Uncovering Writing

I found this on Pinterest and was blown away by it. Very cool. As a writer, Calliope has always been my favorite.

3 of 5 stars

An interesting academic read of a collection of papers that grew out of a conference on Greek tragedy. The introduction was good and two papers really stood out. P.J. Finglass’s “Suffering in Silence: Victims of Rape on the Tragic Stage” (pp. 87-102) and Matthew Wright’s “Making Medea Medea” (pp. 216-243). The latter includes a list of all the known Greek tragedies that include Medea, a valuable resource on its own.

4 of 5 stars

An excellent read. The introduction and textual notes alone make it worthwhile. I also enjoyed the facing pages of Latin & English that allowed me to work on my very basic (but hopefully growing) Latin skills.

But, what got this above 3 stars for me was the translation. Professor Stephanie McCarter actually made Horace enjoyable for me. I have read several English translations over the years (modern and older) and while there were tidbits here and there, the complete works never really grabbed me. Her translation was the best I’ve encountered and this book will find a nice place on my Classics shelf.

I can’t wait to see her translation of Ovid’s Metamorphoses that is execpted in October, 2022.

4 of 5 stars

What can’t you like about Greek tragedy in a Modern Library format! 🙂

I bought this originally for the Ajax play, something I’d heard about but had never read. The translation by John Moore was fantastic. I’d rate the play as excellent and a valuable component for those interested in the Epic Cycle and Greek tragedy’s interpretation and engagement of it. I loved the Chorus’s line about Ajax’s behavior “Either he is still mad, or else can’t bear / The company his madness made around him” (lines 337-8, p. 23).

The Women of Trachis, translated by Michael Jameson, was very good. I hadn’t been familiar with the story. It wasn’t as enjoyable as the Ajax, but that’s just my personal preference. It was well worth the read.

I’d read Sophocles Electra already, in a translation by Mary Lefkowitz. The translation itself was good but I didn’t enjoy the actual play. I felt the same way here, though I also wasn’t as happy with David Grene’s translation. For the story of Electra, I much prefer Aeschylus’s The Libation Bearers.

Like the Ajax, I also wanted this Sophoclean volume for the Philoctetes. It was incredibly enjoyable, especially the interplay and contrasts of Odysseus and Neoptolemus (Achilles' son). In this lay, I enjoyed David Grene’s translation.

4 of 5 stars

Ovid is insufferable most of the time in this work; however, Peter Green’s notes were terrific and saved the book. I found his notes more interesting than Ovid’s words. For the best Ovid, see his Metamorphoses and Heroides.

4 of 5 stars

It was great to read about women in Greece and Rome other than the normal ‘she was the empress, she was a manipulative evil one’, ‘she was a prostitute’, ‘she was perfect, bore lots of children, did the housework and then died early’, etc. Sarah Pomeroy delves into woman at all levels, as best as the data will allow. A really great read that was a solid 4 stars until I hit the last chapter, The Role of Woman in the Religion of the Romans, where it jumped to 5 stars. The section “Sovereign Isis: The Loving Mother” in that chapter was excellent but the entire chapter was powerful.

Chapter 6, Images of Women in the Literature of Classical Athens was wonderful. Her analysis of grammar in literature was so cool (pp. 99-100) as was an intriguing thought on the stronger role of brother-sister bond vs. the wife to husband/father bonds (p. 101). I’m also happy that she likes Euripides since I feel his plays are better on many levels compared to Sophocles and Aeschylus (pp. 107-8, 111).

Chapter 8, The Roman Matron of the Late Republic and Early Empire also contains great data and analysis. I was fuming throughout this chapter and cheering for the small and large acts of standing up and talking back against the powerful men in charge.

