Gnomologia on the web

Everyone knows that the Arabs had collections of the “sayings of the poets and philosophers” with which they bored each other at those lengthy dinner parties during the middle ages while they were waiting for the crusades to begin.  Few perhaps realise that collections of this kind actually start with the Greeks, and are extant in substantial chunks from the 3rd century on.

The sayings are mostly bogus, but some creep into editions of fragments, probably by mistake.  The sayings change shape, as the various editors “improved” them for wit and delivery.  They change author too!  And they exist in Greek, in Syriac, and in Arabic, and probably in other languages also.   In fact they constitute “pop literature” — a literary form used for enjoyment by people who should have been cleaning toilets or enrolling at the academy.  They’re a pig to work on, and getting a critical text is a nightmare.

In the past, scholars have recognised that the world needs to be protected from these things, and have cunningly named the subject “gnomologia”.  Literally it means “wisdom sayings” — but hey, that would make too much sense and might attract unwanted attention.  The term “gnomologia” is just the thing to make most people go cross-eyed and move quickly on.

Another ploy has been to have only German scholars work on it, and get them to do it a century ago in obscure publications, usually without translation.  After all, if you provide a translation, who knows who might start looking at this stuff?  It doesn’t bear thinking about.

In this way this material has remained largely unexplored except by specialists.  And thank goodness, for it combines tedium with inauthenticity in a manner not normally found outside the speechs of Episcopalian bishops.

Charlotte Roueché of Kings College London has unfortunately broken through all this and started the SAW project — Sharing Ancient Wisdoms.  She’s linked up with Denis Searby, who published a massive Greek collection, the Corpus Parisinum, and who broke with tradition and actually provided a translation.  (Shocking!)  She’s also roped in some experts in Arabic to get stuck into that area as well.  The idea is to use web-based technology to explore the lot and publish them online:

With the support of a team at the Centre for Computing in the Humanities, and the Cente for e-Research at King’s, Charlotte Roueché will be working with experts on such collections in Greek (Denis Searby, of Uppsala) and in Arabic (Stephan Prochazka and Elvira Wakelnig, of Vienna). The aim is to publish several collections online, using technology to express and display their relationships – with the ancient texts on which they drew, with later texts which drew on them, and also with one another, since collections were frequently translated.

It all looks very bad for the old way of doing things.  Soon people will actually be able to learn about this form of literature, and start to relate it, as a source, to the classical and patristic tradition.  Whatever will become of us?

But enough joking.  Dr Roueché and her team are doing something that has needed doing for a century at least.  Everything they touch will be of value.  I hope the results will be freely accessible online.  Few enough people are interested in these curious texts anyway.

I myself commissioned translations of some Arabic Christian collections of these things; enough to realise their nature.  I shall offer these to the project.

(via: David Meadows)

UPDATE (6/5/14): Updated link to website of SAW.

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Sarcophagi of the Eastern Roman emperors still around?

I wonder how many people know that the sarcophagi of the Roman emperors buried in the Church of the Holy Apostles are still around?  The following picture from Wikimedia Commons and this one show some of them stood outside the Istanbul archaeological museum.  The one without a cross on is said to be that of Julian the Apostate.

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The letters of Julian the Apostate

For some reason today I found myself looking at the Wikipedia page on Julian the Apostate, the last of the family of the emperor Constantine who tried to turn the empire pagan again.  Indeed I ended up adding a little known snippet on the end of his time in Antioch.  Julian found that Antioch was thoroughly Christian and resisted his policies at every turn.  So as he left, he appointed a thug named Alexander of Heliopolis as governor, to teach them a lesson and whip them into paganism.  Ammianus Marcellinus tells the story.  Even Libanius thought this was dishonourable conduct.  What happened afterwards I do not know.

But this led me to look at the list of works linked to.  The three volumes of the Loeb on Archive.org were linked, as were the HTML versions of a couple of works done by myself longer ago.

The article didn’t seem that good, and I looked at the Discussion page to see what sort of comments it was attracting.  Depressingly it consisted almost entirely of a headbanger demanding that the article be renamed from “Julian the Apostate” and seeing whatever evidence he could find or manufacture to show that this, standard, name for the man was somehow not standard.  Considering that few of Julian’s works were online in searchable form, such a desire could only arise from hatred of the Christians, rather than enthusiasm for Julian.

