1995, first edition, from Hungry Tiger Press
David Maxine as Editor-in-Chief, Eric Shanower as Art Director
Oz Story Magazine, No. 1
Bought new for $14.95
Worn paperback
C+
Despite the title, this annual, which ran through 2000, is in the format of a tall paperback book of over 125 pages. It includes contributions from Oz historians Baum, Thompson, and Cosgrove, as well as artwork by Denslow and Neill, although it also has more modern contributions, not just from Shanower of course but a not-bad comic page called The Pathetic Losers of Oz. Overall, the pieces are uneven, with Baum's almost-50-pages-in-this-format Sam Steele's Adventures on Land and Sea, a boys' adventure story, mostly forgettable (except for the unfortunate repeated use of the N-word). I most enjoyed the reproductions of the comic strip The Wonderland of Oz by Sprouse, with new text by Shanower.
The decade tags represent when these works were originally published, which in some cases is in this issue.
Showing posts with label 1900-1909. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1900-1909. Show all posts
Monday, September 23, 2013
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Anne of Avonlea
1909, 1988 Bantam Classic edition
L. M. Montgomery
Anne of Avonlea
Original price $2.95, purchase price $1.75
OK condition paperback
B
The second "Anne" book is just as good as the first. It covers the two years in which Anne teaches at her old school, and learns a few things herself. The school parts are fine, but I prefer to read about the AVIS campaign to beautify Avonlea and Miss Lavendar's middle-aged romance. Anne is 16 to 18 in this story, so she's more grown-up but still getting into scrapes. She helps Marilla raise twins that a distant relative has left, bratty Davy and boring Dora. I could've done without this thread, but I guess Montgomery felt that there wasn't enough of children saying the darnedest things. Fourteen-year-old Charlotta the Fourth is my favorite new character, but I don't think she comes back. The Mr. and Mrs. Harrison thread is pretty good, although I was surprised that Ginger the parrot is killed off so soon. There are more references to Canadian politics than usual, and confusingly Mrs. Lynde, who doesn't believe in higher education for women, is a Liberal.
The book ends with Miss Lavendar's wedding, as Anne and Gilbert prepare to go off to Redmond College. He's been carrying a torch for her for years, but she only gets a sense of it now. Despite her romantic imagination, she doesn't seem to see what's right in front of her. She's quicker to spot Diana & Fred. I don't remember Fred in the first book, but suddenly he's there as part of the gang. Anne's sad to lose her best friend to marriage, but at least it'll be a long engagement. Not only does Mrs. Barry want Diana wait till she's 21, but the third Anne book must wait till 1915....
L. M. Montgomery
Anne of Avonlea
Original price $2.95, purchase price $1.75
OK condition paperback
B
The second "Anne" book is just as good as the first. It covers the two years in which Anne teaches at her old school, and learns a few things herself. The school parts are fine, but I prefer to read about the AVIS campaign to beautify Avonlea and Miss Lavendar's middle-aged romance. Anne is 16 to 18 in this story, so she's more grown-up but still getting into scrapes. She helps Marilla raise twins that a distant relative has left, bratty Davy and boring Dora. I could've done without this thread, but I guess Montgomery felt that there wasn't enough of children saying the darnedest things. Fourteen-year-old Charlotta the Fourth is my favorite new character, but I don't think she comes back. The Mr. and Mrs. Harrison thread is pretty good, although I was surprised that Ginger the parrot is killed off so soon. There are more references to Canadian politics than usual, and confusingly Mrs. Lynde, who doesn't believe in higher education for women, is a Liberal.
The book ends with Miss Lavendar's wedding, as Anne and Gilbert prepare to go off to Redmond College. He's been carrying a torch for her for years, but she only gets a sense of it now. Despite her romantic imagination, she doesn't seem to see what's right in front of her. She's quicker to spot Diana & Fred. I don't remember Fred in the first book, but suddenly he's there as part of the gang. Anne's sad to lose her best friend to marriage, but at least it'll be a long engagement. Not only does Mrs. Barry want Diana wait till she's 21, but the third Anne book must wait till 1915....
Friday, March 16, 2012
Three Thanksgivings
1909
Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Three Thanksgivings
B-
This is the first story in the collection where Gilman offers a how-to for economic independence. Not that that many women are lucky enough to be the daughters of popular senators and/or the wives of popular ministers, with a big old house in good condition, but Gilman does offer a plausible method for Mrs. Morrison, a 50-year-old widow, to clear her mortgage and thus dismiss an unwanted suitor and avoid living with her grown-up children. No twist ending here, just an inevitable and satisfying conclusion.
Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Three Thanksgivings
B-
This is the first story in the collection where Gilman offers a how-to for economic independence. Not that that many women are lucky enough to be the daughters of popular senators and/or the wives of popular ministers, with a big old house in good condition, but Gilman does offer a plausible method for Mrs. Morrison, a 50-year-old widow, to clear her mortgage and thus dismiss an unwanted suitor and avoid living with her grown-up children. No twist ending here, just an inevitable and satisfying conclusion.
Caricature: The Wit & Humor of a Nation
1909ish (see below), Judge Company publisher
Caricature: The Wit & Humor of a Nation in Picture, Song & Story
Original price unknown, purchase price $5.50
Worn hardcover
D
My apologies to From 18 to 20. That was not the worst book I own. This is. (I think. Maybe I've blocked out the worst books.) The reason why I bought it and have kept it is because it is such a product of its time and place. Apparently a collection of the humor magazine Judge, covering a little bit over a year's worth of issues, it tells of an America where cars and airplanes are dangerous novelties, especially for bystanders, and where couples court in canoes. The most notable cartoon is labeled "Fame (in 1957)," where a mother and little girl, still dressed vintage turn-of-the-century, have the following exchange:
"Say, ma, what does the word Carnegie mean?"
"Why, my dear, it was a certain kind of free public library they used to build."
The illustrations, ranging from pretty good to pretty awful, show what fashions and furnishings looked like. (Not so much architecture, although there are some tenements.) The text preserves slang and dialect. Which brings me to one of the reasons this book is so bad. Decades before political correctness, it was apparently perfectly acceptable to present ethnic humor with no nuance or irony. Blacks, occasionally called "colored," but more often more derogatory terms, suffer the worst portrayals, both visually and verbally. One cartoon shows two foppishly dressed "darkies," having this conversation:
"Ah'm told yo' Souf Carolinian delegates will be uninstructed."
