One of the most harrowing experiences of my college years revolved around a Faulkner seminar I took when I was stuck here in Charleston one summer. (And yes, as I recall, it was a long, hot one.) Basically, the course involved reading a novel every day or so, ruminating for a few short hours on the human misery limned therein, and then moving right along to the next heartbreaking tale of squalid Southern woe. As I said at the time, the class was valuable -- the professor was a distaff Kingsfield of sorts, and I learned an awful lot -- but I found myself wanting to crawl into a bathtub with a drink and a straight razor every afternoon around four.

So why am I going on about all this? Well, it's meant to serve as a friendly warning. You see, I'm about to suggest that you should go read Juan Cole today. Just start at the top and work your way down. You will, in fact, learn an awful lot about the increasingly dire situation we seem to be facing in Iraq. But if you're not careful, before you know it you'll find yourself thinking about a martini and a nice hot bath.

UPDATE: The same professor also taught early and late Shakespeare. And if I'm not mistaken, the final in one of those classes included an essay on the timeless theme of illusion vs. reality....

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