Whenever I talk about THE STRAND, I feel like I’m in a Dickens Novel…

I had an hour to waste yesterday, so thinking to “better myself,” I meandered over to the ole’ Strand Bookstore, choosing to stalk through the aisles doing the one thing one must never do at the ole’ Strand Bookstore… As it is written: “When at the Strand, one must never try to locate any particular title. If one does attempt said peccadillo, one will be faced with extreme vexation and imminent madness, not unlike the result of sustained Chinese water torture, or perchance trying to drink a gallon of whole milk within a single hour… don’t do it, you’re stomach lining cannot withstand that amount of base liquid.”

Anyway… First I searched the Classics section; Second, I tried Poetry; Third (a desperate attempt), I even looked through Fiction… But it wasn’t until I archaeologically unearthed the Greco/Roman History section that I finally discovered what I was questing for. There before me, at eye level: two single copies of Catullus. Why in the History section, I pondered? Certainly, Catullus would prefer to be in the company of Dylan Thomas instead of Pliny the Elder (or Pliny the Younger for that matter).

(Joshua William Gelb feels this blog is sadly lacking in stage directions. He amends this, writing thusly: “A chorus of schnauzer puppies enter from stage right performing the can-can.” It is adorable. Now back to the blog)

Today’s diatribe, however, my faithful blog readers, does not concern the Strand, nor its Greco/Roman History Section, nor Dylan Thomas (He was pretty f-ing badass)… Rather, before I continue to recommend that everyone purchase their own copy of Catullus, I want to set out some ground-rules so no one here ends up the victim of a crime that has been perpetrated since the very re-discovery of the Carmina Catulli… I call it, Catullus rape.

Let me elaborate. Of the two copies set before me in the Greco/Roman History section (around and about the works of Cicero, which has more to do with a certain show-stopping musical number in Tully than one would imagine) was an edition circa 1925 and an edition circa 1970. The difference between the two is great, young Jedi, and will no doubt influence the pleasure you experience while losing your Catullus virginity.

Firstly, the 1970 edition. This translator, in his introduction, boasts proudly of Catullus’ bisexuality. He revels in the vulgar and annotates expletives to his obvious delight. This is a good Catullus lay, with all the dirty pillow-talk and foreplay included. If you want, he’ll get rough. If you need cuddling, he’ll do that too. This translator is not afraid of sexuality. This translator is not afraid of being sensitive. This translator has been liberated by the godless society we live in. Thank God. (Huh?)

Moving on: The translator of the 1925 edition writes in his Preface, “I have not allowed my own personal tastes to override the judgment of Catullus.” Let’s address this simple statement first. HE TRANSLATED THE FUCKING POEMS; OF COURSE HIS PERSONAL TASTE HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH IT. He later writes: “In a very few of the epigrams some slight modifications have been necessary.” Blog readers, this translator is all talk and no game. He is a Censor, a Puritan, and a Prohibitionist! This fellow obviously wasn’t slumming in the Harlem speakeasies. This translator’ll make you do all the work, he won’t let you finish, and he’ll be out that door before you can say “Tempus Fugit,” believe you me.

But don’t fear, blog readers. For I’ve tracked yond knave, purchased said villainous copy, and pledged my duty bound to keep it from the oh-so susceptible world till my dying days, at which point, this wicked, unsatisfying 1925 edition will be spirited away to a secret location no-doubt similarly occupied by the Arc of the Covenant and Walt Disney’s cryogenically frozen head.

Rehearsals start Tuesday! I’ll finally have material relevant to the show to blog about!

(Time for another stage direction: Enter Walrus with top hat. Adorable. Simply adorable)