Spent the weekend in the company of my husband, on a slightly-belated anniversary trip to Minneapolis where we took in a film, Good Night and Good Luck, followed by supper with my friend H. at a tiny Cuban restaurant, Victor's 1959 Cafe. We squeezed together in a graffiti-covered booth, drank red wine in little tumblers, and scarfed down empanadas, rice, and authentic Cuban entrees. It was a colorful, unpretentious restaurant, in an unfashionable location, just the way I like them. Alas, they were out of flan. But we will go back.
It was a great relief to talk to H. since he feels exactly as I do about Oprah. “She’s a nice woman, but she’s a celebrity journalist. She’s not Gandhi!” Well, not yet anyway, not while she’s still focusing on bras, shoes and make-up and making people’s “wildest dreams come true.” Last week her pet decorator did up a Chicago bungalow for an extended, struggling, single-parent family. Before the newly refurbished house was revealed, I winced hard when the decorator, Nate Berkus, sidled up to the lucky woman, put his arm around her, and asked to recall her previous two bedroom apartment, forcing her to acknowledge in front of the cameras that she had been living among rats and cock-roaches. I suppose the woman may feel this is a small price to pay for Oprah’s promise to see that her 12 children are afforded college educations, but I say leave the woman her dignity AND give the children college educations. This modern Queen for a Day stuff has got to go. Whose idea of entertainment is this?
Speaking of entertainment, when this season of HBO’s Rome ends, I am giving it up forever. I relished the series in the beginning, making it my one television show to watch each week, but even I am not desensitized to the staggering amount of gruesome violence the creators of this series shove down the viewer’s throat. I do understand that ancient Rome was a dominator society par excellence, however, as historian Will Durant has pointed out, cruelty is really only “interesting” due to its relative rarity. Historians have always rapaciously glommed on to the worst reports, taking them out of their context of hundreds of years and embellishing them to spice up their otherwise dry texts. Funnel that process down into a television series and it’s little wonder that we’re treated to at least 3 murders, rapes or tortures per episode. Furthermore, the murders are generally in the form of blood spattering-spewing-gushing guttings, brain-bashings, dismemberments, and decapaitations, since the special effects crew needs something to do.
That’s not history; that’s someone’s warped idea of entertainment, (like Heather Havrilesky’s). Intriguing and well-acted as some of the characters are, I am letting them go their merry, brain-bashing way.
The only lovely thing HBO’s Rome has led to is the rediscovery of Durant’s cool, calm, wise volumes. He wrote history for the common man, out of great love for humanity. He deals with ancient Rome in The Story of Civilization. Volume III: Caesar and Christ. It’s a fairly hefty book—and there are 11 volumes altogether, the story of civilization making it only so far as the Age of Napoleon. However, if you are ever looking for a good introduction to Durant, via something short and sweet, try to get your hands on a copy of The Lessons of History. It's interesting food for thought whether you agree with all of his lessons or not. (His wife, Ariel, often did not.)
9:31:44 AM 
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