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June 4, 2006
An Announcement from OCDS St. Louis
Celebrating the greatness of the Holy Spirit on this holy feast day of Pentacost, the Order of Carmel Discalced Secular in St. Louis, Missouri invite you to the launch of their new website and downloadable Podcast!
As part of our new apostolate, we invite you to learn more about Carmelite Spirituality through listening to short meditations we have put together which come directly from the treasury of writings of the great Carmelite Saints including St. Teresa of Avila, St. John of the Cross, St. Therese of Lisieux, Blessed Elizabeth of the Trinity, St. Teresa of the Andes, Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection, St. Teresa Benedicta and many more.
The audio from these Podcasts can be downloaded onto your computer or MP3 player, and you may store the meditations on an iPod or CD and to enjoy them wherever you go. There will be a new episode listed every week and to help keep you alerted to EVERY new Meditation, we have provided an RSS link so you won't miss a broadcast! Please visit us at:
These Meditations range in length between 1.5 to 5 minutes in length and are perfect and wonderful interludes between Radio Programming! The Meditations can be made available in broadcast quality so let us know if you are interested in helping our apostolate grow in your local Catholic Radio Area!
Send forth your Spirit, and they shall
be created and you shall renew face of the earth.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:39 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Here is Gnod
Gnod - The global network of dreams
Which gave you Gnook, but has separate engines for both Music and Film.
It also has Flork, which I haven't tried yet because I'm not really certain I care to be discovered by people around the world, at least not at a place called Flork.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 10:00 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
Podcasts
Other than the Cardinal Arinze podcast, does anyone who drops by have a favorite Catholic Oriented podcast? There are so many Podcasts now that I know I can't get heavily involved, but I like a sampling of what you all think is the best of the Podcast world. Thanks.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 10:41 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
June 5, 2006
The Cold Equations
Gas prices, it has been shown, are not by any means extraordinary given the times and the rather slow climb in price up until recently. My experience of this price climb probably parallels that of most of you. It is most painful at the gas station and in the monthly budgeting. But once you cut the grocery bill and the clothing and a bit of slack here and there, it can be picked up. You might have noticed a spike in food prices and in the prices of goods whose delivery depends upon the price of fuel.
The price of fuel has meant economies, mostly not terribly painful, in my own house. What about those households in which there is no slack whatever? I think about a woman I know who lives as a single mother with a somewhat troubled child. She works as a waitress in a local restaurant and before the surge in prices wasn't quite keeping it together in terms of finances. A dollar stretches only so far--an the painful reality is that things that are really necessary must eventually be given up. Perhaps one does without electricity for a while as one scrapes together the money to pay off the amount due. Perhaps one's diet is trimmed just a little bit more. I don't know what measures are taken in such situations--I don't live there. What I do know are the deepening lines on the faces of people who live in these situations.
What then are we called to do in the face of the trials that are daily part of the lives of the people who have to face these price increases? We all shoulder, each one, his or her own part of the burden. And there is a legitimacy to this burden that goes beyond profit into the realm of the need to preserve, conserve, and find alternatives for our dependency.
No matter what argument might be made in support of the present situation, the impact, as usual falls disproportionately on the shoulders of the poor. Those who were able to live in a home, however briefly, now find themselves living out of their cars once again.
Surely it is not so extreme as that? I've seen no reports on the impact, I cannot say what is happening nationally. All I can report are the burdens of those I know personally, the stories that come to me daily from a variety of sources. Since the poor are invisible to most of us anyway, there is a tendency to remain ignorant of the impact of these things. I become profoundly concerned when the attempt to understand the mathematical reality of a situation becomes divorced from the human impact of it.
I have no solution to this perceived problem except, perhaps, that whenever anyone advances any arguments justifying "things as they are" we keep before our eyes the faces of those who are most affected by the way things are.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:18 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
Amusing Bits
Approaching the end of A Far Cry from Kensington and there's this, which amused me:
from A Far Cry from Kensington
Muriel SparkFred said many other good things about William, for Fred talked like the sea, in ebbs and flows each ending in a big wave which washed up the main idea. So that you didn't have to listen much at all, just wait for the big splash. And so, from his long, rippling eulogy I was able to report to William that his musical criticism was lucid and expert.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 10:52 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
A Far Cry from Kensington
This may be the last of my explorations of Dame Spark for a while--it is time to cleanse the palate to receive other delights. (The palate cleanser shall be either The Rule of Four or Throne of Jade. I'm inclined to the former as a new e-book translation of the Hypnertomachia Polyphili has recently become available on the web.
