Blame it on Hanson

An oddity for me about this year’s National Review cruise is that the thing I find myself thinking about most is something that was said last year.

I had heard Victor Davis Hanson on the radio a few times, his sonorous, deliberately paced voice and sparkling erudition causing the mind’s eye to conjure a professor’s unathletic demeanor — slight, brainy, unremarkable.

I would not have guessed that the fellow with the broad forehead, carved features and meaty, workman’s hands, th…

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