Deadmau5 aut Mus Mortuus?

 My work allows me an hour lunch. I try to consume all my needed food (gotta get that protein in) before lunch, if at all possible. That way, I have an entire hour free to mentally decompress. My workplace is about a one minute drive from a beautiful branch of the Ice Age Trail on one hand, and, across the street, the Janesville Optimist Community Park. The Ice Age Trail is a paved, slowly-winding path through prairie (with restored prairie grasses) and wood (with deer that are so tame, they don't spook until you are very close to them - I've wondered if they might eat out of your hand, but haven't been brave enough to test this yet). The Optimist Community Park has dirt and grass trails that cover 35 square acres.

On my lunch breaks, I like to take a half hour or thereabouts (or even ten minutes, if I have errands to run) and read while I walk. That's how I read the book I most recently finished, Ad Infinitum. I'll also occasionally turn on the Derive App and see where it takes me. And sometimes, I just walk in, stand, and listen to the birds (it's a bird-watcher's paradise). Whatever it takes, I go there to reconnect with my inner self during the work day. I'm dreading winter, when temps and conditions will make this walk far less likely. Maybe I'll use some of that time for writing.

Recently, like within the last two weeks, I came across a dead mouse in the Optimist Community Park. I felt sorry for the little guy, laying there with flies buzzing around him. So I gave him a little private funeral. My Latin is not great, so I had to settle for the (probably incorrectly-structured) text: Mus mortuus non respirare. I then gathered a few prairie flowers and laid them by him. The next day, the flowers were still there, but Mr. Mus was gone, likely eaten by crows. Of course, I knew that he (honestly, I have no idea how to check for a mouse's gender, nor do I want to know) was going to be eaten, whether by bird, bug, or bacteria. But I wanted to celebrate his little life, really celebrate life itself, as I am closer to the end than the beginning of my own. 

Truth be told, I hike the Ice Age Trail more than the Optimist Community Park trails. So fast forward a couple of days and, lo and behold, I find another mouse dead on the trail, likely stricken by a bicycle. Well, that was odd, I thought. What are the chances that a mouse would be schmucked by a bike while crossing an eight-foot wide paved path?

Apparently VERY high.

Over the course of the last two weeks, I've found five dead mice on my short hikes. And I just happened to get there before the scavengers did. Five dead mice in two weeks on the same stretch of tales. This is how conspiracy theories start. It's like the beginning to an X-Files episode. 

So, in all, I held five very brief mouse funerals. I admit that I checked the trail both ways before plucking prairie flowers. I know how prairie flower aficionados are. Had I been caught by one of them, I likely would have ended up paralyzed, stuffed into a bearskin to be burned alive. But I was able to dodge the prairie flower inquisitors and gave my little bit of homage to these little guys:

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Ad Infinitum: A Biography of Latin

 

Ad Infinitum: A Biography of Latin by Nicholas Ostler
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Six months it took me to read this book. Six months. Not because of it's length, not because it was boring (though there were moments), but because it just took that long to slowly absorb the contents, which are expansive. Nicholas Ostler tackles a sweeping overview of how Latin was a force that shaped history, and how history shaped Latin.

I started "studying" Latin a few years ago, I think it was during Covid, but I was really only dabbling. I've covered my reasons for doing so and my plans for the future elsewhere, so I won't belabor that here. If you have any recommendations, by the way, I'm listening.

My reason for reading Ad Infinitum specifically was this: I stumbled on the book at an estate sale where an older professor for the University of Wisconsin-Madison had collected a very, very large book collection. If it hasn't been made clear yet, I am very picky about what I read and buy. There are only so many pages one can read in life, so I will remain choosy until I die, I suppose. I've wasted too much time reading works that I felt were a waste of my time (to be fair, you don't really know until you've at least begun reading the book), so I don't often take in orphaned books. This was an exception, largely driven by the fact that I happened to have dipped my toe in the language and had, at about that time, begun listening to the excellent History of Rome podcast. Here, then, was a book that bridged the gap between the two.

And the book acts as that bridge, and more. It's not a book primarily about linguistics, though there is a skeleton of the more academic issues of evolving phonemes. It is about culture and the influence that language has on culture and vice versa. It is about the evolution of a spoken and written tongue bending to the will of those who use (and abuse) it. It is more of a convoluted map of how we got to where we are today in regards to this seemingly mystic language and its uses.

Being in no way a Classicist, I do realize that there are some problems with the book, which have been pointed out in other reviews. But overall, I strongly recommend it to the lay reader who wants to understand the context of a language that we read and hear almost every day, but know next to nothing about.

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Into the Cosmos

 

I've been a fan of Decadence Comics for years now. I think I first encountered there work in 2017 or thereabouts. My first purchase of their products was Geopolitical Manipulation Through the use of Fungi Based Parasites on 186F, which I strongly recommend. Since then, I've picked up a variety of their works and never been disappointed. Most of their books feature art by Stathis Tsemberlidis or Lando, a pair of brilliant artists who, when one looks at their work combined, is loosely reminiscent of the work of Moebius combined with that of Pepe Moreno and Arnaud Dombre (better known as Arno, from his collaborations with Jodorowsky in what appears to be the now-defunct Heavy Metal Magazine), but in a more organic register. 

Now, one of my favorite movies of all time is 2001: A Space Odyssey. So, when I saw that 50 Watts Books was publishing a collection of illustrations from Tsemberlidis featuring work from his graphic novelization of 2001, Solaris, and Rendezvous with Rama, along with the comic "Protoconscious", I hit the buy button before I even knew what I was doing. Thankfully, sometimes my instincts are right. 

While the entirety of these stories are not contained herein (except for "Protoconscious"), those familiar with either the written or filmed versions of these science fiction staples will recognize the touchpoints. But Tsemberlidis, while providing gracious nods to the originals, makes the works his own with his distinctive (if not evocative of the aforementioned artists) style and impressionistic structuring of panels. 

I am particularly fond of the illustration of the black monolith of 2001:

Now, I might be playing a little favoritism here, as another black monolith of much larger dimensions, which I dubbed The Black Cliff, features in my newest published Mutant Crawl Classics adventure, At the Mutants of Madness. 

TTRPG nepotism aside, Tsemberlidis has provided here a panoply of compelling imagery and storytelling via illustration. If you're looking for surrealistic science fiction art that uses abstraction to trigger the imagination, you've found yourself a treasure. 

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Mus Mortuus Non Respirare

 I've probably written that sentence incorrectly. There are tens of thousands of people who could correct me if I'm wrong. At least I think there are. But now it's my turn to learn Latin.

Where does this poor dead mouse come in? Well, I have to admit, it's a long stretch from this erstwhile rodent to this page, but in my mind it's not far at all. 

I've been "studying" Latin for a year now. Meaning I've been doing Duolingo. Meaning, I haven't really been studying, but more . . . familiarizing myself with Latin. 

This winter, I intend to begin an honest attempt to learn some Latin. I understand, I'll probably die before I'm fluent. But I'm going to give it my best college try.

Meaning, I'm going to treat it like a class. Sort of. 

As you know, I recently finished I, Claudius. And I'm currently reading Ad Infinitum: A Biography of Latin. I have SPQR lined up to read, as well. And I've listened to a fair clip of The History of Rome podcast. And, of course, I've been trying to translate the little quips from Asterix and Obelix since my youth. 

So, I've read around the language and dabbled a bit. But now it's time to get a little more serious.

I've got a little thumb drive with something like 200 Latin primers. Nice pickup from Etsy. But only recently have I picked up some honest to goodness books. Physical books. Something I can sink my eyes and brain into. They are:

Lingua Latina per se Illustrata: pars 1: Familia Romana, because I hear that this is truly the best book to learn Latin from (Reddit told me so)

Winne Ille Pu, and this one for a couple of reasons, not least of which is that when I lived in Italy, my third grade teacher, Mrs. Wells, who was the best teacher I had until college, read us Winnie the Pooh with all the voices, just like in the movies and when the movie came out at the Air Force base we lived at at the time (San Vito de Normani, if you must know), I stood in line for an hour only to have the theater sell out as we were ten people back in line and I cried and I cried and I cried. Yeah, I was a sensitive kid. But now I get Winnie the Pooh in Latin, and I will always hear in my mind Mrs. Wells, who could have slotted in on any of those movies and given all those professional voice actors a run for their money. No, I'm serious. She was *that* good!

Perseus et Medusa, because I have this recent fascination about Medusa that I can't explain and I'm fairly certain she is going to creep into my next piece of fiction. Almost 100% certain, in fact. 

And, finally, Medieval Latin Lyrics, because I understand the language was very different during the Middle Ages than it had been during the Classical Era and I want a taste of them knights-in-shining-armor kicking but while poorly-quoting Cicero. 

I think I'm going to just dive into all four at once. And I might also give a shot at De Spectris Lemuribus et Magnis because who doesn't like books about ghosts in Latin? 

I'm curious how others have fared in studying Latin outside of the context of a formally-taught course in a bonified educational institution? I suspect that it would benefit me to try that. Maybe later. Much later. When I can take college courses for free because it's interesting to watch retirees march to their grave with their nose in a book. 

Did I mention a book about ghosts in Latin? 

By the way, yes, I laid those flowers by the dead mouse. He just looked so vulnerable there, and I wanted him to be remembered. Plus, it gave me a reason to practice what little Latin I do know, even if it's wrong. Besides, when the world is cold and dead outside and I'm trying to just survive the Wisconsin winter, I can look at this post and think back on the very hot day I took that walk and realize that there's always another spring coming. Well . . . almost always. 

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I, Claudius

 

I, Claudius by Robert Graves
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Why "I, Claudius"? It's a good question. I, Forrest, typically hate biographies, even historical biographies (and I am, by training, a historian). When I lived in Italy, as a young child, I was mostly ambivalent about the place, outside of the amazing food (which is only vaguely like 99.9% of "Italian" food served in America), some of the architecture (we found pillars to old Roman shrines out in the artichoke fields and WWII bunkers on the beach when out exploring), and my initial exposure to Asterix & Obelix. Later in life, as I reflect back on it through nostalgic glasses, Italy was alright. In fact, I'd like to go back and visit.

So, naturally, I should study some Italian, write?

No.

I'm studying Latin. Slowly and haltingly, much in the way Claudius spoke. And I find myself not just trying to learn the grammar and vocabulary, but poking around the language itself and exploring it's origins, it's metamorphosis over time, and the cultures which spoke and wrote it. That is reason number 1.

Reason number 2 is a little more banal. I really liked Robert Grave's book The White Goddess. It's not perfect, but it is compelling enough, warts and all, that I will revisit and reread it again in the future. I can't say that about a lot of non-fiction, if I'm being honest. I wanted to see what Grave's did with a fictional book, based strongly on historical accounts (many of them fictionalized, no doubt).

Reason 3 is Caligula. Who isn't interested in Caligula? If he doesn't at least pique your interest, I don't know if we can be friends. He's one of the more intriguing crazed megalomaniacs in the historical record and if even half the things that are claimed about him are true, he makes even contemporary crazed megalomaniacs (take your pick from any of the superpowers) look tame in comparison. Besides, I don't know if you know this, but Thomas Negovan has worked on a team that has re-done (not "restored," but actually "re-done") the titillating movie about Caligula into something coherent that showcases actor Malcom McDowell's greatest performance, the "Ultimate Cut".

Now, my assessment. It continually held my interest, which is not something I can say about most biographies (fictional or, ha-ha, "non-fictional"). I had listened to the History of Rome podcast some time ago and got to Diocletian or so, so I had a little bit of an idea of what was going to happen. Still, already knowing the end, Graves held my interest enough that I blasted through the last third of the book fairly non-stop. As is usual, I was reading two other books at any given time while reading "I, Claudius," but the lame, stuttering emperor kept me coming back for more, taking up more of my "spare" time than I'd care to admit. Most of the time the book read as smooth as butter.

I attribute this to the voice that Graves breathed into Claudius. Claudius comes across as very human, full of foibles and fears, but with a good sense of humor. Wise, witty, and clumsy as an oaf. I felt for the guy, or at least for his fictional representation. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. After all, as he points out in the ultimate non-sequitur of an ending, he considered himself, first and foremost, a historian.

And were the Claudius parts juicy? If by "juicy," you mean bloody, yes. If you mean "sexy," there's nothing sexually graphic in the novel. Graves uses hints, allegations, and some colorful allusions to hint at the debauchery that was happening (mostly) behind the scenes. But if you're allergic to violence, you might want to reconsider. You think horror movies are violent? Brace yourself.

Overall, though the language was very straightforward (and I like my prose a little more stylized), this was an extremely satisfying read. Graves shows a light touch in the areas that are speculative and chooses to emphasize certain aspects of the historical record (which may or may not be factual, but are at least based on fact) in order to "wow" his readers.

I have to add that my copy of the book is a 1953 paperback that I bought on Ebay. This book has seen some years and, while it arrived in great condition (i.e., I got what I paid for), the thing literally fell apart in my hands as I read it. I can't think of a more apt representation of the slow crumbling of the Roman empire under a trio of despots, the broken chunks of which were put into the hands of the man who chronicled its decay, Claudius himself.

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Dreamland RPG Preview

 If you know me, or if you've read my blog for any length of time, you'll know that three things that inform a great deal of my life are dreams, "weird" fiction, and tabletop roleplaying games. So when I learned, several years ago, that Jason Thompson, artist behind the amazing graphic novel version of The Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath & Other Stories was behind a TTRPG focusing exclusively on the dreamlands, I was very excited. 

Then, last year at Gameholecon, I had the privilege to play in a game and, frankly, was blown away. This is a game that rewards creativity, it is not a player's game, but a creator's game, and I am ALL in on it! The mechanics use word cards that players use to influence and create actions and even the environment itself (a malleable dreamworld where creation is the ultimate power). I had been prepared to be disappointed (just in case), but that preparation melted away as the game play far surpassed my cautious emotional hedging. It was one of the most fun games I've played at a convention (and I've played a few). 

So now, you can download the quickstart rules in preparation for the upcoming Kickstarter next year. I'll be saving my gold pieces to be able to splurge on this one. I only get excited about Kickstarter campaigns every few years - yeah, I'm a skeptic and a bit of a cheapskate at times - but 2025 is going to be the year I get excited. 

Go here to download the quickstart rules. And have a gander at this art! This is just a sample of the goodness that is and will be the Dreamland RPG

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The Book of Monelle

 

The Book of Monelle by Marcel Schwob
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

"When Marcel Schwob published The Book of Monelle in French in 1894, it immediately became the unofficcial bible of the French Symbolist movement," claims the back-cover copy of the (always amazing and criminally under-rated - and, incidentally, publisher of one of my favorite books of recent years) Wakefield Press edition of The Book of Monelle. One can easily see the segue from the artistic themes of the Symbolists (particularly the Belgian contingent) to Schwob's work here. This might also have something to do with the mood and themes of his short story collection The King in the Golden Mask, so, perhaps my artistic synesthesia bleeds into one morass of mythicaly-ethereal dream oceans.

I ascertain that one of the main ways that Monelle fed the symbolists was through a sort of literary sleight-of-hand, in which the title of the book's sections intentionally put one in an emotional state, ready to "receive" what the title had to offer, only to be slipped a story that contrasted with the story's title, sometimes directly opposing it, at other times, skewing meanings in unpredictable ways. This is particularly true in the first section "The Sisters of Monelle". For instance, the story "The Voluptuous" is anything but sexually attractive, while "The Savage" ends on a note of purely innocent love. In some ways, I see this baiting as a very mild precursor to what the dadaists and surrealists would take to extremes later on.

The second section, the actual "Book of Monelle," is a logically-slippery slope, a time-less (meaning that time has become a sort of stew with bits and pieces of past, present, and future swirling before the reader) dreamstate or fugue. Only on reading the translator's notes did I realize that Schwob had written the book using his lover, Louise (surname unknown), a young woman, likely a prostitute, with whom he had fallen in love before she was riddled through and killed by tuberculosis, becoming, over time, a sort of saintly figure in Schwob's mythology. Of course, this was deeply affecting to Schwob, and one can feel the emotional tug of "Monelle" throughout. We can feel Schwob's sorrow and his longing, especially in the pleading of Monelle's suitor to stay with or return to him and the children (not their children, but any child that is trying to escape the entrapment of adulthood and its banalities). So, besides the intellectual and philosophical exercise of the symbolism herein, we are swept up in a powerfully-emotional, softly-turning whirlwind, pushed aloft, then dropped to the depths of sorrow. It is a moving journey, and not one to be soon forgotten.

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