Shakespeare’s plays are filled with curses. I don’t mean the Victorian dirty jokes and toilet humor, but the superstitions that have sprouted from some of his most famous plays. Besides never mentioning the Scottish Play during a show’s opening night, there’s only one that I can think of that matches its fame. Thankfully, as it’s a few days past March 15^th, I think it’s safe to say that we’ve all come out of one of the most literary cursed days unscathed and we don’t need to “beware the Ides of March”. Unless, of course, you happen to be named Julius Caesar. Then I might give it a few more days (like Caesar should have as he was warned that his life was in danger for 30 days, and not just the Ides of March, but I digress).

That being said, it got me thinking. What even are Ides? It’s not a word that I’ve heard anyone use, unless, of course, they’re quoting Mr. William. When I get thinking, it usually leads me to jump down a very fascinating rabbit hole. So, if I’ve given you a brain itch that needs to be scratched, come join me as we delve into the depths of Roman history, my musings, and some library-related goodies.

Ides, coming from the Latin word iduare (meaning to divide), marks the halfway point of each month. According to the Ancient Roman lunar calendar, the Ides would usually fall on the 13^th or 15^th day of each month, depending on when the moon was full. Meetings with the Roman Senate would usually take place at dawn, though (and according to ancient texts Caesar died during the 7^th hour), so I had a funny and extremely unserious thought: along with being unfit to rule the people, maybe the Roman Senate was a little nervous about the potential for a werewolf Julius Caesar. What’s worse than a werewolf with the power of an inflated ego?

Doing a quick search through our catalog, nothing popped up for “werewolf Julius Caesar,” so it’s still prime real estate for anyone imaginative enough to cook up a historical remake with a similar vibe to Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter or Pride, Prejudice, and Zombies. But if you can’t get the creative juices flowing, how about a round of One Night Ultimate Werewolf? You play as local village people who begin to dwindle in numbers due to a fate-ordained werewolf or two disguised as your friends, lying in wait until the moon is full (or until they’re all out of table snacks), and it’s up to you to find them before it’s too late. It’s all the fun of “et tu brute?” while also sleuthing, discussing, and negotiating your way through betrayal, suspicion, and some rightful friend finger-pointing. It’s a chaotically fun tabletop game, at least until it ends up becoming a scene right out of Parks and Rec.

Sadly, I have to report that the full moons of the Ides were unfortunately not dedicated to werewolves but to Jupiter, the Roman god of the skies, thunder, and well… the gods (so just Zeus with a slightly cooler sounding name).  The Ides were usually celebrated with feasts and a monthly sacrifice (though I doubt striking political leaders down was part of the tradition, just coincidence) and before the assassination of Julius Caesar, March 15^th was celebrated as the Feast of Anna Perenna.

Anna Perenna was an old Roman deity representing cycles, rings, and the circular nature of the year (her name might even be a reference to the Latin word per annum). The Ancient Roman calendar, in honor of Jupiter, put the month of March at the beginning of the year (which I’m all for as a winter-hater), so you can think of this feast as a kind of bookending New Year’s celebration. Anna Perenna is a pretty niche figure of Roman mythology though (so niche she has several varying origin stories) and my shelf searching came up empty, so instead, in the spirit of her celebration, I found some guides on making some delicious-looking spreads for you and your loved ones.

Tables & Spreads takes you not just through the food part of feasting, but also the decoration, styling, portioning, and preparation, with a handy planning guide at the front of the book for the chronically time-mismanaged. Since it is a little light on the Ancient Roman flare though, you can check out A Blissful Feast by Teresa Lust along with our collection of Italian cookbooks if the introduction to Lust’s book is a little too reminiscent of the extra long preambles before any recipe you can find on the internet. Still, A Blissful Feast takes the best of “when in Rome (do as the Romans do),” as you’re guided through an Italian travelogue of all the best places to see in Lust’s mission to transform herself from a professional chef into a home cook.  

The last stop my web-digging brainworm brought me to is the modern day. Apparently, for the past three years, there’s been a historical re-enactment of the assassination of Julius Caesar every March 15^th on the grounds where he supposedly died, courtesy of the Roman Historical Group/Gruppo Storico Romano. Hopefully, they’ll run it again next year for any of you travel bugs. But when Largo di Torre Argentina isn’t playing host to grim stage plays, it serves as a cat sanctuary. Maybe I wasn’t that far off with the whole werewolf train of thought…

Ironically enough, in Roman mythology cats were most closely associated with the goddess Libertas (and the huntress, Diana), and if the name didn’t give it away, she was the personification of freedom. So maybe it’s a little fitting that Caesar’s resting place is being used as a giant cat tree for all the local fuzzy-pawed revolutionaries. If you’d like to maximize your own lazy yet paw-erful spirit of liberty, how about checking out Catfulness by Paolo Valentino? It’s got a leg up on most introductions to mindfulness as its guide is, as most cats are, a cat with an ego the size of its furry body. Plus, the cartoon cats sauntering across each page are too cute and if you read a page a day, Catfulness ends up becoming a complete seven-week workshop on embodying feline philosophy to the fullest.   

Throughout my extensive internet rabbit hole hopping though, I think the largest and probably the most unsurprising discovery I made is that Shakespeare’s version of Julius Caesar’s final days did some big stretching of the “based on a true story” disclaimer, and maybe should have used it before Hollywood ever got to it. If you’d like to get a more accurate picture of the life and times of one of the most infamous Ancient Romans and can’t get your hands on Plutarch’s more accurate account in Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romans, you can check out The Death of Caesar by Barry Strauss or Uncommon Wrath by Josiah Osgood.

Until next time, don’t be wary of the Ides too much, unless, of course, you happen to be Shakespeare or Julius Caesar (or a werewolf).