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Parrots are unique when it comes to color: with their yellow and red feathers, they are among the most colorful animals in the world. Despite their flashy appearance, scientists have long struggled to understand how parrots got their unique color palette.
Unique pigments
How do parrots get their color? To answer this question, scientists first showed that the yellow and red pigments in parrot feathers do not occur in other birds. The scientists themselves found this hard to believe at first, but the genetic tests proved true: the pigments in parrot feathers are unique.
One protein turns red feathers yellow
The scientists then did further research on White-backed Lorikeets, orange-yellow birds native to Papua New Guinea. They discovered that only one protein controls the color difference in White-backed Lorikeets.
Oddly enough, this is the same protein that is responsible for breaking down alcohol in the liver in humans. Parrots "borrow" this detox protein and use it to turn their red feathers yellow. The more active this protein is, the less intense the red color becomes.
Yeast with parrot colors
To prove the protein's effectiveness, the scientists studied an even more well-known parrot: the budgerigar. They showed how budgerigars use the detox protein to switch certain genes on or off, thereby controlling the color of their feathers.
The final confirmation came when the scientists genetically modified yeast with the 'parrot color gene': " It was incredible to see how our modified yeast got parrot colors ". This was the ultimate proof: one gene is enough to explain how parrots regulate the amount of yellow and red in their feathers.
More information
This research was made possible by a collaboration between Ghent University, BIOPOLIS-CIBIO, Charles University in Prague, the University of Coimbra and Washington University in St. Louis.
Read the full article in Science
Contact
Michael Nicolaï
0477592886
Ashby-de-la-Zouch, England - October 22, 1194 - A grand tournament was held at Ashby-de-la-Zouch, attracting knights, nobles, and commoners from across the realm. Hosted by the noble Prince John, the event sought to display chivalric valor and knightly skill, with the finest lances in England poised to vie for glory.
The festivities commenced with a parade of armored knights, resplendent in their colors, accompanied by their squires and heralds. Among the participants, the enigmatic "Disinherited Knight" quickly seized attention. Clad in plain armor and refusing to lift his visor, he stunned spectators by triumphing over some of the most formidable contenders, including the haughty Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert of the Knights Templar.
The tournament culminated in a moment of great drama, as the Disinherited Knight, having unhorsed his foes, was called upon to name the Queen of Love and Beauty. To the astonishment of many, he chose the Lady Rowena, famed for her grace and beauty, marking a bold and surprising declaration that has set tongues wagging across the land.
However, the spectacle was marred by darker undertones. Whispers of political intrigue and brewing tensions among Prince John's retinue cast a shadow over the celebration. Prince John's ambitions, evident in his hosting of this event, raised suspicions that he seeks to strengthen his claim to the throne. Observers noted the lack of support for King Richard, raising questions about loyalty and the stability of the realm.
As the sun sets on Ashby-de-la-Zouch, the legacy of the tournament lingers—of knights' valor, secret identities, and the shadow of power. The Disinherited Knight, victorious and mysterious, has left the field but not the memory of his prowess. What lies ahead for these champions of chivalry? The realm waits with bated breath.
### ENDS ###
For further information, please contact: Herald of the Ashby Tournament Office Ye Olde Tournament Pavilion, Ashby-de-la-Zouch Contact: (011) 94-ASHBY-KNIGHTS
As was testified by his long grey beard, and the shaggy grey eyebrows overhanging eyes, of which, however, years had been unable to quench the fire. A formidable warrior, his thin and severe features retained the soldier’s fierceness of expression; an ascetic bigot, they were no less marked by the emaciation of abstinence, and the spiritual pride of the self-satisfied devotee. Yet with these severer traits of physiognomy, there was mixed somewhat striking and noble, arising, doubtless, from the great part which his high office called upon him to act among monarchs and princes, and from the habitual exercise of supreme authority over the valiant and high-born knights, who were united by the rules of the Order. His stature was tall, and his gait, undepressed by age and toil, was erect and stately. His white mantle was shaped with severe regularity, according to the rule of Saint Bernard himself, being composed of what was then called Burrel cloth, exactly fitted to the size of the wearer, and bearing on the left shoulder the octangular cross peculiar to the Order, formed of red cloth. No vair or ermine decked this garment; but in respect of his age, the Grand Master, as permitted by the rules, wore his doublet lined and trimmed with the softest lambskin, dressed with the wool outwards, which was the nearest approach he could regularly make to the use of fur, then the greatest luxury of dress. In his hand he bore that singular “abacus”, or staff of office, with which Templars are usually represented, having at the upper end a round plate, on which was engraved the cross of the Order, inscribed within a circle or orle, as heralds term it. His companion, who attended on this great personage, had nearly the same dress in all respects, but his extreme deference towards his Superior showed that no other equality subsisted between them. The Preceptor, for such he was in rank, walked not in a line with the Grand Master, but just so far behind that Beaumanoir could speak to him without turning round his head.
