Vittorio De Sica: 'Umberto D.' (1952)

Vittorio De Sica's Umberto D. (1952) focuses on the plight of Umberto Domenico Ferrari (Carlo Battisti, 1882-1977), a pensioner trying to scrape by on his small fixed income. His only real friends are his little dog Filke and Maria (Maria-Pia Casilio), a pregnant housemaid in the building where he rents a room. Human cruelty in the film is personified by the landlady, and indifference is encountered in almost everyone else.

What I like best about Umberto D. is the comparison and contrast between Umberto's need for scrounging money before he's kicked to the curb and the day-to-day rituals maintained of necessity by Maria, even while she's pregnant courtesy of one or another soldier (she's not sure which). One cannot help but sympathize with them both. 

Filke is a pretty clever dog, by the way.  

I earlier posted on Ladri di biciclette / Bicycle Thieves (1948), another Vittorio De Sica masterwork, here. 

As I noted in that post, this film and several others somewhat like it are part of "Italian Neorealism," a group of down-to-earth tales set in the immediate post-war years (and even during the war), lasting from about 1943 until about 1952. Why "Neorealism?" Because it is sort of a sequel to "Social Realism" exemplified in works by Émile Zola (1840-1902) and Maxim Gorky (1868-1936). As conditions improved, the desire to make or see such "blues" films largely tapered off. But they are great works of art and very much wonders to behold.

Today's Rune: Flow. 

Pier Paolo Pasolini: 'Medea' (1969)

Pier Paolo Pasolini's Medea (1969), filmed in stunning locations and starring the great opera singer Maria Callas (1923-1977) in the title role. 

Jason and the Argonauts will be on a collision course with fate: the Golden Fleece and Medea. Chiron, Jason's adoptive father, a centaur, tries to prepare him for life when growing up. "Wherever your eyes roam, a god is hidden. And if by chance he be not there, the signs of his sacred presence are."

Medea with her family in Colchis (modern day Georgia), before the disruptive arrival of Jason and the Argonauts.

Medea and culture shock: beware the coming of the Greeks and their rival gods!

Pasolini's approach is distinctive and unforgettable! Maria Callas shines as Medea! 

At points, I was reminded of The Wicker Man (1973) and Twin Peaks: The Return (2017).  On the one hand, human sacrifice as part of ancient tradition, and on the other, double-exposure technique, superimposing a face (Medea, Agent Cooper) over a key scene, and presenting two versions of an event (the final fate of Creusa / Glauca). I was also reminded of Werner Herzog in the way Pasolini intertwines other-worldly music and free-floating camera work. 

Today's Rune: The Mystery Rune. 

Pier Paolo Pasolini: 'Mamma Roma' (1962)

Pier Paolo Pasolini's Mamma Roma (1962) stars the fabulous Anna Magnani (1908-1973) in the titular role as she transitions from the oldest profession into selling produce at market while raising a teenage son. However, this is mostly thankless, because the demand for sex is higher than the demand for vegetables. It doesn't help that her former pimp comes to town and demands she raise cash for him, simply because he's bored living among country "hicks" and doesn't want to work. 

Ettore (Ettore Garofolo, 1946-1999), Mamma Roma's son -- who resembles American actor Michael Shannon -- runs around with a handful of miscreants who may remind those in the know of the bad kids in Lord of the Flies. Pasolini has a field day filming them among ancient Roman ruins -- pictured here through a filter. The original is all in black and white.  

The female equivalent of the male hooligans, but not as bad. 

Ettore takes a shine to Bruna (Silvana Corsini, born 1921), who is, perhaps, slightly touched in the head. 

Mamma Roma: "Look at these figs! I've got the best ones!"  

As with Pasolini's Accatone of the previous year, Mamma Roma is mostly concerned with the down and out and the struggling. It, too, has occasional surrealistic touches (such as Mamma Roma on the job at night, walking through a park with lights like stars behind her, rotating men like musical chairs walking and talking with her -- very effective), Catholic iconography and Marxian pithiness. Not a Hollywood ending.

Today's Rune: Possessions. 

Pier Paolo Pasolini: 'Accattone' (1961)

Accattone (1961), Pier Paolo Pasolini's first film, is set in post-World War Two Rome among deadbeats, "scroungers" and working class denizens. Generally, able-bodied men work as little as possible, preferring to pimp out a girlfriend or commit petty thefts to get by rather than work like dogs. Many sit around at little outdoor cafe tables, clowning off with macho edginess  -- exactly as we later see New Jersey gangster crews do in The Sopranos. 