Her closing line of the book, in the epilogue, is just an airhorn blast to demand we don’t stop the work she’s started: “And this rationalized confinement of women to the domestic sphere, as well as the systematization of anti-female thought by poets and philosophers, are two of the most devastating creations in the classical legacy” (p. 230)

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Dated in both research & attitude, yet still has some interesting nuggets and useful as a companion reference. The sexism and colonialism is rampan as is the glorification of war (a la Horace et al). I expect that from a classics professor pre-World War I. Fowler reminds me of the old teacher in All Quiet on the Western Front (Im Westen Nichts Neues) by Erich Maria Remarque. But, I also found it like Wikipedia 99 years before Wikipedia launched

3 of 5 stars

I have most of the books in this great series from Penguin Poets in Translation. Each volume provides various English translations of an author across time. My favorite so far (obvious if you see my reading history), was the one on Homer; however, I did enjoy this Ovid collection. There were a few highlights, although I found I didn’t like many of the earlier translations, especially those from male writers. The ones by men often seemed laborious and ostentatious. However, several of the early female translators had flowing, fast, light verse that I quite enjoyed.

Martin has a good introduction, including this interesting tidbit: William Caxton translated Ovid into English, but he used as his source a French translation of a redacted Latin adaptation (p. xxiv) … i.e. Caxton didn’t (or couldn’t) consult the original Latin work.

Moving on to individual entries, I enjoyed Wye Saltonstall’s translation of the Tristia (1.3) from the mid 17th century (~ 1630-40):

When I remember that same fatall night, The last that I injoy'd the Cities sight; Wherein I left each thing to me most deare; Then from mine eyes there slideth downe a teare, For when the morning once drew neare that I, By Caesars sentence must leave Italie" (p. 148-9)

Anne Killigrew (1660-1685) did a wonderful translation of my favorite letter of the Heroides, the first one from Penelope to Ulysses (pp. 234-5). Mary, Lady Chudleigh (1656-1710) did a beautiful, flowing translation of Ovid's story of Icarus from the Metamorphoses (pp. 237-8). Joseph Addison (1672-1719) produced nice speed in his verse of the the story of Phaeton and Helios' chariot from Metamorphoses 2 (pp. 248-253). William Congreve (1670-1729) did well with his version of the story of Orpheus and Eurydice from Ovid's Metamorphoses (pp. 268-272). Ted Hughes (1930-98) rendered a very good translation of the four ages (Metamorphoses 1.89-150) (pp. 391-5).

One of the more modern translations was “beyond amazing” (as I scribbled in the margins). Florence Verducci (1940-), a classics progressor at UC Berkeley (at the time of publication) rendered Heroides 15, the letter from Sappho to Phaon beautifully (pp. 358-367). This is by far the best piece in this collection of Ovid translations and worth reading.

Tell me: with your first glance at this learned and passionate hand, did you eyes instantly tell you it was mine? Or if you had not read the name of the writer, Sappho's name, would you fail to know from whose hand this brief letter came?

And perhaps you will ask why I write in elegy’s rhythms when my sure gifts lie in the lyric mode. This love of mine demands tears: elegy is the music for pain. No lyre can fit its intervals to my grieving. (pp. 358-9)

And then later,

But once I seemed beautiful enough, when I read my poems to you. You swore that – alone among women– I took grace always from the words I spoke. I would sing, I remember ... lovers remember it all... As I sang, you returned me my kisses, kisses stolen while I sang (p. 360)

A great poem by Ovid, rendered beautiful into English by Verducci.

1 of 5 stars

My 1* rating is not for Ovid’s Heroides but for this translation. His introductions are awful (misogynistic) and the translation doesn’t work for me. Harold Cannon’s translation of this work warranted 5 stars from me, so check out his version.

5 of 5 stars

An excellent collection of some of the best Greek tragedy. (It’s Modern Library, so you know it would be good! 😀). Before reading this collection, I read a great deal of Euripides and fell back in love with his writing. This volume did not change that opinion. I also enjoyed the selections of Sophocles and Aeschylus, noting that some that I liked in college but don’t like now and vice versa.