“Conrade,” said the Grand Master, “dear companion of my battles and my toils, to thy faithful bosom alone I can confide my sorrows. To thee alone can I tell how oft, since I came to this kingdom, I have desired to be dissolved and to be with the just. Not one object in England hath met mine eye which it could rest upon with pleasure, save the tombs of our brethren, beneath the massive roof of our Temple Church in yonder proud capital. O, valiant Robert de Ros! did I exclaim internally, as I gazed upon these good soldiers of the cross, where they lie sculptured on their sepulchres,—O, worthy William de Mareschal! open your marble cells, and take to your repose a weary brother, who would rather strive with a hundred thousand pagans than witness the decay of our Holy Order!”
“It is but true,” answered Conrade Mont-Fitchet; “it is but too true; and the irregularities of our brethren in England are even more gross than those in France.”
Was seated amidst fair meadows and pastures, which the devotion of the former Preceptor had bestowed upon their Order. It was strong and well fortified, a point never neglected by these knights, and which the disordered state of England rendered peculiarly necessary. Two halberdiers, clad in black, guarded the drawbridge, and others, in the same sad livery, glided to and fro upon the walls with a funereal pace, resembling spectres more than soldiers. The inferior officers of the Order were thus dressed, ever since their use of white garments, similar to those of the knights and esquires, had given rise to a combination of certain false brethren in the mountains of Palestine, terming themselves Templars, and bringing great dishonour on the Order. A knight was now and then seen to cross the court in his long white cloak, his head depressed on his breast, and his arms folded. They passed each other, if they chanced to meet, with a slow, solemn, and mute greeting; for such was the rule of their Order, quoting thereupon the holy texts, “In many words thou shalt not avoid sin,” and “Life and death are in the power of the tongue.” In a word, the stern ascetic rigour of the Temple discipline, which had been so long exchanged for prodigal and licentious indulgence, seemed at once to have revived at Templestowe under the severe eye of Lucas Beaumanoir.
Isaac paused at the gate, to consider how he might seek entrance in the manner most likely to bespeak favour; for he was well aware, that to his unhappy race the reviving fanaticism of the Order was not less dangerous than their unprincipled licentiousness; and that his religion would be the object of hate and persecution in the one case, as his wealth would have exposed him in the other to the extortions of unrelenting oppression.
Meantime Lucas Beaumanoir walked in a small garden belonging to the Preceptory, included within the precincts of its exterior fortification, and held sad and confidential communication with a brother of his Order, who had come in his company from Palestine.
Mounted upon a mule, the gift of the Outlaw, with two tall yeomen to act as his guard and guides, the Jew had set out for the Preceptory of Templestowe, for the purpose of negotiating his daughter’s redemption. The Preceptory was but a day’s journey from the demolished castle of Torquilstone, and the Jew had hoped to reach it before nightfall; accordingly, having dismissed his guides at the verge of the forest, and rewarded them with a piece of silver, he began to press on with such speed as his weariness permitted him to exert. But his strength failed him totally ere he had reached within four miles of the Temple-Court; racking pains shot along his back and through his limbs, and the excessive anguish which he felt at heart being now augmented by bodily suffering, he was rendered altogether incapable of proceeding farther than a small market-town, were dwelt a Jewish Rabbi of his tribe, eminent in the medical profession, and to whom Isaac was well known. Nathan Ben Israel received his suffering countryman with that kindness which the law prescribed, and which the Jews practised to each other. He insisted on his betaking himself to repose, and used such remedies as were then in most repute to check the progress of the fever, which terror, fatigue, ill usage, and sorrow, had brought upon the poor old Jew.
On the morrow, when Isaac proposed to arise and pursue his journey, Nathan remonstrated against his purpose, both as his host and as his physician. It might cost him, he said, his life. But Isaac replied, that more than life and death depended upon his going that morning to Templestowe.
“To Templestowe!” said his host with surprise again felt his pulse, and then muttered to himself, “His fever is abated, yet seems his mind somewhat alienated and disturbed.”