" 'Deed, yas, sah. We am free as air jes' so long as we do wot Mistah Cortelyou tells us."
George Cortelyou was the chairman of the Republican National Committee, and the implication here is that black delegates couldn't think for themselves.
Yes, I'm explaining a joke. But then the jokes keep explaining themselves. Every single one of them has a title, which often gives away the punchline. In one case, the joke is also written in the illustration. For a "humor" magazine, there's not much that's funny here. Yes, it's over a century old, but Twain and much older writers are still funny. In fact, the closest I came to cracking a smile was at some of the jokes I recognized from MAD and Reader's Digest recycling them. (Punchline, "My feet smell and my nose runs," ha ha.)
Some of the jokes are submitted by readers, yes, like in Reader's Digest. That's where many but by no means all of the ethnic jokes come from. And while the blacks are shown as the worst, at times barely human, it is the Irish who are the go-to group for mockery, with sometimes three "Oirish" jokes in a row. Surprisingly, considering the magazine was published in New York City, there aren't that many jokes about Eastern or Southern Europeans, except of course for Jews. The Japanese are made fun of a few times, but more because of the Russo-Japanese War.
There is some political humor, even if it's most often a joke about teddy bears. The front page lists 1909 as the publishing date but 1908 as the copyright date. Since Taft is referred to as President in the later pages, I'm going with '09.
There's a little bit about suffragettes, but mostly women are shown as two general types, each with a subtype: single and looking for a husband, whether desperately as a homely spinster, or cynically as an attractive Gibson girl; or married, either hen-pecking or calmly discussing divorce. Few men are happily married, and the bachelors are too stupid to know how good they have it. The stories in the book usually don't run past a page or two, but there's a two-parter about a man named "Twiggy" (yes, I know) whose friends get him into a fix with too many fiancees.
At the moment, eBay has a copy of the 1907 edition of Caricature going for $59.99. I can't justify keeping this book, but I also find myself reluctant to part with it, because it is sort of fascinating in its awfulness and turn-of-the-century-ness. Luckily, my boyfriend wants to add it to his collection of bound magazines, like 1850s Harper's. So if I develop a craving to see ducks dressed as doctors, or read Bowery kids talking about romance, I know where to look.
Caricature: The Wit & Humor of a Nation in Picture, Song & Story
Original price unknown, purchase price $5.50
Worn hardcover
D
My apologies to From 18 to 20. That was not the worst book I own. This is. (I think. Maybe I've blocked out the worst books.) The reason why I bought it and have kept it is because it is such a product of its time and place. Apparently a collection of the humor magazine Judge, covering a little bit over a year's worth of issues, it tells of an America where cars and airplanes are dangerous novelties, especially for bystanders, and where couples court in canoes. The most notable cartoon is labeled "Fame (in 1957)," where a mother and little girl, still dressed vintage turn-of-the-century, have the following exchange:
"Say, ma, what does the word Carnegie mean?"
"Why, my dear, it was a certain kind of free public library they used to build."
The illustrations, ranging from pretty good to pretty awful, show what fashions and furnishings looked like. (Not so much architecture, although there are some tenements.) The text preserves slang and dialect. Which brings me to one of the reasons this book is so bad. Decades before political correctness, it was apparently perfectly acceptable to present ethnic humor with no nuance or irony. Blacks, occasionally called "colored," but more often more derogatory terms, suffer the worst portrayals, both visually and verbally. One cartoon shows two foppishly dressed "darkies," having this conversation:
"Ah'm told yo' Souf Carolinian delegates will be uninstructed."
" 'Deed, yas, sah. We am free as air jes' so long as we do wot Mistah Cortelyou tells us."
George Cortelyou was the chairman of the Republican National Committee, and the implication here is that black delegates couldn't think for themselves.
Yes, I'm explaining a joke. But then the jokes keep explaining themselves. Every single one of them has a title, which often gives away the punchline. In one case, the joke is also written in the illustration. For a "humor" magazine, there's not much that's funny here. Yes, it's over a century old, but Twain and much older writers are still funny. In fact, the closest I came to cracking a smile was at some of the jokes I recognized from MAD and Reader's Digest recycling them. (Punchline, "My feet smell and my nose runs," ha ha.)
Some of the jokes are submitted by readers, yes, like in Reader's Digest. That's where many but by no means all of the ethnic jokes come from. And while the blacks are shown as the worst, at times barely human, it is the Irish who are the go-to group for mockery, with sometimes three "Oirish" jokes in a row. Surprisingly, considering the magazine was published in New York City, there aren't that many jokes about Eastern or Southern Europeans, except of course for Jews. The Japanese are made fun of a few times, but more because of the Russo-Japanese War.
There is some political humor, even if it's most often a joke about teddy bears. The front page lists 1909 as the publishing date but 1908 as the copyright date. Since Taft is referred to as President in the later pages, I'm going with '09.
There's a little bit about suffragettes, but mostly women are shown as two general types, each with a subtype: single and looking for a husband, whether desperately as a homely spinster, or cynically as an attractive Gibson girl; or married, either hen-pecking or calmly discussing divorce. Few men are happily married, and the bachelors are too stupid to know how good they have it. The stories in the book usually don't run past a page or two, but there's a two-parter about a man named "Twiggy" (yes, I know) whose friends get him into a fix with too many fiancees.
At the moment, eBay has a copy of the 1907 edition of Caricature going for $59.99. I can't justify keeping this book, but I also find myself reluctant to part with it, because it is sort of fascinating in its awfulness and turn-of-the-century-ness. Luckily, my boyfriend wants to add it to his collection of bound magazines, like 1850s Harper's. So if I develop a craving to see ducks dressed as doctors, or read Bowery kids talking about romance, I know where to look.
The Road to Oz
1909, two copies, one a paperback Rand McNally, the other a hardcover Reilly & Lee, both undated but purchased in the mid-1970s
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
The Road to Oz
Paperback $1.95, hardcover $3.00
Paperback stained with bent covers, hardcover pretty good condition
C+
This is possibly Baum's weakest Oz book. The journey on the road to Oz is mostly forgettable. Foxville and Dunkiton are among the more boring "animal" lands. The Scoodlers are the highlight, sort of like The Hammerheads in Wizard, but their heads are detachable. Neill has fun decorating them with things like clubs and spades, pawnbrokers' balls and symbols of currency.
