“I am Misanthropos and hate mankind.”

The always excellent Christopher Prentice at the Newberry Library on Saturday.

On Saturday, the Shakespeare Project of Chicago (SPC) presented Timon of Athens at the Newberry Library — their first reading in that venue since February 2020.

Put up thy gold: go on, — here’s gold, — go on;
Be as a planetary plague, when Jove
Will o’er some high-viced city hang his poison
In the sick air: let not thy sword skip one….

Timon of Athens, Act IV, Scene iii

Peter Garino in the titular role absolutely rocked, but the rest of the cast was excellent, too. What a return!

My affection for SPC’s work is long-lived. My son and I attended our first SPC production, The Merchant of Venice, twenty-one years ago. That fall, we saw The Two Gentlemen of Verona, directed by Jeff Christian, who also played Valentine; then, in 2005, we caught The Winter’s Tale. After that, the move from Chicago coupled with busy weekend schedules prevented us from attending the theatrical readings.

Nearly a decade later, though, in February 2014, I finally introduced my husband and daughters to the SPC, and in a neat “full circle” moment, the production was The Two Gentlemen of Verona, directed by Jeff Christian. For a few moments, it felt as if time were bending, folding in upon itself as I remembered encountering this play with my son while my husband took our then quite young daughters to play in a nearby park.

The four of us also saw All’s Well That Ends Well in 2014, and in 2016, we attended three SPC productions: The Winter’s Tale in January, Cymbeline in late February, and Cardenio in April. Excellent, all, but Tale featured Christopher Prentice and so provided the synchronicity / serendipity / synthesis I so appreciate. You see, Prentice was a standout at the Illinois Shakespeare Festival we attended in 2014 — an impressive Beatrice in Much Ado about Nothing and a perfect Ned in Elizabeth Rex. At Much Ado, in another of those moments in which time bent, folded upon itself, and left me breathless, we read in the program that Prentice was a founding member of the now-defunct Signal Theatre Ensemble, and I remembered that in 2003 he played Benedick in Much Ado,a production my son and I saw at a studio of the Anthenaeum Theatre on the grounds of St. Alphonsus Church in Chicago. 

Time bends and folds.

After our daughters headed to university and beyond, my husband and I continued to attend SPC readings: Henry V in October 2016, King John and The Changeling in 2017; Coriolanus and Women Beware Women in 2018; Titus Andronicus in 2019; and Richard III in early 2020. Yesterday’s was the first we attended at the Newberry Library, and despite the wildly uncomfortable chairs, we think we may continue to see them there. (We saw the other readings at the Highland Park, Winnetka, and Vernon Area public libraries).

Speaking of time’s bends and folds, Christopher Prentice introduced yesterday’s program.

The material in today’s entry was culled from an earlier post
and the title comes from
Timon of Athens, Act IV, Scene iii.

Blooming

EAC09A27-9B2B-4E47-A949-5897C13B70ACA third bloom! How lucky am I?

In other news…

In about two hours, I will attend my fourth Theater of War production. Warm thanks to the reader who brought this fabulous group to my attention. Today they’re doing The Book of Job Project, using the Stephen Mitchell translation. Maybe I’ll “see” you there?

Also, I finished two more books in June and wanted to add them to the count, which, at the year’s midpoint, stands at 124, with 102 read from the shelves.

Circe (Madeline Miller; 2018. Fiction.)
Read with my older daughter as part of our informal summer reading program. Both of us described it as a page-turner and finished it in one day. Related links here and here.

The Godmother (Hannelore Cayre; 2019. Fiction.)
Light and quick with a few witty observations. Perhaps it will work better as a movie?

p.16
People say I’m bad tempered, but I think this is hasty. It’s true I’m easily annoyed, because I find people slow and often uninteresting. For example, when they’re banging on about something I couldn’t give a crap about, my face involuntarily takes on an impatient expression which I find hard to hide, and that upsets them. So, they think I’m unfriendly. It’s the reason I don’t really have any friends, just acquaintances.