“And why not to Templestowe?” answered his patient. “I grant thee, Nathan, that it is a dwelling of those to whom the despised Children of the Promise are a stumbling-block and an abomination; yet thou knowest that pressing affairs of traffic sometimes carry us among these bloodthirsty Nazarene soldiers, and that we visit the Preceptories of the Templars, as well as the Commanderies of the Knights Hospitallers, as they are called.”
Item list
Parrots are unique when it comes to color: with their yellow and red feathers, they are among the most colorful animals in the world. Despite their flashy appearance, scientists have long struggled to understand how parrots got their unique color palette.
Unique pigments
How do parrots get their color? To answer this question, scientists first showed that the yellow and red pigments in parrot feathers do not occur in other birds. The scientists themselves found this hard to believe at first, but the genetic tests proved true: the pigments in parrot feathers are unique.
One protein turns red feathers yellow
The scientists then did further research on White-backed Lorikeets, orange-yellow birds native to Papua New Guinea. They discovered that only one protein controls the color difference in White-backed Lorikeets.
Oddly enough, this is the same protein that is responsible for breaking down alcohol in the liver in humans. Parrots "borrow" this detox protein and use it to turn their red feathers yellow. The more active this protein is, the less intense the red color becomes.
Yeast with parrot colors
To prove the protein's effectiveness, the scientists studied an even more well-known parrot: the budgerigar. They showed how budgerigars use the detox protein to switch certain genes on or off, thereby controlling the color of their feathers.
The final confirmation came when the scientists genetically modified yeast with the 'parrot color gene': " It was incredible to see how our modified yeast got parrot colors ". This was the ultimate proof: one gene is enough to explain how parrots regulate the amount of yellow and red in their feathers.
More information
This research was made possible by a collaboration between Ghent University, BIOPOLIS-CIBIO, Charles University in Prague, the University of Coimbra and Washington University in St. Louis.
Read the full article in Science
Contact
Michael Nicolaï
0477592886
Ashby-de-la-Zouch, England - October 22, 1194 - A grand tournament was held at Ashby-de-la-Zouch, attracting knights, nobles, and commoners from across the realm. Hosted by the noble Prince John, the event sought to display chivalric valor and knightly skill, with the finest lances in England poised to vie for glory.
The festivities commenced with a parade of armored knights, resplendent in their colors, accompanied by their squires and heralds. Among the participants, the enigmatic "Disinherited Knight" quickly seized attention. Clad in plain armor and refusing to lift his visor, he stunned spectators by triumphing over some of the most formidable contenders, including the haughty Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert of the Knights Templar.
The tournament culminated in a moment of great drama, as the Disinherited Knight, having unhorsed his foes, was called upon to name the Queen of Love and Beauty. To the astonishment of many, he chose the Lady Rowena, famed for her grace and beauty, marking a bold and surprising declaration that has set tongues wagging across the land.
However, the spectacle was marred by darker undertones. Whispers of political intrigue and brewing tensions among Prince John's retinue cast a shadow over the celebration. Prince John's ambitions, evident in his hosting of this event, raised suspicions that he seeks to strengthen his claim to the throne. Observers noted the lack of support for King Richard, raising questions about loyalty and the stability of the realm.
As the sun sets on Ashby-de-la-Zouch, the legacy of the tournament lingers—of knights' valor, secret identities, and the shadow of power. The Disinherited Knight, victorious and mysterious, has left the field but not the memory of his prowess. What lies ahead for these champions of chivalry? The realm waits with bated breath.
### ENDS ###
For further information, please contact: Herald of the Ashby Tournament Office Ye Olde Tournament Pavilion, Ashby-de-la-Zouch Contact: (011) 94-ASHBY-KNIGHTS
As was testified by his long grey beard, and the shaggy grey eyebrows overhanging eyes, of which, however, years had been unable to quench the fire. A formidable warrior, his thin and severe features retained the soldier’s fierceness of expression; an ascetic bigot, they were no less marked by the emaciation of abstinence, and the spiritual pride of the self-satisfied devotee. Yet with these severer traits of physiognomy, there was mixed somewhat striking and noble, arising, doubtless, from the great part which his high office called upon him to act among monarchs and princes, and from the habitual exercise of supreme authority over the valiant and high-born knights, who were united by the rules of the Order. His stature was tall, and his gait, undepressed by age and toil, was erect and stately. His white mantle was shaped with severe regularity, according to the rule of Saint Bernard himself, being composed of what was then called Burrel cloth, exactly fitted to the size of the wearer, and bearing on the left shoulder the octangular cross peculiar to the Order, formed of red cloth. No vair or ermine decked this garment; but in respect of his age, the Grand Master, as permitted by the rules, wore his doublet lined and trimmed with the softest lambskin, dressed with the wool outwards, which was the nearest approach he could regularly make to the use of fur, then the greatest luxury of dress. In his hand he bore that singular “abacus”, or staff of office, with which Templars are usually represented, having at the upper end a round plate, on which was engraved the cross of the Order, inscribed within a circle or orle, as heralds term it. His companion, who attended on this great personage, had nearly the same dress in all respects, but his extreme deference towards his Superior showed that no other equality subsisted between them. The Preceptor, for such he was in rank, walked not in a line with the Grand Master, but just so far behind that Beaumanoir could speak to him without turning round his head.
