Tag: From my diary

I’ve done a little more OCR on the English translation of Ibn Abi Usaibia, but it is slow going.  Unfortunately I have had a cold for some weeks — symptoms are coughing and indigestion, curiously — which restricts what I can do in the evenings.  When I get well, it will be easier to spend more time on it.

Emails today were plentiful.

Two people have bought copies of the CDROM that I sell of the English translations of the Fathers.  One of these was in Japan, and has an address in Japanese characters.  That will be interesting to process!  The other had an invalid email address, forcing me to recheck it in Paypal and re-email him.

Another email was from a great-nephew of the French philologist, François Nau (d. 1931), Pierre Sabatier.  Nau edited and translated great quantities of Syriac and Christian Arabic texts, often in the Revue de l’Orient Chretien, whose volumes remain indispensable even now.  

Back in 2008 I created a Wikipedia article for Nau, and mentioned that a collection of his articles was due to appear in 2007.  Dr Sabatier discovered this, and emailed me, offering to help with any such volume, and regretting that I no longer contribute to Wikipedia.  Someone must have emailed me about that commemorative volume.  But, several years later, I don’t remember anything about it.  Nor did a search of my emails reveal anything.  So I posted something in the Hugoye list for Syriacists, to see if anyone knows. 

And … there!  Somehow, the evening is gone, and nothing achieved. 

Well, almost nothing: I did watch a bit of the new TV series Merlin, featuring the rather pre-Raphaelite-looking Katie McGrath as the evil sorceress Morgana…

Searching for an image to include revealed that the BBC employ some hilariously stupid publicity people.  The first one I chose and uploaded promptly vomited a load of copyright nonsense into the WordPress description — “only to be used in print, only after this date, special permission for internet yadda yadda yadda” — which effectually deterred me from using it. 

But … unless I mistake, surely the point of promotional pictures is to, erm, promote things?  And if you want to promote things, isn’t it rather counter-productive to deter people from using the promotional pictures?

Never mind.  Let’s instead admire Miss McGrath’s cheek-bones, as undoubtedly Dante Gabriel Rosetti would have done.

Here’s an epigram of Martial, that caught my eye, as I was reading it this evening (book 7, no.19):

The fragment that you regard as cheap and useless wood,
This was the first keel to stem the unknown sea.
What the clash of the azure rocks could not shatter of old,
Nor the wrath, more dread, of Scythia’s ocean,
The ages have overcome. Yet however much it has submitted to time,
More sacred is this small plank than a whole ship unscathed.

The poet imagines that a stray bit of wood, perhaps from a beach, is in fact a piece of the Argo.

The Loeb edition, from which I amend this, suggests that perhaps the legend of the Clashing Rocks records some early Greek experience of icebergs, since they were traditionally located at the entrance to the Bosphorus.

I’m getting rather impatient with an Italian bookshop who ordered a copy of my book back in July and still haven’t paid for it.   The name of the firm is “Libreria Ancora Roma”, who are in the via della conciliazione. 

Libreria Ancora — “Ancora International Bookshop”, as they called themselves — ordered it on 22 July, and I sent the order to the printer on 29 July, with an invoice. 

A month later, I emailed Libreria Ancora again on 29 August, reminding them that the invoice had not been paid.  I got an immediate reply: “we didn’t receive the invoice, therefore we couldn’t pay”.   Apparently they couldn’t chase up the non-receipt of an invoice either.

Then I emailed Libreria Ancora a second copy on 30th, with a link to Paypal.  But this time there was no reply.

On 31st, hearing nothing, I emailed again, asking if they had received the invoice.  On 1 September I got back “yes, we received the invoice, our account dept in Milano is going to pay”. 

I waited a further week and heard nothing.  So I emailed Libreria Ancora yet again on 8 September asking when they would pay.  From that day to this I have heard nothing.  Somehow I suspect that I won’t, either. 

Fortunately it is only a paperback.  I can stand the loss.  But I must admit that I had not expected it. 

