Books, Arts & Manners: These Hallowed Halls

“How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?”

BY the time you read this, national review will have been uprooted from the wonderful old rabbit warren we have inhabited for all but the first two years of our corporate existence. Its managing editor will have been uprooted from the querencia she has inhabited for 23 of those 39 years— an office that a visitor recently described as “that little cranny filled with paper.”