All three of Dorothy's traveling companions come off better in other books. The Shaggy Man is wittier later, and he won't set off Stranger Danger vibes. (As a child, it bothered me less that Dorothy goes wandering off with a stranger, since she makes a habit of that, than that he puts Toto in his pocket to guard the apples he's stolen.) Button-Bright will have more to say than, "Don't know." And even Polychrome will be a more developed personality, although I was fond enough of her after this book to name my calico kitten after her.
Since this is the book where Baum refers to just about every one of his non-Oz books to that point (no sign of the Magical Monarch of Mo), Neill has a chance to draw John Dough, Santa Claus, the Queen of Merryland, and so on. I think his Zixi is as good as Richardson's, better facially but not as beautifully gowned. Neill also gets his first try at Toto, and as I said, I prefer Denslow's. There is a great picture of Dorothy and Toto looking at tin statues of themselves as they "first appeared in the Land of Oz." (Look for Denslow's hippocampi on the pedestals.) As always, Neill shines with the castles and palaces, not just the Tin Woodman's tin castle, but the glimpses of Ozma's palace, particularly the one of Jellia Jamb running down the grand front steps to greet Dorothy. Neill's style is less detailed than in Land, but once again there are some illustrations worth poring over. (The ones in Ozma and DatW are plainer.)
We get to Oz at an earlier point than in the third and fourth books, just past halfway, which is probably just as well. Most of the second half is taken up with Ozma's birthday party, including the anticipation. Ozma has the same birthday as my ex-husband, August 21st, and as I mentioned earlier, you can make a chronology using clues from the "tombstones" for Jack's pumpkin-heads.
This is the first Oz book to set up the utopian features that will be expanded on later, although I won't tag the series with "utopias" just yet, since it's not fully integrated. The Tin Woodman, who in the second book was going to make the temporarily money-stuffed Scarecrow his Royal Treasurer, and who in the third book owed six weeks of back pay to one of the soldiers, is now horrified by the idea of "using money to buy things with, instead of love and kindness and the desire to please one another." Also, when Dorothy thinks Jack has died, she says, "But I thought nobody ever died in Oz," even though her kitten was threatened with the death penalty nine times, as recently as the previous book. It's as if Baum has switched the rules on us and then pretends that they've always been like this. Maybe Ozma, as the rightful ruler, had to be on her throne long enough for the rules to change, and maybe Baum/Ozma/Glinda/??? has again Orwellianly rewritten history and hopes we won't notice.
Well, it probably wasn't Glinda. In the big birthday parade, the nameless King of the Quadlings marches with Nick and the other quadrant-rulers, but Glinda is marching with the Good Witch of the North. I can't remember when Glinda will get her throne back, but I assure you that when she does, there'll be no mention of her ever being off it.
I've decided to keep the paperback copy, even though it's in worse condition, because the hardcover doesn't haven't any outside illustrations, except the spine. The paperback has the visit to Jack's house on the front cover, and Ozma and Dorothy almost kissing on the back. (It's more innocent than it sounds.)
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
The Road to Oz
Paperback $1.95, hardcover $3.00
Paperback stained with bent covers, hardcover pretty good condition
C+
This is possibly Baum's weakest Oz book. The journey on the road to Oz is mostly forgettable. Foxville and Dunkiton are among the more boring "animal" lands. The Scoodlers are the highlight, sort of like The Hammerheads in Wizard, but their heads are detachable. Neill has fun decorating them with things like clubs and spades, pawnbrokers' balls and symbols of currency.
All three of Dorothy's traveling companions come off better in other books. The Shaggy Man is wittier later, and he won't set off Stranger Danger vibes. (As a child, it bothered me less that Dorothy goes wandering off with a stranger, since she makes a habit of that, than that he puts Toto in his pocket to guard the apples he's stolen.) Button-Bright will have more to say than, "Don't know." And even Polychrome will be a more developed personality, although I was fond enough of her after this book to name my calico kitten after her.
Since this is the book where Baum refers to just about every one of his non-Oz books to that point (no sign of the Magical Monarch of Mo), Neill has a chance to draw John Dough, Santa Claus, the Queen of Merryland, and so on. I think his Zixi is as good as Richardson's, better facially but not as beautifully gowned. Neill also gets his first try at Toto, and as I said, I prefer Denslow's. There is a great picture of Dorothy and Toto looking at tin statues of themselves as they "first appeared in the Land of Oz." (Look for Denslow's hippocampi on the pedestals.) As always, Neill shines with the castles and palaces, not just the Tin Woodman's tin castle, but the glimpses of Ozma's palace, particularly the one of Jellia Jamb running down the grand front steps to greet Dorothy. Neill's style is less detailed than in Land, but once again there are some illustrations worth poring over. (The ones in Ozma and DatW are plainer.)
We get to Oz at an earlier point than in the third and fourth books, just past halfway, which is probably just as well. Most of the second half is taken up with Ozma's birthday party, including the anticipation. Ozma has the same birthday as my ex-husband, August 21st, and as I mentioned earlier, you can make a chronology using clues from the "tombstones" for Jack's pumpkin-heads.
This is the first Oz book to set up the utopian features that will be expanded on later, although I won't tag the series with "utopias" just yet, since it's not fully integrated. The Tin Woodman, who in the second book was going to make the temporarily money-stuffed Scarecrow his Royal Treasurer, and who in the third book owed six weeks of back pay to one of the soldiers, is now horrified by the idea of "using money to buy things with, instead of love and kindness and the desire to please one another." Also, when Dorothy thinks Jack has died, she says, "But I thought nobody ever died in Oz," even though her kitten was threatened with the death penalty nine times, as recently as the previous book. It's as if Baum has switched the rules on us and then pretends that they've always been like this. Maybe Ozma, as the rightful ruler, had to be on her throne long enough for the rules to change, and maybe Baum/Ozma/Glinda/??? has again Orwellianly rewritten history and hopes we won't notice.
