The Complete Essays of Montaigne (Book I) (translated by Donald Frame)

Jacque Barzun had raved about Montaigne; I liked Barzun's work a lot, and decided to take a tour through the essays. 800+ pages, written in late 16th century, looked like something I might scan through at best.

But about 50 pages in, I decided I needed to own this book. So went out and found a lightly-used hardcover version. Worked through Book I (of III, to use Super Bowl numbering) and about half of Book II before pausing. Not that I wasn't interested in going on - there just is too much to absorb.

Not sure how to describe this. Apparently the book was a staple for centuries, sat on bookshelves of most anyone with much education. How neat that folks like Pascal (to pick one from a very, very long list) worked through this, commented on it, praised it? Montaigne covers everyday and not-so-everyday topics in depth, or briefly. His style is conversational; loaded with quotes from classical sources; thoughtful; candid; seems like just the kind of person I would love to sit and talk with. When I went back and read the "introduction" section, it seems that my reaction is not unique (a better description would be "it's commonplace") - readers tend to see themselves in Montaigne's musings, even if different readers bring very different things to the book.

He was writing at a time when religious wars were quite violent in France.

I note a few sections here, but this book just needs to be read.

Of pedantry - includes a good discussion of the age-old distinction between book-learning and wisdom - this discussion never goes away.

I liked his discussion of the value of creating a written record, or diary; and his discussion of keeping written summaries of books he read so that he wouldn't entirely forget them. I'm going to use some of those quotes as a sort of frontispiece on two of my websites.

Much liked his discussion about being a father. Much liked his passages about worrying for the future, finances, etc.

Incredibly modern, incredibly pertinent. One of the few off-key notes is general dismissiveness toward the capabilities of women.

I generally don't write notes in books; I dog-ear pages that I find interesting. Which has led to ridiculous dog-earedness in the case of this volume.

Big Hair and Plastic Grass - A Funky Ride Through Baseball and America in the Swinging '70s (Dan Epstein, 2010)

My brother Charlie sent this one along, it was published by St. Martin's Press (where Kate worked).

The subject matter and era are hard to beat for someone like me - I have more coherent memories of 1970s baseball than any other decade (including the current one). Plus we were collecting baseball cards in those days at a pretty fast clip, at least at the beginning of the decade. So this was highly enjoyed.

The author has a chapter for each year in the decade during which he summarizes the divisional races, playoff and World Series outcomes, major events during the year.

The far more interesting part of the book - though unfortunately just four of the chapters - is where he takes off on various themes: those round multi-purpose stadiums; AstroTurf; colorful uniforms; haircuts; stadium promotions (featuring, of course, dime beer night at Cleveland Muni and disco demolition at Comiskey Park).

A couple items of note:

I read that the wire "baskets" on the Wrigley Field fences were installed in 1970 following a bunch of drunk and/or stoned folks storming the field following an April game (supposedly a bunch of antiwar protesters in town). Also a discussion of how seedy the Wrigley area was in those days, much changed now.

Folks were distraught that Dave Kingman struck out 140 times in 1972 (he hit higher totals later in his career). You can tell baseball has changed, our own Diamondbacks feature a third baseman who has the three highest single-season strikeout totals of all time (topping out at 223). And they just gave him a contract extension last off-season.

Crazy times. It's difficult to imagine any current player involved in a wife-swap, pitching a game while on LSD, etc.

Unknown Soldiers (reprised) (Chicago Symphony)

As noted here, I found the whole discussion of the British WWI memorial services to be quite compelling. I won't recount the earlier discussion except to note that it is difficult to try to imagine a more solemn, emotional setting than those raw years right after the war.

I ran across a Chicago Symphony version of Elgar's "Nimrod" Enigma (Adagio, Variation #9). (There is a whole story about how these came to be created, discussed here.) I have heard this work in various contexts and always thought it quite wonderful. Now I learn it is played every year at the Cenotaph (the one in London) on Remembrance Sunday - and I'll bet it has gained power over the decades.

Elgar was quite famous, late 19th century and early 20th century, also did "Pomp and Circumstance."

I like this version of Enigma #9 a great deal, perhaps because it is a touch slower than others I've heard. I try to imagine how this felt 90 years ago at the first memorial services at the Cenotaph.

(The entire piece is quite excellent, but I note the buildup with the double bass section that you can feel (and see!) starting at 2:28; then I like how the camera "moves back" at the climactic passages, around 3:30.)