A Far Cry from Kensington joins The Girls of Slender Means and The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie as one of the top works in Ms. Sparks repertoire so far as I have read it. It is unusual in that it is written from a first person point of view--Ms. Spark being a rather distant mother even to these fictional offspring, doesn't often indulge in a first person presence.
The story centers around Nancy Hawkins, an editor at a small publishing firm that is going out of business. When she insults the lover of a famous and reputable author, she is dismissed from the position and sets in motion activities that result in the death of an acquaintance.
One thing that did leave rather a bad taste in my mouth is the final section , indeed nearly the last lines of the book, in which the heroine reclaims some of her own. The problem is that there is entirely too much relish of the revenge taken and it upsets the mood and tone of the rest. Perhaps this is deliberate. Perhaps not so. Either way, it was disturbing, in part because I was all too sympathetic to the action.
The prose is polished, smooth, remarkable in its pristine clarity. The book was indeed a joy to read.
Despite what I said above, I now have to move on to Descent into Hell for a book club. However, I may take a brief diversion into The Rule of Four which I have heard described as a literate The DaVinci Code.
As to Ms. Spark's book: high recommended.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 6:54 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
June 6, 2006
Counting from Pentecost
One of the charms of the traditional liturgical calendar is that there is no "ordinary time." Indeed, in God's love no time is ordinary, it is all a season of joy and celebration. The traditional calendar recognizes this--Sundays that are not dedicated to clearly defined feasts are numbered, the xx Sunday after Pentecost.
The effect of this way of speaking of our Sundays is to remind us that we live in the time after Pentecost--it cannot be ordinary. We live in the time when the Holy Spirit was sent out to all people to dwell with them and be with them forever. What is ordinary about that? Before Pentecost and this massive effusion of God's love there may have been ordinary time, but not so now. We live in the age of the Spirit. And the Holy Spirit leaves and breathes and guides our steps and leads us to salvation.
So, as in so many ways, this new way of numbering our days has deprived us of some of the real good of tradition. Our days are now "ordinary" rather than "after Pentecost" and we don't have the reminder that we live in the age of the spirit. Alas, it is nevertheless true.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:15 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
The Rule of Four
Okay, I'm a sucker for this kind of "intellectual" mystery--in which some document or artifact or object or person from the past is gradually revealed in a series of unfolding puzzles to show a great surprise. The Club Dumas did this whole thing to perfection. The much reviled Da Vinci Code did it with great success in the puzzles, perhaps less in the prose, and none whatsoever with the dimwits who piloted their way through the see-through puzzles. This book, much like The Club Dumas makes no pretense of playing fair. There is a mystery, but you are just the witness watching it unfold. In that sense, Da Vinci Code was more amusing. However, the puzzle here centers around a real and quite arcane little book the Hypnerotomachia Poliphli (an abbreviated Jacobean/Elizabethan translation of which is available here.
There are just two points I wanted to make about the book. The first is the remarkably even-handed and even laudatory approach taken toward Savonarola, who was not dismissed as a madman or a lunatic by the characters, although the author of the Hypnertomachia has a somewhat different perspective. No axe to grind, Savonarola is important to the impetus of the story, but very fairly (more fairly, than in all honesty I could treat him) treated.
The second point that really struck me is how "young" the book seems. I wonder if I was ever as young as this book struck me. There is massive intellect, but absolutely no wisdom or gravitas or any sign of maturity amongst these college seniors. Now I know that college seniors are young--but the lack of substance of the people in this book was stunning, most particularly because the authors tried so hard to create a sense of substance, character arc, and change. There are attempts at philosophy that betray time and again the lack of any experience in the world of the authors. Clever but not sage, intelligent but not wise--there is a hollowness to the characters and to the whole world portrayed in the book. Ultimately it is a hollowness that has a truthful ring. If I could see myself in that time period I would probably be too embarrassed to speak of it. However, it struck me time and again as I was reading how very little depth there was here. The lack of substance was stunning, but on the other hand, entirely unnecessary to the book as a whole anyway, and perhaps that is why it made such an impression. This is a "farewell to college" bildungsroman that winds up being a trifle embarrassing.
