Tria Monstra in Lingua Latina Reviviscunt - Price, T J
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Tria Monstra in Lingua Latina Reviviscunt is a collection of novellas written in idiomatic classical Latin. The tales of The Mummy, Frankenstein's Monster and Count Dracula are retold in such a way as to accommodate natural Latin and consequently avoid cumbersome paraphrasing and constructions not found in classical authors. The standard used is "Golden Age Latin", based on the translator's own reading of Cicero and Caesar, but also with constant reference to Robert Ogilvie's Horae Latinae and John Massie's Latin Prose Composition in order to maintain consistency of idiom. On the other hand,…mehr

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Produktbeschreibung
Tria Monstra in Lingua Latina Reviviscunt is a collection of novellas written in idiomatic classical Latin. The tales of The Mummy, Frankenstein's Monster and Count Dracula are retold in such a way as to accommodate natural Latin and consequently avoid cumbersome paraphrasing and constructions not found in classical authors. The standard used is "Golden Age Latin", based on the translator's own reading of Cicero and Caesar, but also with constant reference to Robert Ogilvie's Horae Latinae and John Massie's Latin Prose Composition in order to maintain consistency of idiom. On the other hand, the syntax is simple relative to the style of the standard authors. The narratives are, it is hoped, both lively and sufficiently sophisticated to entertain the adult learner who has covered the grammar up to oratio obliqua. It should be noted that the content is not always suitable for younger readers. In addition, the collection is rounded off with a loose novelisation of James Whale's famous film, The Bride of Frankenstein, which is composed in a looser style and is much influenced by the sly humour of one of the translator's favourite authors, Phaedrus.
Autorenporträt
First taught Latin by the Christian Brothers, and having picked up the odd lucky cent on Wall Street, T J became a bee keeper and tomato grower during the summer, and a reader of Cicero and Phaedrus through the drear winter months. In between sweet, sweet clouds of Irish Flake and S. G. 1792, rising at dawn from a variety of comely Dublin briars, he does a little bit of scribbling in various idioms, but wastes not a single precious moment of unredeemable time, dear reader, in badgering you for your pennies. As for politics, what I say is . . .níor chaith mé an masc ní fuair mé an vacs.