Here, Maddalena (Silvana Corsini) with Accattone (Franco Citti) in their little crib, which is a shared space.

Once Maddalena is imprisoned, Accatone scrounges up Stella (Franca Pasut) to fill in, with mixed results.

Pasolini keenly observes situations involving collisions between people and living conditions, socio-economic class structure, gender roles, and Catholicism. Shot in crisp black and white with an occasional surrealistic sequence, Accattone is a beautiful film about trapped people. The non-professional actors are superb. They've got The Look. 

Today's Rune; Fertility. 

Roberto Rossellini: 'Paisà" / 'Paisan' (1946)

Roberto Rossellini's Paisà / Paisan (1946), the second of his "War Trilogy," contains six stories set toward the end of the Second World War in Italy, starting from the South and working North.

Pictured above from the second episode is American M.P. Joe (Hylan "Dots" Johnson, 1913-1986) and Italian waif-survivor Pascale (Alfonsino Pasca) in bombed-out Naples. The movie title means "friends" or "countrymen."

Paisà / Paisan is up close and personal, with Germans, Italians, British, and Americans fighting with or against each other, trying to communicate beyond language barriers amid violence or the near aftermath of violence. 

Picking through the devastation of Firenze / Florence, a live battlefield in episode four.  

Episode five of Paisà / Paisan involves the visit to a monastery by a Catholic, a Jewish and a Protestant chaplain, with a bemused mix of appreciation and confusion for hosts and guests.  

The final episode involves the brutality of guerrilla warfare along the River Po, with the Germans still mounting effective resistance. 

Paisà / Paisan: a free-wheeling ensemble and stark reminder that war is a cemetery for those killed and both a nightmare and a cultural exchange for the survivors.

Today's Rune: Protection. 

Roberto Rossellini: 'Roma città aperta' / 'Rome, Open City' (1945)

Roberto Rossellini: Roma città aperta /  Rome, Open City (1945).

"All roads lead to Rome, Open City." -- Jean-Luc Godard (1959).

"In 2013, [Pope] Francis spoke to Rome’s La Repubblica newspaper and expressed his deep feelings for [Rome, Open City,] Roberto Rossellini’s realist war drama, which is a ground-zero account of the city under Nazi siege — and which features a Catholic priest as its main character." -- Source: here.

Rome, Open City has touches of Casablanca and any number of "under siege" tales, but its nearness to real events, shot among real war ruins, gives the film a powerful boost. It's raw.

An iconic image of Pina, played by Anna Magnani (1908-1973), in German-occupied Rome. 

The Criterion Collection version with extra features, part of the Roberto Rossellini War Trilogy box set (2017).  

Aldo Fabrizi (1905-1990) as Don Pietro Pellegrini, a goodly priest who says: "It's not hard to die well. The hard thing is to live well."  And, akin to Pope Francis: "I am a Catholic priest. I believe that those who fight for justice and truth walk in the path of God and the paths of God are infinite."

Today's Rune: Partnership.  

Roberto Rossellini: 'The Flowers of St. Francis' / 'Francesco, giullare di Dio' (1950)

Roberto Rossellini's The Flowers of St. Francis / Francesco, giullare di Dio (1950). Vignettes of the original Franciscans, played by real Franciscan monks, with a medieval feel, beyond normal time, in black and white. This is the kind of little gem of a movie that distinguishes cinema from books as an art form.

Federico Fellini co-wrote the minimalist script, which is more evident in some of the chapters than others. 

San Francesco d'Assisi / Saint Francis of Assisi lived from about 1181 to 1226 A.D. 

The main cook for the early Franciscans was Fra Ginepro / Brother Juniper, who died in 1258 A.D. He was a bit of a "jester." 

Here, Franciscans spread a feeling of peace in the village, near the end of the film. They also redistribute food to the hungry. 

St. Francis and St. Clare at St. Mary of the Angels. Santa Chiara d'Assisi / Saint Clare of Assisi lived from 1194 to 1253 A.D. 

This memorable film provides an alternative to the many human-directed miseries already wrought in the 21st century. The Criterion Collection package includes extra interviews. Isabella Rossellini (born 1952), daughter of Ingrid Bergman and Roberto Rossellini, provides impressive insight in one of them.  