But all this caused me to go back to the Finereader projects of the three volumes of Julian that I have on disk.  They were done years ago, when Finereader 5 was the current version (it’s FR10 now).  I decided to scan the letters of Julian.  I loaded the thing into FR10, re-OCR’d it, and started proofing.

The accuracy was very good indeed.  But the blessed thing fought me hard when the time came to save it out.   It crashed, and refused, in various formats.  When I did manage to save something as HTML, it decided arbitarily to create HTML footnotes from some of the footnotes and stick them at the end.  Whereas I wanted to have them inline.  All in all it has been a pain.

Tomorrow I will format it all properly, and upload it to the additional fathers.

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What they will not allow you to see online

Jona Lendering writes about censorship in the Netherlands.

The Dutch Royal Library is currently making available online all newspapers from the Second World War, which includes Nazi propaganda. Now the Dutch department of Justice has advised the library not to make digital versions of these publications, because it is possible that the Public Prosecutor might accuse the Royal Library of distributing publications that incite hatred.

Jona rightly excoriates this nonsense.   What need to  fear “Nazis” if you adopt Nazi policies, supposedly to prevent them?  

UPDATE: All of which nonsense led me to muse on black shirts and the like, and thence to P. G. Wodehouse, “The code of the Woosters”, p.54 of the Vintage paperback (1990) where Gussie Fink-Nottle explains to Bertie Wooster about a fellow guest at the house party.

‘Don’t you ever read the papers?  Roderick Spode is the founder and head of the Saviours of Britain, a Fascist organisation better known as the Black Shorts.  His general idea, if he doesn’t get knocked on the head with a bottle in one of the frequent brawls in which he and his followers indulge, is to make  himself a Dictator.’

‘Well I’m blowed!’

I was astounded at my keenness of perception.  The moment I had set eyes on Spode, if you remember, I had said to myself, ‘What ho! A Dictator!’ and a Dictator he had proved to be.  I couldn’t have made a better shot, if I had been one of those detectives who see a chap walking along the street and deduce that he is a retired manufacturer of poppet valves named Robinson with rheumatism in one arm, living at Clapham.

‘Well I’m dashed!  I thought he was something of that sort.  That chin … Those eyes … And, for the matter of that, that moustache.  By the way, when you say “shorts” you mean “shirts”, of course.’

‘No.  By the time Spode formed his association there were no shirts left.  He and his adherents wear black shorts.’

‘Footer bags, you mean?’

‘Yes.’

‘How perfectly foul.’

‘Yes.’

‘Bare knees?’

‘Bare knees.’

‘Golly!’

‘Yes.’

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The morning after the night before

Time to tidy the blog.  I thought I’d go through all the linked blogs and check they still exist and are still active.  Not all of them were!  A reduced list appears to the right of this post.  I do read quite a few of these, although more are reference sources than anything else.

I also removed one or two that seemed to have drifted off the subject for which I added them.  Of course I have political views, like everyone else, but I try to keep them out of this place.   I don’t link to the political blogs that I read.   This is because I tend to evaluate a blog by what it links to.  If I go to some blog, I try to work out whether the author is someone I want adding stuff to my mind.  A glance around the posts is one clue; the blogroll is another.

Now I don’t really want people closing their eyes to what I say because I happen to link to some blog that is a banner-waver for some political position.  This is not a political blog, after all, and people of every political persuasion should be able to find material to read here and without insult to their politics.

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Why we need Akkadian

Jim Davila has an interesting column entitled Why we need Akkadian.  

I think we all know that the earliest civilisation of mankind arose in Sumer and Akkad, in the plains of Mesopotamia, when men started to build mud-brick houses, build cities, and soon to produce those curious cuneiform tablets, the earliest widespread writing system of men.  The “wedge” enjoyed a very long life, longer far than Roman script, and perhaps ceased to be used some time in the Roman period.  I remember reading an article, “The last wedge”, dedicated to just this question, although sadly I forget the answer.