But the lesson I shall learn is not to accept purchase orders.  Instead I think that I shall insist on payment in advance in future.  It makes life rather simpler all round.

UPDATE (3rd October 2011): a letter arrived today from my bank, informing me that a telegraphic transfer had been made by Libreria Ancora to my account on 29th September.  So they did pay in the end.

There are times when all of us need a certain kind of book to read.  It should be a shapeless, gentle, unexciting but mildly interesting book, that requires little concentration.  It should be the kind of book that you can dip into anywhere, and leave off reading at any time.  It is the sort of book that a man lying under a blanket with a cold can read when alert enough to do so. 

It will surprise few, then, that I have been reading such a book.  The cold that I currently have is making me rather dopey for some reason.  Two examples: I managed to drive into a parked car at the weekend, luckily without damage on either side.  And an email from my work today tells me that I even forgot to invoice my client for last month, meaning that I wouldn’t get paid!  So like a child, perhaps I’d better be careful around sharp objects right now!  (If the cold has left me that muddle-headed, I’d better be.)  Isn’t it strange that a little virus should be so disabling to such a complex and wonderful machine as a man?

Since yesterday I have been reading volume 3 of the collected letters of C. S. Lewis, covering the 1930’s onwards.  It is a mighty volume; indeed much too big a volume.  I think that it tests the patience even of the most enthusiastic Lewisian, in truth. 

Collections of letters can be interesting or dull.  I was given the letters of Jane Austen a year or two back, which I found unreadable.  The editor had evidently forgotten that most people will know nothing of her life, and will need clear footnotes to link the letters into a story.  Much as I love Austen’s novels — indeed I reread Pride and Prejudice at the weekend, with great enjoyment — I donated the book to a charity shop.  The letters of Lamb are said to be good, but I have not read them.  I wonder which other English letter-writers I should read?

The Lewis letters are variable, as might be expected, but there is still much that is new, along with much that is of no real importance any more.  An example of the former is a clergyman who turns out to be the possessor of an original letter from Dr Johnson to Mrs Thrale — I did not know that uncollected examples still existed –, and the footnote says that on his death it passed to Lewis, who in turn willed it to Pembroke College.

I’ve just read a couple of letters in which Lewis is reading Lockhart’s Life of Sir Walter Scott. It’s in nine volumes, and I have not read more than a page or two from some online PDF.  Indeed searching for the post in which I last referred to this work, I find that it too was sparked by reading this same volume of Lewis.  Was it really three and a half years ago, when I last read this book?  Ah, how the years fly by!

Lewis tells us that Boswell’s Life of Johnson is the best literary biography in English, and I believe it.  The two volume Everyman edition has stood on my shelves for many years.  Indeed I bought it second-hand, with tattered dustjacket, probably during the 80’s or 90’s from some local bookshop.  I took it to the now-vanished Amberstone Bookshop in Upper Orwell Street here in Ipswich, and they got some kind of plastic cover put around it, which helped preserve the dustjacket.  I often used to visit that shop, back in the days before Amazon was heard of, and looked over all their stock of fantasy novels.  Boswell has often enlightened a dull day.  I heard of his book through the essays of Augustine Birrell, a true Boswellian, and yearned to read it before I ever did.

Not that I begin at the start of the book.  The younger days of Johnson — or anyone — are of no real interest to me, I find.  Tales of childish precocity do not seem very appealing.  It is the man we wish to meet.  Indeed I usually feel the same about chapters headed “Last days”.  By that point the things that made a writer special have usually ceased to be, and peering into a sick room is never very edifying or cheering. 

Instead I always open the first volume part way through, and find Johnson as a young man, come to London, in great poverty, and just issuing his London, a poetic version of one of Juvenal’s Satires.  I’ve never read the poem through, but always remember his description of the sharp-elbowed competition, hungry for advancement and professing every skill:

All sciences a fasting monsieur knows,
And bid him go to hell; to hell he goes!

It is not so different today, working in modern IT, I think, and competing for work with every IT graduate that modern India can send.

