Me, writing in the Wall Street Journal the other day: “Mid-20th-century England was rich with curmudgeons…” The June 28 New Yorker, writing about Christopher Hitchens (p. 20): “His father, whom the family called the Commander, was an officer in the Royal Navy. He wasn’t much of a talker. One morning, Hitchens, age eight [so this would be 1957-8 — JD], tottered downstairs in his jammies to find the Commander baking [sic — JD] eggs in the kitchen. Hitchens asked his father if he could join him for breakfast. ‘Bloody Hell,’ the Commander said. ‘It’ll be family prayers next.’” There were giants in those days.