“Conrade,” said the Grand Master, “dear companion of my battles and my toils, to thy faithful bosom alone I can confide my sorrows. To thee alone can I tell how oft, since I came to this kingdom, I have desired to be dissolved and to be with the just. Not one object in England hath met mine eye which it could rest upon with pleasure, save the tombs of our brethren, beneath the massive roof of our Temple Church in yonder proud capital. O, valiant Robert de Ros! did I exclaim internally, as I gazed upon these good soldiers of the cross, where they lie sculptured on their sepulchres,—O, worthy William de Mareschal! open your marble cells, and take to your repose a weary brother, who would rather strive with a hundred thousand pagans than witness the decay of our Holy Order!”
“It is but true,” answered Conrade Mont-Fitchet; “it is but too true; and the irregularities of our brethren in England are even more gross than those in France.”
Was seated amidst fair meadows and pastures, which the devotion of the former Preceptor had bestowed upon their Order. It was strong and well fortified, a point never neglected by these knights, and which the disordered state of England rendered peculiarly necessary. Two halberdiers, clad in black, guarded the drawbridge, and others, in the same sad livery, glided to and fro upon the walls with a funereal pace, resembling spectres more than soldiers. The inferior officers of the Order were thus dressed, ever since their use of white garments, similar to those of the knights and esquires, had given rise to a combination of certain false brethren in the mountains of Palestine, terming themselves Templars, and bringing great dishonour on the Order. A knight was now and then seen to cross the court in his long white cloak, his head depressed on his breast, and his arms folded. They passed each other, if they chanced to meet, with a slow, solemn, and mute greeting; for such was the rule of their Order, quoting thereupon the holy texts, “In many words thou shalt not avoid sin,” and “Life and death are in the power of the tongue.” In a word, the stern ascetic rigour of the Temple discipline, which had been so long exchanged for prodigal and licentious indulgence, seemed at once to have revived at Templestowe under the severe eye of Lucas Beaumanoir.
Isaac paused at the gate, to consider how he might seek entrance in the manner most likely to bespeak favour; for he was well aware, that to his unhappy race the reviving fanaticism of the Order was not less dangerous than their unprincipled licentiousness; and that his religion would be the object of hate and persecution in the one case, as his wealth would have exposed him in the other to the extortions of unrelenting oppression.
Meantime Lucas Beaumanoir walked in a small garden belonging to the Preceptory, included within the precincts of its exterior fortification, and held sad and confidential communication with a brother of his Order, who had come in his company from Palestine.
Bullet list
Parrots are unique when it comes to color: with their yellow and red feathers, they are among the most colorful animals in the world. Despite their flashy appearance, scientists have long struggled to understand how parrots got their unique color palette.
Unique pigments
How do parrots get their color? To answer this question, scientists first showed that the yellow and red pigments in parrot feathers do not occur in other birds. The scientists themselves found this hard to believe at first, but the genetic tests proved true: the pigments in parrot feathers are unique.
One protein turns red feathers yellow
The scientists then did further research on White-backed Lorikeets, orange-yellow birds native to Papua New Guinea. They discovered that only one protein controls the color difference in White-backed Lorikeets.
Oddly enough, this is the same protein that is responsible for breaking down alcohol in the liver in humans. Parrots "borrow" this detox protein and use it to turn their red feathers yellow. The more active this protein is, the less intense the red color becomes.
Yeast with parrot colors
To prove the protein's effectiveness, the scientists studied an even more well-known parrot: the budgerigar. They showed how budgerigars use the detox protein to switch certain genes on or off, thereby controlling the color of their feathers.
The final confirmation came when the scientists genetically modified yeast with the 'parrot color gene': " It was incredible to see how our modified yeast got parrot colors ". This was the ultimate proof: one gene is enough to explain how parrots regulate the amount of yellow and red in their feathers.