I found Aeschylus’s Orestia trilogy just okay but his Persians good. I found “Prometheus Bound” to be excellent. I didn’t realize that it is only possibly by Aeschylus. In antiquity, it was assigned to him but more modern critics found it might have been by someone else, and later. This would make sense with my reading and my overall feelings on Aeschylus. I didn’t enjoy his plays as much in college or now, but I was blown away by Prometheus Bound. I felt it was so much more powerfully written than his other works.

Turning to Sophocles, I found his “Oedipus the King” and Antigone to be very good while “Oedipus at Colonus” was just good. I thought his Electra was more “meh”.

Closing with Euripides, I found Alcestis and Medea to be most excellent, especially the Alcestis. I wasn’t as intrigued by Hippolytus and thought his Electra was pretty bad. I found the “Trojan Women” and Helen" to be good once they got going, but were slow starters. Like Sophocles' Electra, I found Euripides Bacchae to be just “meh”.

It took me awhile to work through this great volume. Each play was introduced with historical background, plot information, and analysis. Within the play, there were copious notes explaining translation choices, meanings from the times, etc. And the book concluded with some short appendices that were very useful. Overall, an outstanding achievement by Mary Lefkowitz and James Romm.

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This is a wonderful reference for Pliny the Elder’s Natural History and Pliny the Younger’s letters. I enjoyed many of the tidbits the author brought up throughout the book. The bibliography at the end, as well as the end notes, are very valuable. My only problem with the book is that it read more like an afternoon on Wikipedia than a coherently laid out book. I didn’t find the organization of the material useful and felt like I was bopping around too much. A straight out chronological approach also would have been bad, to be honest, but I wonder if there were some other way to organize the material? I will easily refer to this book in the future, and treat it like a reference that I pull down to find one thing and then put back on the shelf. I’m very happy to have read it.

As for two specific items of note (out of many), Pliny the Elder nails it when he wrote “If fire, war and general collapse did not lead to the destruction of the world, then he believed that man’s greed would” (Natural History 2.207). And, as I love the Iliad and Odyssey, I liked Pliny the Younger’s view of Odysseus: “He liked to remember how Odysseus stood as stiff as a skittle in the Iliad, but when he ‘spoke from his big chest his words were like the snowflakes of winter, and no other mortal could then rival Odysseus'” (Pliny the Younger’s Letters, 1.20-2).

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A fascinating study of the view of Helen of Troy through many ancient sources, focusing especially on “the twin themes of beauty and female agency” (p. xi). She covers how views of Helen changed, sometimes dramatically, through the various sources, treating her as sympathetic, evil, beautiful, ugly, strong, weak, active and passive. She is sometimes gendered as traditionally masculine vs. her suiters (e.g. Paris, Menelaus) who are often portrayed as more traditionally feminine (e.g. p. 31). The concept of guest-friendship (xenia) is woven throughout the book.

I learned several new things about Helen, e.g. that there were three versions of her birth in antiquity (p. 28-29), although one emerged as the canonical one. Grammar in the original texts plays a vital role in understanding Helen, especially in the Homeric epics, in order to see how she speaks and is spoken of by others (e.g. pp 62, 65, 115) . It is very intriguing. I’m also a fan of Euripides, so I was pleased when Blondell writes: “Deprived of her Homeric eloquence by Aeschylus, Gorgias, and many others, Helen’s voice was restored to her by playwright Euripides” (p. 182).