However, if you want an interesting, intriguing, and fun beach-or-mountain getaway romp, this is a wonderful book for the cause. Another reader had mentioned that it is a cut-rate Secret History, and that is probably so, but The Secret History and The Little Friend are both much more potent than mere entertainment reading. The Club Dumas manages to tread the fine line in the middle making it a very high-brow beach read. But then, someday I'll write more about Perez-Reverte--his successes (many) and his dismal failure (Queen of the South.)
Overall--recommended as a light and mildly engaging read. Light fodder, probably a day-time toss-off for the dedicated readership of St. Blogs.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 7:37 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
June 7, 2006
Reading Blues
I'm having one of those episodes today that comes from reading through something much too fast and not preparing myself for the vacuum that will left when the book is put down. Devoured The Rule of Four (although I do have to agree with Steve and Banshee's assessment of it overall) and then, wham! I hit the wall. Spent the better part of yesterday evening flitting from book to book to book, looking in vain for somewhere to settle.
I started with Marilynne Robinson's Housekeeping, which has made many lists as one of the best novels in the last several years. I went to Judith Merkle Riley's The Master of all Desires (this was one of three I picked up because I had seen one in a bookstore that I thought looked really interesting, but I wanted to check it out before I bought it. It was the story of a Medieval woman who receives the gift of healing and I couldn't quite detect whether or not it was carrying a big anti-RC chip on its shoulder. If so, I wasn't remotely interested. And the library, darn them, didn't have A Vision of Light in.) Put that back in the book bag and pulled out three other library possibilities. Shuffled them around for a while and then picked up Toni Morrison's Beloved, which given all its acclaim, I promised myself I would try to read again. Read about four pages and decided that it was WAAAAAAAAAAY too depressing to start in an evening or even to deal with in the spring. Picked up Madeleine St. John's The Essence of the Thing again (started it a while back). Thought about Torgny Lindgren's Light, but Swedish weirdness just wasn't in the cards.(This consideration was spawned by a reminder in a list found at Claw of the Conciliator and my own recollections of Lindgren's work.) Went to the new James Rollins Map of Bones but wasn't prepared to deal with another Da Vinci Code should it turn out to be so (although given Rollins's past work, it seems unlikely.) Picked up Randy Wayne White's Tampa Burn and decided that it was too heavy for the season as well. Thought about Throne of Jade so I could read Black Powder War, but wasn't in that space either. Definitely could not touch what I must finish soon Descent into Hell--too ponderous for words. Basically was looking for light, entertaining fluff.
Afraid I didn't find it. So for lunch break today, I have an array of four books: Marilynne Robinson's Housekeeping, Madeleine St. John's The Essence of the Thing, Naomi Novik's Throne of Jade and Charles Williams's Descent into Hell. Whatever I read will probably take a week or so and thus give me time to let my mood gel and make a reasonable list for what comes next. Unfortunately, I feel a hankering for Preston and Cloud's Dance of Death, I know that like Brimstone and Book of the Dead, I'm only likely to be disappointed. But perhaps I'll get a Utopia, The Codex, or Tyrannosaur Canyon out of the deal. Always hard to tell with those two.
Anyway, wish me luck and send me your suggestions. I know I need to look up Q.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 10:05 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
The Carmelite Ideal of Marian Devotion
When you say "Marian devotion" most people think of the Rosary, or the Angelus, or any of a myriad of Novenas or daily prayers to Our Lady of Perpetual Help, or Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal, or (my personal favorite) Our Lady of Lourdes.
However, in the Carmelite understanding, this is NOT devotion to Mary. Certainly all of these things are laudable, and truly they show veneration and perhaps even adoration; however, as we understand it, they do not show devotion--at least not the devotion expected from a Carmelite. It is possible to be a very good Carmelite indeed, not say the Rosary at all, and yet be enormously devoted to Our Lady.