Well, it probably wasn't Glinda. In the big birthday parade, the nameless King of the Quadlings marches with Nick and the other quadrant-rulers, but Glinda is marching with the Good Witch of the North. I can't remember when Glinda will get her throne back, but I assure you that when she does, there'll be no mention of her ever being off it.
I've decided to keep the paperback copy, even though it's in worse condition, because the hardcover doesn't haven't any outside illustrations, except the spine. The paperback has the visit to Jack's house on the front cover, and Ozma and Dorothy almost kissing on the back. (It's more innocent than it sounds.)
Anne of Green Gables
1908, undated 1980s Bantam Seal edition (see below)
L. M. Montgomery
Anne of Green Gables
Original price $3.95, purchase price $2.08
OK condition paperback
B
Judging from the bookstore stamp in the front, I didn't read this series till my early 20s. Oddly enough, much of the book is from the perspective of adults, 50-something Marilla in particular. Even more than with Tom Sawyer, we see Anne from the outside. So we're well aware of how unique she is. Never mind that she seems like a more interesting version of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, and that some of her mishaps sound like variations of Jo March's mishaps. Oddly enough, a lot of these mishaps are Marilla's fault, usually due to mislabeling liquids. Anne will suffer, sometimes get punished, and then Marilla will realize what happened and sort of apologize. Maybe this book is actually about Marilla, despite the title. Certainly, she's more transformed than Anne by the end, becoming kinder and generally more emotional.
I don't like how the second half of the book just rushes through four years, after spending the first half on Anne's first year at Green Gables. (The first quarter covers a couple weeks.) I understand that Montgomery would want to include (spoilers) Matthew's death, Marilla's eyes, and Anne's decision to not go to college, but I would prefer that she either make the book longer, maybe the length of Little Women, or just split it into two, with this book going up to perhaps "Where the Brook and River Meet," where Anne spends her last summer as "a little girl," and tell us more about her early teens, and then the sequel could cover her last year at the Avonlea school and her year at Queen's. Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm had this problem, too, but I was less invested in the characters. Even the best friend, Diana, is much more of an individual here.
It's never explicitly said when the story is set, although there are electric lights in town and puffed sleeves even in the country. If you don't mind more spoilers, check out this link that's worked out the dates of the series: http://avonlea.hu/cd/websites/hendricks_paul/kindreds/chronology.html . I agree with their calculations, and think this book covers 1876 to 1881. Montgomery herself wasn't born till 1874, but there are definitely autobiographical elements.
I remember watching the quite good 1985 series, starring Megan Follows as Anne. I probably saw it on cable a few years after it came out. This Bantam edition shows Megan on the cover, perfectly fitting the first physical description of Anne, and the back says that it's "now a major television miniseries." I think I watched the show and then bought a couple of the books. I can't remember if I watched the sequels.
L. M. Montgomery
Anne of Green Gables
Original price $3.95, purchase price $2.08
OK condition paperback
B
Judging from the bookstore stamp in the front, I didn't read this series till my early 20s. Oddly enough, much of the book is from the perspective of adults, 50-something Marilla in particular. Even more than with Tom Sawyer, we see Anne from the outside. So we're well aware of how unique she is. Never mind that she seems like a more interesting version of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, and that some of her mishaps sound like variations of Jo March's mishaps. Oddly enough, a lot of these mishaps are Marilla's fault, usually due to mislabeling liquids. Anne will suffer, sometimes get punished, and then Marilla will realize what happened and sort of apologize. Maybe this book is actually about Marilla, despite the title. Certainly, she's more transformed than Anne by the end, becoming kinder and generally more emotional.
I don't like how the second half of the book just rushes through four years, after spending the first half on Anne's first year at Green Gables. (The first quarter covers a couple weeks.) I understand that Montgomery would want to include (spoilers) Matthew's death, Marilla's eyes, and Anne's decision to not go to college, but I would prefer that she either make the book longer, maybe the length of Little Women, or just split it into two, with this book going up to perhaps "Where the Brook and River Meet," where Anne spends her last summer as "a little girl," and tell us more about her early teens, and then the sequel could cover her last year at the Avonlea school and her year at Queen's. Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm had this problem, too, but I was less invested in the characters. Even the best friend, Diana, is much more of an individual here.
It's never explicitly said when the story is set, although there are electric lights in town and puffed sleeves even in the country. If you don't mind more spoilers, check out this link that's worked out the dates of the series: http://avonlea.hu/cd/websites/hendricks_paul/kindreds/chronology.html . I agree with their calculations, and think this book covers 1876 to 1881. Montgomery herself wasn't born till 1874, but there are definitely autobiographical elements.
I remember watching the quite good 1985 series, starring Megan Follows as Anne. I probably saw it on cable a few years after it came out. This Bantam edition shows Megan on the cover, perfectly fitting the first physical description of Anne, and the back says that it's "now a major television miniseries." I think I watched the show and then bought a couple of the books. I can't remember if I watched the sequels.
A Room with a View
1908, 1988 Bantam edition
E. M. Forster
A Room with a View
Bought new for $4.50
Somewhat tattered paperback
B
Forster's first successful novel remains both quaint and modern. As the equally charming introduction by Mona Simpson notes, it's a world with automobiles and bicycles, and yet the characters would feel right at home in the novels of Eliot or Austen, or even Henry Fielding. Forster was born in 1879 but is the first of the authors I'm reviewing to live into my lifetime, dying in 1970. This book is very Edwardian and gently mocks both Victorianism and modernism.
Unlike the later Forster books I own, it doesn't seem to have any serious meaning. It's just about a girl who is kissed by one man, becomes engaged to another, and then has to decide between the two. (She does briefly consider independence, but her mother dismisses this as typewriters, latch-keys, and bad food.) There's a vague suggestion of Paganism, from kisses among the violets to a skinny-dipping minister, but it's all very genteel. Even the "cad" who kisses her is very polite.
I think Forster was mostly just being playful, as shown in his chapter titles, ranging from the perfunctory "Fourth Chapter" to the very wordy sixth chapter, "The Reverend Arthur Beebe, the Reverend Cuthbert Eager, Mr. Emerson, Mr. George Emerson, Miss Eleanor Lavish, Miss Charlotte Bartlett, and Miss Lucy Honeychurch Drive Out in Carriages to See a View; Italians Drive Them." The book is the literary equivalent of bumble-puppy, where the rules don't matter as much as the fun, and you never play when Cecil is around.