Today's Rune: Partnership. 

Shawn Levy: 'Dolce Vita Confidential' (2016)

Shawn Levy's Dolce Vita Confidential: Fellini, Loren, Pucci, Paparazzi, and the Swinging High Life of 1950s Rome (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2016) takes us on a wild Italian ride from about the end of World War Two until the mid-1960s. 

Barely five or ten years after the war, economic activity "mushroomed . . . recasting Italy from the buffoonish ally of Nazi Germany into a hive of style, culture, fine craft, genteel living, and even heavy industry."  (pages 195-196). During that time, it became one of the hippest places in the world to experience firsthand. 

There are so many characters in Dolce Vita Confidential, some large and some small, that one cannot help being drawn in. 

Consider Alfonso Antonio Vicente Eduardo Angel Blas Francisco de Borja Cabeza de Vaca y Leighton, Marquis of Portago (aka Fon de Portago), a Spaniard by lineage and sometime race-car driver, and his philosophy of life:

"'I want to live to be 105 . . . I'm enchanted with life. But no matter how long I live, I still won't have time for all the things I want to do. I won't hear all the music I want to hear, I won't be able to read all the books I want to read, I won't have all the women I want to have. I won't be able to do a twentieth of the things I want to do. And besides just the doing, I insist on getting something out of it.'" (page 214).

In 1957, the Fon was killed in a racing accident while driving a Ferrari -- along with a slew of others -- at age twenty-eight.

In addition to memorable stories about film directors, actors, designers, photographers, expatriates, and trouble-makers, Dolce Vita Confidential includes very helpful endnotes, bibliography and list of films from the period, making it a nifty reference work as well as a tasty treat. 

Today's Rune:  Breakthrough. 

Vittorio De Sica: 'Ladri di biciclette' / 'Bicycle Thieves' (1948)

Vittorio De Sica's Ladri di biciclette / Bicycle Thieves (1948), sometimes called The Bicycle Thief, has a simple, powerful plot. 

In the wake of the downfall of Mussolini-style fascism and the end of the Second World War, people in Rome are trying to make ends meet. 

The spotlight turns to one family, a man, a woman, a young son and a baby. The man-husband-father finds a job, but it's one that requires a working bicycle for transportation. He takes the job, and with the help of is wife, retrieves his bike from a pawn shop. Now, said bike must be guarded carefully, because practically everyone is desperate and might steal it. 

And yet, despite precautions, the bike is stolen. This is the set-up for the film: if the bike isn't found by the next work day -- or a replacement found -- the job will be lost.

The resulting drama is surprisingly gripping, as the man's good-natured son tags along. It's a very effective structure, still used -- as in  Jean-Pierre Dardenne and Luc Dardenne's Deux jours, une nuit / Two Days, One Night (2014), starring Marion Cotillard.

Bicycle Thieves elicited (and still does) international empathy and sympathy for regular Italians, and (hopefully) for other people recovering from major trauma, too. Life is tough for these survivors -- though Italy, as one can see in this and other films of the period, is not as devastated as, say, its former Axis ally countries, Germany and Japan. 

Bicycle Thieves is rated very highly in the annals of moviemaking. To me, it distinguishes itself from, say, the novel (by Luigi Bartolini) on which it's based, because it so effectively develops the story in a way that maximizes visuals, sounds, and motion -- the art of the cinema. 

This film and several others somewhat like it are part of "Italian Neorealism," down-to-earth tales set in the immediate post-war years (and even during the war), lasting from about 1943 until about 1952. Why "Neorealism?" Because it is sort of a sequel to "Social Realism" as in writings by Émile Zola (1840-1902) and Maxim Gorky (1868-1936). As conditions improved, the desire to make or see such "blues" films largely tapered off. But they are great works of art and wonders to behold.

Today's Rune: Wholeness.  

Lucius Apuleius Madaurensis: 'The Metamorphoses,' aka 'The Golden Ass' (circa 165 A.D.)

The first complete novel still in existence, so far as I know, is Apuleius' The Metamorphoses, also called Asinus aureus / The Golden Ass; it dates to about 165 A.D. (or C. E.) -- 1,852 years before the time of this post. 

