Ellen Stuttle

Ciro, I feel terrible that I never got around to reading your post from December 10 until this very night. This is the first time I've read any of the posts in the Kitchen section. I have to admit to you that I don't like to cook and rarely do it, except to concoct something from cans, plus some boil-in-the-bag or steamed vegetables, that sort of thrown-together meal. However, I love to eat. My husband and I often frequent restaurants. We have a number of favorites depending on whether we're just having a routine dinner or making an occasion of dining. In Bloomfield, where we live, there's a good Italian restaurant, a good Japanese restaurant, a superb Thai restaurant, and a "Tuscan" style resaurant which is very good -- the chef is an artist and makes fish specials which I love. That restaurant is about twice as expensive as the others, so we don't go there as often. If we're in the mood for a drive, there's a fine Indian restaurant about twenty minutes' drive from us, a fine Chinese restaurant about the same driving time, and a fine Mexican restaurant about half an hour away. For special occasions, we have three favorites. One is the place where we go for Thanksgiving with the two friends who traditionally visit us then (our Thanksgiving Seminar, we call the get-together). That restaurant is "The Evergreens." It's in the Simsbury Inn. It's a beautiful building, luxurious decor, wide glass windows overlooking, you guessed it, a vista of evergreens (especially nice if we're lucky and have snow for Thanksgiving, as we did this last year). The meal is buffet style, enormous selection, all of it well prepared. And a dessert table which is so beautiful with an array of desserts around a large ice sculpture, it's almost a shame to destroy the beauty by eating the desserts. Another favorite, where we often go for our respective birthdays and other times when we want a romantic evening, is an Italian restaurant owned by a guy who does photography himself and who has an eye for art. And then there's The Pettibone Tavern, where we go for New Year's Eve dinner and maybe a couple times during the year -- also sometimes for dessert after a movie we've particularly enjoyed. That restaurant was founded as an Inn in 1770; it's one of the oldest continuous inns in the country (another, Avon Old Farms Inn, where we also sometimes go, is just a couple miles away from Pettibone's -- both were on the original post road to Boston). Pettibone's is currently owned by a man who is keen on history and has collected a lot of historic maps and drawings. The restaurant is complete with a ghost -- Abagail, supposedly the wife of one of the early owners, supposedly murdered by her husband when he came home from a business trip and found her in bed with another man. According to researchers, the truth of the story is dubious. But it makes for many entertaining tales spun by the Inn's staff and clients. There's another restaurant we like a lot, but it's currently closed. That one's in an old grist mill. The grist mill machinery is still there above the top dining floor, and the stream and waterfall are visible from the windows. We're hoping the Hopbrook, as it's called, will open again soon. I expect that if we lived in your kneck of the woods, we would be regulars at your establishment. ;-) Fond regards, Ellen ___

Dragonfly: I think you're probably right that they aren't real accents. I, too, debated about whether or not they're real, which is why I wrote "the way I hear it." I think the effect is because of the melodic shape and the respective pitches. A lot of times when there's a higher pitched note falling on the opening beat of a measure echoed by a lower pitched note, the higher pitched note will sound as if it's accented. But I think that if one were actually to play those measures using more pressure on the first notes of the first and third beats, this would sound false, exaggerated. Yes, but even though the dynamics go like that, the structure of the phrase is statement (first two measures) and then reply with less drive (second two measures). It's forward, then relax, though the volume is increasing. Yes, the dynamics are a progressive increase from start to end of the section. Ellen ___

Oops. There's an error in the quote from me which Dragonfly picked up. I wrote "second and third beats" meaning "second and fourth beats" -- which is apparently what Dragonfly understood me to mean. I've now corrected the original post. Ellen ___

I think it was Adam Reed who said that. I'll check later to be sure if he was the one who did the psychology jargon analysis, but he's done analyses of the sort in other venues. Adam is a smart guy, but he makes these silly diagnoses (he doesn't see them as "silly"; that's my description) using jargon terms. It's a failing of all too many who have some amount of professional training in clinical psych. ES ___

