Tuesday Jottings; or, Milton's Porridge

Back home meant back to work on upgrading and adding to my literature site, Luminarium.  I decided to take a break from the sheer monotony of finding and fixing broken-down links, and to finally write a biographical monograph for Milton; something I'd been putting off successfully these past ten years.

Usually, writing a biography takes a day or two, from the gathering of facts to the polishing touches.  Not so with Milton.  First off, Milton lived to be 66 years of age, which is a respectable age in the Renaissance.  Secondly, the man was a force of nature — he crammed so much into those years, between his studies, his travels on the Continent, his three marriages, his work for the Protectorate government, and not least, his unbelievably voluminous literary output.  To do Milton's life justice, one should really write a book, instead of attempting to encapsulate it in a matter of a few pages; and yet, that is exactly what I have to do.

I finally have a first draft, which in itself is something of which to be proud, but oh, it reads dryly, sure to put off any but the most ardent seekers of knowledge.  Now my task is to make it flow, and make it more human, without lapsing into conjecture about the daily activities of the man, à la "What porridge hath John Keats?"
Such forays make for compelling reading, take for instance Stephen Greenblatt's Shakesbiography Will in the World — a marvellous book, to be sure, but full of "maybes" and "perhapses."

Now I know better than ever why I have put this off for so long.  "Grant me the serenity", is all I can say.

Yours Beleaguered,
Anniina


Tags: Literature