Lucius comes to town and stays at the house of Milo and his wife Pamphile. While out and about, he is beckoned by Byrrhena, his aunt, who tries to ward him off Pamphile, a genuine witch. Lucius is more curious than fearful, and soon develops an attraction to Milo and Pamphile's servant woman, Photis (aka Fotis). Milo is a dummy and has little clue that his wife really is a witch. 

In between social obligations, Lucius banters with Photis. Lucius (as first person narrator) notes, "my courage came upon me which before was scant." From Apuleius, The Golden Ass or; the Metamorphoses, translated (in 1566 A.D.) by W. Adlington, New York: Barnes & Noble Books, 2004, page 23.

Photis responds playfully: "'Depart, I say, wretch, from me; depart from my fire, for if the flame thereof do never so little blaze forth it will burn thee inwardly, and none can extinguish the heat thereof but I alone, who know well how with daintiest seasoning to stir both board and bed.'" (page 24). 

Lucius is immediately smitten. Eventually she comes into his room, having already stocked it with "dainty meats" and wine. 

"[G]enerous cups were filled half full with liquor, leaving room only for enough water to temper and delay the wine, the flagon stood ready prepared, its neck opened with a wide and smooth cut, that one might the easier draw from it, and there did nothing lack which was necessary for the preparation of Venus." (page 28).

Soon Lucius is "dying" for her embrace, "wherewithal she made no long delay, but set aside all the meat and wine, and then unapparelled herself and unattired her hair, presenting her amiable body unto me in manner of fair Venus, when she goeth under the waves of the sea."

"'Now,' quoth she, 'Is come the hour of jousting, now is come the time of war, wherefore shew thyself like unto a man, for I will not retire, I will not fly the field; see then thou be valiant, see thou be courageous, since there is no time appointed when our skirmish shall cease . . .'" (page 29).

Later, after the completion of several "jousts and skirmishes" together, Lucius asks Photis to help him acquire some of Pamphile's magic ointments, something that will make him be able to fly like a bird. Photis is dubious, but eventually complies; however, Lucius employs what turns out to be a potion that turns him into a donkey instead of a bird. Photis has gotten the wrong vial by mistake, but Lucius blunders into it by his own foolish choice. 

And so the novel continues, with Lucius trying to survive as a beast of burden, finding himself among various people who are none too concerned with either animal or human welfare. It's a novel that has stuck with me like a memorable dream sequence, or a surreal memory. 

p.s. Not to be confused with Ovid's poetry volume, Metamorphoses (8 A.D.), but not entirely unrelated to it, either. 

Today's Rune: Possessions. 

'The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini' (circa 1557-1565): Part II

The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini, translated by Anne MacDonell. New York: Everyman’s Library, 2010. Written between 1557 and 1565.

Cellini (1500-1571) was fifty-eight when he began composing his autobiography in earnest. He seems to have let go of it as he neared death, but that hardly matters in that it still works as a complete text. A few more examples follow.

Cellini employed a model in France that he called Scorzone, though her actual name was Jeanne. 

The Autobiography notes matter-of-factly, ". . . I got her with child. She bore me a daughter at the thirteenth hour of the 7th of June 1544, when I was just forty-four years old." He called her Costanza and placed her in the care of godparents and an aunt. (page 301).

"This was the first child I ever had, so far as I remember. I assigned to her a dowry of the amount suggested by her aunt . . . After that I never had anything more to do with her." (Ibidem).

Salvador Dalí illustration for Cellini's Autobiography, 1948 (Symonds) edition

Later on, Cellini went to work for Duke Cosimo de' Medici (1389-1464) of Florence (Firenze). The Duke promised him studio workspace and living quarters and so on, but this did not go as planned, because: 

"His Excellency then gave the matter into the hands of Pier Francesco Riccio. . . I spoke to the brute, and told him all the things I wanted -- for instance, I mentioned that in the garden I wished to build a workshop. But he gave the business over to a paymaster, a dried-up scarecrow of a man, called Lattanzio Gorini." (I once worked with this very same guy in Michigan, I think).  

"A curious little object he was, with spidery hands, and a tiny voice that hummed like a gnat, and he crept about like a snail. 

As my ill-luck would have it, he sent to my house as much sand and lime and stones as would barely have built a dove-cot." (page 325). And on went the battle.

