between the rock and the cold, cold sea

Well.

I was going to sit down with a pot of Darjeeling tea this evening and work on relating a Pergamene inscription (fortunately translated into English by A. Petsalis-Diomidis) to the ground-plan of the sanctuary. But after staying up late to read Among Others, and visiting my grandmother in the presence of both my uncles to present her with her 83rd birthday gift, I seem to have contracted an urgent need to nap. Most distressing.

The second century plan of the sanctuary is offering several fascinating items to consider. Not one, but two crytoporticoes, which both terminate just outside a rotunda which may well be modelled on the Pantheon in Rome. Baths, a gymnasion - which is probable, and I'm going to have to sit down with the damn German excavation report, not just the nice labelled pictures, to figure it out a little better - a library and a theatre, and let's not leave aside the temples themselves (four of them) and the incubation complexes. And the latrines, and the covered Sacred Way with a(nother) bath complex just below a crossroads.

Galen claims that there were competitions in dissection at Pergamon, and I wonder whether this was actually at the sanctuary. I really still don't know enough about this.

Oh, well. More reading ahead of me. But now, napping.

Books 2010: 130-132


130. Robert Jordan & Brandon Sanderson, The Gathering Storm.

Apart from both Egwene and Verin having a pretty damn excellent Crowning Moment of Awesome (tm) and there being a sense that - finally, finally - the Last Battle might come... eh. Too much backstory, at this point. I have forgotten most of what I was supposed to remember was important.

Sirs Not Appearing in this book: Elayne, Mat (mostly), Perrin (mostly), Faile (mostly) and Aviendha (who has nearly nothing to do on screen, and thus did not make much impression). The Forsaken are also Sirs Not Appearing, really, apart from Semirhage being batshit, one Graendal plotting scene, and one Moridin and Rand Meet In A Dream scene.

Elaida: good riddance, but still Not Dead Yet. Fain: fortunately Sir Not Appearing. (Is he dead? I've forgotten.)


131. Geoffrey Trease, Cue for Treason.

Historical YA from college library, picked up on mad whim. Entertaining.


nonfiction


132. James Longrigg, Greek Rational Medicine: Philosophy and Medicine from Alcmaeon to the Alexandrians. Routledge, London and New York, 1993.

Being an overview of developments in medicine and connected philosophy from the early period to Hellenistic Alexandria, ending with Erasistratus. As an overview, it is solidly informative, but Longrigg is very much invested in Greek medicine and philosophy as rational processes, and does not define rational nearly well enough for me to agree with him.

Persons interested in these matters may find it here on Google Books.

Books 2010: 127


127. Lucian, Selected Dialogues. Translated by C.D.N. Costa, Oxford, 2005.

Lucian, born at Samosata on the Euphrates, wrote in Greek during the second century CE. His prominence is literary, not political: after a career as an orator, it seems he turned to comic dialogue and literary satire.

Much of his humour is opaque to me, since it relies on contemporary references and classical allusions, but his work rarely fails of being interesting. And I would seriously recommend everyone to read the two books of his 'A True History' (full parallel Greek/English text available at that link), the story of Lucian's voyage to the moon, the way between the Selenites and the Heliots, his stay in the belly of a whale, and his sojourn on the Isles of the Blest.

The Oxford Classics edition has several dialogues, a couple of encomiums - "In Praise of a Fly," a humourous one, and an encomium on the philosopher Demonax - a very scurrilous attack on the philosopher Empedocles, Lucian's "How to Write History," a piece of advice to historians of the recent Parthian Wars, the "True History," and selections from the "Dialogues of the Courtesans."

All in all, very interesting. And! It even mentions doctors!

Books 2010: 122-124

nonfiction

122. Theocritus, Idylls. Translated by Anthony Verity, Oxford, 2002.

A collection of the boukolika ("ox-herding poems") of Theocritus of Syracuse, with an introduction by Richard Hunter. Theocritus, who stands contemporary with the rise of the post-Alexandrian Greek kingdoms of the Hellenistic period - it is doubtful whether he actually met either of the kings for whom he wrote panegyric, though more probable that he met Hiero of Syracuse than Ptolemy Philadelphos - has often been referred to as a model for later bucolic poetry.

Not being a literary sort, I make no remark on this. His preoccupations are interesting, however, and one of his patrons was a certain doctor, Nicias by name, which means my reading of his poems has born at least a little fruit, in terms of research. And the poems, although with a handful of exceptions rather relentlessly pastoral, are not altogether unpleasant.

Very Greek, but actually, quite pretty.


123. Marc Morris, A Great and Terrible King: Edward I and the Forging of Britain, Windmill, London, 2008.

A biography of Edward I, crusader, victor in civil war, conqueror of Wales, temporary conqueror of Scotland, ruler of Gascony, who lived an extraordinary long and active life (1239-1307, reigned 1272-1307).

Morris writes fluently and integrates his sources well, and while I'm sensible enough of my ignorance in matters medieval to know I can in no way criticise his scholarship, it feels sound. He advances no specific thesis, which is actually something of a relief: it's quite nice to read a biography that does not seem to be trying to prove a particular point.


124. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, The Turkish Embassy Letters, Virago, London, 1994. With an introduction by Anita Desai.

In 1716, Lady Mary set out with her husband, Edward Wortley Montagu, who had been appointed as English Ambassador to the Turks. Her letters are a vivid, if fragmentary, picture of her travels until her return to England late in 1718.

A fascinating vivid picture, particularly as Lady Mary is herself unfortunately typical of the attitudes of her times. In her letters, she displays remarkably little prejudice towards the upper classes, even those separated from her world by the vast gulf of culture and religion. On the other hand, the lower orders are very much beneath her, and her class-conscious racist view of the world is - well. Let us be glad as to how much time has passed since the eighteenth century, even as we despair as to how far we have yet to go.

---

I would dearly like for my headache to go away now. No? No.

I guess it's time to get back to the boring slog of Real Work, anyway.

For any interested parties.

Apparently, (the Long Room Hub 1641 Depositions digitisation project being now done) the complete set of depositions from the 1641 uprising in Ireland have been made available online in their entirety - thirty-one volumes, with material from over 8,000 deponents.

http://1641.tcd.ie/about.php

Ireland in the 17th century, in the words of the people who lived through it.

Well, mostly in the words of the Protestants who lived through it. But every source must have its biases.