Exploring the Missing Trojans: Homer’s Illusive Episodes | July 21 2026, 18:14

Tomorrow I will go to the Odyssey. Remember the Trojan Horse, the snakes, Laocoön, and “beware of Greeks bearing gifts”? So, it turns out that the most famous episode of the Trojan War isn’t in the “Iliad”—the main poem about this very war, and things with the Odyssey are also tricky. In the Iliad, Homer ends the story earlier: the “Iliad” covers only fifty days of the last year of the siege and ends with the funeral of Hector—there’s no horse, no death of Achilles, nor fall of the city in it. In the “Odyssey,” the horse appears a couple of times but only in passing: the bard Demodocus sings about it at a feast, Menelaus recalls how Helen walked around the horse and mocked the voices of the Greeks hidden inside. That’s it. There is no elaborate scene of assault and fire in Homer’s works at all. And that canonical story—with the spy Sinon, Laocoön strangled by the snakes, and burning Troy—is from the Roman Virgil, the second book of the “Aeneid,” written in the 20s of the 1st century BC, almost seven hundred years after Homer. It is precisely from there that the plot leaked into pop culture.

But Virgil did not invent the horse out of nowhere. Between him and Homer, there was an entire “epic cycle”—a series of poems that covered the entire war from beginning to end: “Cypria” (prehistory: the judgment of Paris, the abduction of Helen), then “Iliad”, then “Aethiopis” (the death of Achilles), then “Little Iliad”—here’s where they finally build the horse,—then “The Sack of Ilium”, where they roll it into the city and the massacre begins, and then “The Returns”, “Odyssey”, and a somewhat odd “Telegony” for dessert. Out of the eight poems of the cycle, only two Homeric ones fully survived. The other six—including both with all the salt about the horse—have disappeared and are known only from a later synopsis-summary and scattered quotations, totaling about a hundred lines. That means we have the middle and epilogue of the story at hand, while the beginning and the climax in the original are lost.

Turns out, we’ve been retelling a scene for centuries, the authentic text of which we don’t have.

P.S. A separate story about whether Homer was blind. And whether there was a Homer. It’s all very complicated 🙂 But that’s a story for another time.

Roman Naming Traditions: From Numerical Sons to Maiden Names | June 17 2026, 13:04

In Rome, there was a tradition to give personal names only to the first four sons, and to the rest — numbers: Quintus — “fifth”, Sextus — “sixth”, Septimus — “seventh”, Octavus — “eighth”, Nonus — “ninth”, and Decimus — “tenth”. However, they quickly grew lazy and stopped counting the children literally. For instance, a sole son might be called Quintus simply because it was his grandfather’s name. There’s a more elegant version too. The numerical names might indicate not the order but the month of birth. For example, Sextus might refer to the month of Sextilis (August, the sixth month).

For men (patricians), the structure was strict: Praenomen (personal name), Nomen (clan/family name), and Cognomen (family branch/nickname). For example: Gaius Julius Caesar. In this entire immense civilization, there were about 18 praenomens. The most popular ones were: Gaius, Lucius, Marcus, Publius, Quintus.

If you are a woman in Ancient Rome, you have no name. Period. Women were referred only by the feminine version of their father’s clan name (family name). If the father is named Julius, his daughter is named Julia. If he has a second daughter, she is named Julia Secunda (the Second). The third — Julia Tertia (the Third). The youngest — Julia Minor (the Younger).

P.S. By the way, about the months. Why is September the 7th month, October the 8th, etc.? It turns out the year started on March 1st. January and February were added later. In the very first Roman calendar, which, according to legend, was introduced by the founder of Rome, Romulus, in the 8th century BC, there were only 10 months and 304 days in a year.

Rediscovering Pyotr Boborykin: The Prolific 19th Century Wordsmith | June 13 2026, 16:47

I find it astonishing that an unknown to me Pyotr Boborykin wrote heaps in the 19th century, introduced words like “intelligentsia” and “nonsense-maker” into the language. Considered the most prolific writer of the 19th century. Almost no one knows him besides a few philologists. And yet, the guy was a star in his time.

Boborykin was deeply concerned that he would remain in the history of literature as a “secondary” author, so he wrote furiously. He authored about 20 large novels and countless smaller works. 12 volumes, 350 pages each. Essentially, he was the Darya Dontsova of his era. He has a novel “Vasiliy Terkin” which you might have heard of, but not his; you’re likely thinking of the poem by Tvardovsky by the same name, who knew nothing about the novel at all, these were different Terkins.

