Cultural and Historical Essayist

Andre van Loon

6 articles 2014–2017

Andre van Loon is a British writer and critic who contributed essays and reviews to The Weekly Standard between 2014 and 2017. His pieces for the magazine covered a range of cultural, intellectual, and historical topics, including British social and intellectual life and the legacy of war.

Beautiful Losers

May 12, 2017 · Andre van Loon, Magazine, Africa

It was a long time before they were overcome—before we finished them. When we did get to them, they all died in one place, together. They threw down their guns when their ammunition was done, and then commenced with their pistols, which they used as long as their ammunition lasted; and then they…

The (Social) Life of the Mind in England

December 16, 2016 · magazine_repost, book reviews, Andre van Loon

Fundamentally, the world of sensory experience is raw and ruthless. Chaos abounds, and events flow into one another without rhyme or reason. There are no clear beginnings or endings; no sense of triumph or despair. There is no Heaven or Hell. At its most innocent, the human mind is overwhelmed…

Talking Heads

December 16, 2016 · book reviews, Andre van Loon, England

Fundamentally, the world of sensory experience is raw and ruthless. Chaos abounds, and events flow into one another without rhyme or reason. There are no clear beginnings or endings; no sense of triumph or despair. There is no Heaven or Hell. At its most innocent, the human mind is overwhelmed…

The Bonaparte Effect

December 31, 2015 · Napoleon, War, book reviews

The experience of being thoroughly beaten can prove to be a key turning point in life. Approached intelligently, a shattering failure can prompt rewarding questions: What could have been done differently? How could defeat have been avoided? Was the failure the result of a weakness or an opponent’s…

Into the Valley

December 15, 2014 · book reviews, Andre van Loon, Magazine

When we received the order, not a man could seem to believe it. However, on we went, and during that ride what each man felt no one can tell. I cannot tell you my own thoughts. Not a word or a whisper. On—on we went! Oh! Every man’s features fixed, his teeth clenched, and as rigid as death, still…