Classical Bookworm

My Kind of Rewards

These days it seems that every retailer has some sort of rewards program. I find them offensive because what it really means is that if you don't hand over your personal information and cram yet another plastic card in your bursting wallet, you will have to pay more for everything in the store. I tend to avoid these programs as a matter of principle, but one I don't mind subscribing to is Amazon Associates.

Danielle recently asked about advertising on blogs in general and Amazon Associates in particular. I have to say that I am a big fan of the system. It's quite a flexible program; it can be as unobtrusive as adding your ID to each Amazon link you post or as flashy as an animated banner. You can link to specific items, showcase bestsellers, or just provide a search box. In return, you get real dollars and cents (not mysterious point counts) for clicks and for purchases made after clicking on your link. Best of all: there's no card!

Bible Bleedthrough: A Rant

Everyone knows that the Bible is the best-selling book of all time. It's also the best-selling book every year, even though almost every family (at least in the U.S.) already has a copy. The thing is, one just isn't enough. The average American household has four Bibles in it. I have eight, including a bilingual edition and a parallel edition containing four English translations, not to mention a parallel Gospels and lectionary. And I have barely scratched the surface. The variety of Bibles out there is truly mindboggling, and readers are happy to buy about a hundred million of them every year. So why is it so hard for publishers to print a Bible that is pleasant to read?

My translation of choice is the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV), which is considered by many to be the most reliable translation into English to date. It's been around for nearly 20 years now, but I have yet to see an edition of it that doesn't make my eyes cringe. Sometimes the typography is the problem, but mostly it's the paper, that flimsy, transparent, dreadful Bible paper. Why is it that publishers think that it's all right to print such an important book on paper so thin you can read what's next page before you get there? As if reading the Bible wasn't challenging enough, the jumble of shadows behind each line just confuses the eye and the brain. No one would dream of publishing even the cheeziest paperback novel on such rotten paper, so why is it OK for the most important book in all of human history?

Book Rich, Cash Poor

Many thanks to the Northwoods Contemplative for sending me this great quote.

The fidelity of Benedictines to the practice of reading has been of great service to mankind.  It had been to secure suitable reading materials for the monks that monastic libraries were established and the skills of literacy preserved.  Although Benedict did not envisage his monks as custodians of culture...nevertheless the devotion to reading which he infused into his followers was sufficiently strong to ensure that much was accomplished in securing the accumulated wisdom of the Greco-Roman World and of western Christianity from the erosion which accompanied the collapse of the western Roman Empire.

Nor should the communal sacrifice demanded by such fidelity be underestimated.  The buiding up of even a small library was an expensive project and the copying of manuscripts kept many workers away from more lucrative employments.  When we consider that Clairvaux, during the forty years of Bernard's abbacy, acquired several hundred tomes, only some of which were gifts, we can form some idea of how many hours some of his monks spent at scriptorium tasks.  To provide a library, an educational system and scope for personal reading demands the outlay of considerable resources and the corresponding acceptance of a lower standard of living and less capital-based influence than would otherwise have been possible.  Dedication to reading is a guaranteed means of staying poor!

—Michael Casey, An Undivided Heart: The Western Monastic Approach to Contemplation

Library Sale Cart Find Du Jour

Sure, I already have a copy of Gilgamesh, but for one dollar I could hardly say no to a brand new, unmarked copy of Stephen Mitchell's popular translation. It's always good to get a second opinion, right?

Thank You, Shoppers!!

Thanks to everyone who has clicked on one of my Amazon.com product links and gone on to buy something. It's taken over a year, but the nickels and dimes I've made off each purchase have added up. A big 'thank you' goes to whoever bought the Xbox 360—that actually accounts for more than half of my kickbacks.

So what have I done with my micro-windfall? Bought a book, of course! The Smithsonian Book of Books by Michael Olmert. It promises over 300 pages of gorgeous illustrations of books through the ages. I can't wait.

I must say it was interesting to peruse what people bought after clicking through my site. Don't worry, there's no way to identify you, not even a date. But who's the Frampton fan? Was Semantics in Generative Grammar a page-turner? And who's been playing Brahms Sonatas? Well, whoever you are, thank you!

