The kids’ next book is the Iliad, not The Birds, so I looked around for my beloved Fitzgerald Iliad and couldn’t find it. I snapped. Now I’m reorganizing our books, starting with the three overloaded bookcases in the foyer: empty them, dust them, mop the floor, and then start cataloging the books with LibraryThing and restocking the shelves. Since I last used LibraryThing they’ve added Library of Congress catalog numbers, which is the system I prefer. Having something free and online like that beats any of the open-source library management programs.
Later… the foyer is almost ready for books, so I’ve started cataloging them—here’s our LibraryThing catalog. Maybe 10000 still to go.
Meanwhile, in everyday reading I’ve been forgetting to mention,
- Just before bed I’m reading Heath’s translation of Aristotle’s Poetics in the Penguin Classics series—not A. yet, just Heath’s introduction.
- The morning smoke break has been each day’s per annum readings in the Ordinary Form. Today was dinner at Simon the Pharisee’s house and an impromptu footbath courtesy of an unnamed sinful woman with an alabaster jar of ointment. I always recall a bit of the lyrics from Over the Rhine‘s The Seahorse when reading that: I can always tell you/anything at all./Break the alabaster,/heart beats faster.
- I learned that Lisa and the kids checked out Fitzgerald’s Iliad on their last library trip, so I’ve gratefully resumed the story where Odysseus and a couple of buddies are sent to try to get Akhilleus back in the fight.