Very early on, cuneiform was used for semitic languages – that vast group of closely related tongues which exists today in modern Hebrew and Arabic, and once encompassed biblical Hebrew, Aramaic and Syriac.  I learn from Jim’s article that Akkadian is the term for all these early languages, which relate closely to the Hebrew of the bible.  It was, after all, from Ur of the Chaldees that Abraham set out on his journey.  Not that anyone at the time would have seen anything special about a man setting out with a camel or two.  But that journey changed the course of history.

The study of these early languages and their culture must mainly be undertaken from archaeology.  The early volumes of the Cambridge Ancient History, imposing as they are, are very dry for just this reason.  But what is learned from them can illuminate our understanding of the Old Testament.  The article Jim quotes says of the latter, and quite rightly:

Reading the Tanach, the Hebrew Bible, is tough.  For one thing, it’s very, very old, and not refracting the text through our 21st-century prism is difficult.

This lovely image of understanding highlights a real difficulty; and study of Akkadian is one of the solutions.  It gives us more information about the sacred text.

But Jim then moves on to consider the plight of the humanities in an age of cost-cutting.  Such pleas we have all seen before, many, many times.  The self-interested pleadings of the idle herd who graze on the public purse need not move us unduly.  Jim’s comments deserve a hearing because he acknowledges that much of what is written does not.

I’ll say at the outset that the humanities to some degree have this type of scrutiny coming, because significant sectors of it have bought in overly much to intentionally obscurantist and, frankly, lazy postmodern approaches.

Sections of the humanities have engaged in any amount of elitism.  If we wanted an example, we could look at how Latinists have eliminated J and V from texts, in favour of texts only using I and U — and then printed them, not in capitalis, but in the lower case script invented in the 15th century!  The process introduced a barrier to ordinary people, made the learning and reading of Latin harder, and privileged a caste of professional scholars.  Claims that it was more authentic merely sought to sugar-coat the real effect — and the real purpose — of the change.  Such elitism, the creation of professional classes, the claims that disciplines like history — or theology — are owned by those drawing salaries are malevolent.  Once the people who pay are excluded, they will naturally ask why they are paying.

It is unlikely that archaeology, which has reached out so successfully to the world, will suffer as some might.  The mighty popular image of Indiana Jones stands in the way of such cutbacks.  Papyrology may perish; but Raiders of the lost ark will preserve much.

I do not think any here will suspect me of undue reverence for the humanities.  My training is as a scientist, and the use of the humanities to decorate with authority the claims of some political or religious position is why I can’t take much of it seriously.  The manner in which some disciplines have been prostituted for political purposes is known to us all.  Sociology died of such a process; economics barely survived being gang-banged for the ends of state socialism.  Theology does not deserve to survive unless it purges its culture of Christian-baiting and seeks to escape the process whereby the assured results of scholarly investigation have always reflected the desires of those who control university appointments.  The way in which the scholarly study of Lucian in 19th century Germany reflected precisely the attitude of the state authorities towards anti-semitism, lucidly documented by Holzberg in “Lucian and the Germans”, indicates that classics has no objective standard on which to operate.  The list might be extended probably endlessly.

But let us be clear.  A modern state must produce trained men to operate the machines on which our society depends.  It must produce scientists, lest we all die from superbugs.  It must produce men able to read and write, although the weevils have been at work, and it is questionable whether it does.  But whether this process has much to do with education in the sense in which it would have been understood in the renaissance must be questionable.

Why history?  Why teach it?  What does it matter, how the despots of the Byzantine empire fought off their foes?  Do we care about the processes whereby the Fathers decided whether Cyril or Nestorius should be condemned?

It does matter.  It matters deeply to us all.  Our society came into being by the rediscovery of the classical world.  The education provided by the classics, both those of the Greek and Latin world, and of the English-speaking world, is one that can never become outdated, except in the eyes of those whose hate for our society exceeds reason or sanity.  To know them is to become an educated man.  To listen to their voices is to escape the tyranny of the present.  To love them is a liberal education.

A man who suffers a certain kind of brain damage loses the ability to remember more than a few minutes of his life.  Such men are thereby crippled.  An old man is far less likely to be deceived by the promises of politicians than the young.  Man is an ape, in that he is ever forgetful of what is not before his eyes.  But history is the means whereby we can extend our memory back before we were born.  It is the means whereby we can learn much, that those who seek to cheat us in our own day would prefer we do not know.  A nation without memory is a nation without a future.  A nation that cannot read what people said in the past cannot access that memory.

