Heliodorus’ Ethiopian Story. (summary, Book 3)

After a longish description of the ritual itself for the curious Knemon, Calasiris mentions that the leader of the Thessalians, who claimed to be a direct descendent of Achilles, is Theagenes. Theagenes draws the attention of all, until Charicleia appears, who has a role in the ritual. At first sight they fall in love, as Calasiris alone observes. When Calasiris returned to Charicles’ home, he finds Charicleia already disturbed with love, although only he realizes what is the problem. To her worried father however, Calasiris proclaims that Charicleia is suffering under the influence of the Evil Eye, and promises to help all he can. He and Charicles then go to a banquet put on by Theagenes, and Calasiris notes how Theagenes too is sick with love. He is toasted by Theagenes, and that night Apollo and Artemis commend the couple to him and order him to return to Egypt with them. At first light the next morning Theagenes comes to Calasiris, who proclaims Theagenes is in love. The startled young man confesses that he is in a desperate way, and swears to do whatever Calasiris tells him. Then Calasiris goes off to meet Charicles, who has had an alarming dream and who is deeply worried about his daughter’s deteriorating condition. Calasiris examines Charicleia, who is in a bad way. Calasiris promises to effect a cure soon and leaves.

source : http://www.chss.montclair.edu/classics/petron/heliodorus.html 

Sophocles: Antigone. Excerpt from the Punishment

As the seer Teiresias warns Creon of the consequences of his inflexibility, the ruler relents, but it’s too late.

TEIRESIAS
Know then for sure, the coursers of the sun
Not many times shall run their race, before
Thou shalt have given the fruit of thine own loins
In quittance of thy murder, life for life;
For that thou hast entombed a living soul,
And sent below a denizen of earth,
And wronged the nether gods by leaving here
A corpse unlaved, unwept, unsepulchered.
Herein thou hast no part, nor e’en the gods
In heaven; and thou usurp’st a power not thine.
For this the avenging spirits of Heaven and Hell
Who dog the steps of sin are on thy trail:
What these have suffered thou shalt suffer too.
And now, consider whether bought by gold
I prophesy. For, yet a little while,
And sound of lamentation shall be heard,
Of men and women through thy desolate halls;
And all thy neighbor States are leagues to avenge
Their mangled warriors who have found a grave
I’ the maw of wolf or hound, or winged bird
That flying homewards taints their city’s air.
These are the shafts, that like a bowman I
Provoked to anger, loosen at thy breast,
Unerring, and their smart thou shalt not shun.
Boy, lead me home, that he may vent his spleen
On younger men, and learn to curb his tongue
With gentler manners than his present mood.
[Exit TEIRESIAS]

CHORUS
My liege, that man hath gone, foretelling woe.
And, O believe me, since these grizzled locks
Were like the raven, never have I known
The prophet’s warning to the State to fail.

CREON
I know it too, and it perplexes me.
To yield is grievous, but the obstinate soul
That fights with Fate, is smitten grievously.

CHORUS
Son of Menoeceus, list to good advice.

CHORUS
What should I do. Advise me. I will heed.

CHORUS
Go, free the maiden from her rocky cell;
And for the unburied outlaw build a tomb.

CREON
Is that your counsel? You would have me yield?

CHORUS
Yea, king, this instant. Vengeance of the gods
Is swift to overtake the impenitent.

CREON
Ah! what a wrench it is to sacrifice
My heart’s resolve; but Fate is ill to fight.
CHORUS
Go, trust not others. Do it quick thyself.

CREON
I go hot-foot. Bestir ye one and all,
My henchmen! Get ye axes! Speed away
To yonder eminence! I too will go,
For all my resolution this way sways.
‘Twas I that bound, I too will set her free.
Almost I am persuaded it is best
To keep through life the law ordained of old.
[Exit CREON]

CHORUS
(Str. 1)
Thou by many names adored,
Child of Zeus the God of thunder,
Of a Theban bride the wonder,
Fair Italia’s guardian lord;

In the deep-embosomed glades
Of the Eleusinian Queen
Haunt of revelers, men and maids,
Dionysus, thou art seen.

Where Ismenus rolls his waters,
Where the Dragon’s teeth were sown,
Where the Bacchanals thy daughters
Round thee roam,
There thy home;
Thebes, O Bacchus, is thine own.

