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Paris was once all it was to be modern, urbane, sophisticated: a gilded temple at once to Enlightenment rationalism and ancien régime splendor. The American in Paris, now a cliché so well-worn that it may actually be coming back around to being counter-hegemonic, became so because it was where the leaders and intellects of that ideal-based nation came to imbibe the ideas that made it possible. Whole generations of American leaders, political, academic and otherwise, regarded the stay in Paris as an essential stepping stone to a well-rounded, mature outlook on the world. This being a time when the other great imperial capital, London, was still stuffy, choked with coal exhaust and deeply provincial despite its centrality to contemporary global order. Perhaps it is that same search for cosmopolitan virtue that still drives the droves of us, the Erasmus kids hastily spending bureaucrat stipends on wine and metro tickets, the Iranian post-docs gazing at stars in newly-built astronomy labs, to here, year after year. In spite of the ever-greater ticking of rent prices and the fact that the Champs-Élysées is now roughly 75% luxury chain stores and two-story McDonald’s franchises, Paris retains a mystique that resists disillusion down to its very essence.

If, indeed, all of Western modernity can be traced to the French Revolution, perhaps it is no coincidence that we who live in its shadow seek to draw something from the paving stones that flew through windows to make it so. Perhaps simply to make sense from gazing at the Nokia-signage-abutted Bastille monument how it could have come to pass, or perhaps more grandly to take on some of that brilliant foresight for ourselves. Those Americans may have felt that their nation was, at the end of the day, the superior one, but they felt a certain tutelage in liberté (if not égalité, nor fraternité) could only be undertaken in the space where it had, in their mind, bloomed the brightest. More… “The Paris Myth”

Carter Vance is a writer and poet originally from Cobourg, Ontario, Canada currently resident in Ottawa, Ontario. His work has appeared in such publications as The VehicleContemporary Verse 2, and A Midwestern Review, amongst others. He is a 2018 Harrison Middleton University Ideas Fellow. His debut collection of poems, Songs About Girls, was published by Urban Farmhouse Press in 2017.

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I stand before bland Mid-City storefronts — dry cleaner, computer repair, abandoned — on Pico Boulevard, the early hour keeping traffic light. I’m here, alone, at 7 a.m. on a Saturday, to rendezvous with a vanful of Communists; my goal is to hitch a ride from Los Angeles to Las Vegas in time for a protest scheduled six hours from now. Something about a massive bomb christened “Divine Strake,” which the Department of Defense plans to blow up momentarily out among the flat planes and jagged peaks of the Nevada Test Site — a vast expanse of barren, blistered land about an hour north of Sin City.

I’m no warmonger, but I’m here more out of professional ambition than political outrage, heeding the forwarded email of my editor — a veteran of anti-whaling clashes and cannabis standoffs — whose connections snagged him an invite to this Communist carpool, which he passed along to me because he had better things to do than spend all of a beautiful Saturday in a van. I try the handle of the address in my editor’s email, but the door is locked tight and the lights off. I wait five, ten minutes for someone to show up, wondering if I’m late by just being on time. After all, I’m engaging with a cohesive philosophy here, a worldwide ideology. I should’ve been early, should’ve been smarter, but this is still pretty new to me, covering hard news for LA’s also-ran alt weekly. I’m a cub reporter at age 29, having retarded my professional development with a half dozen years in reality TV, mostly spent compiling written logs of video footage and transcribing interviews and wishing I was somewhere, anywhere else. My big takeaway from those lost years is that people are weird, and fascinating, and pretty terrible — at least the ones willing to be on, and produce, reality TV (an admittedly skewed sample). Perhaps sensing the toll our time together had taken, reality TV gave me a farewell kiss in the form of a coworker sleeping on the couch of the editor who co-chaired the internship program at the aforementioned also-ran alt weekly (it’s all about who you know). More… “Fallout”

Perry Crowe is a writer and editor living in Carlsbad, California, by way of New York City, Los Angeles, Iowa City, and Mounds View, Minnesota. His work has appeared in the Los Angeles TimesKirkus ReviewsLA CityBeat, and Opium, among others. More at perrycrowe.com.

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We enter Panem, home of The Hunger Games, a dystopian film and book franchise that centers on the oppression of the 12 mostly impoverished Districts controlled by the Capital. Every year, the Capital holds an event called The Reaping where they make each one of the Districts sacrifice two children to The Hunger Games. During the event, they are forced to kill one another until there is only one left standing. That last child is the “victor” and wins a year’s worth of food for their district. We enter during the 74th Hunger Games, where the focus is on a young, white teenage girl named Katniss. All but two of the 24 tributes are white.

Mainstream dystopian fiction focuses primarily on the white protagonist and white-dominated societies — The Hunger Games is no exception. This trend can be seen in both Divergent (which has a white, female lead) and The Maze Runner (which has a white, male lead). Dystopian literature is defined as a sub-genre most commonly used within speculative fiction and science fiction. It shows a fictional world that explores social and political structures of a world in peril. To live in a dystopia is to be a part of a world that is impoverished, living in squalor, and/or highly oppressed. Dystopian fiction is that which dramatizes what it is like to be a marginalized within a culture, a body, and a world. Which is why it is so shocking that, at the margins, every character is white. More… “The Reality of Rebellion”

Byshera Williams is a Senior English Major at Drexel University and the current Associate Editor for The Smart Set.

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On Sunday, May 31, a man walked into a Wichita Lutheran church and shot Dr. George Tiller to death in front of his wife. The man accused, Scott Roeder, had been following Dr. Tiller, attempting to vandalize his clinic and appearing at Tiller’s misdemeanor trial earlier in the year.

Wrath of Angels: The American Aborition War by Jim Risen and Judy Thomas. 416 pages. Basic Books.

George Tiller had long been a favorite target of extremist pro-life groups such as Operation Rescue, as he was one of the only doctors in the United States who would perform late-term abortions. Most of his clients were women whose fetuses had severe birth defects, but he was labeled one of the worst offenders of the war on the unborn by groups including Operation Rescue and the Army of God.

Recently there had been… More…

I went to Burma accidentally. This was almost exactly a year before the September 2007 violence against peaceful demonstrators, many of them Buddhist monks, made the country front-page news. I was traveling by ship, circumnavigating the globe as a teacher on the academic program Semester at Sea; I hadn’t chosen the itinerary. For me and the 600 other Americans on the ship, Burma was one stop on a whirlwind tour of Asia, the Middle East, and Europe.

At the time I was, like most Americans, woefully ignorant of the dire state of affairs in Burma. I learned only weeks before my arrival that tourism in Burma was controversial, and that activists, including world leaders I admired, discouraged travel to Burma. The country now officially known as Myanmar was ruled by a brutal dictatorship whose only philosophy concerned the maintenance of its own power. (They’d also “reclaimed” Myanmar — the country’s… More…