Salvador Dalí illustration for Cellini's Autobiography, 1948 (Symonds edition)

Even later, Cellini had another protracted fight with rival artist, a sculptor, Bartolommeo "Baccio" Bandinelli (1493-circa 1560), who was also a rival of Michelangelo's (1475-1564). At one point, the first two named had to come before the Duke to explain themselves. Cellini took to his own defense:

"'My lord, your most illustrious Excellency should know that Baccio . . . is evil through and through, and always has been so; thus whatever he looks at, were it a thing of supreme excellence, is at once converted by his ugly eyes into all that is superlatively bad. 

Now I, who am drawn only to the good, see the truth with clearer sight. Therefore what I told your Excellency regarding this beautiful statue is the bare truth, and what Bendinello [i.e. Bandinelli] said was spoken of that evil of which he is made up.' 

The Duke listened to me with the utmost delight; but all the time I was speaking Bandinello was writhing and making the ugliest faces you ever saw -- as if he weren't ugly enough already." (page 348). And so the battle continued.

Near the end of the autobiography, Cellini's still fighting with rivals and enemies; he just gave up writing the rest of it.

Today's Rune: Fertility.  

'The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini' (circa 1557-1565): Part I

The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini, translated by Anne MacDonell. New York: Everyman’s Library, 2010. Written between 1557 and 1565: that is to say, 450-460 years ago.

Cellini (1500-1571) is pronounced, in case you were wondering (and I hope you were unless you already knew), Chelleenee or Chulleenee, because Italian is cool like that.

“Cellini’s Life belongs, with Rosseau’s Confessions and Berlioz’s Memoirs, to the very top of modern autobiographical literature. There had been nothing remotely like it before.” (Introduction by James Fenton, page viii).

If artists sometimes (often!) have a wild reputation, Cellini is a real wild piece of work who in turn created very fine pieces of work. He was a bit of a rogue and definitely his own person, alternately working and fighting with popes, cardinals and royalty, peers, colleagues and so on, killing a few enemies and suffering stints in prison along the way. The miracle is that he lived to be 70.

Some choice quotations may help establish an idea of his disposition and arc.

Though he had indeed committed crimes, at one point a new pope chides one of Cellini’s critics:  “’I know better of such things than you. Learn that men like Benvenuto, unique in their profession, are not subject to the laws. And especially in this case with him, for I know how greatly he has been provoked.’” (page 136).

Cellini is provoked again, this time by a man who refuses to pay him what he's owed. 

"Now I had it in my mind to chop off one of his arms; and assuredly I should have done it; but my friends thought it was not wise for me to do such a thing . . . I gave heed to their advice -- though I should have liked to have treated the business with a freer hand . . ." (pages 188-189).

In France, another Cellini nemesis tries to undercut him, saying to the King of France that he wouldn't complete his work. 

"To this the King replied that he who worried so anxiously about the end of a piece of work would never begin anything." (page 268)  Truer words rarely spoken. 

(To be continued).

Today's Rune: Journey. 

Pier Paolo Pasolini: Il Decameron / The Decameron (1971)

Pier Paolo Pasolini's Il Decameron / The Decameron (1971) presents a choice selection from the massive 100-story tome of the same title written by Giovanni Boccaccio (1313–1375) between 1348 and 1353. I came to The Decameron via Geoffrey Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales (1387-1400), which appears to have been influenced by it in several tales. Not only are these not obscure texts, both are enduring world-class cultural treasures. 

Pasolini dives in, creating a vibrant movie version that combines the visuals of painters (as noted in an accompanying documentary in the Criterion Collection DVD set, especially Giotto and Bruegel), regional folk music and local actors. This is the first part of Pasolini's Trilogy of Life. 

Pasolini (1922-1975) is described in the same Criterion documentary as a "gay Catholic Marxist artist" with an interesting worldview, indeed. 

With his version of The Decameron, Pasolini selects a representative mix of Boccaccio's comical and tragic tales, some ribald and bawdy, a few scary and all both medieval and timeless. They range from grave-robbing, seduction, hypocrisy and ill intent to the most life affirming of activities, working within and around the social mores of the day. There's much to learn from this consciousness-raising film, and a lot more to write about. 

Today's Rune: The Mystery Rune. 

Anne Trubek, 'The History and Uncertain Future of Handwriting' (Part III)

Xerox Print Ad, 1976: Brother Dominic and the 9200.

Anne Trubek, The History and Uncertain Future of Handwriting. New York: Bloomsbury, 2016.