(Ant. 1)
Thee on the two-crested rock
Lurid-flaming torches see;
Where Corisian maidens flock,
Thee the springs of Castaly.

By Nysa’s bastion ivy-clad,
By shores with clustered vineyards glad,
There to thee the hymn rings out,
And through our streets we Thebans shout,
All hail to thee
Evoe, Evoe!

(Str. 2)
Oh, as thou lov’st this city best of all,
To thee, and to thy Mother levin-stricken,
In our dire need we call;
Thou see’st with what a plague our townsfolk sicken.
Thy ready help we crave,
Whether adown Parnassian heights descending,
Or o’er the roaring straits thy swift was wending,
Save us, O save!

(Ant. 2)
Brightest of all the orbs that breathe forth light,
Authentic son of Zeus, immortal king,
Leader of all the voices of the night,
Come, and thy train of Thyiads with thee bring,
Thy maddened rout
Who dance before thee all night long, and shout,
Thy handmaids we,
Evoe, Evoe!

[Enter MESSENGER]

MESSENGER
Attend all ye who dwell beside the halls
Of Cadmus and Amphion. No man’s life
As of one tenor would I praise or blame,
For Fortune with a constant ebb and rise
Casts down and raises high and low alike,
And none can read a mortal’s horoscope.
Take Creon; he, methought, if any man,
Was enviable. He had saved this land
Of Cadmus from our enemies and attained
A monarch’s powers and ruled the state supreme,
While a right noble issue crowned his bliss.
Now all is gone and wasted, for a life
Without life’s joys I count a living death.
You’ll tell me he has ample store of wealth,
The pomp and circumstance of kings; but if
These give no pleasure, all the rest I count
The shadow of a shade, nor would I weigh
His wealth and power ‘gainst a dram of joy.

CHORUS
What fresh woes bring’st thou to the royal house?

MESSENGER
Both dead, and they who live deserve to die.

CHORUS
Who is the slayer, who the victim? speak.

MESSENGER
Haemon; his blood shed by no stranger hand.

CHORUS
What mean ye? by his father’s or his own?

MESSENGER
His own; in anger for his father’s crime.

CHORUS
O prophet, what thou spakest comes to pass.

MESSENGER
So stands the case; now ’tis for you to act.

CHORUS
Lo! from the palace gates I see approaching
Creon’s unhappy wife, Eurydice.
Comes she by chance or learning her son’s fate?
[Enter EURYDICE]

EURYDICE
Ye men of Thebes, I overheard your talk.
As I passed out to offer up my prayer
To Pallas, and was drawing back the bar
To open wide the door, upon my ears
There broke a wail that told of household woe
Stricken with terror in my handmaids’ arms
I fell and fainted. But repeat your tale
To one not unacquaint with misery.

MESSENGER
Dear mistress, I was there and will relate
The perfect truth, omitting not one word.
Why should we gloze and flatter, to be proved
Liars hereafter? Truth is ever best.
Well, in attendance on my liege, your lord,
I crossed the plain to its utmost margin, where
The corse of Polyneices, gnawn and mauled,
Was lying yet. We offered first a prayer
To Pluto and the goddess of cross-ways,
With contrite hearts, to deprecate their ire.
Then laved with lustral waves the mangled corse,
Laid it on fresh-lopped branches, lit a pyre,
And to his memory piled a mighty mound
Of mother earth. Then to the caverned rock,
The bridal chamber of the maid and Death,
We sped, about to enter. But a guard
Heard from that godless shrine a far shrill wail,
And ran back to our lord to tell the news.
But as he nearer drew a hollow sound
Of lamentation to the King was borne.
He groaned and uttered then this bitter plaint:
“Am I a prophet? miserable me!
Is this the saddest path I ever trod?
‘Tis my son’s voice that calls me. On press on,
My henchmen, haste with double speed to the tomb
Where rocks down-torn have made a gap, look in
And tell me if in truth I recognize
The voice of Haemon or am heaven-deceived.”
So at the bidding of our distraught lord
We looked, and in the craven’s vaulted gloom
I saw the maiden lying strangled there,
A noose of linen twined about her neck;
And hard beside her, clasping her cold form,
Her lover lay bewailing his dead bride
Death-wedded, and his father’s cruelty.
When the King saw him, with a terrible groan
He moved towards him, crying, “O my son
What hast thou done? What ailed thee? What mischance
Has reft thee of thy reason? O come forth,
Come forth, my son; thy father supplicates.”
But the son glared at him with tiger eyes,
Spat in his face, and then, without a word,
Drew his two-hilted sword and smote, but missed
His father flying backwards. Then the boy,
Wroth with himself, poor wretch, incontinent
Fell on his sword and drove it through his side
Home, but yet breathing clasped in his lax arms
The maid, her pallid cheek incarnadined
With his expiring gasps. So there they lay
Two corpses, one in death. His marriage rites
Are consummated in the halls of Death:
A witness that of ills whate’er befall
Mortals’ unwisdom is the worst of all.
[Exit EURYDICE]

