Been exploring hell the last few weeks with Dante and Robert M. Durling. I never knew there were so many ways to land yourself in hell–nor that it was so well organized. Not really sure why I'm still reading it, except that after wading through one bolgia after another, I find myself going back. There is the occasional brilliant turn of phrase and there's something mildly interesting about the variety and identity of the people to be found writhing there–and yet morbid curiosity would not be enough to merit the laborious deciphering the book requires.
There is something else. Something true, even when Dante writes about theories modern science has proven, without question, to be false–things like the configuration of the earth, the function of human organs, and the method by which snakes reproduce–I know he's going off wacky science, and yet there remains some kind of resonant truth in the bones of his comedy.
I haven't decided, yet, exactly what truth lures me deeper into the infernal pit with him, but I sense that it's waiting…and that I will have missed something essential to humanity if I do not continue.
Blasted Inferno. I have laundry to fold…