[rto] newton's christmas
Dec. 11th, 2003 11:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cthulhiaSure, Isaac Newton was a little weird.
He was born on Christmas day. His father died during the pregnancy. His mom had to quickly wean him and send him away so she could find another husband, the only respectable job for most women back then. Half the annual celebrations as most kids, even when you have a family to celebrate with, which he didn't. Suckage on a level that one might have to, o, invent (a version of) Calculus to figure it out.
SBB wrote the book in Newton's family chapel, which is within shouting distance of the apple tree of legend, and other events of the 18 months of rumination in the sticks that inspired his life's work and other lesser known pieces.
I feel I can safely deduce that Romancing the Ordinary is no Principia. Not that I've actually read the latter. My Latin is more than a bit rusty.
But, well, it IS novel, and probably moreso for a geek like me than her intended audience. She describes his horrible childhood. (Sometimes I wonder if parents are monstrous to their kids in the hopes of producing genius. The failure rate of this experiment is pretty high. Do Not Try This At Home!)
Some folks can sense the presence (and pain) of the building's past when they visit her. She is regularly motivated to make offerings to Newton's spirit. He was a closet alchemist, which means he might be of the flaky sort to become a ghost just to prove it can be done. She seems convinced.
I hope he's a holiday spirit, or else he's sulking in a turret until she's done with all the damned festive stuff, or until she moves out, since her book suggests she's like this all the time.
He was born on Christmas day. His father died during the pregnancy. His mom had to quickly wean him and send him away so she could find another husband, the only respectable job for most women back then. Half the annual celebrations as most kids, even when you have a family to celebrate with, which he didn't. Suckage on a level that one might have to, o, invent (a version of) Calculus to figure it out.
SBB wrote the book in Newton's family chapel, which is within shouting distance of the apple tree of legend, and other events of the 18 months of rumination in the sticks that inspired his life's work and other lesser known pieces.
I feel I can safely deduce that Romancing the Ordinary is no Principia. Not that I've actually read the latter. My Latin is more than a bit rusty.
But, well, it IS novel, and probably moreso for a geek like me than her intended audience. She describes his horrible childhood. (Sometimes I wonder if parents are monstrous to their kids in the hopes of producing genius. The failure rate of this experiment is pretty high. Do Not Try This At Home!)
Some folks can sense the presence (and pain) of the building's past when they visit her. She is regularly motivated to make offerings to Newton's spirit. He was a closet alchemist, which means he might be of the flaky sort to become a ghost just to prove it can be done. She seems convinced.
I hope he's a holiday spirit, or else he's sulking in a turret until she's done with all the damned festive stuff, or until she moves out, since her book suggests she's like this all the time.