More information
This research was made possible by a collaboration between Ghent University, BIOPOLIS-CIBIO, Charles University in Prague, the University of Coimbra and Washington University in St. Louis.
Read the full article in Science
Contact
Michael Nicolaï
0477592886
Ashby-de-la-Zouch, England - October 22, 1194 - A grand tournament was held at Ashby-de-la-Zouch, attracting knights, nobles, and commoners from across the realm. Hosted by the noble Prince John, the event sought to display chivalric valor and knightly skill, with the finest lances in England poised to vie for glory.
The festivities commenced with a parade of armored knights, resplendent in their colors, accompanied by their squires and heralds. Among the participants, the enigmatic "Disinherited Knight" quickly seized attention. Clad in plain armor and refusing to lift his visor, he stunned spectators by triumphing over some of the most formidable contenders, including the haughty Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert of the Knights Templar.
The tournament culminated in a moment of great drama, as the Disinherited Knight, having unhorsed his foes, was called upon to name the Queen of Love and Beauty. To the astonishment of many, he chose the Lady Rowena, famed for her grace and beauty, marking a bold and surprising declaration that has set tongues wagging across the land.
However, the spectacle was marred by darker undertones. Whispers of political intrigue and brewing tensions among Prince John's retinue cast a shadow over the celebration. Prince John's ambitions, evident in his hosting of this event, raised suspicions that he seeks to strengthen his claim to the throne. Observers noted the lack of support for King Richard, raising questions about loyalty and the stability of the realm.
As the sun sets on Ashby-de-la-Zouch, the legacy of the tournament lingers—of knights' valor, secret identities, and the shadow of power. The Disinherited Knight, victorious and mysterious, has left the field but not the memory of his prowess. What lies ahead for these champions of chivalry? The realm waits with bated breath.
### ENDS ###
For further information, please contact: Herald of the Ashby Tournament Office Ye Olde Tournament Pavilion, Ashby-de-la-Zouch Contact: (011) 94-ASHBY-KNIGHTS
As was testified by his long grey beard, and the shaggy grey eyebrows overhanging eyes, of which, however, years had been unable to quench the fire. A formidable warrior, his thin and severe features retained the soldier’s fierceness of expression; an ascetic bigot, they were no less marked by the emaciation of abstinence, and the spiritual pride of the self-satisfied devotee. Yet with these severer traits of physiognomy, there was mixed somewhat striking and noble, arising, doubtless, from the great part which his high office called upon him to act among monarchs and princes, and from the habitual exercise of supreme authority over the valiant and high-born knights, who were united by the rules of the Order. His stature was tall, and his gait, undepressed by age and toil, was erect and stately. His white mantle was shaped with severe regularity, according to the rule of Saint Bernard himself, being composed of what was then called Burrel cloth, exactly fitted to the size of the wearer, and bearing on the left shoulder the octangular cross peculiar to the Order, formed of red cloth. No vair or ermine decked this garment; but in respect of his age, the Grand Master, as permitted by the rules, wore his doublet lined and trimmed with the softest lambskin, dressed with the wool outwards, which was the nearest approach he could regularly make to the use of fur, then the greatest luxury of dress. In his hand he bore that singular “abacus”, or staff of office, with which Templars are usually represented, having at the upper end a round plate, on which was engraved the cross of the Order, inscribed within a circle or orle, as heralds term it. His companion, who attended on this great personage, had nearly the same dress in all respects, but his extreme deference towards his Superior showed that no other equality subsisted between them. The Preceptor, for such he was in rank, walked not in a line with the Grand Master, but just so far behind that Beaumanoir could speak to him without turning round his head.
“Conrade,” said the Grand Master, “dear companion of my battles and my toils, to thy faithful bosom alone I can confide my sorrows. To thee alone can I tell how oft, since I came to this kingdom, I have desired to be dissolved and to be with the just. Not one object in England hath met mine eye which it could rest upon with pleasure, save the tombs of our brethren, beneath the massive roof of our Temple Church in yonder proud capital. O, valiant Robert de Ros! did I exclaim internally, as I gazed upon these good soldiers of the cross, where they lie sculptured on their sepulchres,—O, worthy William de Mareschal! open your marble cells, and take to your repose a weary brother, who would rather strive with a hundred thousand pagans than witness the decay of our Holy Order!”
“It is but true,” answered Conrade Mont-Fitchet; “it is but too true; and the irregularities of our brethren in England are even more gross than those in France.”
