Roundtable

The Rest Is History

Papal miracles, the weight of Denmark’s most famous prince, and the importance of a good frame.

By Angela Serratore

Friday, September 25, 2015

Edwin Booth as Hamlet (Act 5, Scene 1), 1870. Library of Congress.

• The possible romance of the letters of Eudora Welty and Ross MacDonald: “They exchanged books, cards, and Christmas cake, often crossing letters in the mail in their eagerness to respond. MacDonald gave solace to Welty when some close friends of hers died: ‘Like the trees in your yard,’ he wrote, ‘we lose limbs but still put out new leaves.’ When they were traveling, the pair would sometimes send notes in advance to each other’s destination, thus remaining in touch even away from home.” (Paris Review Daily)

• A series of conversations between Argentine writers Jorge Luis Borges and Osvaldo Ferrari appear for the first time in English. (New York Review of Books)

• Does the text of Shakespeare’s Hamlet tell us something we’ve been missing about the size of the Danish prince? “But what if our mental image of Hamlet is wrong? What if the grieving, vengeful prince is actually fat? Just because you’ve never considered the possibility doesn’t mean Shakespeare scholars haven’t argued about it, just one front in a centuries-old debate about how you determine meaning in Shakespeare’s plays.” (Slate)

• A ranking of (sometimes dubious) papal miracles. (Atlas Obscura)

• A new exhibition positions frames as equally important to the works they contain: “Louis XIII was fond of an Italian influence in his frames, while Louis XIV, being ostentatious in all corners of life, preferred the gilding and carving to be as elaborate as possible. Later, Louis XV honed it down for more stately, but still very sculptural shapes, and finally Louis XVI favored an even more subdued aesthetic, although it all came crashing down with the French Revolution.” (Hyperallergic)

• Finally, we can all sing “Happy Birthday” without fear of a copyright-infringement lawsuit. (Los Angeles Times)

• Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote stories about Kings Arthur and Lear as early as the twelfth century: “But even at the time there were people who thought he was taking the mickey; one commentator, Gerald of Wales, remarked that demons would flee when the gospels were read, but flock round to listen to Geoffrey’s fibs (there was, for instance, no ‘Emperor Leo’).” (The Guardian)