By some bizarre coincidence, I am actually re-reading The Divine Comedy this week. It feels, to my jaded modern eye, like Dante is writing fan fiction about himself. Consider, if you will: he goes and hangs out with the greatest poets of antiquity; the dead woman he obsessed over thinks of him constantly in Heaven; and everyone who opposes him politically is hell-bound. All that’s left is for Captain Kirk to fall in love with him.