Thus we need Akkadian. 

Johnson once remarked that a civilised nation should be able to celebrate in a multitude of dead languages.  And so it should.  It indicates power of mind.

Our academics have become lazy.  I was shocked to learn that a certain Oxford college considers a don hard-working if he engages in five hours of teaching a week.  Reform is indeed necessary.  But it will be a poor land, where a boy cannot learn Latin and Greek, where undergraduates do not sit in a punt with a volume of the classics. 

I remember the last time I ever went punting at Oxford.  I bought, in a now vanished bookshop in St. Clements, an old ‘Everyman’ volume to read.  The cover had gone, and someone had recovered it with some brown paper.  Written on the brown paper in felt-tip were the words, “A century of English essays”.  But I took it with me, and read as we punted into the Cherwell, along the green-brown muddy river and under the trailing trees.  I have it still.  It introduced me to the essays of Augustine Birrell.  These in turn led me to Dr. Johnson, to an appreciation even of Gibbon, whom I might otherwise have known only as a less-than-honest polemicist, and a score more.  Such is education, and a university the opportunity to acquire it.

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The felicitous misquotation

I have been reading the essays of E. M. Blaiklock, a Christian scholar and professor of Classics at Auckland university for many years, published as “The best of ‘Grammaticus'”. 

He remarks on an occasion when a quotation from St. Paul suffered a ‘f’ where a ‘g’ should be:

…overcome evil with food.

Hermann Goering was doubtless excellent company over dinner.

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From my diary

What happened to summer?  It looks like November out there; cold, grey, windy.  Driving to work this morning at 8am everyone had headlights on!

Still I shan’t have to do that again for a bit.  Today I resigned and walked out of my new job, which I started last week.  I lasted five whole days!  The trouble was that, despite telling them I needed to work with people, I was stuck alone in a dingy office with a broken phone.  All my colleagues were on the other side of a locked door somewhere (I never found out where), and emails to them were often not returned.  Every so often someone — who gradually morphed into my boss — rushed in, dumped some stuff on me, regardless of what I was working on, and rushed out again.   (I believe this is called “seagull management”!)  Even dafter was that the admin at the agency was messed up, so that I wasn’t even getting paid. 

After a miserable morning something snapped, and I left. I didn’t want to go — heaven knows I need an income like everyone else — but it just wasn’t going to get any better.   I was mildly amused, however, to find those responsible blaming me for walking out of the absurd situation they had created.  It showed again that I had made the right decision.  However, right decision or not, I feel rather bruised.  No-one wants to walk away from money in this climate.  I suspect I shan’t be good for much this afternoon.

On a more positive note the typesetter of the Eusebius book has done the Coptic chapter — and done it rather excellently!  He’s also done the letter of Latino Latini to Andreas Masius (talking about the discovery of the full text of the work in the 1500’s, which was then sadly lost again before it could be published), plus the end material, and made a very good job of it.  Indeed the Eusebius is starting to look like a book, which is very encouraging.  We still have a way to go, but we are getting there.

I must remember to ask the typesetter if (a) I can mention his name and (b) if I can credit him in the book!

Less good is the discovery that he never got some of my emails from last week.  Email is wonderful; until it goes wrong.  Not sure how I’ll handle that.  I wish there was a way to set Google mail to ask for a return receipt.

Two people over the weekend bought copies of the CD of the Additional Fathers, bless them.  That helps offset some of the pain from the proofing costs last week.

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The chronicler of Zuqnin continues…

The next passage of the anonymous 9th century Syriac chronicle is as follows.  After the widespread flooding, which of course polluted the water supply, the inevitable plague struck.  This is happening towards the end of the Ummayad caliphate, in the early 700’s.

It is interesting to note that, while the Arabs and Jews buried their dead in “innumerable” pits, both were clearly a very small minority.  The population of Syria was mainly Christian, almost a century after the Moslem conquest. 

Of the great plague which happened in that time.

