So less than a minute ago I tweeted how the Lorax (gen. Loracis) seems to be screeching to be translated into Latin right now and I had to check to make sure it hadn’t already … what I did come across was a somewhat esoteric paper about Dr Seuss which included:
Before he was Dr. Seuss, Theodor Seuss Geisel was a failed novelist. He was an English major, and he studied at Oxford (one of his professors was the eminent Emile Logouis, a specialist on the work of Jonathan Swift, author of works like “A Modest Proposal” and Gulliver’s Travels). He studied the psychology of advertising, and in his Botany and Zoology classes he amused himself by manipulating the Latin names for plants and animals. Seuss admitted that his study of Latin, particularly the insights it provided into the etymology and construction of words, was a great influence on his writing.
… I’ll let y’all read the rest of the paper and decide what to think about it.
Some good news out of Pompeii for a change … Harry Mount writes in the Telegraph:
After three years, the Stabian Baths in Pompeii were reopened to the public this week, allowing access to the women’s baths for the first time.
It’s hard to overestimate quite how much the Romans loved their gyms, spas and baths, but a visit to the Stabian Baths makes for a pretty good introduction. The Thermae Stabianae, the biggest baths in the city, are built on a vast scale, strung along Pompeii’s main street, the Via Dell’Abbondanza, running from the forum to the amphitheatre and the great palaestra – the gym and wrestling school.
The Stabian Baths had their own palaestra, flanked by an elegant Doric portico. Much of the extravagant decoration survives – stucco work, coffered ceilings and highly-coloured frescoes. There was also a bowling alley and swimming pool. But the focus was on the baths: the frigidarium (cold bath), tepidarium (warmer bath) with a plunge-bath, and the calidarium – the warm room with a plunge-bath and a washing basin.
We like to think of ourselves as a pampered, thoroughly modern race, showering ourselves with treats, minibreaks and spa treatments. But, as so often, the Romans got there first, spending thousands of sestertii on hot air hypocausts, on apodyteria (dressing rooms) and the praefurnium – the furnace and boilers that heated the water.
The Romans realised, too, how effective luxury was in seducing their foreign subjects. As Tacitus wrote, of the invasion of Britain in the first century AD, “The British fell for our fashions and started wearing togas. Little by little, they were drawn to things with a touch of sinfulness to them: drawing rooms, hot baths, elegant dinner parties. In their stupidity, they called all this civilisation, when it was all part of their servitude.”
- via: Pompeii’s baths show that the Romans were obsessive gym bunnies (Telegraph)
Folks will want to check out the Daily Mail’s coverage as well, which has some really nice photos:
The History Girls: Day in the Life of a Kidslit Author.
[we will be revisiting this at some point in the near future]
Tip o’ the pileus to Uncle P of Farrago fame for alerting us to Tim de Lisle’s column in Intelligent Life on why Latin is the best language:
I studied Latin for 15 years, and this may well be the first time it has been of direct use in my adult life. There was one moment, long ago, when it nearly came in handy. I was reviewing an album by Sting that contained a stab at a traditional wedding song. There are many such songs in Catullus, whose elegant poetry I had spent a whole term plodding through. If ever there was a time to play the Latin card, this was it, so I described Sting’s wedding song as “Catullan”. Somewhere between the Daily Telegraph copytakers and the subs, “Catullan” was changed to “Catalan”. It probably served me right.
So, direct use: virtually nil. But Latin—which gives us both “direct” and “use”, both “virtually” and “nil”—has been of indirect use every day of my career. If you work with words, Latin is the Pilates session that stays with you for life: it strengthens the core. It teaches you grammar and syntax, better than your own language, whose structure you will have absorbed before you are capable of noticing it. Latin offers no hiding place, no refuge for the woolly. Each piece of the sentence has to slot in with the rest; every ending has to be the right one. To learn Latin is to learn rigour.
The price for the rigour is the mortis. Soon enough, someone will helpfully inform you that Latin is a dead language. In one way, sure, but in others it lives on. It is a vivid presence in English and French, it is the mother of Italian and Spanish, and it even seeps into German. More often than not, the words these languages have in common are the Latin ones: it remains a lingua franca. The words we take from Latin tend to be long, reflective, intellectual (the short, punchy words we didn’t need to import: live, die, eat, drink, love, hate). Business and academia, two worlds with little else in common, both rely more and more on long Latinate words. The European Union speaks little else. Ten years ago, for another article, I had to read the proposed European constitution. It was a long turgid parade of Latin-derived words. The burghers of Brussels were trying to build a superstate out of abstract nouns.
