Sure, sure, we atheists aren't supposed to celebrate Christmas. Rather we are to stay locked in our houses, probably scowling, throughout the many weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas that constitute the modern "Holiday Season."
My family and I take a less dire and depressing approach. We have been celebrating Christmas since I was a tiny tot, too young to have memories -- but we do have pictorial evidence. We decorate the house, complete with a tree, always a live one; we give each other presents; we have a nice dinner; we try to be nicer to one another. And yes, certain members of the household let the stress of the days get the best of them.
Some would call us rampant consumerists, still others would call us hypocrites. I try to ignore both and just try to enjoy the extra time together. I like to think of it as the Christian way, with much less guilt, dogma, etc.
But to Hell with all that rhetoric! What happened yesterday, the 25th of December, 2009, at my house? And what did I discover in the shiny red stuff we call wrapping paper? Not surprisingly, plenty of books:
Ragtime, by E.L. Doctorow - Historical fiction set in Ragtime-era, turn of the century NYC. I've been toying with exploring the world of Jazz, so this seemed a decent place to start.Besides, the author has the same last name as a personal favorite Science Fiction writer!
A one-volume, paperback "Unabridged" Shakespeare collection - Just what every child dreams to find under the Christmas tree. Sure, it took twenty years, but there it was -- and there I was, misty-eyed. It's large and awkward, of course, but at least it's readable. Lookin' forward to readin' 'em all
The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, by David Wroblewski - What's good for Stephen King and Oprah is good for me. OK, I asked for it on an impulse and I'm not sure what to expect.
The Ascent of Man, by Jacob Bronowski - Ostensibly a history of science, though it really covers a wider a span -- it's based on a BBC mini-series of the same name that originally aired in the 70's.
The Iliad, translated by Robert Fagles - This book, along with The Odyssey, was bound to pop up on my reading lists eventually. It is just too classic, and I'm too into epic poetry and classical literature. After reading Fagles's translation of The Aeneid I decided to stick with his translations.
The Alien Years and Those Who Watch, by Robert Silverberg - A couple of generic, 70's-era science fiction by an author who never attained huge popularity but did churn out consistently good genre fiction.
The Road, by Cormac McCarthy - Another perfect book to ask for as a Christmas gift. A father and his young-ish son travel across a post-apocalyptic landscape. It's probably rather bleak and sparse, yet I think I'll enjoy it.
I also received a new set of headphone and some slip covers, for my iPod. And a knitting kit!
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
Merry Christmas
Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Chris-- wait, what the fuck is that?This has been a nice Christmas. It started in the morning, when I furiously ripped my way through wrapping paper and eventually emerged with a large pile of books. I also got a few accessories for my iPod nano. A post on the particulars of this haul is forthcoming.
Then there's the 2009 retrospective, from a book perspective -- naturally. I'll run down the list of books I read this year and try to point out major trends, etc.
Lastly, there is the eternal, hanging question of the future. I wonder what 2010 will hold, in books and otherwise. Maybe I'll manage to fire off a post about that before New Years.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
On Catullus and His Poems
Gaius Valerius Catullus (c. 84 BC - c. 54 BC) was a Roman poet, today known solely for the 116 surviving poems of one book. He was born in Verona, to a father who was at least wealthy and distinguished enough to host Julius Caesar on at least one occasion. Other than that, we know nothing of Catullus's youth in Verona. He reemerges to History when he moves to Rome, probably in his early twenties. There he apparently spent the bulk of his later years, interrupted only by a one-year political stay in Bithynia and perhaps occasional trips back to Verona. His death is enigmatic, as is most of his life. There are no extant ancient biographies of Catullus, so all that we know about his life has been pieced together from analysis of his poems and a few other writers that make mention of him.
Catullus was part of a small circle of poets from Verona now known as the "new poets." So named, because of their propensity for experimentation and, usually, shunning of the old and well-established forms of poetry, especially epics. They were influenced heavily by a similar group of poets from Alexandria who wrote during the Third Century, in Greek. Unfortunately, Catullus is the only "new poet" whose work has survived in any substantial form -- we have less than 200 lines from the others in his circle, combined.
We will never know what we are missing from these lost poets, though Catullus's poems do allow some tiny glimpses and speculation. Catullus wrote love poems, of course, but also fierce, if not always serious, invectives ("hate poems", let's call them), some explicitly erotic stuff, and a few touching condolences. He apparently loved to experiment with meter -- Poem 63, for example, is written in "galliambic" and is the only surviving specimen of its kind. Almost all of his poems stay firmly in the everyday, only occasionally venturing into mythology. His language tends to suit his themes; at least it is not lofty and often contains vulgarities.
Catullus's poems vary in theme and tone, yet they typically portray the Epicurean, upper-crust lifestyle of himself and his friends. Many are addressed, presumably written as mock letters, to one or more of these friends. It is soon clear to all readers that this circle enjoyed and actively sought the "good life" and largely avoided politics, philosophy and other serious, or even occasionally altruistic endeavors.