Here the prophet Jeremiah comes to  help us, he who knows better than anyone lamenting over the miseries by which we are surrounded on all sides: “Who will give water to my head, and to my eyes a fountain of tears? and I shall weep day and night for the dead of the daughter of my people.” And again: “On the mountains I abandon myself to tears and lamentations, and in the desert to complaints because they are desolate and there is nobody there.  Let our eyes shed tears, let our eyelids flow with water. Therefore, listen, women, to the word of the Lord; let your ears capture the speech of his mouth, teach your daughters lamentations, and let each learn the plaintive chant of his neighbour; because death is come through our windows, it came into our homes to exterminate children in the streets and young men in public places. The bodies of men shall fall like manure upon the face of the earth, like the grass behind the mower, and there is no one who collects them!”

[36] Let him come now [the Prophet], and let him weep about, not one people, nor only the city of Jerusalem, but over all nations and many cities, that the plague has made like a press, trampling and crushing them underfoot and plucking without mercy their inhabitants like beautiful grapes; — over the whole earth, because the punishment, like the reaper in the middle of the ripe corn on foot, has threatened and cut off all ages, all conditions, all ranks, without distinction of persons;  — over decaying and mangled corpses [which lie] in the streets of the whole world: their fluids flow like water, and there is nobody to bury them; — over houses, large and small, beautiful and pleasant, which have suddenly become the graves of their inhabitants, in which suddenly servants fell with their masters, and no-one escaped to drag the corpses out of the interior; — over the roads, which are desolate; — over many villages, whose inhabitants have all perished at once; — over the palace where each trembles at the other; — over the nuptial chambers decorated for brides, who have there died suddenly; — over young virgins kept in the women’s quarters, awaiting the celebration of their wedding and who suddenly have been carried to the grave; — over many similar things that surpass speech and the narratives of all the rhetoricians; — over these things, I say, the prophet would have reason to weep and say: “Woe is me!” not because of “the defilement of the daughter of my people,” but because of the ruin of all the inhabited earth, and the world that the plague has completely destroyed because of its sins. It would be right to use the prophetic words of his colleagues: “Let him come and tell the rest of those who survived: Weep, mourn, you ministers of the altar; enter, spend the night in the hair shirt, ministers of my God,” not “because the offering has been removed [37] from the house of God,” but because of men, who have been cut off from the world; and again: “Let the earth live in mourning, let all its inhabitants lament. Call the mourners and let the chanters of lamentations all come to celebrate together, not over an only son,” nor a single corpse, but over peoples and kingdoms. “By the tearing the earth will be torn, by the breaking the earth will be broken, by the shaking the earth will be shaken, by the trembling the earth will tremble. It will be delivered to the fire like a terebinth lined with leaves, like an oak tree fallen from its base.”

All these things have been fulfilled in the present time: great disturbances and violent earthquakes; armies, wars, the enmities of the Arabs between themselves over power; the famine which so raged that in the southern and eastern region the entire population arose and spread themselves all over the countries of the north and west; discord with every misery.

“I will send after them,” says the prophet, “the sword and captivity, famine and plague too.”

All these things have happened today without exception. Here is the sword of the Arabs [turned] against themselves; here are depredations so that it was impossible to go out without being pillaged and robbed of one’s property; here is famine which rages within and without. If someone enters his house, there he finds famine and pestilence, if he goes outside, the sword and captivity run to meet him. On all sides there is nothing but cruel oppression and terrible pain, suffering and disturbance.

“They are drunk, but not on wine, and they stumble, but not from spirits.”

Men began to wander and to travel from city to city and place to place; they stumbled as if they were drunk; they asked for bread and there was none, just as the prophet said.

First, a large number of the heads of families began to sicken and die from a corruption of the blood and from ulcers. Things went thus [38] during the whole winter. They could not be buried. Men were lying in the streets, the porticos, towers, temples, in every home, tortured by the violence of the disease and the great strictness of the famine, so that the number of those who perished from starvation was greater than that of those who died from disease.  It was especially those who had eaten bread until they were full who were seized by the disease. When the days became warmer, tumours appeared on the sick, who began to fall dead in public places, like manure in the face of the earth, and there was no one to bury them!

