Go to Making Light's front page.
Forward to next post: Lutheran humor
Subscribe (via RSS) to this post's comment thread. (What does this mean? Here's a quick introduction.)
I’ve been enjoying reading Route 66 A.D.: On the Trail of Ancient Roman Tourists by Tony Perrottet, thanks to Lucy Huntzinger who sent me a copy. It’s simultaneously a discussion of tourism in classical antiquity, and an account of a trip around the Mediterranean by the author and his pregnant wife as they attempt to follow the old travel guides and itineraries.
Naturally, they begin in Rome; but Perrottet finds the present version of Rome too mellow and graceful under its multiple layers of culture, history, and paint:
What made Ancient Rome unique as a city—what defined it to its inhabitants and the world—was its exhilarating extremes, its giddy combination of grandeur and squalor. It was exuberant, energetic, confronting, cosmopolitan, a volatile cocktail of wealth, penury, lust, and degradation. Modern Rome, by comparison, is like a soothing watercolor hanging in a dentist’s waiting room.He then goes on to discuss the ways that NYC (he says he lives on Tenth, in the East Village) can be legitimately compared with the Rome of antiquity. I particularly liked this bit, where he’s discussing blood sports:At some point I had to admit that on an imaginative level, Ancient Rome had less in common with modern Rome than with the more overpowering, rough-edged, and crass metropolis we’d just left behind: New York.
Any New York writer would be fascinated to learn that our word editor can be traced back to the Colosseum. The Latin editor was the head of a gladiatorial school, whose job it was to decide whether a wounded fighter should live or die. Lurking in the sidelines of the arena, the editor gave thumbs-up or -down on purely financial grounds—whether it was worth it to nurse the man back to health in the gladiatorial hospital, or to let him perish like a dog. (Just like Manhattan publishing!) But the role was too popular to leave to a minor figure. The life-and-death power was later given to the emperor—who, to curry favor, deferred to the masses.I knew there was something we were missing.
Ack!
Great, here I am having a fit of writing anxiety. I think, "Hey, maybe I'll go read Teresa's weblog... yeah, that'll be nice" as I try desperately to avoid noticing the word processor waiting for me in the background.
And I find this awful etymology. :) Thanks a bunch. :p
It was a big hit around the office.