Dragonfly, The way you accent the 4-measure phrase is almost the way I hear it also, except with additional relative accents: I hear the first and third beats of the third measure and the fourth measure as stronger than the second and fourth beats of those measures; and I hear both of the accented beats in the third measure as somewhat stronger than those in the fourth measure. Thus the strongest emphasis, as I hear it, is on the first beats of the first and second measures, the next strongest on the first and third beats of the third measure and the next strongest on the first and third beats of the fourth measure. (Added: And the overall structure of the phrase is two emphasized measures -- first and second -- followed by two softer, answering measures.) Gee, it's been ages since I've played that. My reach isn't quite wide enough to do Rachmaninoff justice, and I never feel really satisfied by what results when I try to play his music myself. But now I have that composition going obsessively in my head. Ellen __

Folks, I'm up late again -- me and my night-owl habits (aggravated by my afore-described problem these days with light setting off the polio-related muscle twitches; thus I've become even more night-owlish than I've always been). I thought of something which Larry and I find very funny, a take-off on "The Jewish Dilemma." (Keep in mind that Larry comes from Jewish ancestry; this isn't meant as a racial slur; indeed the biggest purveyors of Jewish jokes are persons who know from first-hand experience that to which the jokes refer.) The Jewish Dilemma is: "Ham at half-price." Well, one late night when Larry and I were snuggling and happened to be reminiscing re AR, he said, "The AR dilemma: Frank comes home with flowers and says 'Surprise!'" ("I don't like surprises," she's expected to reply, but what's she to do when it's her husband bringing her flowers?) Another is about the florist messenger. This was told to us years ago by Dave Dawson, who claimed to have been there. (Dave Dawson was Joan Kennedy Taylor's husband.) An AT&T florist delivery person appeared in the hallway of the apartment building when Dave was in the hallway about to pay a visit to AR and Frank. As was characteristic in those days, the messenger was dressed to look like the Mercury/Hermes logo symbol. AR became upset: Hermes was a god in Greek times; he was a messenger; he was important; you shouldn't be mocking him! Etc., she told the hapless delivery person. Dave Dawson, I'll add, is the intrepid soul of whom it's said that he invited AR to a performance of an opera at the Met, I think it was La Boheme. People were scared to accompany her to public performances because of her proclivity for stating her opinions out loud and loudly. Ellen ___

Barbara, I have the whole set of posts, but not the time to dig them out just now. Besides, would anyone else here find them so rib-cracking as you, I, Roger, and Jonathan would? Doesn't one have to have some familiarity with Ellen Moore to quite get it? But I'll try to see what I can do this next week, re finding the HH stuff. (I'm afraid that my personal archives have become lamentably disorganized.) Ellen ___

Belly-laughing might be verboten to Objectivists. I don't recall ever hearing Rand laugh in a style which could plausibly be described as "belly-laughing." Her laughter (on those occasions when I heard her laugh) was describable as falling into either category A or B in a quantumized world (nothing in between): every now and then (charmingly, I felt), a childlike gay pleasure; much more often, a brief sarcastic "snort." Now, granted, I didn't frequent the degree of close proximity wherein I might have heard a wider range. I avoided that degree of close proximateness, anticipating the clash of personalities almost sure to result (and soon) if I circled too close. So I suppose it's possible that others had opportunities to hear a greater variety in her styles of laughing. But I think it might be fair to say that "belly laugh" and "Objectivist" are near contradictions in terms. ;-) Ellen PS: Jody, I don't have the URL to hand where Diana posted the whole sequence, or I'd provide it for you. I'd need to search, and I'm afraid I wouldn't find what I was looking for in less than an hour or so. But maybe one of the others can assist. ___

