"The Thrifty Guide to Ancient Rome: A Handbook for Time Travelers" is so brilliant, I must procreate to broaden its intended audience. Giggles and groan-worthy jokes distill the massive subject of Empire to bare essentials---survival. It's like a stepping stone to Carcopino's "Daily Life in Ancient Rome"; neither book turns a blind eye to the era's depravity, which I hope is more cautionary than "how to" for today's seventh graders.
Readers might be surprised what draws their attention. Stoned and hugging my heater during another brutal winter here in San Francisco, CA, I became transfixed by the Thrifty Guide's life of Julius Caesar. It's funny that the book's succinct anecdotes seemingly adapted to my compromised faculties. Until reading this Guide, I focused on cults and religious life in Ancient Rome (you know, Magna Mater, Mithras, Isis, etc.), but now in this new year, 2021, I'm disturbed to fulfill a stereotype identified last week by felisa navidad (@lisatomic5): "men will literally learn everything about ancient Rome instead of going to therapy" (12/30/20, 1:13 PM, Twitter for iPhone).
Looking to antiquity, we confront ourselves. Maybe we don't need therapy, yes? "The Thrifty Guide to Ancient Rome" is a perfect springboard to Dame Mary Beard (Magna Mater of BBC and YouTube, as well as professor and author and shiny-shoed bicyclist whose tires we're unworthy to kiss), and from her, deep into the past.
If you choose that backward direction, see you tonight at Ovid's reading. Let's drink less this time and block his vantage onto any indiscretion going on. I want him to write much longer, and thanks to Mr. Stokes's Thrifty Guide, we may extend Ovid's life, or an artifact of it. Fasti, perhaps, is complete.