Was seated amidst fair meadows and pastures, which the devotion of the former Preceptor had bestowed upon their Order. It was strong and well fortified, a point never neglected by these knights, and which the disordered state of England rendered peculiarly necessary. Two halberdiers, clad in black, guarded the drawbridge, and others, in the same sad livery, glided to and fro upon the walls with a funereal pace, resembling spectres more than soldiers. The inferior officers of the Order were thus dressed, ever since their use of white garments, similar to those of the knights and esquires, had given rise to a combination of certain false brethren in the mountains of Palestine, terming themselves Templars, and bringing great dishonour on the Order. A knight was now and then seen to cross the court in his long white cloak, his head depressed on his breast, and his arms folded. They passed each other, if they chanced to meet, with a slow, solemn, and mute greeting; for such was the rule of their Order, quoting thereupon the holy texts, “In many words thou shalt not avoid sin,” and “Life and death are in the power of the tongue.” In a word, the stern ascetic rigour of the Temple discipline, which had been so long exchanged for prodigal and licentious indulgence, seemed at once to have revived at Templestowe under the severe eye of Lucas Beaumanoir.
Isaac paused at the gate, to consider how he might seek entrance in the manner most likely to bespeak favour; for he was well aware, that to his unhappy race the reviving fanaticism of the Order was not less dangerous than their unprincipled licentiousness; and that his religion would be the object of hate and persecution in the one case, as his wealth would have exposed him in the other to the extortions of unrelenting oppression.
Meantime Lucas Beaumanoir walked in a small garden belonging to the Preceptory, included within the precincts of its exterior fortification, and held sad and confidential communication with a brother of his Order, who had come in his company from Palestine.
Mounted upon a mule, the gift of the Outlaw, with two tall yeomen to act as his guard and guides, the Jew had set out for the Preceptory of Templestowe, for the purpose of negotiating his daughter’s redemption. The Preceptory was but a day’s journey from the demolished castle of Torquilstone, and the Jew had hoped to reach it before nightfall; accordingly, having dismissed his guides at the verge of the forest, and rewarded them with a piece of silver, he began to press on with such speed as his weariness permitted him to exert. But his strength failed him totally ere he had reached within four miles of the Temple-Court; racking pains shot along his back and through his limbs, and the excessive anguish which he felt at heart being now augmented by bodily suffering, he was rendered altogether incapable of proceeding farther than a small market-town, were dwelt a Jewish Rabbi of his tribe, eminent in the medical profession, and to whom Isaac was well known. Nathan Ben Israel received his suffering countryman with that kindness which the law prescribed, and which the Jews practised to each other. He insisted on his betaking himself to repose, and used such remedies as were then in most repute to check the progress of the fever, which terror, fatigue, ill usage, and sorrow, had brought upon the poor old Jew.
On the morrow, when Isaac proposed to arise and pursue his journey, Nathan remonstrated against his purpose, both as his host and as his physician. It might cost him, he said, his life. But Isaac replied, that more than life and death depended upon his going that morning to Templestowe.
“To Templestowe!” said his host with surprise again felt his pulse, and then muttered to himself, “His fever is abated, yet seems his mind somewhat alienated and disturbed.”
“And why not to Templestowe?” answered his patient. “I grant thee, Nathan, that it is a dwelling of those to whom the despised Children of the Promise are a stumbling-block and an abomination; yet thou knowest that pressing affairs of traffic sometimes carry us among these bloodthirsty Nazarene soldiers, and that we visit the Preceptories of the Templars, as well as the Commanderies of the Knights Hospitallers, as they are called.”
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Metropolitan Books, 2021
A provocative history of race, empire and myth, told through the stories of men who have been worshipped as gods - from Columbus to Prince Philip.
How does a man become a God?
It can happen by accident, or by prophesy, or through an article found in an old magazine. It can be a means to absolute power, or a radical form of resistance. A new god can be a conqueror, a young anthropologist, or a government official charged with doing his job. Making a man into a god is as old as time itself, but even today, in our disenchanted age, you might find yourself worshipped against your will.
Unorthodox devotions have seen Prince Philip deified on a small island in the South Pacific, while a National Geographic article elevated Haille Selassie from Emperor to Messiah. Unlikely Gods blossomed in India, where British officers and bureaucrats found themselves at the centre of new religions. When Spanish explorers landed in the New World they spoke with the natives and heard the word 'God' on their lips. These transformations have attended on moments of emancipation and rebellion; they have excused enslavement and fuelled revolution.
Spanning the globe and five centuries, Accidental Gods is a revelatory history of the unwanted divine, which tells the stories of the men and women who have profited and suffered from these curious apotheoses. In its bravura final part, Subin traces the colonial desire for deification through to the creation of 'race' and the white power movement today, and argues that it is time we rid ourselves of the White Gods among us.