She found out when he fessed up after he fucked up. He forgot to change the "From" setting and posted under his own name. I'm unsure which "goof" you're speaking of: Diana's in falling for the pseudonym to start with (I suspected immediately -- as it happened the incident occurred on a day when I checked her blog); or Nathaniel's in slipping so soon. NB was foolish to try that stunt, given how careless he is with email procedures. He was guaranteed to slip -- and in one respect slipped even with the first post, since the spelling in the "From" line and the signature on the post weren't the same. (One was spelled "Hellen"; the other "Helen.") What I wonder is if he got the "Helen" name from remembrances of Helena Handbasket (the all-time funniest email spoof I recall, a fake poster in the early days of Old Atlantis). Ellen __

Michael, You know what?: you've lived. You haven't just been passing through your life. Eliot writes somewhere: "We had the experience; But we missed its meaning." You notice the meaning. The thing I like best about the piece -- in addition to its tracking to a climax, as Barbara described -- is what it's tracking, your attentiveness to the details and nuances of the psychological process, and your comparison and contrast of the qualitative worlds of the different sorts of people. Ellen ___

Roger, The book sounds like an interesting one -- and one you'd probably find fun to write. Best wishes for the project. I once sketchily worked out some thoughts about music along similar lines to those you're exploring. This was back in 65-66, when I was taking a number of music history courses at Northwestern and was alerted to Langer's work by one of the other students. I wrote a letter to AR about some of these thoughts, using them more or less as a springboard for a subtle attempt at encouraging her to re-listen to Beethoven (I illustrated my thesis by applying it to several of his compositions). About the time when I finished the letter, I decided to move East to live and work in New York City for awhile. Thus I waited to send the letter till after my move. Of course, upon arriving in New York City, I learned of the split -- and decided the timing was poor. It was about the time of the Ford Hall Forum story which I told earlier today that I finally sent the letter. She didn't read it. (The vast majority of the stuff she was sent got no further than her secretary's desk.) But Allan Blumenthal did. He said he agreed with my thesis but that unfortunately I hadn't proved it. (I think he was hoping to be provided with an "ironclad" argument he could use to stop her needling about his tastes in music -- not that he shared the extent of my enthusiasm for Beethoven, but he thought she wasn't right in her views; and there was the issue of his love of Mozart and Brahms and...) Considering the extent of your musical background, I think you could bring a wealth of reflections to a book-length treatment. You might even come up with something which would succeed at capturing AR's attention were she around to read it. ;-) Ellen PS: I tried to use the "applause" emoticon, but it didn't work. ___

Hi, J! Great to see a post from you. Yours came in while I was sending mine. I agree with your remarks down the line -- except I'm not understanding what the PS re Tibor means. Elucidation, please. ;-) E- ___

Thanks very much, Kat and Jody, for your good wishes. I realized after I posted my remark that I'd done something Larry has asked me not to do. Mea culpa. He doesn't like my saying anything on elists about his sister's being ill. A kind of superstition about remarks in print maybe affecting the outcome, I guess. (OK, OK, not "rational"; nevertheless.) But since this is a small, intimate group, I suppose the indiscretion isn't as bad. My own health problem is one the only prognosis for which is "worsening with age." It's a long-term aftermath result of my having had a mild (non-crippling) case of childhood polio. What happens is that muscle twitches are set off on the left side of my body, including the left side of the eyes' orbital muscles. Not life-threatening, but irritating, and it can become painful, and there's some danger of tearing a retina if I'm not careful. The problem is worsened by light, especially certain frequencies of light, and can make working at a computer soon turn into an ordeal. Hence I try (though sometimes I fail) strictly to budget the amount of time I spend reading elists. Ellen