E. M. Forster
A Room with a View
Bought new for $4.50
Somewhat tattered paperback
B
Forster's first successful novel remains both quaint and modern. As the equally charming introduction by Mona Simpson notes, it's a world with automobiles and bicycles, and yet the characters would feel right at home in the novels of Eliot or Austen, or even Henry Fielding. Forster was born in 1879 but is the first of the authors I'm reviewing to live into my lifetime, dying in 1970. This book is very Edwardian and gently mocks both Victorianism and modernism.
Unlike the later Forster books I own, it doesn't seem to have any serious meaning. It's just about a girl who is kissed by one man, becomes engaged to another, and then has to decide between the two. (She does briefly consider independence, but her mother dismisses this as typewriters, latch-keys, and bad food.) There's a vague suggestion of Paganism, from kisses among the violets to a skinny-dipping minister, but it's all very genteel. Even the "cad" who kisses her is very polite.
I think Forster was mostly just being playful, as shown in his chapter titles, ranging from the perfunctory "Fourth Chapter" to the very wordy sixth chapter, "The Reverend Arthur Beebe, the Reverend Cuthbert Eager, Mr. Emerson, Mr. George Emerson, Miss Eleanor Lavish, Miss Charlotte Bartlett, and Miss Lucy Honeychurch Drive Out in Carriages to See a View; Italians Drive Them." The book is the literary equivalent of bumble-puppy, where the rules don't matter as much as the fun, and you never play when Cecil is around.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz
1908, 1970s Rand McNally edition
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz
Bought new for $1.95
Paperback with stains and amusingly a page torn by my cat of the time
B-
The Wizard's back! You know, the ruler who seldom showed himself to his people. The humbug swindler who abandoned Dorothy. And, oh yeah, the guy who gave baby Ozma to Mombi. Yay, the Wizard's back! Let's have a parade!
Well, as Baum says in his introduction, "It seems the jolly old fellow made hosts of friends in the first Oz book." So let's just ignore what we learned about him in the second book, and have Dorothy and the Ozites remember him fondly. Still, wouldn't you love to be in the room to ask a few uncomfortable questions when Ozma tells the Wizard how Mombi kidnapped Ozma's grandfather, imprisoning him and then later Ozma's father? "When I was born she transformed me into a boy." There's no explanation of how Mombi managed to be the jailor of three generations of the royal family without Glinda or somebody putting a stop to it. And it's not clear who rewrote history-- Ozma, her tutor the Wogglebug (now President of the Royal College of Scientific Athletics, part of Baum's satire of academia), Glinda, or our sometimes forgetful author?
Baum is starting to move towards a utopia, with Eureka's murder trial a rarity in a land where the people are "generally so well-behaved" that they don't have any lawyers. Baum gets to satirize law, too, and it's funny that no one minds that the Wizard and the soft-hearted Tin Woodman defraud the court by claiming one of the other nine piglets is the recovered victim.
Two-thirds of the book is set in other lands than Oz, ones that are less appealing than Ev or the Nome Country. I appreciate the ingenuity of Dorothy, the Wizard, and their new friends, but then there are moments like when I wonder, "Why don't they use the Braided Man's Flutters and Rustles to scare the noise-hating Gargoyles?" The story literally dead-ends in a cave, and there's no Vernean volcano to save them. Instead, Dorothy reveals that Ozma has been checking in on her every day at 4 o'clock. (In Ozma they decide on every Saturday, but maybe that wasn't often enough and Dorothy communicated this visually.) So Ozma uses the Magic Belt, which Dorothy took from the Nome King and left with Ozma, to rescue Dorothy and friends.
In the end, Dorothy and Eureka go to Kansas, although Eureka will be back in Oz without explanation later. "Cousin" Zeb and his horse Jim get sent back to California. Oh yeah, did I mention the earthquake? This book may or may not be set in 1906. I've seen a chronology for the first few Oz books, using the dates of Jack's pumpkin heads in Road to Oz and assuming this fourth book is set during the Great Quake in San Francisco. You can also roughly figure out Dorothy's age, based on clues from later books. You're not going to get an answer that will cover all contingencies, but it's convincing enough.
Unlike the rehabilitation of the Wizard. Still, remember, the Wizard is a good guy now. And Oceania has always been at war with Easteasia.
Oh, I suppose I should say something about Neill's illustrations. They're not very remarkable in this or Ozma. They get the job done but they're forgettable compared to the ones in the second and fifth books. I do like how he does castles, like the glass one on p. 24. I find it odd that he usually draws Eureka in white tie and tails, particularly since Eureka is a female kitten. Dorothy's wardrobe is more suited to her than in Ozma, being both simpler and more modern. His version of the Wizard plays up the Wizard's skullduggery, I mean charm.
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz
Bought new for $1.95
Paperback with stains and amusingly a page torn by my cat of the time
B-
The Wizard's back! You know, the ruler who seldom showed himself to his people. The humbug swindler who abandoned Dorothy. And, oh yeah, the guy who gave baby Ozma to Mombi. Yay, the Wizard's back! Let's have a parade!
Well, as Baum says in his introduction, "It seems the jolly old fellow made hosts of friends in the first Oz book." So let's just ignore what we learned about him in the second book, and have Dorothy and the Ozites remember him fondly. Still, wouldn't you love to be in the room to ask a few uncomfortable questions when Ozma tells the Wizard how Mombi kidnapped Ozma's grandfather, imprisoning him and then later Ozma's father? "When I was born she transformed me into a boy." There's no explanation of how Mombi managed to be the jailor of three generations of the royal family without Glinda or somebody putting a stop to it. And it's not clear who rewrote history-- Ozma, her tutor the Wogglebug (now President of the Royal College of Scientific Athletics, part of Baum's satire of academia), Glinda, or our sometimes forgetful author?
Baum is starting to move towards a utopia, with Eureka's murder trial a rarity in a land where the people are "generally so well-behaved" that they don't have any lawyers. Baum gets to satirize law, too, and it's funny that no one minds that the Wizard and the soft-hearted Tin Woodman defraud the court by claiming one of the other nine piglets is the recovered victim.
