So, the story goes something like this. After finishing his first volume of the Decline, Edward Gibbon gives the Duke of Gloucester a copy of it. When he finishes the second volume, and presents him with a copy of that one as well, the duke replies "Another damned, thick, square book! Always scribble, scribble, scribble, eh, Mr. Gibbon?!"
And why am I sharing this? Well, aside from still deluding myself into thinking I'm actually going to finish that work one day--but dammit I will! I just keep getting distracted. It's not that I can't get into it. Hell, Gibbon's prose is a delight to read. No, it's that damned Oliphant Smeaton! Why did I have to get the Modern Library version, with that little sniveling twerp editing it? And having to endure him putting his own annoying, footnotes into it? And right alongside Gibbon's footnotes! You cannot choose to ignore the footnotes, because Gibbon puts some of his best lines in them. But you never know "whose" footnote you will accessing when you go to one. And when you go to one, and then find it is just Smeaton taking a jab at Gibbon (Gibbon was mistaken on this point....Gibbon errs here...), it's annoying as hell! The little bug! I've got to find another copy of it, there's just no getting around it.
Okay, where was I? Ah yes, it's not about the book, but about the duke's snide remark. And how I so wished that could be applied to me. I have such a hard time trying to keep at my writing. I'll have stretches where I get going pretty well, but all too soon, nothing.
The best time for me to write is in the mornings. Early morning. But the latest little ploy I have found is telling myself I should really be using that time to go to the gym. And I really do need to lose some weight, you know. And when else am I going to do it? But do I actually go to the gym? No, I end up doing neither. Result: still fat and no words.
But at least I think I know why I keep defeating myself. As long as I just fantasize about it, I can be the most brilliant and sought-after writer on the planet. My prose is so creative and groundbreaking, everyone who opens one of my books is amazed at my skills. And how many interviews have I done in my head? So many that Terry Gross and I have become good friends, and periodically meet for drinks. Cosmopolitans. I bet she drinks cosmopolitans.
The hard truth I am presented with, is when I actually sit down and start to write, all of those flowing lines aren't there. In my fantasy world, I'm a wonderful writer. In the real world, I'm just a hack.
Showing posts with label Gibbon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gibbon. Show all posts
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Decline and Fall
So I recently started re-reading Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Well, re-reading is not completely accurate. I only got about half-way through the first volume last time. And that was close to 20 years ago. I decided to start from the beginning again, and am determined to get through all three volumes of 2777 pages. It's slow going this time, since I'm making it a point of really taking my time, not moving on until I really understand the point Gibbon is trying to make. And this time I'm reading all the footnotes, which I didn't bother to do last time. And therein lies my beef.
Most people will agree that Gibbon's footnotes contain some of the juiciest morsels, and to read D&F without reading the footnotes is missing out on half the fun. But the edition I am reading contains additional footnotes by the editor, Oliphant Smeaton. And it's driving me absolutely bonkers. Mr. Smeaton finds it necessary to include his own footnotes every other page; sometimes several per page. And most of his footnotes are his pathetic attempts to correct Gibbon.
Here's an example. To quote Gibbon:
Wholly incorrect, huh? Really? Yes, we all know of Gibbon's bias towards the church. And that he blames the Christian religion as being one of the determining factors in the fall of Rome. But I also happen to agree with him. So do a lot of people. It is Gibbon's book. He wrote it. You may or may not agree with some of his theories. If you don't, keep it to yourself. You pusillanimous little prick.
As I said before, his additional footnotes are really getting on my nerves. Determined not to miss out on any of Gibbon's own footnotes, I've been making it a point to follow up each one. But when you see the number for a footnote, you don't know whose footnote it is until you look down to find it on the bottom part of the page. Although, Mr. Oliphant was kind enough to delineate his by putting them in brackets, and signing them O.S., by the time I've discovered it is one of his, and that I really don't care to read it, the flow of Gibbon's words (and he was a helluva wordsmith) has already been disrupted. And I find myself wanting to find a gladius, and skewering old O.S.
I see his little additions as nothing more than the attempt of a pathetic little man to claim some fame by riding on the back of a giant. I even have a picture in my head of what Oliphant looks like; probably not accurate, but it's still there. I see a tall, severely thin man, bald, and wearing horn-rimmed glasses. His face, long neck and stooping posture reminds me of a vulture. And I suppose the metaphor is not an inaccurate one. Picking over the meaty carcass of Gibbon, he's found a way to sustain himself, and has managed to attain some level of immortality. Which is more than I will ever be able to attain.
Most people will agree that Gibbon's footnotes contain some of the juiciest morsels, and to read D&F without reading the footnotes is missing out on half the fun. But the edition I am reading contains additional footnotes by the editor, Oliphant Smeaton. And it's driving me absolutely bonkers. Mr. Smeaton finds it necessary to include his own footnotes every other page; sometimes several per page. And most of his footnotes are his pathetic attempts to correct Gibbon.
Here's an example. To quote Gibbon:
The influence of the clergy, in an age of superstition, might be usefully employed to assert the rights of mankind; but so intimate is the connection between the throne and the altar, that the hammer of the church has very seldom been seen on the side of the people.Mr. Oliphant's footnote to this passage is the following:
[Gibbon's remark here is wholly incorrect. --O.S.]
Wholly incorrect, huh? Really? Yes, we all know of Gibbon's bias towards the church. And that he blames the Christian religion as being one of the determining factors in the fall of Rome. But I also happen to agree with him. So do a lot of people. It is Gibbon's book. He wrote it. You may or may not agree with some of his theories. If you don't, keep it to yourself. You pusillanimous little prick.
As I said before, his additional footnotes are really getting on my nerves. Determined not to miss out on any of Gibbon's own footnotes, I've been making it a point to follow up each one. But when you see the number for a footnote, you don't know whose footnote it is until you look down to find it on the bottom part of the page. Although, Mr. Oliphant was kind enough to delineate his by putting them in brackets, and signing them O.S., by the time I've discovered it is one of his, and that I really don't care to read it, the flow of Gibbon's words (and he was a helluva wordsmith) has already been disrupted. And I find myself wanting to find a gladius, and skewering old O.S.
I see his little additions as nothing more than the attempt of a pathetic little man to claim some fame by riding on the back of a giant. I even have a picture in my head of what Oliphant looks like; probably not accurate, but it's still there. I see a tall, severely thin man, bald, and wearing horn-rimmed glasses. His face, long neck and stooping posture reminds me of a vulture. And I suppose the metaphor is not an inaccurate one. Picking over the meaty carcass of Gibbon, he's found a way to sustain himself, and has managed to attain some level of immortality. Which is more than I will ever be able to attain.
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