But returning to Lockhart, I would quite like to sample his book.  However I find myself rather reluctant to buy something in ten volumes!  Perhaps one could borrow a volume from the local library, although I do wonder whether the infantilised libraries of today hold such books.  The frequency of sales of “unborrowed books” suggests that such may long since have been disposed of.  And an online search confirms that this staple of Victorian England is not to be found in Suffolk libraries.

A look on www.abebooks.co.uk tells me that a one-volume abridgement exists in the old Everyman series.  Perhaps I should buy one of those.  Thankfully the print-on-demand merchants like Kessinger have not filled up the search with cheap and abominable reprints, so I can see what there is for sale.  But that also confirms that Lockhart is no longer read. 

Indeed Lewis praises Lockhart in two letters.  But it is telling that he didn’t finish the book, but was “obliged to lay it aside” and did not return to it. 

A couple of interesting articles have come my way today.

Tommaso Leoni has written an overview of the textual transmission of the works of Josephus.[1]  This reads rather like a summary of secondary literature, rather than a piece of new research, but, since much of that literature is in languages which anglophone scholars tend to avoid, I suspect his article will be very useful and will be the unacknowledged basis for much new work. 

In particular he highlights the value of the indirect transmission, via lengthy quotations in authors like Josephus.  There is also a valuable discussion of the Latin material.  I was delighted to see a reference to my friend Wade Blocker’s pioneering translation of ps.Hegesippus, which I uploaded at his request back in 2005. 

Now I’ve written digests of material about the manuscripts online myself, so some of the material is familiar to me, but one section of the article caught my eye:

The complexities of the manuscript tradition become obvious if we consider a most interesting piece of evidence, the only papyrus of Josephus, Pap. Graec. Vindobonensis 29810, published by Hans Oellacher in 1939. It is a fragment, unfortunately in poor condition, containing the text of War 2.576-579, 582-584 (overall, no more than 112 words in whole or in part). Despite its brevity, which makes it unwise to draw general conclusions about the quality of the other extant witnesses, the importance of this papyrus should not be underestimated, since it goes back to the late third century C.E., and thus it antedates the oldest manuscripts by more than six hundred years. Th e most striking aspect of P. Vindob. G. 29810 is that it diff ers conspicuously from all the manuscripts collated by Niese and Destinon, showing no clear similarities with the group PA, nor with the group VRC. Th is fact suggests—as Louis H. Feldman has rightly pointed out—that even the text of the War, which is usually believed to be in much better shape than that of the Antiquities, is less secure than Niese had supposed and still in need of further emendation. 

Interesting, but perhaps not unexpected.  The Greek mss. are all 10th century or later, and doubtless derive from one or two uncial copies extant a century earlier.  But the papyrus could easily be a ‘wild’ text, for all we know.  It would be interesting  to learn more.

The other article was a discussion of the so-called Mithras liturgy,[2] in reality one of a number of spells contained in a Greek magical codex (PGM IV) which used the name of Helios Mithras as one of the power-names.  Stoholski’s article is useful to the general reader since it provides something of a summary of the state of the question on the value and content of the material, before going on to discuss the presence of extracts from the Iliad before and after it.  This latter question is only of specialist interest, but the summary was useful.

In other news, a DVD with photographs of an interesting unpublished public domain translation came through my letter box this morning.  I made up some PDF’s of the photos, checked that I had all the material, and added some bookmarks.  More about this when I have got past some curious political issues.  But what I will need, I think, is someone to enter the text into a Word document.  It’s too long for me to do, and OCR doesn’t handle typescript that well.

A second European bookseller ordered a copy of the Eusebius book from Chieftain Publishing today.  This is nice to see.  Meanwhile the statements of sales for August (all via Amazon) appeared, and were reasonable, if not spectacular.  Not much sign of new orders following the Patristics Conference, tho.  It reminds me that I need to do some marketing of the paperback.  I just have not had the time.

I also started thinking about the possible content of the new Mithras article that I want to put online, and some technical ideas on how it might be done.