CHORUS
What makest thou of this? The Queen has gone
Without a word importing good or ill.

MESSENGER
I marvel too, but entertain good hope.
‘Tis that she shrinks in public to lament
Her son’s sad ending, and in privacy
Would with her maidens mourn a private loss.
Trust me, she is discreet and will not err.

CHORUS
I know not, but strained silence, so I deem,
Is no less ominous than excessive grief.

MESSENGER
Well, let us to the house and solve our doubts,
Whether the tumult of her heart conceals
Some fell design. It may be thou art right:
Unnatural silence signifies no good.

CHORUS
Lo! the King himself appears.
Evidence he with him bears
‘Gainst himself (ah me! I quake
‘Gainst a king such charge to make)
But all must own,
The guilt is his and his alone.

CREON
(Str. 1)
Woe for sin of minds perverse,
Deadly fraught with mortal curse.
Behold us slain and slayers, all akin.
Woe for my counsel dire, conceived in sin.
Alas, my son,
Life scarce begun,
Thou wast undone.
The fault was mine, mine only, O my son!

CHORUS
Too late thou seemest to perceive the truth.

CREON
(Str. 2)
By sorrow schooled. Heavy the hand of God,
Thorny and rough the paths my feet have trod,
Humbled my pride, my pleasure turned to pain;
Poor mortals, how we labor all in vain!
[Enter SECOND MESSENGER]

SECOND MESSENGER
Sorrows are thine, my lord, and more to come,
One lying at thy feet, another yet
More grievous waits thee, when thou comest home.

CREON
What woe is lacking to my tale of woes?

SECOND MESSENGER
Thy wife, the mother of thy dead son here,
Lies stricken by a fresh inflicted blow.

CREON
(Ant. 1)
How bottomless the pit!
Does claim me too, O Death?
What is this word he saith,
This woeful messenger? Say, is it fit
To slay anew a man already slain?
Is Death at work again,
Stroke upon stroke, first son, then mother slain?

CHORUS
Look for thyself. She lies for all to view.

CREON
(Ant. 2)
Alas! another added woe I see.
What more remains to crown my agony?
A minute past I clasped a lifeless son,
And now another victim Death hath won.
Unhappy mother, most unhappy son!

SECOND MESSENGER
Beside the altar on a keen-edged sword
She fell and closed her eyes in night, but erst
She mourned for Megareus who nobly died
Long since, then for her son; with her last breath
She cursed thee, the slayer of her child.

CREON
(Str. 3)
I shudder with affright
O for a two-edged sword to slay outright
A wretch like me,
Made one with misery.

SECOND MESSENGER
‘Tis true that thou wert charged by the dead Queen
As author of both deaths, hers and her son’s.

CREON
In what wise was her self-destruction wrought?

SECOND MESSENGER
Hearing the loud lament above her son
With her own hand she stabbed herself to the heart.

CREON
(Str. 4)
I am the guilty cause. I did the deed,
Thy murderer. Yea, I guilty plead.
My henchmen, lead me hence, away, away,
A cipher, less than nothing; no delay!

CHORUS
Well said, if in disaster aught is well
His past endure demand the speediest cure.

CREON
(Ant. 3)
Come, Fate, a friend at need,
Come with all speed!
Come, my best friend,
And speed my end!
Away, away!
Let me not look upon another day!