Genuine interest in art

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Detail of Leonardo Drew’s “Number 185” (2016).

Earlier this month, we visited the Smart Museum of Art before seeing Photograph 51 at the Court. From a distance, the piece pictured above looked to me as if it had been blackened in a fire.

Other notes: Once I finished Parks and Recreation, I moved on to The Good Place and now must wait until fall for new episodes. Related: We had breakfast-for-lunch at the Ron Swanson-inspired Whisk last weekend. It was so awesome that it has effectively ruined our local breakfast nooks for us. And speaking of ruining things for us, William Hootkins ((Moby Dick) and Nick Offerman (Lincoln in the Bardo) set the bar for audiobook narration so high that nearly every other narrator is a disappointment. (And, yes, we loved learning that Offerman is an Illini, too.)

To bring this post home, Ron Swanson on art:

Okay, everyone! SHUT UP and LOOK AT ME! Welcome to Visions of Nature. This room has several paintings in it. Some are big; some are small. People did them, and they are here now. I believe that after this is over, they’ll be hung in government buildings. Why the government is involved in an art show is beyond me. I also think it’s pointless for a human to paint scenes of nature when they can just go outside and stand in it. Anyway, please do not misinterpret the fact that I am talking right now as genuine interest in art and attempt to discuss it with me further. End of speech.

Notes from the past two weeks

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Detail from Ken Krimstein’s graphic biography of Hannah Arendt.

📚 Today I reached 121 books read this year. Twenty-six of those are non-fiction works, which means I am only four books from my goal of thirty.

Speaking of non-fiction… from Walden on Wheels: On the Open Road from Debt to Freedom (Ken Ilgunas):

p. 74
It never failed: When I’d gaze at the stars and the aurora, I’d see my problems for what they were. I always told myself that I’d been under the control of other forces: parents, school, work. And I’d convinced myself that my debt was to blame for everything as if I had nothing to do with contracting the debt in the first place). I hated my job even though I worked for a wonderful company. And I told myself that, because of the debt, I couldn’t travel, couldn’t go back to school, and now couldn’t even leave my room.

Part of me liked being in debt. Part of me even wanted to stay in debt, to keep going on random and expensive three-week trips to places like Ecuador so I could spend my hard-earned dollars on halfhearted adventures, instead of staying focused on what should have remained my true goal: busting out of the great American debtors’ prison, steadily chipping away at its walls with each paycheck.

Part of me like being in that position of submission, tied up in leather, willfully cowering beneath a ruthless whip-wielding Sallie Mae. Life is simpler when we feel controlled. When we tell ourselves that we are controlled, we can shift the responsibility of freeing ourselves onto that which controls us. When we do that, we don’t have to bear the responsibility for our own unhappiness or shoulder the burden of self-ownership. We don’t have to do anything. And nothing will ever change.

Also on the subject of non-fiction… I loved Krimstein’s The Three Escapes of Hannah Arendt. What a fabulous introduction to the philosopher’s life and work! Good customer service story: My copy of Hannah Arendt: For Love of the World (Elisabeth Young-Bruehl), ordered not long after I finished The Three Escapes, arrived with a bent cover and chipped pages. Hoping for a modest discount, I wrote to customer service, and Amazon refunded the entire cost of the book.

🎭 Since my last post, I’ve seen two plays — Nell Gwynn at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater (meh) and Mansfield Park at Northlight (misguided, at best) — and one opera — Il trovatore at the Lyric (fabulous; review here).

☕️ On Thursday I was sick enough to call out from work for the first time. After dragging my tired, sniffling self in on Friday, though, I began a nine-day break, arriving home just a few hours before my younger daughter, who is here for Thanksgiving. (My husband and older daughter begin break on Wednesday.)

🍂 Autumn visited for about three days. Not kidding. A few of my neighbors were unable to finish leaf removal before the first snowfall. It snowed again this past Thursday. We were lucky: During a break in my fever last Sunday, we cleared many of the last leaves; and on Monday, in a scarf, earmuffs, and warm coat, I did the last mow of the season.