The fourteenth century was a time of ecological disasters: plagues, storms, floods, earthquakes, droughts and famines. It was also, as Shannon Gayk notes, a time of “theological and literary experimentation in English … in which writers riffed on biblical sources, turning them over, upside down, and inside out, reimagining the stories for their late medieval audience”.

A man wearing a dark rollneck sweater and a long coat stands in front of a two-tone door, his brow furrowed and his beard overgrown. Staring into the camera as if for a mugshot, he holds a newspaper in front of him.

This overview examines how plants have been represented in art since antiquity, a subject that has been overlooked to a degree. “Despite their significant material and conceptual contributions, plants have been sidelined in the commentary of art historians and critics,” says a publisher’s statement.

Should Donald Trump get the chance to nominate a new justice to the supreme court, to join the three rightwingers he installed in his first term, he might pick “the equivalent of Pete Hegseth”, Mark Tushnet said, referring to the Fox News host who is now US secretary of defense.

There are, broadly speaking, two types of artist: the explorer and the miner. The explorer keeps moving on, staking out new aesthetic or thematic terrain, while the miner keeps returning, digging deeper into the same earth each time. Patrick Modiano, the French Nobel prizewinner for literature in 2014, is an artist firmly of the second camp.

Pally with Bertrand Russell and Mick Jagger, begging to get on the roof of a house in Hanoi to shoot at the final futile waves of Operation Rolling Thunder, wiping the floor with Henry Kissinger at the Oxford Union, mistaken for Che Guevara’s bodyguard and arrested in Bolivia, nearly breaching the citadel of the US embassy in Grosvenor Square – the writer and activist Tariq Ali had, you might say, a pretty good Cold War.

Connecting mass political movements with parliamentary representation is a perennial issue for the left in Britain and, indeed, elsewhere.    It is correct to say that the former — the struggle beyond the Palace of Westminster — is the determining factor in political outcomes, but also true that parliamentary articulation can help shape and empower the movement, even as MPs draw strength from it.

One hundred years ago this summer, from high above Daventry in Northamptonshire, voices began to beam into the homes of 20 million people. They came from the 500ft tall Borough Hill transmitter – truly revolutionary technology in 1925 – which opened with a new work, Daventry Calling, by the poet Alfred Noyes.

This book is billed as providing a ‘fresh’ look at its subject. It needs to, since the pairing of Turner and Constable is a hoary one, dating from their own lifetimes and repeatedly – even tediously – proposed since. To her great credit, Nicola Moorby manages never to be tedious. She orchestrates this well-worn theme with thoughtfulness, tying her analysis to close observation of the works.

Neither John Maynard Keynes nor Friedrich von Hayek wanted to see the devastation of the Great Depression or the second world war again. Both understood how economics and politics could tear societies apart.