The key to Carmelite devotion comes from an adaptation of an old adage, "Imitation is the sincerest form of devotion." True devotion to Mary in the Carmelite sense consists of imitating her. Now, to properly imitate the Blessed Mother AND Sister (Carmelites view her in both roles), one may need sustained reflection on the Rosary or continual dipping into the treasury of prayers of veneration. Too often, though, many of these prayers come as yet one more petition.
What is required is what Pope John Paul the Great wrote in Rosarium Virginis Mariae:
10. The contemplation of Christ has an incomparable model in Mary. In a unique way the face of the Son belongs to Mary. It was in her womb that Christ was formed, receiving from her a human resemblance which points to an even greater spiritual closeness. No one has ever devoted himself to the contemplation of the face of Christ as faithfully as Mary. The eyes of her heart already turned to him at the Annunciation, when she conceived him by the power of the Holy Spirit. In the months that followed she began to sense his presence and to picture his features. When at last she gave birth to him in Bethlehem, her eyes were able to gaze tenderly on the face of her Son, as she “wrapped him in swaddling cloths, and laid him in a manger� (Lk2:7).
Thereafter Mary's gaze, ever filled with adoration and wonder, would never leave him. At times it would be a questioning look, as in the episode of the finding in the Temple: “Son, why have you treated us so?� (Lk 2:48); it would always be a penetrating gaze, one capable of deeply understanding Jesus, even to the point of perceiving his hidden feelings and anticipating his decisions, as at Cana (cf. Jn 2:5). At other times it would be a look of sorrow, especially beneath the Cross, where her vision would still be that of a mother giving birth, for Mary not only shared the passion and death of her Son, she also received the new son given to her in the beloved disciple (cf. Jn 19:26-27). On the morning of Easter hers would be a gaze radiant with the joy of the Resurrection, and finally, on the day of Pentecost, a gaze afire with the outpouring of the Spirit (cf. Acts 1:14).
(emphasis added)
It is in this never faltering gaze that we most closely join the Blessed Mother. It is in joining her adoration, contemplation, and completion in Jesus Christ that we show her our true devotion. Whenever we address her, she gently but urgently turns our gaze upon her Son, the one without Whom she is not.
For a Carmelite, devotion to Mary is shown by obedience to her example. No number of repeated prayers, no amount of novenas and songs of praise will ever equal joining her, even for a moment, in the loving gaze she lavished and still lavishes upon her precious Son.
True devotion to Mary is becoming like her more and more each day. We become whole in her wholeness--we become real in her gaze upon Jesus. Those things that lead us to joining her are true devotions to Mary, those that do not are laudable prayers, but not the work we are called to as Carmelites. That work is to join the example of our Sister in Carmel and our Mother in the never failing gaze of adoration and love.
That work, as La Madre tells us, is "Mira que tu mira." Look at the One who is looking at you.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 10:55 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
June 8, 2006
Humor and Sorrow
Two glimpses into a book that I am enjoying despite the shared heartache.
from The Essence of the Thing
Madeleine St. JohnAt lunch-time she sent out for a sandwich and worked in while the office slowly emptied around her. At last they were all gone. She carried on valiantly for a few minutes but then abandoned the machine, and pushing aside the half-eaten sandwich and the half-drunk coffee, and leaning her elbows on the desk, she buried her face in her hands, and sat thus, immobile, abandoned for a time to the unveiled acknowledgement of white-hot relentless pain. It will get better, she told herself at last, it must get better; I have only to live through this. She did not see that it would get better in some ways, and worse in others, would change its shape and colour through the days and weeks to come so as at all times to possess her mind and ensure her suffering until at last it was pleased to retreat. I must, she thought, just concentrate on what comes next, and try to live through this a decently as I can. She was not British for nothing.
*****Susannah replaced the receiver and stared at the telephone. So it really had happened. Nicola had lost her lover and her home, just like that, kaput. What vile cruelty. It was like an Act of God in its suddenness, its comprehensiveness, its magnitude; it left one gasping. It was almost enough to make a person start smoking again: one really might as well, considering how many much worse ills awaited one. For several minutes the world looked to Susannah unutterably dreadful. The she went on with her work. She was a picture researcher and at the moment she was attempting to collect together colour transparencies of all the painting of J.-B. Chardin. She picked up one which had arrived in that morning's post and looked at it again through the viewer. The world was unutterably dreadful, but. There might be almost nothing one could do about it, but there was after all something one could do in spite of it. Hallelujah, she said to herself, hallelujah. Whatever that may mean. And so she consoled herself.