Each ancient source has its own chapter, so the book is both useful to read straight through or to use as a reference to individual pieces. Her Bibliographic Notes at the end were excellent. I liked that she didn’t just provide a list of titles, but discussed topics and ideas and where to find them in the sources. An excellent aid.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A great read covering a large amount of information in an accessible manner. There are many books out there that will cover individual sections of Moller’s work in more depth, but for such breadth, she really nails it. The framing device of the three texts (Euclid’s Elements, Ptolemy’s Almagest, and Galen’s medical oeuvre) was almost not necessary for me as I was loving moving about the world following the development, preservation and creation of new knowledge. She moves from Alexandria to Baghdad, Córdoba, Toledo, Salerno, Palermo, and Venice, knitting together a great history. To me, the key statement of this book comes near the end of the last chapter: “Each of the cities we have visited in this book had its own particular topography and character, but they all shared the conditions that allowed scholarship to flourish: political stability, a regular supply of funding and of texts, a pool of talented, interested individuals and, most striking of all, an atmosphere of tolerance and inclusivity towards different nationalities and religions” (ch. 9).

Whenever I read statistics like this, I feel I have to quote them and mourn a little: “In the late fifth century, a man called Stobaeus compiled a huge anthology of 1,430 poetry and prose quotations. Just 315 of them are from works that still exist—the rest are lost. Science fared a little better, but, still, important works like Galen’s On Demonstration, Theophrastus’ On Mines and Aristarchus’ treatise on heliocentric theory (which might have changed the course of astronomy dramatically if it had survived) all slipped through the cracks of time” (preface).

And, as a collector, I put my head in my hands when reading the following from Córdoba in the 8th century: ‘However, this wasn’t good news for scholars—one complained that, when a book he had been seeking for months finally turned up in an auction, he found himself caught in a bidding war. The price went so high that he had to give up and lost the book; his disappointment turned to anger when the man who outbid him admitted that he had no idea what it was about, he was simply, “anxious to complete a library which I am forming, which will give me repute amongst the chiefs of the city.” The age-old squabble between wealthy dilettantes and penniless scholars had reached al-Ándalus.’ (ch. 4).

The problem of organized religion reared its heads many times in this book. One that particularly struck hard was: ‘In 1492, the last Muslim stronghold, the beautiful city of Granada, fell to the Christians. The terms agreed were generous and enlightened: Spanish Muslims would be allowed to live in peace, practise their religion and follow their own customs. But these hopeful beginnings were soon buried under a wave of intolerance and persecution. There was no place for alien cultures or religions in the Spain of Ferdinand and Isabella; they expelled thousands of Jews, they oppressed and exiled Muslims, and began the process of destroying 700 years of Muslim civilization. The culmination came in 1499, when the fanatical cleric Cardinal Ximénez de Cisneros arrived in Granada intent on converting the population and removing any vestiges of Islamic culture. He took the contents of the city’s libraries and built an enormous bonfire in the main square of the city, burning somewhere in the region of two million books—a “cultural holocaust” based on the principle that, “to destroy the written word is to deprive a culture of its soul, and eventually of its identity.” Proclamations followed which banned writing in Arabic and prohibited the ownership of Arabic books. Ximénez de Cisneros was so successful that, by 1609, only a tiny number of Arabic manuscripts existed in Spain. The Catholic victory was complete, “only the empty palaces and converted mosques remained as mute witnesses to the tragedy that had befallen the once flourishing Islamic civilization of Al Andalus’ (ch. 4).

Moller notes the fall of scholarship in the Muslim world during the Renaissance era, partly due to the fracturing of the Arab world into separate political entities which diluted funds for research and opportunities to collaborate, partly due to loss of funds when the Age of Exploration opened up new routes to the East that didn’t include the old Silk Road, partly due to the slow adoption of the printing press for the Arabic language, and also partly due to the increasing religious conservatism in the Muslim world. However, she writes ‘But it is less easy to understand why the legacy of Islamic science has been largely forgotten in Europe. Given the remarkable contribution they made, scholars like al-Khwarizmi and al-Razi should be household names, like Leonardo da Vinci and Newton, but, even today, few people in the Western world have heard of them. How did this happen? Part of the blame must lie with the humanists, whose idolization of Greek science led them to disregard many scientists of the intervening period. Medieval translators were also guilty of “Latinizing” the books they translated and failing to credit the original Muslim authors. And, as Europe grew in wealth and power, and began to build empires, it gained the cultural upper hand, too. As a result, a narrative developed that marginalized Arabic learning and pushed it back into the past’ (ch. 9).

