Column: The Purist

In the autumn I went to university, I declared myself an art history major and thrilled to the menu of classes, especially those about the Middle Ages. Before long, I thought of myself as a serious medievalist and a part-time musical theater actress—a condition I would say is now firmly in reverse order—and one of my professors gave me a special pass to visit the rare-book library, known as the Beinecke library, and see miniaturist paintings in person. This is like being invited to a special laboratory to put your fingers in plutonium, or to a certain observatory to see stars with a rare telescope. And this was where I was shown the oldest known tarocchi, or tarot cards. I had always been fascinated by fortune-telling and occult things, by things and places that have an air of mysticism. But I would not have thought I could do this for a good grade.