★★★★
The Eagles Trilogy: Book I
In a sacred grove in the depths of a German forest, a seven-year-old boy watches a human sacrifice and takes an oath which will shape his entire life and strike at the very heart of Roman power. The boy’s name is Ermin of the Cherusci. He will grow up to become Arminius, Rome’s ally, Rome’s auxiliary and Rome’s greatest enemy.
★★★½
This was recommended to me on Goodreads or Amazon some time ago, and its elegant cover lodged itself in my mind. It has turned out to be an intriguing historical adventure through desire and identity, a clever interweaving of two tales of losing and finding oneself, all spiced with the salt of the sea air. It’s the author’s first novel, but is already deft and assured, and the narration has an authentic early 18th-century period rhythm.
★★★½
(Spoleto Festival, 2006, Il Complesso Barocco with Alan Curtis)
We’ve discussed, on a previous occasion, the indignities inflicted on opera singers, but the sadomasochism of Alcina has just been comprehensively trumped. I’d like to say that one remembers this production of Ercole sul Termodonte for its wonderful music, or for the simple and effective set designs, or for the generally admirable cast. But this would be disingenuous. Cast, crew and orchestra must have known, from the moment they began rehearsals, that this opera would be remembered forever for Zachary Stains performing the title role of Ercole stark naked, with nothing to preserve his modesty except the occasional fortuitous shadow cast by the paws of his lion-skin cloak.
★★★★½
(Garrick Theatre, directed by Kenneth Branagh, 28 July 2016)
In a moment of extreme spontaneity, I decided on Thursday afternoon that I was going to the theatre that evening. The spur to action was the discovery of a cheap seat in the Dress Circle for Romeo and Juliet, which I very much wanted to see as I’ve managed to miss all of the other plays that Kenneth Branagh has directed as part of his artistic residence. This, would you believe it, was the very first time I’ve ever seen Romeo and Juliet on stage and it was an excellent production with which to start. Sophisticated and brooding, firmly anchored in its Italian setting, it was blessed with a host of fine performances.
★★★★
I’ve avoided reading Room for a long time. Although I enjoyed Emma Donoghue’s Frog Music and Slammerkin, there was something about the subject matter of Room that made, and still makes, me very uneasy. Some people like to explore uncomfortable themes in fiction, but I’m not one of them. On the other hand I don’t want to create some fluffy, pastel-coloured world for myself in which nothing bad ever happens. With the release of the critically acclaimed film last year (which I also haven’t seen), it became more and more imperative that I should read Room. And, in the end, it was both more endearing and more heartbreaking than I expected. It’s a difficult book to review, so bear with me.
★★★★
(Actors of Dionysus at Osterley Park, 29 July 2016)
In November 2000, when I was fifteen years old, my parents took me to see my first Greek tragedy. It was Bacchae, performed in the QEH theatre in Bristol by the touring company the Actors of Dionysus. I was utterly captivated: by the story; by the simplicity; by Tamsin Shasha’s sexy, dangerous Dionysus; and by the translation. Ever since I’ve been hunting down a translation which begins with that same commanding cry: ‘Thebes! Thebes! First city of Greece! I have come back…‘ So when I heard that, sixteen years later, the company were performing Bacchae again, in an open-air production in the grounds of the National Trust’s Osterley Park, I absolutely had to go.
★★★★
Thessaly: Book I
In his book The Republic, Plato dreamed of a just society in which the pursuit of knowledge and excellence would be the highest goal. It was a daring dream, the first utopia: an elaborate thought-experiment which has captivated the imagination of thinkers through the ages. But could it actually work? Athena is determined to find out. Gathering together those who, throughout history, have read Republic and prayed to her that it might be possible to live in such a place, she prepares the groundwork for the realisation of the greatest political fantasy ever imagined.
★★★★
(Pixar, directed by Pete Docter, 2015)
In many ways I’m just an overgrown child (this’ll become evident if we ever have cause to discuss trebuchets or jousting). Although I do watch and read a lot of serious things, I also have a soft spot for well-made films aimed at kids, and a new film has just been added to my personal Hall of Fame: the magical Inside Out. Prepare for a lot of pictures.
★★★
Earth’s Children: Book II
It’s time for the second instalment of Ayla’s adventures: a book that significantly broadens out the world which was introduced to us in The Clan of the Cave Bear. Here we finally glimpse cultures beyond those of the Clan, but we also spend much more time with Ayla, watching as circumstances force her to make leaps of intuition ever more daring and more successful. I can’t say this novel was quite as smooth going as the first, but towards the end something clicked and I now find myself eager to head on to the third. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Spoilers will follow, so proceed with caution.
★★★★
After starting my Sutcliff journey with Sword at Sunset, I always intended to read The Eagle of the Ninth next, but things didn’t quite happen as planned. I have a lot of great big thick books lying around at the moment and, while hunting for something short as a kind of palate-cleanser between epics, I unearthed this little novel. It was allegedly written for children but, in the tradition of the best children’s literature, it’s equally rewarding to read as a grown-up. In fewer than two hundred pages, Sutcliff spins a stirring tale of honour, bravery and adventure, the Viking sea road and the golden domes of Byzantium. How could I resist?
The Idle Woman 