Hmm. The quote is attributed to a Ford Hall Forum appearance in '81? She talked there that year? She was by no means well by then; she died in the spring of '82... In any event I'm almost sure I didn't attend the Ford Hall Forum in '81, so if that's when she said the reported remarks, evidently someone else asked her the Beethoven question on another occasion from the one when I was present. I'm not remembering which year is the year I'm thinking of, but it would probably have had to have been after '72, which is the year when Larry went to Temple to continue his graduate work. (He started at Brooklyn Poly, which was where he got to know Leonard Peikoff well enough he was allowed to participate in AR's Epistemology seminars, but I don't think he did any teaching until he went to Temple.) The girl who asked about Beethoven -- Julie, I forget her last name -- had been a student in a course Larry was teaching. He realized that he knew her when she and he and I and many others congregated at Erik (sp?) Vehle's (sp?) party in Cambridge (MA) the night before the Forum event... (It looks as if I'm fixing to tell the whole story...) A group of us knew that The Question was going to be posed. Evan Picoult, a friend of Larry's and mine, had heard through one or another grapevine about Julie's intent to query Rand. This info led to Evan's making a remark I've always remembered as speaking volumes about New York O'ists and Rand's esthetic preferences. Several of us were gathered at Evan's apartment: Evan was a physics graduate student at Columbia (Lederman was his advisor, a tidbit of possible interest to Dragonfly). He was the primary leasee of a large apartment, rooms in which he'd sublease to other students. The living room was big, and became the frequent meeting place of a group of us, the group I thought of as "the intellectual group" of my two main groups of O'ist friends: Evan, the Knapp brothers -- Robert and Raymond -- Debbie Goldstein (who later married and still later divorced Robert), Shosh Milgram (ditto re Raymond), Rob Masters, though Rob by then had become an apostate to O'ism, Lee Pierson (J. J. Gibson's last doctoral student, one of the two O'ist friends from those years with whom Larry and I have maintained regular contact), David Kelley when David was in New York, the Donway brothers, and a few others who sometimes joined us. Evan had a rather out-of-tune upright piano. He sat down at the piano and started, in his amusingly choppy though somehow enjoyable style, a snatch of one of the Beethoven piano sonatas. Then he abruptly stopped and turned to me (I was standing next to him) and wailed (accurate description of the voice tones): "Oh, I HOPE that she [AR] doesn't come out in favor of Beethoven!! Because if she does, then I'll NEVER know who really loves Beethoven!!" She (AR) did not come out in favor of Beethoven. Jump ahead to the pre-Forum party given by Erik (sp?) Vehl (sp.) and his girlfriend. The party was at a rented meeting room, many people there. I was feeling tired, so I laid down on a padded bench which was along one side of the room and was drifting into half sleep when Larry came over excitedly telling me, "This is Julie; I know her; she was in a class of mine; she's the one who's going to ask about Beethoven." Julie was a vivacious, glowing-with-life person, attractive, slim, mid-height, long wavy orange-reddish hair. Larry had told her of my love for Beethoven. "It's Beethoven and Rand, isn't it?," Julie said, holding the index and middle finger of her right hand up, pressing the fingers together to indicate unity: "The two are one; it's the same thing." "W-e-l-l," I told her, I agreed that the dramatic sensibility did seem to me very similar, but that I was afraid she was going to be disappointed by Rand's response, that Rand didn't like Beethoven and considered Beethoven "malevolent." "Oh, she probably just hasn't heard much Beethoven!" Julie said undaunted. Come the occasion, and the question. The answer was in form like the answer quoted, but it was longer -- more like eight-ten sentences, and more emphatic sounding, more force in the delivery (the answer as quoted sounds casual and mild, though it says the same thing). She briefly stated her view that art conveys a sense of life, and that there are two primary categories of senses of life. And she said that Beethoven was a great composer, for essentially the reason given in the quote as reported. She also said -- I wrote this sentence down in (speedwriting) shorthand: "He was a giant of the malevolent sense of life, which is the opposite of mine." (I wryly commented to Larry when Rand had finished her remarks, "At least she got the 'giant' right.") So it's almost the same, except tamer and shorter in the quote given. Rand did have a way of almost identically repeating herself when answering similar questions on different occasions, so I suppose that's what she did here. The story didn't end with Rand's answer to Julie. Julie went to talk to Rand in the post-lecture autograph line. I shadowed along, wanting to eavesdrop. "But, Miss Rand," Julie said, innocently, exuberantly, "have you ever heard [and she reeled off the titles of several Beethoven compositions, the 4th and 6th symphonies and some non-symphonic works, I forget which ones]?" "I don't know," Rand said, just as a flat declarative statement. "Well, if I sent you some records, would you listen to them?" Rand said that she would (I surmised that Julie's style of sparkling openness appealed to Rand, eliciting her agreement). The rest I can only report via grapevine sources. Rand listened to the records -- and sent Julie a letter couched in terms that changed Julie's view of Rand, and Julie quit attending the Objectivist club at the school where she was by then a student (I think the University of Michigan, or maybe Wisconsin). I never heard what became of her after that, and I don't know the details of what Rand said to her. Ellen ___