Still other poems portray his now-famous affair and later break-up with the woman he called "Lesbia," probably truly named Clodia Metelli, another figure of the city's upper class. Clodia was a strong, forceful character, at least a decade older than Catullus, the poet himself just one in a long string of lovers -- today, we might call her a "cougar" or a "man-eater."
Besides her important role in Catullus's book (she features in 25 of his poems), she is also known to history for a scandal. A man named Caelius was one of her lovers, until he decided to break it off. "Hell hath no fury..." and all that, so Clodia soon retaliated by bringing charges against this man in court. Cicero, the famous politician and orator, who just happened to be a political enemy of Clodia's brother, decided to defend Caelius as his lawyer and in the process gave the now-famous speech, Pro Caelio, in which he heavily lampoons Clodia, apparently aiming to destroy her in every manner but the physical. (It's on my to-read list!)
Catullus is never quite so brutal, though he does throw a few biting words, most notably in Poem 37, in which he calls her house a brothel and insults her latest favorite, a Spaniard named Egnatius; and Poem 58, shown below, in which he fancies her a streetwalker.
Poem 58
Lesbia, our Lesbia, the same old Lesbia,
Caelius, she whom Catullus loved once
more than himself and more than all his own,
loiters at the cross-roads
and in the backstreets
ready to husk-off the "magnanimous" sons of Rome.
In truth, she probably never walked the streets as a common prostitute, nor had sex any more often or with more partners than most of her male counterparts. In truth, the only information we have about her comes from a heart-broken former lover; and a grouchy, conservative old man who was using her for his own political gains, and highly disapproved of her and her kind, including Catullus himself. So, Clodia Metelli had the good fortune of being immortalized by two of the greatest and most eloquent writers of Ancient Rome, and yet the bad fortune of often being portrayed so negatively.
But it wasn't all bad! To prove it, I leave you now with another poem, Catullus 5, which is (apparently) his most famous. Heck, it is probably one of the most famous love poems, period -- and I personally love it.
Poem 5
Lesbia, live with me and love me so
we'll laugh at all the sour-faced
strictures of the wise.
This sun once set will rise again;
When our sun sets, follows night
and an endless sleep awaits.
Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,
Then a thousand, and a hundred more again
Till with so many hundred thousand kisses
you and I shall both lose count,
nor any can from envy of so much kissing,
put his finger on the number of sweet kisses
you of me and I of you, darling, have had.
PS: I found this great website which features all of Catullus's poems, in the original Latin as well as in translation into dozens of languages. Translations are done by volunteers so quality varies, and usually sags. Still, it is no doubt the best of its kind on the web -- for better, professional translation it seems one will have to buy a real-life book.
Catullus was part of a small circle of poets from Verona now known as the "new poets." So named, because of their propensity for experimentation and, usually, shunning of the old and well-established forms of poetry, especially epics. They were influenced heavily by a similar group of poets from Alexandria who wrote during the Third Century, in Greek. Unfortunately, Catullus is the only "new poet" whose work has survived in any substantial form -- we have less than 200 lines from the others in his circle, combined.
We will never know what we are missing from these lost poets, though Catullus's poems do allow some tiny glimpses and speculation. Catullus wrote love poems, of course, but also fierce, if not always serious, invectives ("hate poems", let's call them), some explicitly erotic stuff, and a few touching condolences. He apparently loved to experiment with meter -- Poem 63, for example, is written in "galliambic" and is the only surviving specimen of its kind. Almost all of his poems stay firmly in the everyday, only occasionally venturing into mythology. His language tends to suit his themes; at least it is not lofty and often contains vulgarities.
Catullus's poems vary in theme and tone, yet they typically portray the Epicurean, upper-crust lifestyle of himself and his friends. Many are addressed, presumably written as mock letters, to one or more of these friends. It is soon clear to all readers that this circle enjoyed and actively sought the "good life" and largely avoided politics, philosophy and other serious, or even occasionally altruistic endeavors.
Still other poems portray his now-famous affair and later break-up with the woman he called "Lesbia," probably truly named Clodia Metelli, another figure of the city's upper class. Clodia was a strong, forceful character, at least a decade older than Catullus, the poet himself just one in a long string of lovers -- today, we might call her a "cougar" or a "man-eater."
Besides her important role in Catullus's book (she features in 25 of his poems), she is also known to history for a scandal. A man named Caelius was one of her lovers, until he decided to break it off. "Hell hath no fury..." and all that, so Clodia soon retaliated by bringing charges against this man in court. Cicero, the famous politician and orator, who just happened to be a political enemy of Clodia's brother, decided to defend Caelius as his lawyer and in the process gave the now-famous speech, Pro Caelio, in which he heavily lampoons Clodia, apparently aiming to destroy her in every manner but the physical. (It's on my to-read list!)