But I’m much too full of cold today to do very much.  All the same, I thought that I would share these articles with you.  It was a beautiful day, cool in the morning but red-hot 26C at lunch.  I know that September often involves a lot of sunny weather.  Here’s hoping!

[1] Tommaso Leoni, The text of Josephus’ works: an overview, Journal for the Study of Judaism 40 (2009) 149-184.
[2] Mark Stoholski, “Welcome to Heaven, Please Watch Your Step”: The “Mithras Liturgy” and the Homeric Quotations in the Paris Papyrus, Helios, Volume 34, Number 1, Spring 2007, pp. 69-95.

For many years Network Solutions has been the place where my domain names are hosted.  They were,  in truth, a company that I trusted.  Many internet hosters and registrars are cowboys, and it is nearly impossible to find good people.  Once you have found them, you stick with them.

But my liking for Network Solutions has got rather frayed down the years, for various reasons, and, as I blogged two days ago, that trust evaporated on Monday after they started making difficulties about transferring Tertullian.org to another company.

There is a curious sequel to the story, however.  Last night I received an email from someone at Network Solutions, telling me that their social media team  had spotted my comment and handed it over to this person to address.  She made use of the telephone number — without my permission — to call me.  But for some reason she hadn’t reckoned on the time zone and so the call went to voicemail.  Then I got an email.

Now I have no real animosity towards Network Solutions, so I thought that I would take that call.  I was quite prepared to explain, as a customer, why all my domains were being transferred elsewhere one by one, and why I felt that the company was no longer on my trusted list.   I do have rather good reasons, after all; and a sensible company would want to know them.  This afternoon the call came through.

The call was a delight, as Mr Bennet in Pride and Prejudice might have said about the effusions of his pompous but foolish nephew, Mr. Collins.  I didn’t get asked any of those questions.  Rather the call was to help me “understand” why I was wrong to be annoyed at their failure to transfer my domain when I asked them to.  Some of the explanations were most interesting, as they say.

Firstly I was told that Network Solutions really does intend to force all its customers to ring up when they want to leave.  It really does.  The reason given is that there is a great deal of domain name fraud going on, and fraudulent attempts to transfer out domains; and so the company wants to verify that the account holders really are behind the request, by checking personal details.  That this gives their call centre the chance to give you the hard sell is not, apparently, the motive at all.

Secondly, apparently I was wrong that it is an utter pain to renew a domain.  What I said, rather officiously — for I wasn’t asked to — that, when the company sends you an email asking you to renew a domain, and you click on the link, that what you expect is a minimum number of clicks thereafter to hand them your credit card details.  What you get, instead, is a page full of irrelevant advertising.  You hunt around for a link saying “ignore this and continue”, which you find off-screen at the bottom.  With relief you click this, only to be presented with yet more rubbish.  And you do the same, and get the same, getting more and more frustrated all the time.  But apparently this is not a bad thing, as I had suggested.  “I don’t agree”, she told me.  Customers really do want to page through all this crap in order to give Network Solutions money.  Lots of them are naive, I was told, know nothing about computers, and so are glad to buy a set of services at that point, even though they have owned the domain name for years.  And anyway if I didn’t like all  that very helpful material, there was a button on the top right to bypass all this. 

Thirdly, the obligatory call to the call centre also gave Network Solutions the chance to improve its service, I was told.  Keeping customers on the phone, at international call prices, is valuable to Network Solutions in order to obtain feedback.  No doubt she would have told me that the customers forced to telephone would be positively thankful for the chance to contribute to this company’s business development in this way, but for some reason that was not said.

Silly me!  How fortunate that I did not embarass myself further by explaining why I didn’t want to give their company any money any more.  So that’s all right, then.  Sadly I remembered that I had an urgent meeting at that point, and had to forgo further jewels of thought.

I think I will go off and do a bit of internet banking now.  And no, I shan’t have to ring up someone to allow the bank to make sure that I am who I say I am before I transfer money.