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This was shaping up to be a four star book for me, until I hit the penultimate chapter on Venice. Pow, zoom, right to the moon! This is an excellent reference on various Greek scholars and practices during the Italian Renaissance. Each chapter covers a particular scholar or location of scholars, the works they studied, taught, translated, and/or published, and the impact of their activities. There are entertaining tidbits buried in with the facts and histories, making this a fun as well as informative read.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I enjoyed reading this volume, a birthday gift from my love. It is a collection of papers that grew out of a 2008 conference on ancient libraries. It varies all over the place: archaeology, historical records, culture, politics, modern understandings, etc. The introduction by one of the editors, Greg Woolf, is good and sets the stage for the volume.

Part I is called “Contexts” and its three articles are the best part of this volume. Kim Ryholt’s piece on “Libraries in ancient Egypt” sets out an interesting argument that it wasn’t only Greeks who created the concepts seen in the Library of Alexandria, showing that Egypt had at least a millennia’s worth of indigenous library tradition. Eleanor Robson’s “Reading the libraries of Assyria and Babylonia” was also good, touching on four ‘libraries’ in these areas. The section concludes nicely with Christian Jacob’s very good “Fragments of a history of ancient libraries.” Using fragments from ancient texts as a jumping off point, he seeks to “try to locate ancient libraries in their political, social, and cultural frame, and to consider them as historical artifacts shaped by manifold variables” (p. 58).

Part II is titled “Hellenistic and Roman Republic Libraries” and I enjoyed Myrto Hatzimichali’s “Ashes to ashes? The library of Alexandria after 48 BC”. I especially liked her overview of the Alexandrian library, scholia written there, its head librarians and the 10th century Suda. T. Keith Dix’s piece on “Beware of promising your library to anyone: Assembling a private library at Rome” was interesting for its discussion of Cicero building and using his library. It will be a very useful future tool for me for its many references to his letters and works.

Part III, “Libraries of the Roman Empire,” contains many good articles, starting with Ewen Bowie’s “Libraries for the Caesars”. I like it as a reference article, especially for who was in charge of what and its many references to Suetonius. For those with an interest in Galen and the fire at the library of the Temple of Peace (Templum Pacis) in 192 CE, Pier Luigi Tucci’s “Flavian libraries in the city of Rome” is a good source. This article, along with those by Richard Neudecker (“Archives, books and sacred space in Rome”) and William Johnson (“Libraries and reading culture in the High Empire”) discuss, among other things, that fire, based on a newly discovered (2005 CE) fragment of Galen’s “On the avoidance of grief”. Michael Handis’s “Myth and history: Galen and the Alexandrian library” started off as a great read, but the second part on the legacy of the library is definitely a weaker part of the whole and for me, the article spirals downward the further I read into it.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I acquired this book to read “On the Sublime” by Pseudo-Longinus. I was never a big fan of Aristotle, and I’d already read Horace’s Ars Poetica, so I was surprised when I finished reading that I enjoyed the Aristotle piece the most out of the three. The other two pieces are still worth reading, and overall, this book is a nice compilation of early literary criticism. Aristotle and Pseudo-Longinus read more like theoretical treatises while Horace is more pragmatic and full of advice. I loved Aristotle and Pseudo-Longinus where they quoted from works that are no longer extant, especially all the Euripides, one of my favorite tragedians.

While there are many quotable pieces from all three works, I liked this one the best from Pseudo-Longinus:

For a piece is truly great only if it can stand up to repeated examination, and if it is difficult, or, rather, impossible to resist its appeal, and it remains firmly and ineffaceably in the memory." (Longinus 7, p. 107)