Next we come to Chapter 4: "HUMAN XEROX MACHINES." In which Trubek describes monastic scribes and the process of copying ancient and newer texts.

A touch of weirdness here. "We are not sure exactly when silent reading developed, but . . . Saint Augustine [354-430 A.D.] described being shocked to find his friend, Ambrose [circa 340-397 A.D.], reading without saying the words out loud. The move from spoken to silent reading, like so much in this history, moved from being primarily oral to being more text based . . . Once silent reading became the norm, the scriptoria went quiet. The Church started using silence as a form of devotion and discipline, and to this day many monasteries require absolute silence." (page 42).  

Whoah. This is hard to believe, that people functioned like talking audio books when they read. Assuming that people must have been thinking silent thoughts as well as talking aloud, surely there were also people who could do the same with reading. Intriguing, though. Perhaps they whispered or muttered insensibly, sounding like babblers to anyone nearby to throw them off when they were reading the medieval version of Lady Chatterley's Lover.  

Silent thinking and reading are essential to personal autonomy and freedom. This is why "truth serum" and "lie detectors" are so useful to dictators and spy agencies. If you can safeguard your thoughts and dreams, you can remain free, at least in your mind.

Chapter 5: "THE POLITICS OF SCRIPT." Here we see the eventual addition of lower case words, for as Trubek points out: "The Romans wrote only in capitals." (page 47).

After various different types of scripts were developed, tried, discarded or modified, sometimes revived for artistic flourish (as is true still in the 21st century), scripts moved in our direction. The printing press would accelerate this process through greater standardization.

"Medieval scripts carry cultural meaning: Uncial was designed to distinguish Christianity from Rome, whereas humanist script self-consciously referred back to . . . that same Rome. To most of us [now], humanist is easier to read . . . because it is more familiar,  not because it is intrinsically more legible." (page 58).

Today's Rune: Growth. 

Anne Trubek, 'The History and Uncertain Future of Handwriting' (Part II)

Anne Trubek, The History and Uncertain Future of Handwriting. New York: Bloomsbury, 2016.

Trubek next takes up the Greeks and Romans. Socrates was a proponent of the spoken word, positing that the written word was the lazy one's out. However, the written word creates inherent safeguards by recording ideas and statements for posterity, not dependent on the oral tradition to keep them moving on to following generations. President Donald J. Trump is no Socrates, but he, too, prefers the spoken word, or the short Twitter burst, over extended, sophisticated written thought. This is not a compliment. 

On the other hand, there's no reason to prefer one mode of communication over the other, especially when "recording angels" such as digital or tape recorders can capture spoken communication, including gestures and interjections. 

Trubek's main argument seems to be that change is inevitable -- get used to it. 

Whereas Socrates' spoken argument depends on intense social interaction in the flesh, written argument does not. Indeed, Trubek agrees on this point: in "oral cultures . . . to think deeply and complexly requires one to talk to someone else." (page 24). Again, I believe that we can do both. I do enjoy interacting with someone else via the spoken word, but I enjoy equally interacting with someone else, or in reflection, in solitude, via the written word.

Trubek next proceeds through the development of alphabets; the dearth of Greek written records due to the fragility of the materials upon which they wrote -- unless copied for posterity by those with access to them; and the Roman shaping of letters that we use (at least the capital letters) in English (and in many other languages) today. (page 29). 

What's particularly astonishing about this fact is that, if you come across a Roman monument from 2000 years ago, you can read and understand it rather easily, especially if you have a Latin dictionary handy. 

Trubek takes a look at the remains of graffiti excavated at Pompeii and in Smyrna (modern Izmir, Turkey) as well as ink-on-wood writings in England (pages 30-31). "The Romans were also more interested in writing down their histories, rather than orally transmitting them like the Greeks." (page 33). And: "We owe much of what we know about Roman events to scribes." (page 34). In my capacity as historian and chronicler, I approve of this message. We also need to be able to access and share this stuff, which is where full-scale transcription and digitization comes in.

The Romans began turning out books, even among the greater populace. More than 2000 years ago, "bookstores had been established in Rome and other cities such as Carthage, Lyon, and Brindisi, selling both new and used books. The first [known] X-rated and pulp books, as well as fine literary works, were published. And the wealthy started collecting the new technology into libraries." (pages 35-36).

Next: the so-called Middle Ages, or in Big Donnie's phrasing, "the Medieval Times."  

Today's Rune: Gateway.