On the social media platform X, a viral post detailing an exchange involving Patel garnered an impressive 1.7 million views, as it seemed to many that exposing Patel's alleged dishonesty was a significant victory. Coinciding with Patel's appearance before the Senate, the Democratic National Committee convened in Maryland, where attendees engaged in heated discussions over procedural rules. They were flattered by the effusive praise from MSNBC hosts, yet no one dared to challenge President Biden's decision to remain in the race for as long as he has. Following Patels confirmation by the Senate, which proceeded on a narrow 5149 party-line vote, I found solace in literature, specifically diving into Thomas De Quinceys classic essay, On Murder Considered as One of the Fine Arts, originally published in 1827. De Quincey suggested that while crime is often poorly executed, there exists a certain artistry when it is done with skill and finesse.

Did I wrestle with feelings of guilt for escaping into the pages of my books? Absolutely. Was it a valid escape? Without a doubt. Yoshida Kenk once articulated the comfort one finds in solitary reading: 'It is a most wonderful comfort to sit alone beneath a lamp, book spread before you, and commune with someone from the past whom you have never met.' Yet, could seeking this comfort be perceived as cowardly? Perhaps. Was it foolish? Maybe. Rynosuke Akutagawa captured an image of relentless dedication to reading: 'The sun threatened to set before long, but he went on reading book spines with undiminished intensity. Lined up before him was not so much an array of books as the fin de sicle itself: Nietzsche, Verlaine, the Goncourt brothers, Dostoevsky, Hauptmann, Flaubert'

Amidst these tumultuous times, I ultimately abandoned my goal of reading the Penguin Little Black Classics in numerical order, primarily due to my inability to keep track of them. Did I inadvertently leave No. 13 on a train? What if I wanted to jump ahead to No. 57? In response to the chaos, I began maintaining a commonplace book, jotting down my favorite lines. Events in the political arena began to evoke particular literary references. Following Trumps announcement that a groundbreaking multiyear report known as the National Nature Assessment would be halted indefinitely, Phil Levin, the report's director, reached out to the project's 150 scientists via email, stating, 'This work is too important to die.' The urgency of Levin's words echoed in my mind as I recalled two lines from No. 9, 'Three Tang Dynasty Poets': 'Can I bear to leave these blue hills? / And the green streamwhat of that?'

Meanwhile, Elon Musk stirred controversy on X by labeling U.S.A.I.D. 'evil' and alleging it was a 'vipers nest of radical-left Marxists who hate America,' linking his comments to a broader withdrawal from global public health commitments. The implications of this shift were alarming; a stop-work order for an HIV/AIDS treatment and prevention program was projected to result in the tragic deaths of half a million children in sub-Saharan Africa by the year 2030, with an additional 2.8 million children likely to be orphaned as a consequence. Seeking distraction, I turned to No. 88, a collection of stories by Mark Twain, featuring the tale 'The Story of the Bad Little Boy Who Didnt Come to Grief.' In this story, the mischievous boy escapes the repercussions of his actions, ultimately growing up to become a notorious scoundrel in his village, respected despite his villainy: 'And he grew up, and married, and raised a large family, and brained them all with an axe one night, and got wealthy by all manner of cheating and rascality, and now he is the infernalest wickedest scoundrel in his native village, and is universally respected, and belongs to the Legislature.'

As February rolled around, news surfaced that Trumps meme coin had netted him an astonishing hundred million dollars. I quickly scrawled a line from No. 6, John Ruskins 'Traffic,' which dates back to 1864: 'Because you are king of a nation, it does not follow that you are to gather for yourself all the wealth of that nation.' During a press conference, Trump proclaimed, 'the U.S. will take over the Gaza Strip,' making various controversial assertions reminiscent of the Roman historian Suetonius account of Caligula, who once boldly declared, 'Bear in mind that I can do anything I want to anyone I want!' In a similar vein, Trump barred the Associated Press from the White House press pool after they refused to refer to the Gulf of Mexico as the Gulf of America. His proclamation, 'He who saves his Country does not violate any Law,' echoed the sentiments of a ruler who believed himself above reproach.

On March 4th, during his first joint address to Congress, Trump reflected on his Administrations achievements, stating, 'Six weeks ago, I stood beneath the dome of this Capitol and proclaimed the dawn of the golden age of America. From that moment on, it has been nothing but swift and unrelenting action to usher in the greatest and most successful era in the history of our country.' He further claimed, 'We have accomplished more in forty-three days than most Administrations accomplished in four years or eight years, and we are just getting started.' Some Democrats reportedly considered bringing empty egg cartons as a form of protest to the address. During this time, I revisited Dantes 'Circles of Hell,' specifically No. 25, where he wrote about the anger and blasphemy of those who curse their very existence.