The plague began to rage among the poor, who were abandoned in the streets. They buried them with honour, singing hymns, and they were buried properly, and when there were no more poor, mortality raged with such violence against the lords of the villages and the towns that, when the priests wanted to do a funeral, there were gathered in the morning at the same place fifty to seventy to eighty or a hundred coffins, in each of which there were two or three dead, or even four children. And so all day, without truce or rest, the corpses of men were buried.

The Arabs covered the earth with pits, and the Jews likewise. The tombs of the Christians were so full that they themselves were forced to dig holes in the earth. In a single day, over five hundred coffins came out by a single door. Throughout the day the doors were only used for the goings and comings of those who carried the corpses: they went out, deposited them, and returned to take others.

So, except for a few, there was no {burial} service, because of the swiftness of death, the small number [39] of priests and the innumerable multitude of buryings. In the morning, the priests prescribed that anyone who had a deceased should come to the nearest crossroads and the whole region or district would assemble in this place. The priests divided themselves up in the morning to go in all directions to perform the office of the dead and to put them in the ground in groups. It happened that one group was over a hundred coffins, in which there were more than two hundred or two hundred and fifty dead, because they were piled next to each other without pause throughout the day. Here there was no distinction between servant and master, between serving-girl and mistress, between the hired man and the hirer, but one storm of destruction and fury was prepared for them all: servants and masters were equally struck down without distinction of persons; the man of the people and the leaders fell, and were groaning next to one another.

Let everyone admire the divine decree and be filled with astonishment and stupour in presence of these judgments of God, unfathomable, incomprehensible, incommensurable for men. Certainly “a deep abyss is the judgments of the Lord!”

The plague spread its devastating hand over those who hold power, who enjoy opulence, or who revel in grandeur. The houses of many of them were left without an heir, because there remained in them neither servant nor master. Men suddenly abandoned to their companions their possessions, their riches, their crops, even their beautiful homes. How splendid and opulent mansions, how many families perished because there did not remain a single heir!

The human language is incapable of expressing the prodigious disasters [40] that occurred in the country which stretches from the Euphrates to the west, as well as in the other cities of Palestine, in the North and the South, as far as the Red Sea as well as in the rest of Cilicia, Lycaonia, Asia [Minor], Bithynia, Lysynie [Lydia?] Galatia, even in Cappadocia: because the oppression of this cruel suffering was felt throughout the world. As the rain descends upon the whole earth, or as the sun’s rays are spread equally in all places, the plague spread equally over the whole world. However it was prevalent more in the countries previously designated. In these regions, towns and numerous villages became suddenly deserted, and no-one stayed there or passed that way. They were filled with rotting dead bodies, lying on the ground like dung upon the face of the earth, with no one to bury them: because not one of their inhabitants remained; so that men lay in the middle of them, swollen, full of pus, and rotting. The houses were opened as tombs and their owners putrefied in the middle of them. Their furniture, their gold, their money, their possessions were scattered in the streets and there was nobody to collect them. Gold and silver were despised, and riches were abandoned everywhere and found no master. Old men and old women, adorned with white hair, who had hoped to be buried with honour by their heirs, lay open-mouthed in the streets, in houses, in public places, dying and putrefying. Pretty virgins, beautiful young girls who were waiting for their happy nuptials and the adornment of precious clothing were found lying and decomposing, and became an object of pity for those who saw them. Would to God that this was happening in the tombs! But it is in the houses in the streets [41] that charming and cheerful young people have become livid, deceased, and that their pus was mingled with that of their parents.

That is what happened in these countries.

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From my diary

A massive and unexpected bill arrived today — nearly $400 — from the translator of the Greek for comparing the Greek text of the fragments of Eusebius back against the printed pages of Mai etc.  Ouch!  I had not realised that so large a bill was pending; I thought the comparison would be relatively quick. 

It’s a reminder to me to get quotes in advance, rather than presuming bits of work will be relatively short.  That unfortunately adds almost 10% to the cost of  the project, which is bad news indeed.  It’s one of those tasks which is worth doing, in an absolute sense; but probably will never justify itself by the extra number of copies sold. 

Thankfully I am back earning money again, so I can afford it – it would have been very serious otherwise! 

The changes will be rolled up and send as one to the typesetter at some subsequent point.  There’s a few, but nothing really significant, or that would take all that long to apply, if I put them on the PDF pages as stickys.

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