Management-speak and Euro-blather are Latin at its worst, but learning it will still help you cut through them to find clarity. It is a little harder to bullshit when you’ve learnt Latin (though quite possible to bluster, as Boris Johnson proves). And if you stick at it you discover, after no more than eight or nine years, that this is a glorious language per se.
Its literature has stood the test of millennia: Ovid is diverting, Lucretius is stimulating, Cicero is riveting. Horace can be a drag—like a bad weekend columnist, always wittering on about his garden and his cellar, except when coming out with quotable drivel about how sweet it is to die in battle. But his contemporary Virgil is majestic. He set himself the most daunting task—giving Rome its own “Iliad” and “Odyssey”, in a single epic, while staying on the right side of an emperor—and pulled it off. I did French and Greek too for years, and enjoyed them, but nothing quite matched up to the pleasure of reading the “Aeneid” in the original.
Love the focus on learning the language as a sort of intellectual exercise! No one ever asks the football player who’s working out in the gym “what’s that going to do for you?” It’s readily apparent that it has application to other aspects of his career pursuits … so every department should be running out and buying a copy of Intelligent Life, laminating the article, and posting it in a prominent place where all potential students will see it, of course.
Seen on the Digitalclassicist list:
Invitation to Form a Digital Classics Association
We write to ask your support in an effort to promote digital classics.
We are in the process of forming a Digital Classics Association (DCA) to foster digital approaches to understanding classical antiquity, its legacy, and associated cultures.
The immediate goal of the DCA is the creation of a dedicated session for digital classics at the annual meeting of the American Philological Association (APA). This session will complement existing online and offline venues for digital humanities and digital classics collaboration. To this end, we are applying for recognition as an APA Type II Affiliated Group. Recognition as a Type II Affiliated Group will permit the DCA to host a combined poster session / informal reception at the APA Annual Meeting for the next five years. Creation of such a venue will bring sustained discussion of digital methods to the largest North American meeting of classical scholars.
The application deadline for APA Affiliated Group status is March 23, 2012. If successful, the first DCA group meeting and sponsored session will take place at the January, 2014 APA meeting in Chicago.
We invite you to support this effort by becoming a member of the fledgling DCA at your earliest convenience. Membership is open to anyone with interests in digital classics, requires no fee, and imposes no obligation.
To become a member, please go to the pilot DCA website (http://dca.drupalgardens.com/) and enter your name and email address into the DCA mailing list. We will compile all the names we receive before the APA deadline into a membership list to submit with the application. Your name and email address will be used only for the purpose of supporting the APA application and for occasional updates on future DCA activities. (You can remove your information from the list at any time by emailing the DCA Secretary-Treasurer.)
Your membership will advance no agenda other than broad support for all forms of digital classics as outlined above and elaborated in the attached APA application. If we are successful, all aspects of the organization, including mission, structure, activities, and personnel, will be open to full revision by the membership at the first DCA business meeting at the 2014 APA conference.
For the purposes of the APA application, we have created an organizational structure, embodied in the attached set of bylaws. In accord with these bylaws, we have formed an Interim Steering Committee with five members:
Secretary-Treasurer: Allen Romano (Florida State University)
Steering Committee Member: Charlotte Roueché (King’s College London)
Steering Committee Member: Christopher Blackwell (Furman University, Center for Hellenic Studies)
Open elections for all of these positions are planned for the 2014 APA Meeting.
We would like to extend this invitation as widely as possible, so please forward this email to anyone who might be interested. With your support, we hope to create a highly productive venue for formal and informal discussions for years to come, and to found an organization that will foster the development of digital approaches to classical antiquity by a variety of other means as well.
From a brief item in Boston Globe Magazine:
My mom used to read the Greek myths, particularly The Iliad, to me when I was a little girl, and I absolutely loved them. AT BROWN, I MAJORED IN LATIN and Greek, and then I stayed and got my master’s, also in the classics. I had always loved writing, modern stories mostly, but I never thought about connecting my writing with the classics.