I was only alerted this evening -- by reading Dragonfly's post here -- to the Cresswell-occasioned thread on SOLOP. Just when I'd thought that the whole thing had died down! Sorry to be so in absentia on this list for the last few weeks. Between my own health problems and the far worse problems of my husband's sister (the situation isn't at all good with her: cancer, chemo, iffy prognosis...), I've had almost no time for elists, and such time as I've had has been spent on RoR. Just blipping in with a bit of morale support re the mud-slinging fest on SOLOP. I've thus far only read 2 of the 4 pages of responses to Creswell's item. I gather that Jody is on his way out the door at the place I've gotten to. It's like... deja-vu all over again-again.

Correction: The photo on pg. 120 of AR: The Russian Radical is of Elayne and Harry Kalberman's wedding, not NB's and BB's, as I wrote in a post above. ES ___

Dragonfly wrote: Maybe you have your settings so that you go direct to a page that members go to if they're logged in (and that bypasses the list homepage). I don't log in unless I'm intending to post, and I go to this URL when accessing the list: http://rebirthofreason.com Sorry to hear you don't have The Russian Radical, since that has a number of interesting (and historic, because of the occasions) photos. The newest one you posted that you like of AR, I have to admit I'm lukewarm toward. Also sorry to hear you've never met Kirsti. She's SO interesting a lecturer, I think. (Thanks for the correction on Bela Lugosi.) ES ___

PS(s): It occurs to me to ask, Dragonfly -- this came to mind because your comment about no-make-up beauty led to the thought of the Scandinavian style and the thought that Scandinavia isn't that far from Holland: Do you happen to know Kirsti Minsaas? (She is a really interesting -- and also an attractive -- woman, I think.) Second, re Marilyn Monroe: I'm confident that Rand wouldn't have selected the Marilyn type as her ideal type of feminine beauty. Instead, Greta Garbo. And the young Kathryn Hepburn (whom she mentioned somewhere as the type to play Dagny). Ellen ___

If you'd like to know my very favorite pictures of her (aside from a few taken when she was a child, one of which I find heartwrenching: that small girl with the bows in her hair, who would grow up to become that "force of nature" Ayn Rand): --the photo which Monart Pon uses on the new OWL list: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Owl_objectivists Some people have said she looks like a vampire in that, and maybe she does; but then maybe I like vampires ("Creatures of the night; such music they make." Bella Lagosi [sp?] as Count Dracula). --and a photo which appears on pg. 383 of AR:The Russian Radical. She's holding her cigarette holder (the cigarette is lit; she's actively smoking); she looks haggard, tired, over caffeinated but delightedly smiling about something (I read in: about a clever remark she or someone else has made). And, "Dragonfly," your bringing in Doris Day in connection with the Ilona portrait is one of those things I maybe wish I could forget. Yuk, Doris Day. Eesh. (I did like Marilyn but wouldn't think of her either in connection with the Ilona portrait, or pick her as a personal image of female beauty.) Speaking of make-up, that issue takes me back to Allan Blumenthal's psychology classes. Allan approved of elaborate make-up and clothing and considered attention to such things "rational." In a last section of his psychology course, he'd discuss what we might learn about someone on first impression. He'd spend a large percentage of this discussion on clothes and make-up. And he'd ask, "If the purpose of make-up is to make a woman beautiful, what are we to think of someone who doesn't like make-up?" I didn't say, since I was being wary at that stage in how outspoken I was to Allan (later on...that changed), but I thought, "Maybe that make-up doesn't serve its supposed purpose?" And speaking of The Russian Radical and the photos therein: If you have the book, look at the photos on pg. 119 and 120. 119 is a wedding photo of Barbara and Nathaniel; 120 is a group photo at the wedding party. Larry and I when we look at these photos say, "My God, they're young!" -- meaning Barbara and Nathaniel and Joan and Allan and Leonard, who looks like a mere kid. Also interesting, the photo shows Allan before he began wearing a wig; his hairline had obviously receded quite a bit already. Ellen PS: The photo I think the stamp is based on (not precisely; using what's known as "artistic license") is the oft-shown (in various contexts) photo which is used on the RoR homepage. ___

