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Confessions of an English Opium Eater
I just finished reading Confessions of an English Opium Eater (1821) by Thomas De Quincey. This is a delightful little autobiographical book. A good chunk of it is a memoir of De Quincy’s youth, and includes an interesting description of his time living on the streets of London as a runaway. The remaining segments of…
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Orestes by Euripides
I finished reading Orestes by Euripides (408 BC), translated by Philip Vellacott. I love Euripides and this play is no exception. It is beautifully written and was exciting and dramatic to read, but also encourages prolonged reflection. The ending of the play left me a little confused, as did the moral nature of many of the…
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Journey to the Centre of the Earth
I just finished reading Journey to the Centre of the Earth (1864) by Jules Verne, translated by Frank Wynne. It was a great and entertaining adventure and brimmed with that boyish optimism, perhaps born out of the rapidly expanding world of science, shared by similar books of the era. I was a bit surprised at…
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Our Army at War
Four beautiful panels by Russ Heath from issue #253 of Our Army at War, January 1973.
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The Brothers Karamazov
I finished reading The Brothers Karamazov (1879) by Fyodor Dostoevsky, translated by David McDuff. One of the strengths of this novel was the distinctness of the characters, especially the three brothers of the title, dissimilar but bound together by family and fate. The reader grows to care for the brothers, even as faults and predilections…
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Confession
It’s nice to dry dishes with something that actually absorbs water, rather than just pushes it around like so many cheap dishtowels do. I also like the “reduce, reuse, recycle” adage. Consequently, I have numerous rectangles of soft cotton that I use to dry my dishes and as napkins when eating, the origin of which…
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Symphonies
I felt lonely and depressed today. It was a heavy and empty feeling that I couldn’t seem to shake. Finally, after a walk, I lied down and listened to Haydn’s 45th symphony. It was so beautiful. My depression didn’t lift immediately, but I felt considerably better upon getting back up. I’ve been doing similar things…
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Ostracize
I finally added the first installment of little etymology curiosities…here it is: I learned about the origins of this word when reading Plutarch. In one of his biographical sketches (I don’t remember which), he explains how ancient Greeks in Athens would periodically vote to kick someone out of Athenian society. Individual citizens did this by…
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Postcard
I recently received a new postcard in the mail for my collection. It features the Russian writer Anton Chekhov (and a couple of cute dogs!). It’s the third postcard I’ve gotten with a picture of Chekhov. He is one of my favorite writers. This card is blank and unposted. Here’s the front:
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London Calling
I was feeling down earlier today, sad and a little alone maybe. I rode on the train to a physiotherapy appointment and everyone in the train car seemed downcast, isolated, and grim. It made me think of the poem London by William Blake: I wander thro’ each charter’d street,Near where the charter’d Thames does flow.And…