In the background of these events, Musk escalated tensions by brandishing a chainsaw on stage, seemingly reveling in the job cuts he had initiated. Students holding visas were being rounded up and apprehended on sidewalks, a scene captured vividly in a video featuring a Tufts graduate student from Turkey being cuffed by immigration officers. Such scenes prompted me to reflect on Hafezs poignant words from No. 27, 'The Nightingales Are Drunk': 'And when did kindness end? What brought The sweetness of our town to naught?' At the same time, the U.S. opposed a U.N. resolution that sought to condemn Russia for its military actions in Ukraine, and news emerged that Jeff Bezos, the owner of the Washington Post, instituted a new editorial directive: the newspaper would no longer publish opinion pieces that challenged the free market.

As I continued to ponder the state of the nation, I recalled the satirical wisdom of Nikolai Gogol in No. 46, 'The Nose.' He depicted a clerk who, after deliberating, ultimately dismissed a request to print an unusual advertisement, fearing it would tarnish the paper's reputation. I was reminded of the absurdity of the political discourse when J.D. Vance mocked Volodymyr Zelensky, questioning if he had expressed gratitude for U.S. support. I contemplated sending the Vice President a postcard adorned with Friedrich Nietzsches aphorism about the nature of insult and revenge from Penguin Little Black Classics No. 5: 'Crude men who feel themselves insulted tend to assess the degree of insult as high as possible'

On March 10th, Trumps press office celebrated what they termed '50 wins in 50 days.' As I reflected on this boast, I revisited Aesops fable from No. 61, 'The Frogs Who Demanded a King.' In this tale, the frogs, weary of their chaotic existence, beseeched Zeus for leadership, only to be gifted a passive piece of wood, which they soon grew contempt for. Eventually, their wish led to their demise when they petitioned for a new ruler. This fable resonated deeply as I observed the political landscape, knowing there were still many uncertain days ahead.

By March 11th, the Department of Education announced substantial layoffs, a move tied to the Administration's Workforce Optimization Initiative. In the ensuing days, Columbia University granted Trump influence over the curriculum regarding the Middle East, while the White House concluded legal assistance for migrant children. I turned to Jonathan Swifts 'A Modest Proposal' in No. 8 to contemplate the absurdity of the situation: 'I have been assured by a very knowing American that a young healthy Child, well nursed, is, at a Year old, a most delicious, nourishing, and wholesome Food.'

On March 24th, Jeffrey Goldberg of The Atlantic reported a shocking story about a clandestine national-security group chat on Signal. This disclosure prompted me to pick up a fairy tale from No. 68 by the Brothers Grimm, where a man listening intently to the world around him epitomized the sentiment of being aware amidst the chaos: 'What are you listening for so attentively? 'Im listening to whats going on in the world at this moment, for nothing escapes my ears...'

As April approached, I encountered a homemade sign strung across an overpass that read, 'SAVE OUR DEMOCRACY / UPHOLD OUR CONSTITUTION.' It compelled me to stop and reflect on the weight of the words, which resonated with Virgils lament in No. 76: 'Look where strife has led Romes wretched citizens.' Amidst daily turmoil, the President seemed determined to create new emergencies, sustaining a perpetual sense of urgency that overshadowed any semblance of normalcy.

On April 2nd, Trump declared new 'reciprocal tariffs' that sent the stock market into a tailspin. The Democrats attempted to harness this moment politically, with Cory Booker delivering an exhausting twenty-five-hour speech to little effect. Meanwhile, the D.N.C. established a 'war room for rapid response' in an effort to address the party's unpopularity and electoral losses, seemingly overlooking the need for substantive policy shifts. As I read the closing lines of Sophocles 'Antigone' in No. 55, I reflected on the fate awaiting the proud, struck by the inevitable consequences that history would reveal.

By April 14th, amid escalating tensions, Harvard resisted the Trump Administration's attempts to dictate its core operations. In a parallel to Odysseus's cunning escape from the Cyclops, the university stood firm against the Administrations demands, even as the government threatened to withhold substantial funding. Throughout this chaotic chapter, the Administration's policies became increasingly draconian, as they moved to revoke visas for studentsincluding permanent residentsand initiated deportation proceedings, causing fear and confusion in communities across the nation.

As I navigated these distressing narratives, I was struck by the stark contrast of my previous reading. I sought refuge in the poetic words of Walt Whitman, who aspired to be the voice of hope for America. On the hundredth day of Trumps presidency, I chose to immerse myself in Penguin Little Black Classics No. 10, a selection of Whitmans poetry. His poem 'With Antecedents,' penned just before the Civil War, resonated profoundly: 'I assert that all past days were what they must have been, / And what they could no-how have been better than they were' In a time when chaos reigned, his insistence that poetry remains essential was a clarion call for reflection and resilience.