Della Subin, Anna, Accidental Gods. On Men Unwittingly Turned Divine, Metropolitan Books, 2021, 462 p.
Crown Currency, 2012
Why are some nations rich and others poor, divided by wealth and poverty, health and sickness, food and famine? Is it culture, the weather, or geography that determines prosperity or poverty? As Why Nations Fail shows, none of these factors is either definitive or destiny.
Drawing on fifteen years of original research, Daron Acemoglu and James Robinson conclusively show that it is our man-made political and economic institutions that underlie economic success (or the lack of it). Korea, to take just one example, is a remarkably homogenous nation, yet the people of North Korea are among the poorest on earth while their brothers and sisters in South Korea are among the richest. The differences between the Koreas is due to the politics that created those two different institutional trajectories. Acemoglu and Robinson marshal extraordinary historical evidence from the Roman Empire, the Mayan city-states, the Soviet Union, the United States, and Africa to build a new theory of political economy with great relevance for the big questions of today, among them:
- Will China’s economy continue to grow at such a high speed and ultimately overwhelm the West?
- Are America’s best days behind it? Are we creating a vicious cycle that enriches and empowers a small minority?
Acemoğlun, Daron & Robinson, James A., Why Nations Fail: The Origins of Power, Prosperity, and Poverty, Crown Currency, 2012, 529 p. ISBN 0307719227.
W&N, 2009
How the people of a typical English village lived and died in the worst epidemic in history.
The Black Death remains the greatest disaster to befall humanity, killing about half the population of the planet in the 14th century. John Hatcher recreates everyday medieval life in a parish in Suffolk, from which an exceptional number of documents survive. This enables us to view events through the eyes of its residents, revealing in unique detail what it was like to live and die in these terrifying times.
With scrupulous attention to historical accuracy, John Hatcher describes what the parishioners experienced, what they knew and what they believed. His narrative is peopled with characters developed from the villagers named in the actual town records and a series of dramatic scenes portray how contemporaries must have experienced the momentous events.
Hatcher, John, The Black Death: The Intimate Story of a Village in Crisis 1345-50: An Intimate History, W&N, 2009, 400 p. ISBN 0753823071.
Item list
Metropolitan Books, 2021
A provocative history of race, empire and myth, told through the stories of men who have been worshipped as gods - from Columbus to Prince Philip.
How does a man become a God?
It can happen by accident, or by prophesy, or through an article found in an old magazine. It can be a means to absolute power, or a radical form of resistance. A new god can be a conqueror, a young anthropologist, or a government official charged with doing his job. Making a man into a god is as old as time itself, but even today, in our disenchanted age, you might find yourself worshipped against your will.
Unorthodox devotions have seen Prince Philip deified on a small island in the South Pacific, while a National Geographic article elevated Haille Selassie from Emperor to Messiah. Unlikely Gods blossomed in India, where British officers and bureaucrats found themselves at the centre of new religions. When Spanish explorers landed in the New World they spoke with the natives and heard the word 'God' on their lips. These transformations have attended on moments of emancipation and rebellion; they have excused enslavement and fuelled revolution.
Spanning the globe and five centuries, Accidental Gods is a revelatory history of the unwanted divine, which tells the stories of the men and women who have profited and suffered from these curious apotheoses. In its bravura final part, Subin traces the colonial desire for deification through to the creation of 'race' and the white power movement today, and argues that it is time we rid ourselves of the White Gods among us.
Della Subin, Anna, Accidental Gods. On Men Unwittingly Turned Divine, Metropolitan Books, 2021, 462 p.
Crown Currency, 2012
Why are some nations rich and others poor, divided by wealth and poverty, health and sickness, food and famine? Is it culture, the weather, or geography that determines prosperity or poverty? As Why Nations Fail shows, none of these factors is either definitive or destiny.
Drawing on fifteen years of original research, Daron Acemoglu and James Robinson conclusively show that it is our man-made political and economic institutions that underlie economic success (or the lack of it). Korea, to take just one example, is a remarkably homogenous nation, yet the people of North Korea are among the poorest on earth while their brothers and sisters in South Korea are among the richest. The differences between the Koreas is due to the politics that created those two different institutional trajectories. Acemoglu and Robinson marshal extraordinary historical evidence from the Roman Empire, the Mayan city-states, the Soviet Union, the United States, and Africa to build a new theory of political economy with great relevance for the big questions of today, among them:
- Will China’s economy continue to grow at such a high speed and ultimately overwhelm the West?
