Part of my Latin tutorial includes a survey of Roman history via SPQR by the always-excellent Mary Beard. Is it any wonder that I now regularly see Roman influence where I may have previously missed or overlooked it? A plaque describing a case of portrait masks in the Field Museum’s Egyptian exhibit indicates that once the Romans conquered the Egyptians (30 BCE), they adopted a number of Egyptian customs, including portrait masks — which were actually a Greek contribution to Egyptian traditions. The one pictured here is from the Ptolemaic-Roman Period.
The local library’s summer reading program includes an adult category. One must log six hundred minutes over eight weeks to finish; I had completed it by the end of the first week and dispensed with the online log after entering more than 2,300 minutes. Ordinarily, my August calendar includes a “Pick up library prize” note, but the lackluster selection last year coupled with the rapidity with which I finished effectively put the program right out of my head — until I received the library’s weekly newsletter, which advised readers that the prize room was closing at the end of the month. I had been meaning to read Crying in H Mart for a while, in part because of this review, so I am glad I caught the reminder before my fall semester schedule got underway.
The above are my images of detail from the following works:
■ Janitor by Duane Hanson, 1973 ■ Wet Saturday by Martin Lewis, 1929 ■ Le Penseur de Notre Dame by John Taylor Arms, 1923 ■ The Fiddler by James Abbott McNeill Whistler, 1859 ■ Untitled Anxious Audience by Rashid Johnson, 2017 ■ Portrait of Frederick Layton by George Henry Yewell, circa 1888 ■ Portrait of Dr. Karl Schwartz by Lovis Corinth 1916 ■ The Card Players by Eduard vin Grützner, 1883 ■ Triple Profile Portrait (The Mignons of Henry III) by School of Fontainebleau, 1570s
Since my last post, the light has shifted and softened, the sunflowers have bloomed, and my flutes have nearly made it back home. The fall semester — and with it, band rehearsals and weekly music lessons — begins next week. But this week, I am celebrating the near end of the summer.
Last night, after some noodles and bookstore wandering, we watched the White Sox handily beat the Yankees. Later this week, we plan to enjoy a post-tourist, post-summer-campers museum visit. And over the weekend, we will wander in one of the conservation areas.
During my music lesson this week, my teacher corrected an embouchure issue with which I have been struggling in piccolo practice. What a difference! Both my concert flute and alto flute are now en route to the technician for annual cleaning and adjusting, so for the next week or so I’m working with my trusty Yamaha.
Only three meetings remain in the Plato’s Republic reading group. Between the discussion and David Roochnik’s fabulous lectures, I am learning far more than I did forty years ago when I first read this work as a college freshman.
Slowly, surely, I am making my way through my Latin I tutorial. I have reached the point at which I can say that it brings me as much satisfaction as my music studies. (And it is just as difficult.)
Also slowly, surely, I’m accumulating mileage. The air quality and increasing temperatures make exercise difficult, but we take our primary walk early enough to mitigate some of the concerns.
I am a few pages away from finishing a smart and entertaining novel: Babel: Or the Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators’ Revolution by R.F. Kuang. (Review here.) In fact, the last few books I’ve read are worth mentioning:
■ The Fold (Peter Clines; 2015. Fiction.) ■ The Thursday Murder Club (Richard Osman; 2020. Fiction.) ■ The Man Who Died Twice (Richard Osman; 2021. Fiction.) ■ The Bullet That Missed (Richard Osman; 2022. Fiction.) ■ Long Live Latin: The Pleasures of a Useless Language (Nicola Gardini; 2019. Non-fiction.) ■ The Guest (Emma Cline; 2023. Fiction.)
The novels represent my favorite sort of summer reading (engaging, light without being utterly frivolous, sometimes even thought-provoking), and Gardini’s meditation on Latin was perfect. (Review here.)
Nerdishly 