PS: I am puzzled by her looking so much younger and slimmer in that Phyllis Cerf photo than she was when Atlas was published. Maybe it's just coincidence that it's a photo by Phyllis Cerf and that Bennett later became her editor. Possibly it was taken back when Ogden was still her editor. One of those little puzzles, like "the depth the parsley sank in the butter on a summer's day," referred to (and never explained) in various Agatha Christie mysteries. (Horrors, considering the number of times I once upon a time read all the Agatha mysteries -- and almost everything else Agatha ever wrote: I'm forgetting whether the parsley-in-the-butter puzzle was mentioned in the Poirot or the Marple stories, probably the Marple stories.) (And I'd be really horrified if I'm mixing up Christies with the Sherlock Holmes tales. I believe that the oft-mentioned-but-never-explained mystery in the Holmes tales is that of the dog which didn't bark in the night, and that Agatha was making a sly play on the Holmes tales with the "parsley" bit.) ES ___

How fascinating, the difference in the way people see things. Although...that reproduction you're posting of the Ilona portrait isn't a good reproduction, so I suppose its kind of "stark" look is operative in your reaction. My own reproduction, which has the full canvas (the border's much cropped in the one you posted) has a softer and altogether more as if it's a vision, an imagined image seen in visual space, quality. I like the original (I mean, my print of the original), though I don't like the reproduction as shown above. I don't think that it IS a "poor likeness." An idealized likeness, but not a poor one. And the eyes don't look "staring" and "drugged" at all (in a good print). They're luminously brown, paler than in the clip above, and intelligent looking. Re their being "too large in relation to the face": yeah, well, AR's eyes WERE "too large [one might say] in relation to the face." As Barbara wrote in the Intro. to Passion: (something like this): "It was the eyes." Her eyes were enormous and rivetingly unusual. Note to Michael: No, Ilona didn't "correct the gaze." The gaze is above the head of the person looking at the portrait, out into space, looking at something distant. Ellen ___

