8. Arthur Miller: American Witness, by John Lahr

John Lahr’s slender, sharp biography offers an engaging account of the playwright’s life, beginning with his New York childhood. Lahr also provides a penetrating interpretation of Arthur Miller’s canonical works, including “Death of a Salesman” and “The Crucible.” 

9. Hollywood: The Oral History, by Jeanine Basinger and Sam Wasson

Two film historians sifted through nearly 3,000 interviews archived at the American Film Institute. Weaving together recollections from directors, writers, actors, and more, they’ve created a delightful and illuminating account of moviemaking from the silent era to the present.

10. The Grimkes, by Kerri K. Greenidge

The collective biography of the Grimke family covers not only the famous white abolitionist sisters Sarah and Angelina but also their less well-known Black relatives, born to their brother and a woman he enslaved. The result is a searing examination of a family’s intergenerational racial trauma.

Reuters

Members-elect from the U.S. House of Representatives prepare for a group photo outside of the U.S. Capitol building in Washington, Nov. 15.

In the 2022 elections for the U.S. Congress, the most important voters turned out to be independents, according to exit polls. They were 31% of the electorate – the highest tally since 1980. Many split their tickets between Republicans and Democrats, chose character over ideology, and – perhaps most importantly – pushed the coming legislature into what the founders preferred: constitutional equipoise. The GOP appears set to control the House while Democrats will hold the Senate – both but barely.

If each party now honors the spirit of those independent voters, the 118th Congress could produce less divided government and more shared government.

Partisan gridlock can frustrate partisan activists in Congress, but it also can force elected representatives to act as cross-the-aisle legislators – to listen for “the cool and deliberate sense of the community,” as James Madison put it. Without clear majorities in either chamber, the parties must now work in harmony and equilibrium, like two individuals in a three-legged race, passing bills that reflect balance – the oft-neglected word in “checks and balance.”

“I’m going to say to my party, ‘We are not going to get everything we want; we’re going to have to compromise,’” Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer told The New York Times.

Rep. Nancy Mace, a Republican from South Carolina, told CNN, “I really hope that when we get into the next legislative term, we look at what is going to bring our nation together.”

A poll last year of those who voted in the 2020 elections found three enduring bonds of the American civic community. Despite a wide partisan divide, citizens embrace equality, liberty, and progress, according to the survey by the Siena College Research Institute. The poll revealed an “assertion that those values guide us in our thoughts and actions on a daily basis,” says the institute’s director, Don Levy.

Independents have helped set a tone for post-election harmony in Congress. “In recent elections, both parties have resorted to the politics of fear and anger – which may appeal to the base, but independents see it as only adding to the animosity dividing the country,” David Winston, a Republican pollster and strategist with the Winston Group, wrote in Roll Call. 

Many Americans hold strong fears that those on the other side of the political spectrum will harm the United States. One antidote to such fears lies in advice given by the late Queen Elizabeth II in 2011, a few months after she became the first reigning British monarch to visit the Republic of Ireland. She spoke of forgiveness, saying it “can heal broken families, it can restore friendships, and it can reconcile divided communities. It is in forgiveness that we feel the power of God’s love.”

In the results of the midterm elections, independent voters could have delivered a subtle message. It is that Congress must be less a pit of competing and unpardonable villains and more a den of forgiving and collaborative hearts, one where a suspension of ego and grievance can lead to equipoise in governance.