CHORUS
This for the morrow; to us are present needs
That they whom it concerns must take in hand.

CREON
I join your prayer that echoes my desire.

CHORUS
O pray not, prayers are idle; from the doom
Of fate for mortals refuge is there none.

CREON
(Ant. 4)
Away with me, a worthless wretch who slew
Unwitting thee, my son, thy mother too.
Whither to turn I know now; every way
Leads but astray,
And on my head I feel the heavy weight
Of crushing Fate.

from here
IdiotDeProfundisCredits :Internet Ancient History Sourcebook 

http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/ancient/asbook.html
Thank you dear Sirs 

Sophocles: Antigone. Excerpt from the defence

Creon’s son, Haemon, who is engaged to Antigone, attempts to defend her actions to his father.

CREON
What, would you have us at our age be schooled,
Lessoned in prudence by a beardless boy?

HAEMON
I plead for justice, father, nothing more.
Weigh me upon my merit, not my years.

CREON
Strange merit this to sanction lawlessness!

HAEMON
For evil-doers I would urge no plea.

CREON
Is not this maid an arrant law-breaker?

HAEMON
The Theban commons with one voice say, No.

CREON
What, shall the mob dictate my policy?

HAEMON
‘Tis thou, methinks, who speakest like a boy.

CREON
Am I to rule for others, or myself?

HAEMON
A State for one man is no State at all.

CREON
The State is his who rules it, so ’tis held.

HAEMON
As monarch of a desert thou wouldst shine.

CREON
This boy, methinks, maintains the woman’s cause.

HAEMON
If thou be’st woman, yes. My thought’s for thee.

CREON
O reprobate, would’st wrangle with thy sire?

HAEMON
Because I see thee wrongfully perverse.

CREON
And am I wrong, if I maintain my rights?

HAEMON
Talk not of rights; thou spurn’st the due of Heaven

CREON
O heart corrupt, a woman’s minion thou!

HAEMON
Slave to dishonor thou wilt never find me.

CREON
Thy speech at least was all a plea for her.

HAEMON
And thee and me, and for the gods below.

CREON
Living the maid shall never be thy bride.

HAEMON
So she shall die, but one will die with her.

CREON
Hast come to such a pass as threaten me?

HAEMON
What threat is this, vain counsels to reprove?

CREON
Vain fool to instruct thy betters; thou shall rue it.

HAEMON
Wert not my father, I had said thou err’st.

CREON
Play not the spaniel, thou a woman’s slave.

HAEMON
When thou dost speak, must no man make reply?

CREON
This passes bounds. By heaven, thou shalt not rate
And jeer and flout me with impunity.
Off with the hateful thing that she may die
At once, beside her bridegroom, in his sight.

HAEMON
Think not that in my sight the maid shall die,
Or by my side; never shalt thou again
Behold my face hereafter. Go, consort
With friends who like a madman for their mate.
[Exit HAEMON] 

many?

I notice that my blog gets a lot of visits lately. I am wondering if people read what I post, well I’m not wondering, not really. I know not many spent time to read on the PC screen.

Who would like to read Sophocles for e.g.
or mine.

I am obliged to carry-on.

I do not post usual stuff, nor will I ever will.

I don’t like the actual trash-trend.

William Shakespeare : Shall I Compare Thee, (Sonnet XVIII)

Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s day?
Thou are more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And Summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. 

William Shakespeare : Sonnet CXVI

Sonnet CXVI
by William Shakespeare

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love,
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
Oh, no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests.. and is never shaken.
It is the star to every wandering bark
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love is not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come.
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out.. even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved. 

idiot’s “exclusive” interview (heh heh!)

Creative Writers Interview Questions

1. If you could be an animal for a day, which one and why?
-an Owl. I’m a night stalker

2. What is the one thing someone says in a critique or comment in a reply that bugs you?
-thanks for sharing

3. Do you have a certain time when you feel most creative? least?
-I said I’m an owl

4. What motivates you?
-the human breath, a whisper.

5. The one thing readers miss in my writing is :
-my writing.

6. How does your spouse/significant other feel about you writing? A hobby, distraction or passion for you? Other? Does he/she think you’ll ever “make it� as a writer?
-I already earn my living through art, not by writing though. They think it’s only a hobby, an eccentricity…maybe they’re right.

