Ben, Gloria, Julia, Paul

One of my PhD reading assignments is to read a number of historical fiction works set in the first century A.D. One of the books on that list is Ben-Hur by Lew Wallace.

I had seen the movie version long ago, and remembered only the chariot races and the final scene. So this Easter we watched it on Good Friday. Great stuff.

Now, after spending a week reading books about women in antiquity and the U.S. Women's Movement, I'm reading the book version of Ben-Hur. I'm about 100 pages short of the end.

Though I really liked the multi-award-winning movie, I like the prose version even better. It's hard to believe the author wrote it before I was born, as it feels like he knows all the latest archaeological discoveries of the past century. Apparently he was a good guesser.

Earlier this week I went to hear Gloria Steinem speaking at UTD, as I'm doing an independent study on women's history. Other than wanting to do away altogether with monotheistic religion (sheesh), she actually had some really good things to say about men and women. Turns out she is not a man-hater and really affirms men and women working together rather than all men or all women. Hopefully I can tell you more about that soon. The most interesting part of it all to me is that most of the under-40 crowd whom I've told I heard her have said, "Who's that?"

This weekend I watched "Julie and Julia," while my hubby and daughter went to see "Avatar" at the dollar theater. (It's three hours long, so I'm waiting for the DVD version so I can "pause" it in my own living room). Back to the "J&J" flick: I liked it a lot. Afterward I dug out my Julia Child cookbook, and I'm determined to make homemade soup before it gets too hot around Texas to eat anything steaming.

Now that we've covered books and movies, a word about poetry... Today's the 18th of April. Know what I always think about on this date? My dad reciting Longfellow:

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year...
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