In all the textbooks on textual criticism, you will find little mention of a factor that must decide whether texts live or die. This is the B-word; BOREDOM. Who can bring themselves to copy a text, if they keep calling asleep or going off to pluck their eyebrows, or sort the rubbish, of whatever?
I’m working on translating Manuel Paleologus’ Dialogue with a Persian at the moment — mainly because Pope Benedict quoted from it and no-one could read the text. But I am wishing I had not. It’s really boring, to me anyway. Worse yet, I find Manuel’s arguments contrived, while his Moslem antagonist makes what seem like reasonable criticisms.
Feeling a little under the weather as well, although that may be due to eating too many strawberries with cream yesterday. But Manuel isn’t helping.
Oh well. Back to it.
On second thoughts, what’s on TV?