7. Do you usually feel satisfied with a finished piece?
-Haven’t thought about it. I usually look for the next whisper that comes along.

8. What are the most difficult things to describe?
-when i succeed describing my self, then I’ll tackle other obstacles

9. Words I hate, or won’t use.
-commercial brands and abbreviations like “LOL”

10. Words I use too much.
-Commas should be abolished.

11. If I were independently wealthy and could purchase any car I wanted, what would it be and why? Or, do you abstain driving because of environmental reasons?
-I’ve had a few good cars. Now I prefer cycling.

12. I think I’ll a) live forever; b) die at a ripe old age; c) my days on earth are few d) other?
-Another human illusion. You know, humans only live a few days, people don’t realise that.

13. (from JustAWriter): I want to know what motivates people, and in particular what motivates them to use a community such as this.
-Vanity, pretention, loneliness, applause and serious lack of communication.

14. I will be most likely to write when I’m a) happy; b) angry; c) depressed; d) all of the above e) none of the above.
-when i hear a whisper.

15. My favorite poetry subject to read or write is :
-the infinite descend into our inner world.

16. My favorite prose subject to read or write is:
-Same.

17. Will you write a bestseller?
-Repetez la question, s’il vous plait…

18. The Creative Writers reader who replies to my work and often understands it is :
-a healthy psychopath

19. I’m surprised when someone reads my works and says :
-oh! now I get it ( sure )

20. I’m embarrassed when someone finds out that I :
-am not an idiot

21. I love(d) my mom and dad.
-”How to love your parents, for idiots”…Buy it Now!!

22. (from Elemental Warrior):Do people (friends, family, acquaintances, etc.) admire you for being a writer?…
-Au contraire, I admire them, they sleep in a sea of tranquilty.

23. (from Elemental Warrior):Are you a better writer than you were a year ago?
-I hear more whispers now.

24. Book (s) or internet writing I’ve read recently that have had the most impact on my writing style :
-a toast lobster recipe

25. Anyone who wants to write should read :
-Homer, Marcel Proust and Thomas Mann.

26. Best time of day for me to write.
-I’m an owl.

27. Worst time of day for me to write.
-I’m an owl, you keep forgetting.

28. Favorite comment (s) people make about my writing.
-Yes, now…

29. (From JustAWriter): I’d like to know if, how and where people market work, particularly short stories/extracts that are not suitable for mainstream magazines.
-Repetez la question s’il vous plait

30. Worst comment (s) people make about my writing.
-Hi idiot, LOL!

31. I have writing goals. If yes, are they: a) in your head; b) written on a paper somewhere; c) neatly written in a journal; d) typed out on paper and posted in front of your work station so you see them every day; d) other (please explain).
-a piece of paper to note a few whispers.

32. Besides lack of time, the thing that keeps me from writing is :
-sex, either for pleasure or obligation.

33. If I could spend a few hours with another msn group writer, it would be :
-RainDropsAreFallingOnMyHead

34. I would be in a favor of a gathering/conference of Creative Writer’s members. If yes, where should it be held?
-Twin Towers, last floor.

35. I wish people knew this about me :
-heh heh!!

36. One writing mistake I use to make :
-still make it

37. Best writing advice:
-Only empty tin cans make noise, so fill’em up. If you’re in haste to write and feel stress and angst, there is only one answer I vividly recommend : The launch of an ecological, loud fart is a sound solution! but care to launch it on a regular basis.

38. I have cats, dogs, other?
-I travel too much, animals need caring. With them, I must be responsible. No cats and dogs, though I grew up with both.

39 The prose subject that bores me the most :
-Sci-fi ( except Jules Vernes )

40. Something I’d like to see written about more :
-an essay about how ignorant and idiots we all are, but honesty is a rare commodity.

41. (From Elemental Warrior):Besides money, what would you most like to get or be rewarded with, for your writing?
-The respect of my fellow artist, mainly for my painting. Later for my writing.

42. (From Elemental Warrior):Which do you like better, the action of writing the story, or the sense of completion once the story is done?
-The action of the creative process is more stimulating.