Hi, folks. This is the first I've had time to see what's been going on here in about the last two weeks. The week after New Year's I was mostly occupied with a proofreading task (a very enjoyable one, of a book written by a friend who's a masterful writer -- no complaining about the "task," but it did keep me busy). Today, just when I thought I'd be free for awhile from projects with deadlines, my husband and I received bad news about an article of his which is pending for inclusion in an encyclopedia (geared to high school students) on science in relation to religion: the bad news was the page proofs from the publisher. The publisher's copyeditor has made changes which water down the thesis of the article -- and which are unacceptable. So I expect I'll be busy again the next week or so, being involved in the back and forth with the publisher. Meanwhile, I'd like just to say that I found these questions Michael asked interesting, and hope to write about them when I get a chance. I'm amused by the timing of my reading that first question, because it ties directly to something which occurred at the meeting of the Ayn Rand Society at the American Philosophical Association convention the last week of December. My husband attended. One topic was what Ayn Rand took as a principle from Aristotle's Poetics. As the Aristotelean scholar, John Cooper, who was chairing the meeting pointed out, Aristotle didn't say what AR thought he said about literature showing life as it (might be and) ought to be. What Aristotle actually said literature provides -- in my words, a school of life -- is what I personally have always used literature for; plus for delight in the craft of skilled writing. I hope to have more to say about this later on. Re question (2), my immediate reaction is to say that I've never taken literary characters -- or even real people -- as role models. I'd have to give that immediate reply more thought. In what sense do you mean, "role models"? What I'm interpreting it as meaning is trying to base one's own personality and actions on a character (or other person). But maybe you mean something less strong than that, something like getting ideas of possibilities. For example, say a woman like Marie Curie might provide a "role model" for a girl in the sense of Madame Curie's having become a scientist in an era when few women pursued scientific careers, and thus providing a positive case in point that could help with the girl's confidence in trying to pursue a scientific career. But this wouldn't be attempting, for instance, to adopt the mannerisms and characteristics portrayed in Greer Garson's film depiction of Madame Curie. The second sort of thing -- aping a fictional character (or real person) -- is what I was assuming you meant when I first read the question. Ellen __

Interesting, your thinking it suggests someone with "blonde, wavy hair." I've had a copy of that portrait for years and never thought of it as being of someone blonde, instead as being like a negative (as in a photographic negative) image of someone with dark hair. Maybe part of the difference in impression is the color of the background. The reproduction you posted is on a yellowish background. The original is on an ivory-white background (as is the copy I have). The bookservice also sold prints on a bluish background. The portrait is based on an actual photo of AR, the photo which appeared on the original back jacket cover of Atlas Shrugged -- which I am looking at as I type. It's a photo taken by Phyllis Cerf. AR is sitting on a window ledge in front of a large double-paned window which faces a city street. I believe it's a window in Bennett Cerf's office. It seems that the picture has to have been taken after he became her editor, but this puzzles me, because she looks years younger than she was when Atlas was put up for editorial bids. (She was 56 then.) She looks in her 40s, and she's slimmer than in any other picture I've seen of her (and definitely slimmer than in one which was taken in front of the bookshelves in Bennett Cerf's office at the time when Atlas was published). The angle is the reverse of the portrait: her left side (the right side as you view the photo) is forward. And the hair at the place where the upper wave is in the portrait is pinned back, maybe with a barette (I can't tell from the photo whether it's a barette or a bobby pin), so that the hair is pulled up her cheek and touches near the corner of her eye. But the hair is parted in the same place, and the way the hair falls on the right side of her face (left side looking at the photo) is like the portrait. Also, the eyes are directed as they are in the portrait -- out, above the head of the person in front of the photo or portrait, gazing at something distant (I suppose she was looking up at bookshelves across the room when the photo was taken). As I commented on RoR about the Capuletti Desnudo, that painting in turn uses the gazing-at-distance effect from the portrait . Ellen ___

Oh, sure: his joke about love making the world go round (a joke pertaining to Platonic philosophy), if one considers that funny, rather than a groaner. He did have a sense of humor, though, but not an obvious one -- the sort of stuff like in the Dudley Moore/Peter Cook "Round the Fringe" imitation of G. E. Moore and (?) -- I'm drawing a blank on who the other philosopher is. Ellen ___ For some reason, it seems that my signing on doesn't work unless I hit the "quote" button in replying to a post. The "Guest" (Anonymous) post above was by me -- and contained two errors. (That's the sort of stuff which happens when I'm working on a copyediting project: I make silly errors in my own stuff. It's the "conservation of error" principle.) The "love makes the world go round" joke which Leonard used multiple times I believe pertained to Aristotle's theory of attraction for the Unmoved Mover. And the Dudley Moore/Peter Cook show was called "Beyond the Fringe." I was conflating that with "Round the Horn [or Horne?]," another British-humor show, but less sophisticated than "Beyond the Fringe." "'Moore,' I said, "have you any apples?', and we were friends for life." Ellen __