The story is told in large chunks of dialogue and somewhat out of chronological sequence. And I think many who have read it have missed a central point in St. John's narrative and reasoning. I'll see if my supposition is borne out as I read, but I have a distinct sense of why this impasse has come, and the reasoning and end is very, very Catholic indeed--if there is enough evidence to support it. Following the important rule of three, I have two references, I'll let you know my hypothesis if the third shows up.
Later: Reading during lunch, I'm gratified to find, quite quickly the third critical reference. I'll share in my review of the book.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 2:14 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Ossa upon Pelion
What can one say about an author who actually uses the phrase "piling Pelion on Ossa" (even if they are reversed). I think I have a new author to love.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 5:23 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Salvation According to Nicola and Susannah
I have many gems to share with you, but this is the most recent and really delightful. It's passages like this that seem to completely befuddle reviewers of the book--and completely to elude them. Most interesting.
from The Essence of the Thing
Madeleine St. John'Still: salvation. Not such a bad deal, is it?'
'I don't know--perhaps it isn't. It's just--'
'I know what you mean.'
'I mean, the whole thing's simply preposterous.'
'Yes, it is, absolutely.'
But that, she sudddenly suspected, might be its cheifest recommendation. 'You wouldn't think anyone could ever believe that stuff, would you?' she said, marvelling. 'Let alone in these days.'
'Even quite intelligent people. Otherwise intelligent, anyway.'
'It's an utter mystery.'
'Yes, it is. An utter mystery.'
Posted by Steven Riddle at 6:36 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
The Essence of the Thing
Beautifully written. Told largely in dialogue and without a lot of "plot" the novel recounts the life of Nicola once her boyfriend of six years suddenly reveals that he doesn't love her and that "It's no good."
Unlike many modern novels, it turns out that Nicola does love Jonathan--sincerely, completely, desperately, and unreservedly. She regards his revelation and request to her as the beginning of a descent into Hell. (A descent that is stemmed in part by the arrival of Easter.)
What I love so much about the book is the way that St. John weaves her themes so carefully and seamlessly into the book. Almost no reviewer has mentioned the incredibly strong Catholic tide that drives this book along. For example the transformation from mourning and despair to something approaching a life takes place as Nicola is left alone over a weekend.
[Warning: some minor "spoilers" below--I don't think they'll spoil your enjoyment of the story--but they do reveal some turns in the tail]
But the thing alluded to and which is very cleverly embedded into the fabric of the story is the real threat of sterility in marriage or a relationship. Everything in the story seems to turn on the pin of Nicola telling Jonathan that she will have to go off the pill for a length of time during a "resting" phase. This seems to be the "event" that causes Jonathan to think their relationship through. This incident is mentioned several times and is interestingly reflected in the dialogue of another couple for whom the man wishes to have another "sprog" and whose wife turns him down. St. John seems to say that this deliberate barrenness dictates the barrenness of real life-scapes. An amazing feat for a woman trying to write a book that will appeal to a wide variety of readers in the secular world today.
I'm sure there are other subtle strains, that were there enough time I could tease out; however, what I can say is that there are moments that are laugh-out-loud funny in a book that is among the saddest (not most depressing, merely sad) that I have ever read. The perfect pitch capture of the psychology of the relationship leads to a denouement that is heart-breaking and exactly perfect for the book.
St. John stands much closer, much more lovingly near her characters, but her style and prose does seem to suggest that of Muriel Spark. I have to say though, that this book moved me far more than any of Spark's and I find it not a little annoying that the author has, so far as I can tell, only four books to her name. (And one of those may belong to another Madeleine St. John, I can't say for certain.)
In sum--most highly recommended--but be prepared for the desolate sadness that pervades much of the story, even when there are some amusing passages.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:39 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Signs of the Times
"It is kind of interesting that faith has joined that list of deadly sins that the MPAA board wants to warn parents to worry about."
A movie given a PG rating not for language, sex, violence, or associated reasons, but because it is "too christian" and thus might offend non-Christian movie goers.