43. I think I’ve become the best writer I can be, now others need to discover me (y/n).
-who needs an idiot

44. The subject that will make me cry.
-no idea, maybe a farewell to…I ‘m not sure.

45. The subject I avoid reading.
-Sci-fi

46. If I see a woman with children stranded in a broken down car by the side of the road, I’ll most likely: a). stop and help her; b) call for help from my cell; c) feel badly for her, but drive on and do nothing; d) not give them a second thought; e) think, tough luck lady, glad it’s you and not me; f) none of these.
a) + b).
-i’m an idiot remember…

47. If I wanted to go to college and had the ways and means, I’d study :
-archaeology

48. If I couldn’t write, I’d like to be a professional a) singer; b) musician; c) rock star; d) dancer; e) politician; f) artist g) other.
-I am an artist who writes from time-to-time.

49. Favorite beverage while writing.
-a double espresso

50. Favorite snack while writing.
-the above + water

51. (From Barefoot/Julie): I’d like to know [your] favorite author, book, poet, poem, song, songwriter, movie and director.
-author: Marcel Proust. book: Odyssey. poet: Cavafy. poem: J. Keats “Lamia”. movie: Eisenstein’s “Potemkin” director: Orson Welles.

52: (From Elemental Warrior): What did you learn about writing recently?
-only about 3% is worth reading

53: (From DaveF): What is your favorite music?
-I have preferences that range from ancient to contemporary, no favorites. All should transmit this very known to me, a soothing whisper.
Â

I penetrate you

pen·e·trate pronunciation: “pe-n& -”trAt”, Function: verb. Inflected Form(s): -trat·ed; -trat·ing. Etymology: L penetrate, past participle of penetrate, from penitus deep within, far; akin to Latin penus provisions.

to pass into or through
to affect profoundly with feeling
to diffuse through or into
to affect deeply the senses or feelings

I therefore penus-mock you all – and your preferences.

Your ought-to-be penetrator penusproposes, and has a bunch of crime books for you:

for those who in enjoyment terms prefer an alpha
I remember noting Mr Henry Blabson Jr’s ” I Cum at Nites”: his latest offering is-and I say this with all the humility of a jaded critic – one of the funniest books I’ve read in a long time. Witty, refreshing, satirizing. Ah, ha, I can hear one of my putative critics exclaiming, but has he a plot, has he a crime, is it thrilling? Yes, to the first two questions. A question mark answer to the third : what do you mean by thrilling? For me, it was a splendidly enjoyable book, but to be honest – even if it hurts – this book, like so many others these decadent days ( or is it merely that I’m getting older? ), begins to fall apart towards the end : not much, but after all I’m paid by “Fenquin” to criticize.
( “Robocop was Here” by Henry Blabson Jr. Hickups-on-Thames, €25. )

for those who prefer a beta double plus
I have been less enthusiastic about some of Mr Bingoman’s books in the past. I should now like to redress the balance. This thriller indeed, is quite different from Mr Bingoman’s usual. A clever plot, well-constructed and not falling apart either at the seams or at the tail-piece, with several well-concealed tricks up its sleeve, and a handsome gallery of characters, ensure that this is a highly readable book. I do not always go for Mr Bingoman’s style but “Double Tristesse” impressed and intrigued me and I give it a strong recommendation. More please, Mr. B.
( “Double Tristesse” by Collin Bingoman. Hickory-on-Thames, €19,99 )

for readers prefering lethal sex
A collection of stories by women crime writers. If you can bear to read on after the awful, arch introduction –”Honestlly, girls, I’m not really terrified of you, en masse” As I say, you will find it a cosy collection of chilly little pieces…..Nothing really outstanding here, but all perfectly readable; suitable for a short, jerky train journey or a bedtime book when very weary.
( “Lethal Stomatic Sex” Jerky Crime Club Anthology, €62,50 )

for your mid-summer reading list
A detective. An amateur millionaire archaeologist. South of France. Rhapsodic passages on skin-diving. The crime and suspects get sorted out. Quite amusing, quite able, quite readable: but maybe the sub-aquatic world lacks the oxygen to set the plot afire. Good-average, and probably rather pleasant. Thanks for sharing Mr Asmouth.
(“Diving to a Lost Paradise” by Dieter Asmouth. Dotmond, €12,50 )

with it, in your favourite armchair
Another archaeologist, an American professional this time, specializing in the middle east, gets involved in the mayhem following a Levantine coup d’ ?t. Sad, asthmatic, unsuccessful academically. Marriage beyond repair, the hero somehow emerges sympathetically.Reserves of energy and courage. A by no means uninteresting book, worthy of a fireside hour in your favourite armchair.
(“The Perpendicular Orange” by Amie Dingwood. Eyre & Ffenguin, €17,99 )

