Deciding which notes to leave in, and much more importantly, which to omit, is an unenviable task. It is rather like compiling a selected index for a book in that one must decided which entries to include and which are unimportant. On the one hand, the notes should be informative, and shed light on the text, highlighting any historical mistakes (of which Nennius makes many, especially with regard to chronology). On the other hand, almost all the best translations I have read keep footnotes to an absolute minimum, and as concise as possible. It's a fine balancing act, a kind of tightrope walk, deciding upon what to leave out.
After not a little deliberation, I have taken the executive decision to include only those notes which cite other primary sources, or which are absolutely essential to the reading of the text. Having made (yet) another appendix, I have relegated all the interpolated sentences, from obscure manuscripts, and any alternative interpretations to said appendix.
I still have much work to do, and reading through Notjohn's Guide to eBook Formatting is a dreary drudge. I would sooner be translating Latin or learning ancient Greek, but no progress was ever made by flitting between different tasks as though a butterfly.
I confess, I have misplaced the only hard copy I own of the Latin text, which contains my hand written notes. When I ordered some new shelves I reconfigured my many (many) books in their places, and this one book seems to have slipped the net. However, not being able to track it down is not the end of the world. I needed to go over the text again, and indeed this particular edition of Nennius is simply a copy-paste job from Wikisource's Latin from Mommsen's edition, so is no great loss. In fact, it is one of the few books I don't mind losing, for it does not contain anything which cannot be found elsewhere.
The pressure is slightly on since I gave a copy of the translation to another historian for her to make an honest review of it. It's time critical, and I should have gotten more work done on it today.
Rather astonishingly, Sir Earnest Shackleton's explorer ship The Endurance was recently found by marine-archaeologists (here). Although this expedition, and others like it at the time, appeared to have been the inspiration for the Ridley Scott serial The Terror, there is actually much more to this tale of exploration than meets the eye. In one of my favourite books, The Third Man Factor by John Geiger, the author recounts the 'sensed person' ghostly presence, an apparition which manifested on this ill-fated expedition from the heyday of the greatest empire the world has ever seen (The British Empire, naturally).
The old ball and chain said last month that she would front me the money for editing three books. She said the same this month, that I should have it with me last week. What with me investing in a new computer last month, and a foolhardy errand spent helping out a friend this month, means that for the last three weeks of last month, and indeed the last three weeks of this month, I have been, and am now subsisting on a shoestring, as poor as a church mouse. No matter. I could have and should have been more prudent. I was relying on the old ball and chain to make good, but I had also foreseen payment problems with this person. It is not easy living out in China or Taiwan and engaging in the international monetary transfer system. There are many problems. Besides, whenever I worked for Chairlady Mao or even the bloody awful job I have now, I am always paid after I have done the work, not before. Therefore, it comes as no surprise that the old ball and chain just mentioned that she has gone on holiday for a month, and is therefore unavailable. One must make do with what one has. Fortunately, the most important thing of all is already covered this month: little Ronulus' dog food, which I have an abundance of. I could live better than I do by walking into work (two house, up steep hills, through the mud, sometimes in the rain) but that is not a good solution. I would be rather weary by the time I arrived there, so I shall have to simply make do with preserving what little I have left this month to go on getting to and from work. It's only twenty days, and besides, where I work there is food (even if I only rarely am allowed some). One can subsist on scraps, make do with what little one has. This is not a problem. What irks me (though it should not do, truth be told) is that the old ball and chain didn't make good on her word last month, this month, and now seemingly not for another month while she gallavants off to some retreat. Just because I am as good as my word, does not mean that anyone else is. I should not judge. The old ball and chain was kind in forwarding me money for editing books. Yet, much like the failed start at creating a new school, payment will always be a problem for her. When people rely on payment, regularly, to make their rent, this is a serious issue, therefore I can see problems in this area.
The best thing to do is to become self-reliant. I have had enough of this bloody slavery nonsense, which is espoused by the likes of Thomas a Kempis. One paper I read, several years ago (even before the United Nations report on inequality and poverty in the U.K.) by the London School of Economics, proved that working is not the way out of poverty. One of my absolute favourite actors, Denzel Washington, once said, "Working really hard is what successful people do." Yet working for what? For whom?
A poet and singer, and indeed author I know, once said to me, "There are only two people that make any money in this world [Britain]: the owners of businesses, and the HMRC." I asked my ex-fianceé if this is true (she owns seven houses and has worked in Westminster for years) and she replied that yes, this is true. Therefore it must be true, if the London School of Economics say it's true, and Mike the Biker says its true (he himself being comparatively successful on the scale of bottom feeders and beggars and slaves), and Anna 'She Who Must Be Obeyed' says its true, then it must be true.
Of course, I've read enough economic history, particularly recent economic history, to understand that it is much more complicated than that. There is the classical economics of Adam Smith, then there is the John Maynard Keynes style of economics, and, much more recently, speculating on crypto and indeed less recently, offshore tax havens and trust funds. This is, again, only scratching the surface of what is a very deep subject.
I am not materialistic, but I'm also not enjoying a day off with no money, when I've worked so hard. Therefore, it is time to get on with the task at hand, and attempt to complete my own self-set assignment of having just enough royalties trickling in from various books I have translated (and indeed my play, Boadicea: Queen of the Iceni, which only needs the finishing touches and crowning ornaments put to it), to 'tick along nicely' and not have to worry so much. I feel that having (as the old ball and chain reckons) 'fifty books' up there, is a target to aim for. Yet I must be selective. Anyone can write fifty books worth of prosaic waffle. Not anyone can make targeted precision Latin translations, which are gaps in the market, and which are on reading lists of current modules. Nennius and Boadicea are just the start. I also have Apuleius already done (and a master's dissertation written on it, which will help with the commentary), and indeed another book translated from the French. Do you know how much it costs to get a decent translation of Apuleius' De deo Socratis? (I do not mean the over a century year old but still quite readable Thomas Taylor translation, freely available on the web). £25 for the Jones' translation (Loeb), and £170 for Harrison's translation (Oxford). Neither of these books are affordable to the common man (unless you're a book addict like I am), therefore a more reasonable ten pounds should suffice for a good clean copy of the text translated into clear, readable, idiomatic English. I shall certainly undercut other authors too, notably the sixty year old translation of the French author I am half way through translating (on the contrary, Apuleius is finished already), and indeed Fred Ahl's translation of Seneca's Troades (again, I'm only half way through that translation).
So my current status of my translations (excluding the 'secret' translations I am undertaking, so secret, that I cannot name them lest some opportunistic classicist gets there before me) are as follows:
Nennius, History of the Britons including The Prophecies of Merlin (very nearly almost complete)
Apuleius, De deo Socratis (very nearly complete, like Nennius - it just needs checking).
van Gennep (half way home)
Seneca, Troades (also half way home)
(Various other translations at various different stages of completion, all only just started, really).
So, I must get back with my nose to the grindstone, checking these bloody footnotes. It will be nice to see this project completed, finally, and not have to be at the behest of either Chairlady Mao or the old ball and chain any more (or indeed the brutish beasts I slave for).
Max.
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