Two-thirds of the book is set in other lands than Oz, ones that are less appealing than Ev or the Nome Country. I appreciate the ingenuity of Dorothy, the Wizard, and their new friends, but then there are moments like when I wonder, "Why don't they use the Braided Man's Flutters and Rustles to scare the noise-hating Gargoyles?" The story literally dead-ends in a cave, and there's no Vernean volcano to save them. Instead, Dorothy reveals that Ozma has been checking in on her every day at 4 o'clock. (In Ozma they decide on every Saturday, but maybe that wasn't often enough and Dorothy communicated this visually.) So Ozma uses the Magic Belt, which Dorothy took from the Nome King and left with Ozma, to rescue Dorothy and friends.
In the end, Dorothy and Eureka go to Kansas, although Eureka will be back in Oz without explanation later. "Cousin" Zeb and his horse Jim get sent back to California. Oh yeah, did I mention the earthquake? This book may or may not be set in 1906. I've seen a chronology for the first few Oz books, using the dates of Jack's pumpkin heads in Road to Oz and assuming this fourth book is set during the Great Quake in San Francisco. You can also roughly figure out Dorothy's age, based on clues from later books. You're not going to get an answer that will cover all contingencies, but it's convincing enough.
Unlike the rehabilitation of the Wizard. Still, remember, the Wizard is a good guy now. And Oceania has always been at war with Easteasia.
Oh, I suppose I should say something about Neill's illustrations. They're not very remarkable in this or Ozma. They get the job done but they're forgettable compared to the ones in the second and fifth books. I do like how he does castles, like the glass one on p. 24. I find it odd that he usually draws Eureka in white tie and tails, particularly since Eureka is a female kitten. Dorothy's wardrobe is more suited to her than in Ozma, being both simpler and more modern. His version of the Wizard plays up the Wizard's skullduggery, I mean charm.
Ozma of Oz
1907, 1970s Regnery edition
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
Ozma of Oz
Bought new for $3.95
Paperback with stains and worn corners
B
The Gales don't seem to be doing too badly financially at this point. Not only is Dorothy illustrated with a pearl necklace, but Henry can afford to take the two of them to Australia when his health is poor. She ends up in a different "Oz" of course, thanks to a shipwreck. Most of the book though takes place in Ev, another of Baum's two-letter countries. Some time before the story starts, the wicked King of Ev sells his wife and ten children to the Nome King in exchange for a long life, which he throws away when he commits suicide in remorse. Ozma decides to go rescue the Evian royal family. She's accompanied by Dorothy's old friends the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman, and the Cowardly Lion, as well as the 27-man army and the Lion's friend the Hungry Tiger.
Baum tends to be satirical towards the military, presenting them as more cowardly than the lion, and with a taste for finery. Confusingly, the Soldier with the Green Whiskers of the first two books is now a private named Omby Amby, rather than the entire army, as he was in Land. He gets promoted to Captain General at the end of this book, because he's braver than the 26 officers.
Baum also gently mocks royalty in this book. The tragedy of Ev is softened by the humor of the interim ruler, the king's niece, Langwidere. This languid and vain young lady has 30 heads, all very Gibson-girlish. The Nome King, Roquat the Red, is the main ruler we see and he's complex, in a different way than Zixi. Tiktok, the Machine Man, says that the Nome King is kind, and we know that Tiktok can't lie, but Tiktok knows nothing of Machiavellian politics. The Nome King is jovial, Santa-Claus-like, when things are going his way, but he has a huge army of nomes and a Magic Belt. He also has cunning, and he tricks Ozma and her companions into thinking that it'll be a simple task to free the Ev royals.
As a child, the ornament-guessing game was my favorite part, along with the lunch-boxes and dinner-pails that grow on trees. Once again, lives and a country's future are at stake, but the game also works as a puzzle. I was happy for Dorothy when she found the youngest prince, and I liked that saucy hen Billina outsmarted the Nome King. Baum's first published book, in 1886, was about raising chickens, so it's not too surprising that a chicken is the true heroine of this story.
And what of Ozma in the book that bears her name? I remember reading years ago a speculation that her uncharacteristic behavior in this tale, compared to the mostly serene, stay-at-home ruler of the later books, is due to testosterone poisoning, as if she hasn't quite adjusted to being a girl yet, and so feels the need to invade other lands and interfere with their governments. Considering Margaret Thatcher among others, I don't think you have to be male to be interventionist. However, whatever the reason, this is a more aggressive Ozma than we usually see. An interesting character moment is when Ozma first demands that the Nome King appear, and Tiktok reminds her that she doesn't rule Roquat. She changes her command to a request, but he still doesn't appear. Tiktok advises entreaty, but she and her followers don't think she should "humble" herself. So Dorothy says, "I'm not afraid to plead with him. I'm only a little girl from Kansas, and we've got more dignity at home than we know what to do with." This is one of the reasons I've always much preferred Dorothy to Ozma.
Dorothy has changed though since we last saw her. Not only is Neill dressing her more fashionably than Denslow did (wait till we get to the 1920s!), but Baum has started using a slightly annoying dialect for her, to emphasize her age and/or Kansas-ness. She corrects Billina's grammar but herself says things like "zactly" and "comfor'ble." She also tries to improve Billina's manners, but she is just as mouthy to Langwidere.
We don't get to Oz until the last two chapters, but it's the beginning of retcon. Green spectacles are no longer needed in the Emerald City, whether to make you think that there are real emeralds (as in Wizard) or to protect your eyes from the glare of emeralds (as in Land). There's a mention of the "kings" of the four countries, although Glinda still rules the Quadlings. The next book will have more dramatic and more important revisions....
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
Ozma of Oz
Bought new for $3.95
Paperback with stains and worn corners
B
The Gales don't seem to be doing too badly financially at this point. Not only is Dorothy illustrated with a pearl necklace, but Henry can afford to take the two of them to Australia when his health is poor. She ends up in a different "Oz" of course, thanks to a shipwreck. Most of the book though takes place in Ev, another of Baum's two-letter countries. Some time before the story starts, the wicked King of Ev sells his wife and ten children to the Nome King in exchange for a long life, which he throws away when he commits suicide in remorse. Ozma decides to go rescue the Evian royal family. She's accompanied by Dorothy's old friends the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman, and the Cowardly Lion, as well as the 27-man army and the Lion's friend the Hungry Tiger.