Then, in my senior year, I directed a production of Troilus and Cressida, Shakespeare’s version of the Trojan War. That experience, directing Achilles how to stand and telling Agamemnon what his costume should be, made me realize I could tell these stories myself. I ESPECIALLY LOVED ACHILLES and Patroclus and was moved at Achilles’ grief over losing Patroclus. After the play ended, I sat down at the computer and started writing. Working on the novel on the side was like MY DIRTY SECRET. I went to graduate school and then got a job teaching, and the book was the thing I did on weekends and summer vacations.
I ended up writing an entire first draft by about year five. I thought maybe this is ready for publication, but it really wasn’t. I ended up completely REWRITING THE NOVEL FROM SCRATCH. By the time year 10 came around, I had a finished manuscript I felt good about. Within two weeks after my agent submitted the novel to publishers, multiple editors were interested, which just blew me over.
The book came out March 6, and the most exciting thing is seeing the story reach other people. Doing events initially made me a little nervous, but I’m grateful for my classroom experience. If I can face teenagers who maybe don’t want to learn what I’m teaching them, I can do anything.
… the next time you text something and autocorrect turns it into a job loss opportunity … according to a piece in Science 2.0, inter alia:
Hermes most recently invented the digital technology. Internet and smart phones are the new messengers. They wear winged cases and lids so they can uplift information over iClouds. They are the god of commerce. Even when they steal, they do it so gracefully that we do not even realize. We “check-in” to give Mr. Facebook our geospatial location. [...]
- via: … Hermes’ Dirty Little Trick (Science 2.0)
… suddenly it all makes sense …
For reasons I can’t quite figure out — other than, perhaps, that the author might be vacationing on Cephalonia — the New York Times is presenting Bittlestone’s theory about Odysseus and Paliki/Ithaca as if it were something new. Here’s a taste in medias res:
Homer recounts Odysseus’s troubled journey back from a military entanglement abroad, the decade-long Trojan War. “The Odyssey” is a singular tale of longing for homeland, but it comes with a mystery: Where exactly is Odysseus’s beloved land of Ithaca?
Homer describes Odysseus’s Ithaca as low-lying and the westernmost island of four. That doesn’t fit modern Ithaca, which is mountainous and the easternmost of the cluster of islands in the Ionian Sea.
A British businessman, Robert Bittlestone, working in his spare time, thinks he has solved this mystery — and his solution is so ingenious, and fits the geography so well, that it has been embraced by many of the world’s top experts. Gregory Nagy of Harvard University and Anthony Snodgrass of Cambridge University both told me that they largely buy into Bittlestone’s theory. Peter Green, an eminent British scholar, wrote in The New York Review of Books that Bittlestone is “almost certainly correct.”
Bittlestone, who loves the classics but has no special qualifications, noted that the westernmost area in this cluster of islands is Paliki, a peninsula that sticks out from the major island of Cephalonia. He wondered: What if in ancient times the isthmus connecting Paliki to the rest of Cephalonia were submerged? In that case, Paliki would be an island fitting Homer’s description. [...]
- via: Odysseus Lies Here? (New York Times)
… it includes a video which I can’t get to work for some reason (YMMV). That said, long time rogueclassicism readers might remember when this all (re)surfaced (again) a couple of years ago: Odysseus’ Palace Claim
- 2012.03.17: Oliver Taplin, Rosie Wyles, The Pronomos Vase and its Context.
- 2012.03.16: Robert D. Luginbill, Author of Illusions: Thucydides’ Rewriting of the History of the Peloponnesian War.
- 2012.03.15: Véronique Krings, Catherine Valenti, Les antiquaires du Midi: savoirs et mémoires, XVIe-XIXe siècle.
- 2012.03.14: Alexandra Alexandridou, The Early Black-figured Pottery of Attika in Context (c. 630-570 BCE). Monumenta Graeca et Romana, 17.
Lucas Livingston alerted me to the existence of his podcasts (vodcasts?) on youtube dealing with ancient art of various cultures and I’m stuck wondering how I missed this one. Here’s the latest installment on the Fasces:
We’ll definitely be putting this one into our regular rotation. I’ll go through the archives and do a bit of catching up with the ones in our purview over the next few weeks as well … enjoy!
My spiders brought one back with a CC license, so ecce:
… I can’t quite figure out the complete narrative here. Obviously, on the left is when the couple met; in the middle, they’re a respectable married couple … can’t figure out the naked guy on the right.