Honestly, it just makes me tired.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:56 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
June 9, 2006
Reading List
After the key-lime intensity of The Essence of the Thing, it seemed good to have another break. As the books mentioned in comments to another post have not yet had time to arrive, it became necessary to scour the shelves and pluck off the jewel here and there that has been waiting for a lull in the list.
Obviously, Throne of Jade beckoned; however, as there are only three in the series thus far and who knows how long until the next one, it seemed better to direct attentions elsewhere. On some shelves that are too hidden for the purpose they are used (to store unread books) there were a number of gems that have been too long neglected. From these four were chosen and from the four, finally one arrived at.
The perfect counterbalance to the straight-line intensity of Madeleine St. John seemed to be the quirkiness of Karen Joy Fowler. There amidst the treasure of months gone-by book browsing lay The Jane Austen Book Club. It appears to be a novel structured around the reading of Jane Austen's novels with six members, each one with their own story--probably highlighted and corresponding to one each of the novels.
Karen Joy Fowler has produced such oddities as Artificial Things an early book of short stories that would suggest affinities with Science Fiction and fantasy; however, such a suggestion might be a little misplaced, and Sarah Canary, which, if memory serves was about the northwest territories toward the end of the 19th century and a mysterious woman who shows up in them. This too lay upon the "when the mood strikes shelves."
Also, the continued reading of Descent into Hell . . . well. . . continues. The book is strangely intense, and it really is interesting, but it isn't arresting and completely involving. Much of Charles Williams is this way--interesting and well worth-while once read, but rather difficult going to get into it.
The Japanese writers are getting attention again. Because of Jane Smiley's list at the end of 13 Ways of Looking at the Novel, The Makioka Sisters by Junichiro Tanazaki is once again on the radar, although a reread of Some Prefer Nettles might be in order. Also under consideration is a reread from too long ago--Lady Murasaki's Tale of Genji, probably the first major full-length novel--with a rather unusual structure and set of conventions for Western readers, but a beautiful etched portrait of Imperial Japan of the Heian period. Perhaps because of the reminder of An Instance of the Fingerpost, a book of short stories by Akutagawa springs easily into the hand. And finally on the perusal of the Japanese classics shelves, two titles stand out: The Crazy Iris, a collection of short stories about the dropping of the atomic bombs and featuring a story by Nobel Prize winner Kenzaburo Oe, whose severely handicapped child is the inspiration for A Personal Matter (said son is also known as the composer of two volumes of short piano pieces--see Hikari Oe; one should hope that this would give even the most hardened bioethicists pause in the consideration of who is worthy to live); and, coming now back to the two titles that stood out, The Sea and Poison by Shusaku Endo--the story of a man reflecting on his experiences during World War II in Shanghai, where, as a medical doctor he was ordered to perform medical experiments on prisoners of war.
There are so many, many things that appeal and each will have its turn . But for the nonce there is The Jane Austen Book Club giving time for pause and reflection to consider what be next on the list.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:39 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
The Critically Important Diet Coke/Mentos Experiments
EepyBird.com - Extreme Diet Coke and Mentos Experiment
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:23 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Bad Judgments
This quotation helps me to feel better about my own lack of appreciation of certain well-respected, admired, and beloved authors. It shows that we all have blind spots--some quite, quite large.
from Ralph Waldo Emerson in
The Jane Austen Book Club
Karen Joy FowlerI am at a loss to understand why people hold Miss Austen's novels at so high a rate, which seem to me vulgar in tone, sterile in artistic invention, imprisoned in their wretched conventions of English society, without genius, wit, or knowledge of the world. Never was life so pinched and narrow. . . . All that interests in any character [is]: has he (or she) the money to marry with?. . . Suicide is more respectable.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 1:25 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
June 10, 2006
The Lusiads
Not necessarily the best translation from the notes, but here is the Portuguese National Epic from their great epic poet Camões. Enjoy
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:05 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Essays in Astronomy
Essays_in_Astronomy_edited.pdf (application/pdf Object)
The above links to a PDF of a remarkable book of essays by Schiaparelli, among others recording early observations of astronomy. It comes from a remarkable libary of such PDFs dedicated to games, Math, and science.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:12 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack