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The subject line is spoken by Pericles in the Shakespeare play of the same name, upon hearing that his beloved father-in-law is dead.

Hearing it tonight, at the Nashville Shakespeare Festival, I immediately thought of David Bevington, my University of Chicago Shakespeare professor, who was for many years a familiar figure flying from his home on Blackstone to various classes, meals, and performances around campus. A renowned scholar, he was also a very gracious man who was unquestionably responsible for me getting offers from grad schools (several interviewers made a point of telling me his letter on my behalf was impressive -- this in spite of me not having earned a solid A in his courses) and also a dedicated violist.

Since hearing of his passing, I haven't been sad, exactly -- he was in his late 80s, and I had figured that I would be reading his obituary sooner than later, although he was also spry enough that I also wouldn't have been surprised if he had made it to 100. But the world does feel a distinct shade colder with him gone.

The performance of Pericles was by the apprentice company, and it was a mixed bag. Some of the singing was gorgeous, and much of it wasn't quite in tune. But I was entertained by other audience members' attempts to understand what the heck is going on in the play (it's such a mess -- I'm fond of it, but it is SUCH a mess), I finally got to try the vegan ice cream joint that's been getting rave reviews (Kokofetti and peach scoops, yo), and even though I know the play well, I nonetheless cried in reaction to a couple of peak moments. Nice to see graceful dancing by non-waifs, too. Oh, and as Shakespeare does, there was a standout moment that hadn't registered with me during previous performances/reads: this time it was the nurse telling Pericles to pull his damn self together because his kid needs him.

This entry was originally posted at https://bronze-ribbons.dreamwidth.org/418066.html. I see comments at DW, IJ, and LJ (when notifications are working, anyway), but not on feeds.
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Hearst's morning newspaper in Chicago had recently folded, and in a period when newspapermen were generally scarce, Chicago boasted a temporary surplus. So for an adamantly liberal newspaper, the Sun began life with a sensational collection--about half the staff--of Hearst hacks and reactionaries, spiced by a few rummies. (For months the Sun was referred to as "the Field Museum of Hearst Antiques.")

- Stephen Becker, MARSHALL FIELD III (1964)


This entry was originally posted at http://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/85200.html.
pondhop: white jointed mannequin in glass door (Default)


Heart's morning newspaper in Chicago had recently folded, and in a period when newspapermen were generally scarce, Chicago boasted a temporary surplus. So for an adamantly liberal newspaper, the Sun began life with a sensational collection--about half the staff--of Hearst hacks and reactionaries, spiced by a few rummies. (For months the Sun was referred to as "the Field Museum of Heart Antiques.")

- Stephen Becker, MARSHALL FIELD III (1964)


This entry was originally posted at http://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/85200.html.
pondhop: white jointed mannequin in glass door (Default)

Posner spends significant firepower assailing The Bluebook: A Uniform System of Citation. This compendium (The Chicago Manual of Style for lawyers) might seem an unworthy target. Yet he is excoriating not just the Bluebook, but also the substitution of style over substance it represents. When created in 1926, supposedly by the great appellate judge Henry Friendly, the manual was 26 pages. A recent edition spans 511 pages. Posner appears to believe that following the Bluebook is about as bad as rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic -- and by reverse order of manufacture, no less. He casts the Bluebook as a neurotic reaction to external complexity; if you cannot control what is important, you make important what you can control. Posner notes that Friendly himself recommended that later editions be treated as the Greeks treated their unwanted progeny.



Beneath the great seal of the United States, Posner's chambers should have a crest of a mongoose, encircled with Kipling's dictum: "Run and Find Out."



[Posner's statement re an opinion he wrote on voter ID] has been interpreted as a recantation, yet it's less an admission of error than an admission of uncertainty. This is consistent with his general approach: to acknowledge complexity, vacuum up as many facts as possible and then do his best.



http://www.nytimes.com/2013/11/10/books/review/richard-a-posners-reflections-on-judging.html

This entry was originally posted at http://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/68663.html.

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