Greenblatt’s The Swerve is both personal and tendentious. It begins with the author’s loving but fearful mother and it ends with Thomas Jefferson. Despite the differences between Greenblatt’s approach to the reception of Epicureanism and my own (as manifested in my English Epicures and Stoics but also in the edition of Lucy Hutchinson’s translation of Lucretius that I co-edited with David Norbrook), I praised the book in a review for Philological Quarterly. After all, any book that places Lucretius in airport bookstores is fine by me.
This post by Seeta Chaganti is the first installment in a series of responses to the The Swerve, Stephen Greenblatt's award-winning, controversial book. More responses will be posted on the CMEMS blog in the coming weeks.
I hate the name "locavore," perhaps because its so often used by foodies -- who generally seem to me like slimmed down versions of Ben Jonson's Sir Epicure Mammon. But in principle, as another character in Jonson's play notes, "the motion's good, and of the spirit." And if locally sourced food is a good idea, then why not locally sourced scholarship too?
It begins with a love story, as most things do.
By Marisa Galvez and Michael Ursell
Earlier this year–on January 2, 2013 to be precise–I was returning from the hospital from visiting a friend. She had been on an excavation in the Western Desert when the ledge she had been standing on–to inspect an inscription up close–gave in. Her husband transported her over night, driving alone, back to Cairo, as she bore the pain of a triple-fractured pelvis, lying on the back seat (a New Year’s eve she will never forget).
In this post I'm going to triangulate three spectacles containing premodern content: the first is an exhibition at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco; the second is Jan van Eyck's Annunciation painting at the National Gallery; and the third is a performance of the fifteenth-century composer Josquin des Prez's music that took place at Stanford earlier this month.