“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.

February in books

The Two Gentlemen of Verona (1589)
The Taming of the Shrew (1590)
Titus Andronicus (1593)
Henry VI, Part 1 (1591)
As I mentioned last month, Marjorie Garber’s Shakespeare After All is my guide to the 2024 edition of “Shakespeare in a Year.”

■ Women We Buried, Women We Burned (Rachel Louise Snyder; 2023. Non-fiction.)
Review here.

■ The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; 1927. Fiction.)
These are regularly referred to as the weakest of the stories, but I was well entertained by them.

■ O Pioneers! (Willa Cather; 1913. Fiction.)
This was the second in my quest to read (in some cases, reread) one of Cather’s twelve novels each month in chronological order.

■ Essays of E.B. White (E.B. White; 1977. Non-fiction.)
Earlier this month, I resurfaced from a multi-month deep dive into White’s work. We concluded with the essays in the last third of this collection, which, apart from “Once More to the Lake” and “Will Strunk,” were much less compelling (dare I say, “weaker”?) than the other selections.

■ The Elements of Style (William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White; 2000. Non-fiction.)
Of course, I reread this classic after finishing White’s essays.

Wrong Place, Wrong Time (Gillian McAllister; 2022. Fiction.) RFS
Predictable but entertaining.

■ The Puppets of Spelhorst (Kate DiCamillo; 2023. Fiction.)
Although I am not as big a fan of DiCamillo as the dear friend who gave me this book, I appreciated it, especially the lovely illustrations.

■ The Magic Mountain (Thomas Mann; 1924. Fiction.)
■ Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain: A Reader’s Guide (Rodney Symington; 2011. Non-fiction.)
The final meeting on this is next week. Among other things, my heavily annotated copy bears witness to my attempts to converse with this difficult novel of ideas.

Often I am able to chat with one or both of my daughters while I am out walking. They always inquire how I’m doing, and when the temps soar above seventy or, conversely, when the sidewalks have iced over, I routinely reply, “Today I like having walked much better than walking.” About The Magic Mountain, I will share that I like having read it much better than reading it.

Notes

🎶 Earlier this month, my instructor and I completed Johann Christian Schultze’s Sonata for Two Flutes in Album of Flute Duets, revised and annotated by Louis Moyse, and moved on to Hans Köhler’s Sonatina for Two Flutes in the same collection. This week, I am focused on the second page of the Allegro.

We are also working in a new-to-us book: Interval Duets by Thomas Filas, which appears to be out of print. “[T]he playing of duets is the starting rung of the ladder which leads to higher musicianship,” the introduction gently chides. Truth. While providing a respite in a challenging program of study, these deceptively simple pieces have reminded this adult student that while “speed” (or “velocity”) may be difficult to achieve, a clear, beautiful sound is always achievable.

🎶 In Robert Cavally’s Melodious and Progressive Studies from Andersen, Gariboldi, Koehler, and Terschak for Flute, Book 2, I am now working on the third of Köhler’s “moderately difficult pieces as studies for flute” from Op. 33, Book 2.

🎶 Speaking of difficult, this semester’s band selections… so, yes, P. Bona’s rhythmical articulation studies has sunk to the bottom of my daily practice roster again. As I have mentioned, though, only two assignments remain in this book, 116 and 120. I will get to them eventually.

🎶 This week, having successfully presented the third movement, I began practicing the first movement of the Stamitz Concerto in G major, Op.29. (Yes, I chose to work on them out of order.)

🎶 I am not playing piccolo in band this semester, so my instructor has added short piccolo duets to my practice sheet, as well as a solo: “L’oiseau du bois” by Charles le Thiere. Yes, this is all quite a lot, but right now, I am exhilarated, undaunted. Check back with me over spring break, though; the Köhler study could break me.