For instance, finding the novel “Doctor Tsybulka” online is very challenging; there’s only one PDF in the form of a reprint with pre-revolutionary orthography.

Freeports: Tax Havens for the Wealthy’s Art and Wine | May 30 2026, 14:15

Freeports are tax-free storage facilities that wealthy people use to store their investments in art, wine, and artifacts. The Geneva Freeport stores more artworks (both in quantity and value) than the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York. In 2013, the freeport contained about 1.2 million artworks. In addition to paintings and gold bars, it stores about three million bottles of wine. Freeports are closed to the general public and have been repeatedly used to store stolen paintings and cultural valuables.

They are not exactly free, or rather, not free at all. The only “free” thing you get is the right to store, buy, and sell anything within a certain territory without paying taxes… the goods, while within its territory, are considered “in transit,” that’s all. But this only lasts until you export the goods from there. At that point, you will have to pay taxes to the treasury of the country into which you are importing the item or money.

I learned about such a model from a recent video by Varlamov-Chichvarkin about wines, googled it, and it turns out that while wine is a minor thing, it’s much more significant with art.

Taste and Protest: Unveiling the Symbols at an Iranian Restaurant | May 03 2026, 19:40

A very tasty Iranian restaurant. Perhaps you didn’t know, but there are two flags of Iran. This one – the historical flag, used before the Islamic revolution of 1979, and today its use inside Iran itself is a political crime. The main difference from the official one is the emblem of the lion and the sun. Therefore, when Iranian protesters in Washington hold demonstrations, it’s interesting to see which flags they carry. If there’s four crescents and a sword in the middle, those are protesters from another camp 😉

From Wooden Puppet to Beloved Boy: The Evolution of Pinocchio’s Tale | May 01 2026, 16:52

It turned out that initially Carlo Collodi, who wrote “The Adventures of Pinocchio,” did not intend to turn his hero from a wooden puppet into a real boy. Pinocchio was destined to be hanged by the Cat and the Fox on an oak tree—as a lesson to all children who lie and disobey their elders.

The author was persuaded to continue Pinocchio’s adventures by the editor of the “Children’s Newspaper,” who said that otherwise it would be their last publication. The readers were so outraged by the death of the hero that the editorial office was inundated with letters demanding a continuation.

Eventually, after a few months, the author was forced to “resurrect” the puppet. This is how the Blue Fairy appeared in the story, who saved Pinocchio from the noose, and the grim parable gradually turned into the familiar fairy tale with a happy ending.

When Pinocchio was already hanging on the oak tree and gasping for air, a Beautiful Girl with Azure Hair appeared at the window of a nearby little house. At that moment she is described not as a kind fairy, but rather as a ghost or spirit (she says that everyone in this house died, and she too is waiting for her coffin).

Seeing the puppet dangling from the tree, she took pity and organized a whole rescue team. The fairy clapped her hands three times. A giant Falcon arrived. She ordered him to fly to the Great Oak, gnaw through the rope with his beak, and carefully lower Pinocchio onto the grass. Then she summoned her servant—a poodle named Medoro. He was dressed in festive livery, with a cocked hat and a curly wig. Medoro was sent for Pinocchio in a luxurious carriage drawn by a hundred pairs of white mice. When the puppet was brought to the castle, he was neither alive nor dead. To decide what to do next, the Fairy summoned “luminaries” of medicine. By Pinocchio’s bed came the Crow, the Owl, and the Talking Cricket (the same one that Pinocchio “killed” at the beginning of the book, but he returned as a spirit).

Harsh.

Essentially, the hero owes his happy ending not to the author’s mercy, but to commercial success and public pressure.

The Art of the Unresolved Finale: Viewer Frustration as a Narrative Tool | April 20 2026, 13:27

We finished watching the series “Pete”. It seems like TV directors do everything to ensure that the last episode offers no answers, resembling just a regular mid-season episode. In many TV shows, the second-to-last or third-to-last episodes answer the questions, while the final one rarely satisfies, always adding a multitude of hooks and new questions, probably serving as an invitation to a next season that may never come. Or it might, but for now the director doesn’t know what it will entail and leaves much unsaid. However, the likely goal is to irritate viewers so that they flock to Reddits and Facebooks to discuss what they’ve seen. A logical end was only seen in the series Chernobyl, it seems.

Nikolai Nosov’s Anticipated Instagram: Art Templates and Avatars | April 07 2026, 13:04

As early as 1954, Nosov predicted the emergence of Instagram

P.S. It’s just not very clear why there are different templates for different eye and hair colors.