Library Sale Cart Gem of the Day

It's this sort of find that keeps me sifting through the thrillers, travel books, and old computer manuals on the library's sale cart: a completely unmarked, gently read copy of California: A History by "legendary California historian," Kevin Starr. It's part of the Modern Library Chronicles series, and you know how I like Modern Library hardcovers (large print, opaque paper, good price—in this case, $1.50!). I'm half-Californian (if I can put it that way) so I have a particular interest in that state. I'm actually surprised that such a giant of a state can be contained in such a small book (370 pages). I expect it will be a mad, magnificent rush through 500 years of influential history.

What Do Don Quixote, Anna Karenina, and The Odyssey Have in Common?

Not only are they great classics, but recent translations of these works have been wildly popular. Sarah's (Loose Baggy Monster) recent mention of the newest translation of War and Peace, due out in October, got me thinking and googling about translations. I found this interesting 2006 article about the business of translations of classic literature. Here are some snippets:

In January, Viking released a version of Leo Tolstoy's "War and Peace," the first new English translation in nearly 40 years of the sprawling Russian saga about the Napoleonic Wars. A blurb on the back jacket of the 1,412-page volume, translated by Anthony Briggs, calls it "the best translation so far of Tolstoy's masterpiece into English."

In fall 2007, Everyman's Library is coming out with its own "War and Peace," translated by husband-and-wife team Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky. "It will be our most important new translation of the year," says LuAnn Walther, the imprint's editorial director.

Although the best-seller list is currently dominated by writers like James Patterson, Dean Koontz and Nora Roberts, one surprising corner of the publishing business is thriving: new translations of old classics. This month, Viking will publish a fresh version of Alexandre Dumas's "The Three Musketeers," followed by Virgil's "The Aeneid" three months later. In October, Yale University Press is releasing its take on Plato's "The Republic." Next year, readers will see updated works by Albert Camus and Franz Kafka, as well as Sun Tzu's "The Art of War."

Hail Yale!

It's Imani's fault.

Cosmos, Chaos and the World to Come: The Ancient Roots of Apocalyptic Faith

Christianity and Classical Culture: The Metamorphosis of Natural Theology in the Christian Encounter with Hellenism

The Idea of Wilderness: From Prehistory to the Age of Ecology

By the way, the sale is still on.

Wisdom of the Wishlist

I noticed something extraordinary on my Amazon Wishlist today. The Norton Anthology of English Literature, 8th edition hardcover, has dropped in price from $88.31 to $57.44 per volume. That's a drop of 35%, which brings the hardcover to within $5 of the paperback. Wow.

What happened? This anthology has been on my wishlist since before it was released in Canada, but I've been reluctant to buy it because of the price. I can't remember if it was discounted before, but it certainly is now, though no discount is indicated on the website. The price in the US is only discounted 12%, so this is strictly a Canadian phenomenon. [Correction: I was looking at the wrong edition; the US price is similarly discounted.] Perhaps a new printing or revised edition is on its way, though there is no indication of it on Norton's site.

Who can divine the secrets of Amazon? The main reason I noticed this is because when I add something to my Wishlist, I note down the price at that time in the "notes" box. That way I can track changes in the price over time. More often than not the price goes down, often marginally but sometimes substantially, as in this case. This is in contrast to the tendency of books left in a shopping cart to increase in price over time.

There is a danger to leaving things on your wishlist too long, though. I've seen things go out of print amazingly quickly, leaving me at the mercy of what can only be described as scalpers—Amazon Marketplace merchants who jack up the price of recently out-of-print items. One paperback book on my wishlist, the original price of which I neglected to write down but which couldn't have been over $35, is now going for $170. Ridiculous.

So I guess the wisdom of the wishlist is to stay vigilant. Note down prices, and keep an eye on changes in availability, which is probably the best advance warning that something is about to go out of print. Does anyone else have any wishlist wisdom to share?

Gabo and Cervantes: ¡Que Lindos!

I finally got my Real Academia Española anniversary editions of Don Quijote de la Mancha and Cien Años de Soledad. What beautiful books! As a person who finds dustjackets troublesome I like the glossy printed covers. Both books have ribbon markers, as well as essays and glossaries to support the texts. Cien Años has the usual genealogy but also a glossary of characters—I've read far enough into the book before to know how handy that will be. Don Quijote has footnotes (Viva footnotes! Death to endnotes!) and beautiful decorations in the introductory section. I especially love how the last few lines of each section taper towards the final flourish. Why don't publishers do this sort of thing more often? It's details like this that make a book special.