- Are America’s best days behind it? Are we creating a vicious cycle that enriches and empowers a small minority?
Acemoğlun, Daron & Robinson, James A., Why Nations Fail: The Origins of Power, Prosperity, and Poverty, Crown Currency, 2012, 529 p. ISBN 0307719227.
W&N, 2009
How the people of a typical English village lived and died in the worst epidemic in history.
The Black Death remains the greatest disaster to befall humanity, killing about half the population of the planet in the 14th century. John Hatcher recreates everyday medieval life in a parish in Suffolk, from which an exceptional number of documents survive. This enables us to view events through the eyes of its residents, revealing in unique detail what it was like to live and die in these terrifying times.
With scrupulous attention to historical accuracy, John Hatcher describes what the parishioners experienced, what they knew and what they believed. His narrative is peopled with characters developed from the villagers named in the actual town records and a series of dramatic scenes portray how contemporaries must have experienced the momentous events.
Hatcher, John, The Black Death: The Intimate Story of a Village in Crisis 1345-50: An Intimate History, W&N, 2009, 400 p. ISBN 0753823071.
Bullet list
Metropolitan Books, 2021
A provocative history of race, empire and myth, told through the stories of men who have been worshipped as gods - from Columbus to Prince Philip.
How does a man become a God?
It can happen by accident, or by prophesy, or through an article found in an old magazine. It can be a means to absolute power, or a radical form of resistance. A new god can be a conqueror, a young anthropologist, or a government official charged with doing his job. Making a man into a god is as old as time itself, but even today, in our disenchanted age, you might find yourself worshipped against your will.
Unorthodox devotions have seen Prince Philip deified on a small island in the South Pacific, while a National Geographic article elevated Haille Selassie from Emperor to Messiah. Unlikely Gods blossomed in India, where British officers and bureaucrats found themselves at the centre of new religions. When Spanish explorers landed in the New World they spoke with the natives and heard the word 'God' on their lips. These transformations have attended on moments of emancipation and rebellion; they have excused enslavement and fuelled revolution.
Spanning the globe and five centuries, Accidental Gods is a revelatory history of the unwanted divine, which tells the stories of the men and women who have profited and suffered from these curious apotheoses. In its bravura final part, Subin traces the colonial desire for deification through to the creation of 'race' and the white power movement today, and argues that it is time we rid ourselves of the White Gods among us.
Della Subin, Anna, Accidental Gods. On Men Unwittingly Turned Divine, Metropolitan Books, 2021, 462 p.
Crown Currency, 2012
Why are some nations rich and others poor, divided by wealth and poverty, health and sickness, food and famine? Is it culture, the weather, or geography that determines prosperity or poverty? As Why Nations Fail shows, none of these factors is either definitive or destiny.
Drawing on fifteen years of original research, Daron Acemoglu and James Robinson conclusively show that it is our man-made political and economic institutions that underlie economic success (or the lack of it). Korea, to take just one example, is a remarkably homogenous nation, yet the people of North Korea are among the poorest on earth while their brothers and sisters in South Korea are among the richest. The differences between the Koreas is due to the politics that created those two different institutional trajectories. Acemoglu and Robinson marshal extraordinary historical evidence from the Roman Empire, the Mayan city-states, the Soviet Union, the United States, and Africa to build a new theory of political economy with great relevance for the big questions of today, among them:
- Will China’s economy continue to grow at such a high speed and ultimately overwhelm the West?
- Are America’s best days behind it? Are we creating a vicious cycle that enriches and empowers a small minority?
Acemoğlun, Daron & Robinson, James A., Why Nations Fail: The Origins of Power, Prosperity, and Poverty, Crown Currency, 2012, 529 p. ISBN 0307719227.
W&N, 2009
How the people of a typical English village lived and died in the worst epidemic in history.
The Black Death remains the greatest disaster to befall humanity, killing about half the population of the planet in the 14th century. John Hatcher recreates everyday medieval life in a parish in Suffolk, from which an exceptional number of documents survive. This enables us to view events through the eyes of its residents, revealing in unique detail what it was like to live and die in these terrifying times.
With scrupulous attention to historical accuracy, John Hatcher describes what the parishioners experienced, what they knew and what they believed. His narrative is peopled with characters developed from the villagers named in the actual town records and a series of dramatic scenes portray how contemporaries must have experienced the momentous events.
Hatcher, John, The Black Death: The Intimate Story of a Village in Crisis 1345-50: An Intimate History, W&N, 2009, 400 p. ISBN 0753823071.