Mad Men: season 5, episode 8

Sneaky calls, the Beatles and fake couples/kitchens/whipped cream.

If "Lady Lazarus" was a concept episode based on Revolver it would have begun with Pete putting down Pynchon to discuss taxes - rather than insurance - with his commuter buddy, Howard. Still, the episode's closing shots and credits rolled out to "Tomorrow Never Knows", the trippy final track of the 1966 Beatles album. Like Don we may wonder: "when did music become so important?" In Mad Men we've watched the artistic trends of the late Fifties give way to The Sixties in fashion and design - think Roger's office furniture, Megan's minis - but we've seen and heard less, until recently, of the counterculture affiliated so strongly with the decade. Suddenly it's not only young wives listening to psychedelic rock and trying LSD: advertising clients are specially requesting the Beatles - though they, like Don, don't know the Beatles apart from a boring pop band whose thirty-year-old song makes Ginsberg feel he's being "[stabbed] in the fucking heart".

Michael's curse may be a covert reference to suicide, and if so then it's one of at least a couple more. Pete brings up the killing-himself-clause of his life insurance plan in the first minute of the episode (it kicks in after just two years!), and Don almost steps into an open elevator shaft that is gaping for a Time-Life/SCDP employee to throw themselves down it. It's the episode's title that makes these thin references potent: the haunting poem from Sylvia Plath's Ariel (1965) about her previous attempt to kill herself and near-death experience as a child, written shortly before her death by suicide at just 30.

Could this be a forewarning about Pete's spiral into depression? The season's fifth episode was largely dedicated to his misery and unsatisfaction. Pete's unremitting attempts to live privately and publicly like Don have failed. In broader terms, despite his successes at work Pete has been emasculated and humiliated time and time again. Earlier it was the failure to fix a tap, being turned down by a teenager and losing in a fist-fight against a Brit. Now there's still his pathetic mishaps - grappling with sporting gear, driving like a nervous youth - but it's his inability to sustain an affair with a dejected suburban housewife that thoroughly undermines Pete's manlihood. For Trudy's sake (at least before those two years are up), let us hope they fix that lift.

Megan's behaviour over the Heinz pitch and her father's life advice had us wondering last week whether her passion still lied in acting rather than advertising. Well, it does. Peggy shouts at both Drapers in this episode: first at Megan in the office toilet, incredulous that the talented junior copywriter would consider foiling her work to get fired: "You know people are killing to get this job. You're taking up a spot and you don't even want to do it?" We can't miss a comparison of each woman's relationship with Don. "I cannot lie to him," Peggy tells Megan. She's up all night because of that and can't bring herself to pick up the phone when he inquiringly rings back the office (or "Pizza house!"). Megan - although she wakes and tells him the next evening - did sleep fine that night and presumably the nights before; she actually had a first audition at the weekend. The small lie is not the problem - even though Megan's sneaking around to make a payphone call mirrors Pete marital betrayal, when he uses the same phone booth (rather than the office line) to call the woman who is not his wife.

The problem now between the Drapers is that Don isn't exactly sure who he married. "Sweetheart, you can't choose where your talents lie. What you did with Heinz . . ." "I don't want to do it," Megan tells him. "You don't want to do it?" If Peggy doesn't believe this - later she wonders to Joan whether she'd put too much pressure on her trainee - then Don is confused to the hilt. His face says it all. Megan tells him "I love you, you're everything I hoped you'd be." Don frowns and keeps frowning. What starts, though, as misunderstanding moves on to delusion and the blame-game. "You didn't want her there, you were threatened by everything about her!" Don charges at Peggy - ridiculously. It's not true, of course. "I spent eight months defending her. She thinks advertising is stupid." "She thinks the people she works with are cynical and petty." If Megan ever said this, it's not the reason she quit. Don is rightly nervous that without his wife it will be obvious his advertising career has peaked: he's out of ideas and is far more charming nowadays as part of a young couple than solo. And with all those far-off looks we have to question the longevity of his marriage. Roger can be a wicked truth teller and a great line of his should be heeded this week: "I gotta say, I can see her as an actress. Not that she's insincere, but, you know . . .?"

Again, Roger brings us back to this generational divide that seems so crucial in Season Five (see "Far Away Places"). Don says he has "no idea what's going on out there" in terms of music. Roger's advice to him - via Mona's dad, an even older generation but closer to Don who did grow up "in the Thirties" - "Go home, let her know there's a routine. It'll keep you both out of trouble". But at home Megan with her youthful ponytail is on the way out to her new evening class. And unable to "turn off [his] mind, relax and float down stream", whether because he's unimpressed or uncomprehending, Don turns off the record and walks stiffly from the room. 

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That non-dairy whipped topping: Just taste it! (Photo: AMC)

Alice Gribbin is a Teaching-Writing Fellow at the Iowa Writers' Workshop. She was formerly the editorial assistant at the New Statesman.

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Forbidden forests: how Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows saved the trees

How Bloomsbury used the Harry Potter series to make publishing eco-friendly.

“Of all the trees we could have hit, we had to hit one that hits back,” says Harry of the Whomping Willow, which successfully whomps both him and Ron when they arrive at Hogwarts by car. The incident is representative of a natural world that often appears remarkably robust in JK Rowling's original series. There is little sign of wizards being plagued by air pollution or acid rain. And while Dementors may lurk in the shadows, climate change does not.

Yet just as Rowling's wands pay tribute to the trees they're hewn from – with their hawthorn, holly and hornbeam woods as key to their construction as their pheonix feather or unicorn hair cores – so too would her books.

By the time The Deathly Hallows was published in 2007, all its UK texts, jackets and cases were printed on forest-friendly paper. The move by Rowling and Bloomsbury “sent a clear signal to the rest of the world”, says Greenpeace’s Jamie Woolley, and was “the catalyst” for other publishers to follow suit.

The Potter transformation was inspired by a Greenpeace campaign. In the same year that the fifth Harry Potter went to press, their “Paper Trail” report revealed that the UK book publishing industry was unwittingly sourcing paper from vulnerable ancient forests in Finland and Canada.

Change spiralled from there. In 2005, Bloomsbury printed the UK’s hardback version of The Half Blood Prince on 30% Forest Stewardship Council certified paper. By 2007, the US publisher Scholastic had pledged that the first 12 million copies of The Deathly Hallows would all be printed on paper that was at least partly recycled or sustainable.

Thanks to this shift, UK books labeled with the Forest Stewardship Council’s (FSC) logo are now becoming the rule rather than the exception. Over half of all British adults now recognize the mark, numerous UK publishers have upped their proportion of paper taken from FSC certified sources, and Penguin and Harper Collins have both pledged to reach 100 percent FSC sourced paper in the next three years.

But the challenge is also far from over. According to the FSC, many European and US publishers outsource their manufacturing to China, where imported timber from Indonesia is accompanied by one of the highest rates of deforestation in the world.

In the UK, just 13 percent of land is covered by trees and a recent report from the Environment, Food and Rural Affairs Select Committee criticised forest regulation as “not fit for purpose”.

So what can readers do to help? The FSC recommends looking out for its logo on any book you buy. And if that's not enough to satisfy, the Harry Potter Alliance has created a guide to fighting climate change for fans. 

Now read the other articles included in the New Statesman’s Harry Potter Week.

India Bourke is an environment writer and editorial assistant at the New Statesman.

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