Catullus is never quite so brutal, though he does throw a few biting words, most notably in Poem 37, in which he calls her house a brothel and insults her latest favorite, a Spaniard named Egnatius; and Poem 58, shown below, in which he fancies her a streetwalker.
Poem 58
Lesbia, our Lesbia, the same old Lesbia,
Caelius, she whom Catullus loved once
more than himself and more than all his own,
loiters at the cross-roads
and in the backstreets
ready to husk-off the "magnanimous" sons of Rome.
In truth, she probably never walked the streets as a common prostitute, nor had sex any more often or with more partners than most of her male counterparts. In truth, the only information we have about her comes from a heart-broken former lover; and a grouchy, conservative old man who was using her for his own political gains, and highly disapproved of her and her kind, including Catullus himself. So, Clodia Metelli had the good fortune of being immortalized by two of the greatest and most eloquent writers of Ancient Rome, and yet the bad fortune of often being portrayed so negatively.
But it wasn't all bad! To prove it, I leave you now with another poem, Catullus 5, which is (apparently) his most famous. Heck, it is probably one of the most famous love poems, period -- and I personally love it.
Poem 5
Lesbia, live with me and love me so
we'll laugh at all the sour-faced
strictures of the wise.
This sun once set will rise again;
When our sun sets, follows night
and an endless sleep awaits.
Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,
Then a thousand, and a hundred more again
Till with so many hundred thousand kisses
you and I shall both lose count,
nor any can from envy of so much kissing,
put his finger on the number of sweet kisses
you of me and I of you, darling, have had.
PS: I found this great website which features all of Catullus's poems, in the original Latin as well as in translation into dozens of languages. Translations are done by volunteers so quality varies, and usually sags. Still, it is no doubt the best of its kind on the web -- for better, professional translation it seems one will have to buy a real-life book.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Review: Meditations of Marcus Aurelius
My rating: 3 of 5 starsIn writing this book Marcus Aurelius had one strong, guiding principal: to answer the question, "How should a man live?" or, more accurately, "How should I live?" And while he attempted, in true philosophical style, to discuss and explain all aspects of the universe, he doesn't seem to have broken any new ground in most areas. In other words, he was walking roads already heavily trodden by his predecessors and contemporaries, mostly Stoics.
His true triumphs were in the areas of personal conduct and the practical application of his beliefs. You see, he wrote the Meditations as a kind of diary, probably over a period of at least a decade, adding -- and probably removing -- short snippets of personal advice as he went about his life of duty. They were written, apparently, solely for his personal use, to be read again when he was unsure of himself or his actions.
Some of these snippets -- for example, those that speak of "bad" people, or those immovable in their (wrong) opinions -- just wreak of a back-story. What was happening in the emperor's life, personal or political, when he wrote such things? Tantalising thought. Alas, though the Meditations affords a great look into the mind of an emperor, it is nearly barren of political or historical information.
Marcus was clearly an introvert, probably by birth, though his philosophical studies only deepened that personality quirk, into a full-blown belief system. Marcus constantly expresses an urge to busy himself more with personal study and reflection than with the thoughts of others. This might seem egotistical or selfish, but he is rather critical of himself -- and believes that it his and every man's duty to see to the needs of other men. Humans are social animals by nature, he says, and nature is to always be obeyed -- everything that happens according to nature is good. And while he is always highly critical of himself, he is to the end forgiving towards all others. They simply do not understand the errors of their ways, etc.
This, and some of his other thoughts, have lead some to believe that he was a Christian at heart. Yet this is all speculation -- probably empty dreams. Indeed, he may have even had a hand in persecuting Christians, though this was a common practise in those days, and no hard evidence exists to prove it. Still, emperors, even the "good" ones, no doubt personally ordered the executions of dozens of people each week, and many more if we count those done by his inferiors or otherwise indirectly. He surely would have lost no sleep over the deaths of a few thousand "religious fanatics."
In truth, he was the last of the great Pagan moralists. While the continuing rise of Christianity troubled and scared his people, Marcus struggled to fend off the "barbarian" onslaughts on the frontiers while worshipping and revering the dying gods of his fathers. And he tried to be a good man, in the model of the greats he had read about in his books. He believed in only doing things that were useful, and in living frugally. "Even in a palace life can be led well."
How could I not admire this man? Faced with a strange and difficult world, he accepted everything handed to him as given by fate and tried to do what he could. Sure, you might say, it is easy for an emperor to accept a highly hierarchical universe in which everyone has his given place and task. But "Emperoring", at least as he did it, was no easy job. He probably indulged in little luxury and leisure, always with an eye for the welfare of the people.
Sure, Meditations is often, as George Long put it, "obscure", and his language is often unnecessarily lofty and learned. Sure, his work suffers from the same inconsistencies of all the ancient works of ethics that our modern eyes have recently "discovered." Yet I respect this man and feel everyone can learn something from his writings. If nothing else, he tried.
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