I suspect readers under thirty don’t read this sort of
detective story anyway. It’s their loss. The new Gnnnaio Sharkk is cheerfully and excellently done, with some nice, loathsome characters and some nice, nice ones. Mr Mpyske Anemones, writer of letters of condolence to the bereaved, and prospective author of Etiquette, is an excellent, excellent Sharkkk character; so is the dog, the manservant, Max, and Desir? Lady Clanningham. The cast has a pleasantly D.G.F.Wooderwoodhouse flavour but the book is none the worse for that and, if the wit has a slightly arch, old-fashioned flavour, it makes it all cosier for readers over thirty.
(“Legs-in-Gloves” by Gnnnaio Sharkkk.Casselburger,€28,88)

Pause : Now, come to think of it. I care a lot about minorities. I don’t want to brag about it, but I donate, in regular basis, my paintings to Amnesty International. Yes, I do care.

I haven’t forgotten minorities. So, here goes.

to the stubborn, eccentric few, who could, but will not, employ a butler!
A good, fast-moving, Ambler-type thriller set in a South American state. Amusing and ingenious. Full of whodunits. Borgnen who figured in a previous whodunit, and his team in a highly skilful and complex brew of organized crime and mystery. A good plot. All thoroughly well exploited : a workmanlike book. You should guess whodunit – and there’s no butler.
( “Double Cross in Rio Madre” by Eugene O’ Hair. Millenium234, €65.00)Â

Sophocles: Antigone. Excerpt from the crime part

Antigone, by the great tragic poet Sophocles, is about conflicting duties. The heroine Antigone has defied her uncle Creon’s edict and buried her rebellious brother. Here, Creon, concerned with the safety of the state, learns of the crime and confronts Antigone, who places family duty above everything.

CREON
Why is my presence timely? What has chanced?

GUARD
No man, my lord, should make a vow, for if
He ever swears he will not do a thing,
His afterthoughts belie his first resolve.
When from the hail-storm of thy threats I fled
I sware thou wouldst not see me here again;
But the wild rapture of a glad surprise
Intoxicates, and so I’m here forsworn.
And here’s my prisoner, caught in the very act,
Decking the grave. No lottery this time;
This prize is mine by right of treasure-trove.
So take her, judge her, rack her, if thou wilt.
She’s thine, my liege; but I may rightly claim
Hence to depart well quit of all these ills.

CREON
Say, how didst thou arrest the maid, and where?

GUARD
Burying the man. There’s nothing more to tell.

CREON
Hast thou thy wits? Or know’st thou what thou say’st?

GUARD
I saw this woman burying the corpse
Against thy orders. Is that clear and plain?

CREON
But how was she surprised and caught in the act?

GUARD
It happened thus. No sooner had we come,
Driven from thy presence by those awful threats,
Than straight we swept away all trace of dust,
And bared the clammy body. Then we sat
High on the ridge to windward of the stench,
While each man kept he fellow alert and rated
Roundly the sluggard if he chanced to nap.
So all night long we watched, until the sun
Stood high in heaven, and his blazing beams
Smote us. A sudden whirlwind then upraised
A cloud of dust that blotted out the sky,
And swept the plain, and stripped the woodlands bare,
And shook the firmament. We closed our eyes
And waited till the heaven-sent plague should pass.
At last it ceased, and lo! there stood this maid.
A piercing cry she uttered, sad and shrill,
As when the mother bird beholds her nest
Robbed of its nestlings; even so the maid
Wailed as she saw the body stripped and bare,
And cursed the ruffians who had done this deed.
Anon she gathered handfuls of dry dust,
Then, holding high a well-wrought brazen urn,
Thrice on the dead she poured a lustral stream.
We at the sight swooped down on her and seized
Our quarry. Undismayed she stood, and when
We taxed her with the former crime and this,
She disowned nothing. I was glad–and grieved;
For ’tis most sweet to ’scape oneself scot-free,
And yet to bring disaster to a friend
Is grievous. Take it all in all, I deem
A man’s first duty is to serve himself.