Baum tends to be satirical towards the military, presenting them as more cowardly than the lion, and with a taste for finery. Confusingly, the Soldier with the Green Whiskers of the first two books is now a private named Omby Amby, rather than the entire army, as he was in Land. He gets promoted to Captain General at the end of this book, because he's braver than the 26 officers.
Baum also gently mocks royalty in this book. The tragedy of Ev is softened by the humor of the interim ruler, the king's niece, Langwidere. This languid and vain young lady has 30 heads, all very Gibson-girlish. The Nome King, Roquat the Red, is the main ruler we see and he's complex, in a different way than Zixi. Tiktok, the Machine Man, says that the Nome King is kind, and we know that Tiktok can't lie, but Tiktok knows nothing of Machiavellian politics. The Nome King is jovial, Santa-Claus-like, when things are going his way, but he has a huge army of nomes and a Magic Belt. He also has cunning, and he tricks Ozma and her companions into thinking that it'll be a simple task to free the Ev royals.
As a child, the ornament-guessing game was my favorite part, along with the lunch-boxes and dinner-pails that grow on trees. Once again, lives and a country's future are at stake, but the game also works as a puzzle. I was happy for Dorothy when she found the youngest prince, and I liked that saucy hen Billina outsmarted the Nome King. Baum's first published book, in 1886, was about raising chickens, so it's not too surprising that a chicken is the true heroine of this story.
And what of Ozma in the book that bears her name? I remember reading years ago a speculation that her uncharacteristic behavior in this tale, compared to the mostly serene, stay-at-home ruler of the later books, is due to testosterone poisoning, as if she hasn't quite adjusted to being a girl yet, and so feels the need to invade other lands and interfere with their governments. Considering Margaret Thatcher among others, I don't think you have to be male to be interventionist. However, whatever the reason, this is a more aggressive Ozma than we usually see. An interesting character moment is when Ozma first demands that the Nome King appear, and Tiktok reminds her that she doesn't rule Roquat. She changes her command to a request, but he still doesn't appear. Tiktok advises entreaty, but she and her followers don't think she should "humble" herself. So Dorothy says, "I'm not afraid to plead with him. I'm only a little girl from Kansas, and we've got more dignity at home than we know what to do with." This is one of the reasons I've always much preferred Dorothy to Ozma.
Dorothy has changed though since we last saw her. Not only is Neill dressing her more fashionably than Denslow did (wait till we get to the 1920s!), but Baum has started using a slightly annoying dialect for her, to emphasize her age and/or Kansas-ness. She corrects Billina's grammar but herself says things like "zactly" and "comfor'ble." She also tries to improve Billina's manners, but she is just as mouthy to Langwidere.
We don't get to Oz until the last two chapters, but it's the beginning of retcon. Green spectacles are no longer needed in the Emerald City, whether to make you think that there are real emeralds (as in Wizard) or to protect your eyes from the glare of emeralds (as in Land). There's a mention of the "kings" of the four countries, although Glinda still rules the Quadlings. The next book will have more dramatic and more important revisions....
The Journey
1905, from 1963 Signet Classic edition of Gigi and Selected Writings
Colette, translated by Enid McLeod
The Journey
Original and purchase price unknown
Tattered paperback
This selection a B-
A short animal story in the form of a play, this deliberately develops the dog and cat more than the human couple of He and She. Colette understands animals, and I like how after the cat has been a drama queen, the dog gets the last word: "I have to lift my leg." He's named Toby, like Annie's dog in the last Claudine story, so I suspect Colette actually had a dog named Toby. The setting is a train, but it's not really about the journey or the destination and more about the contrast in personalities.
Colette, translated by Enid McLeod
The Journey
Original and purchase price unknown
Tattered paperback
This selection a B-
A short animal story in the form of a play, this deliberately develops the dog and cat more than the human couple of He and She. Colette understands animals, and I like how after the cat has been a drama queen, the dog gets the last word: "I have to lift my leg." He's named Toby, like Annie's dog in the last Claudine story, so I suspect Colette actually had a dog named Toby. The setting is a train, but it's not really about the journey or the destination and more about the contrast in personalities.
Queen Zixi of Ix
1905, 1971 Dover edition
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by Frederick Richardson
Queen Zixi of Ix, or The Story of the Magic Cloak
Original price $2.50, purchase price unknown
Paperback with stains
B
Despite the title, we don't get to Zixi or Ix till about 100 pages in. Most of the story is set in Noland, a rather Erewhonian name for a country. A peasant boy and girl find themselves royalty through a quirk of law. And, although it's not remarked on in the text, they quickly assume aristocratic attitudes. It really struck me on this reading how they and Zixi bully people, like threatening Dame Dingle for not knowing that the cloak she cut up for patchwork is magic. And, until Bud's sister Fluff tells him he has to pay for all the good things in their new royal life by performing his duties as king, such as settling disputes, he acts like a shiftless nobleman. I do like the twist on Solomon, where the woman who best knows how to milk a cow is actually the neighbor. (Bud doesn't suggest cutting the cow in half, although that might've been a better solution.)
The real title character is the cloak, which grants one wish to each wearer, as long as it isn't stolen. When Zixi hears about it, she wants to wear it so she can wish that her mirror image would reflect the illusion of youth and beauty that everyone else sees when they look at her. Baum doesn't make her clearly good or bad, and I like that complexity. Even the "mean aunt," Rivette, becomes kind and brave, once she's got money and a pair of wings.
The illustrations by Richardson aren't good as I remember, with the faces sometimes looking a bit bland, and too many of the characters being blond(e), even when the text doesn't support this. I do like what he did with Ruffles the dog, and the design of the clothes, especially Zixi's, remain gorgeous.
There will be some crossovers with the Oz books later, but this has a more old-fashioned feel to it than Oz, as a land of fairies and ferries. Ix and Noland have a strolling minstrel, while Oz has a walking phonograph. It's probably the best of Baum's non-Oz books (depending on how you count the "Trot" books), but only as good as his average Oz story.
In 1914, Baum's film company made The Magic Cloak of Oz, which I've so far watched the first six minutes of on Youtube. It's OK but not riveting, or Rivetting.