CREON
Speak, girl, with head bent low and downcast eyes,
Does thou plead guilty or deny the deed?

ANTIGONE
Guilty. I did it, I deny it not.

CREON (to GUARD)
Sirrah, begone whither thou wilt, and thank
Thy luck that thou hast ’scaped a heavy charge.
(To ANTIGONE)
Now answer this plain question, yes or no,
Wast thou acquainted with the interdict?

ANTIGONE
I knew, all knew; how should I fail to know?

CREON
And yet wert bold enough to break the law?

ANTIGONE
Yea, for these laws were not ordained of Zeus,
And she who sits enthroned with gods below,
Justice, enacted not these human laws.
Nor did I deem that thou, a mortal man,
Could’st by a breath annul and override
The immutable unwritten laws of Heaven.
They were not born today nor yesterday;
They die not; and none knoweth whence they sprang.
I was not like, who feared no mortal’s frown,
To disobey these laws and so provoke
The wrath of Heaven. I knew that I must die,
E’en hadst thou not proclaimed it; and if death
Is thereby hastened, I shall count it gain.
For death is gain to him whose life, like mine,
Is full of misery. Thus my lot appears
Not sad, but blissful; for had I endured
To leave my mother’s son unburied there,
I should have grieved with reason, but not now.
And if in this thou judgest me a fool,
Methinks the judge of folly’s not acquit.

CHORUS
A stubborn daughter of a stubborn sire,
This ill-starred maiden kicks against the pricks.

CREON
Well, let her know the stubbornest of wills
Are soonest bended, as the hardest iron,
O’er-heated in the fire to brittleness,
Flies soonest into fragments, shivered through.
A snaffle curbs the fieriest steed, and he
Who in subjection lives must needs be meek.
But this proud girl, in insolence well-schooled,
First overstepped the established law, and then–
A second and worse act of insolence–
She boasts and glories in her wickedness.
Now if she thus can flout authority
Unpunished, I am woman, she the man.
But though she be my sister’s child or nearer
Of kin than all who worship at my hearth,
Nor she nor yet her sister shall escape
The utmost penalty, for both I hold,
As arch-conspirators, of equal guilt.
Bring forth the older; even now I saw her
Within the palace, frenzied and distraught.
The workings of the mind discover oft
Dark deeds in darkness schemed, before the act.
More hateful still the miscreant who seeks
When caught, to make a virtue of a crime.

ANTIGONE
Would’st thou do more than slay thy prisoner?

CREON
Not I, thy life is mine, and that’s enough.

ANTIGONE
Why dally then? To me no word of thine
Is pleasant: God forbid it e’er should please;
Nor am I more acceptable to thee.
And yet how otherwise had I achieved
A name so glorious as by burying
A brother? so my townsmen all would say,
Where they not gagged by terror, Manifold
A king’s prerogatives, and not the least
That all his acts and all his words are law.

CREON
Of all these Thebans none so deems but thou.

ANTIGONE
These think as I, but bate their breath to thee.

CREON
Hast thou no shame to differ from all these?

ANTIGONE
To reverence kith and kin can bring no shame.

CREON
Was his dead foeman not thy kinsman too?

ANTIGONE
One mother bare them and the self-same sire.

CREON
Why cast a slur on one by honoring one?

ANTIGONE
The dead man will not bear thee out in this.

CREON
Surely, if good and evil fare alive.

ANTIGONE
The slain man was no villain but a brother.

CREON
The patriot perished by the outlaw’s brand.

ANTIGONE
Nathless the realms below these rites require.

CREON
Not that the base should fare as do the brave.

ANTIGONE
Who knows if this world’s crimes are virtues there?

CREON
Not even death can make a foe a friend.

ANTIGONE
My nature is for mutual love, not hate.

CREON
Die then, and love the dead if thou must;
No woman shall be the master while I live.

excerpt taken from: here