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by Frederick Richardson
Queen Zixi of Ix, or The Story of the Magic Cloak
Original price $2.50, purchase price unknown
Paperback with stains
B
Despite the title, we don't get to Zixi or Ix till about 100 pages in. Most of the story is set in Noland, a rather Erewhonian name for a country. A peasant boy and girl find themselves royalty through a quirk of law. And, although it's not remarked on in the text, they quickly assume aristocratic attitudes. It really struck me on this reading how they and Zixi bully people, like threatening Dame Dingle for not knowing that the cloak she cut up for patchwork is magic. And, until Bud's sister Fluff tells him he has to pay for all the good things in their new royal life by performing his duties as king, such as settling disputes, he acts like a shiftless nobleman. I do like the twist on Solomon, where the woman who best knows how to milk a cow is actually the neighbor. (Bud doesn't suggest cutting the cow in half, although that might've been a better solution.)
The real title character is the cloak, which grants one wish to each wearer, as long as it isn't stolen. When Zixi hears about it, she wants to wear it so she can wish that her mirror image would reflect the illusion of youth and beauty that everyone else sees when they look at her. Baum doesn't make her clearly good or bad, and I like that complexity. Even the "mean aunt," Rivette, becomes kind and brave, once she's got money and a pair of wings.
The illustrations by Richardson aren't good as I remember, with the faces sometimes looking a bit bland, and too many of the characters being blond(e), even when the text doesn't support this. I do like what he did with Ruffles the dog, and the design of the clothes, especially Zixi's, remain gorgeous.
There will be some crossovers with the Oz books later, but this has a more old-fashioned feel to it than Oz, as a land of fairies and ferries. Ix and Noland have a strolling minstrel, while Oz has a walking phonograph. It's probably the best of Baum's non-Oz books (depending on how you count the "Trot" books), but only as good as his average Oz story.
In 1914, Baum's film company made The Magic Cloak of Oz, which I've so far watched the first six minutes of on Youtube. It's OK but not riveting, or Rivetting.
Monday, March 12, 2012
The Land of Oz
1904, mid-1970s Reilly & Lee edition
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
The Land of Oz
Original and purchase price unknown
Hardcover with stains
A-
While rereading this book, I kept thinking how awesome and fun it is, in a way I didn't for Wizard. Part of it that Neill's drawings trump Denslow's, particularly in his debut. Whether it's a picture that makes me pore over the details, as the ones involving magic do, or the action-packed sequences, like the three pictures that show what happens when the Sawhorse jumps over a river, with a silent movie feel, every illustration enhances the story. And such a good story! Tip is a fine hero: mischievous but good-hearted, practical, occasionally clever, and very human. I got this book at such a young age-- for Easter, from the aunt who'd got me Wizard the previous Christmas-- I don't know if it ever seemed weird to me that he turns into not just a girl but a princess at the end. I think I was more confused by the changing hair color. (Tip is brunet, Ozma has "tresses of ruddy gold," but from the third book on she's back to black hair.)
I think I missed Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion, but they came back for the next book, so that was OK. (It would be a longer wait for Toto.) The new characters, particularly the pedantic yet pun-obsessed Wogglebug, are worthy additions. I always had a soft spot for the Saw-horse, because he's so down-to-earth. And this was years before Forest Gump, but I soon learned that the Gump took its name from turn-of-the-century slang for a "foolish person." As I mentioned in my post on Wizard, I loved how amazing Glinda is in this book. Her Crowning Moment of Awesome is when she jumps on the Saw-horse and chases Mombi (disguised as a Griffin) to the edge of the Deadly Desert.
I suppose there's a paper to be written, if it hasn't been done already, about the nature of gender in this book, particularly with the satire of the suffragette movement, as embodied in General Jinjur and her Army of Revolt. I never really saw the story as sexist, or anti-sexist. When Baum is racist, it's very obvious. But his feelings about men and women, boys and girls, are more complex. Certainly, Mombi is one of his great villainesses, and a lot scarier than the Nome King would ever be. (More on that later.)
As the second Oz book, this is less retconny than I expected. Tip's version of the Wizard's balloon escape doesn't match canon, but it may be how he heard it way up in the Gillikin Country, particularly if his source was the biased Mombi. This is pretty much Oz as we saw it four years earlier. (Except that less time has passed in Oz than in the real world, since Dorothy definitely won't be seven years older when she returns.) It does look different, thanks to Neill's characteristic "grinning houses." But it's still a land where money is important and witches have a lot of power. (Mombi is secretly breaking the law that the still nameless Good Witch of the North has passed about forbidding other witches in her region.) Once Ozma takes the throne, things will gradually change, but we're still in old-school Oz, literally in the case of the Wogglebug.
He's H.M., Highly Magnified, permanently, after Professor Nowitall uses a magnifying-glass and projects him on a screen. No one questions the logistics of this. It's a less Carrollian book than Mo, but I think the part about counting to 17 by twos is worthy of Carroll, both as math and as absurdity. The scene where Jellia Jamb, one of my favorite minor characters, "interprets" for the Scarecrow and Jack Pumpkinhead is also very absurd. If the story is better than Alice in Wonderland, it's probably because there's more at risk here. The lives of Tip and his friends are at stake, as is the future of Oz. It's definitely not a dream. And yet, there's time for wordplay and bickering and bonding and a reunion with the Queen of the Mice. No wonder that Tip wants to stay a boy and travel with his friends. His life as Ozma will become less adventurous. But first, there's going to be an experiment in interventionism....
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
The Land of Oz
Original and purchase price unknown
Hardcover with stains
A-
While rereading this book, I kept thinking how awesome and fun it is, in a way I didn't for Wizard. Part of it that Neill's drawings trump Denslow's, particularly in his debut. Whether it's a picture that makes me pore over the details, as the ones involving magic do, or the action-packed sequences, like the three pictures that show what happens when the Sawhorse jumps over a river, with a silent movie feel, every illustration enhances the story. And such a good story! Tip is a fine hero: mischievous but good-hearted, practical, occasionally clever, and very human. I got this book at such a young age-- for Easter, from the aunt who'd got me Wizard the previous Christmas-- I don't know if it ever seemed weird to me that he turns into not just a girl but a princess at the end. I think I was more confused by the changing hair color. (Tip is brunet, Ozma has "tresses of ruddy gold," but from the third book on she's back to black hair.)
I think I missed Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion, but they came back for the next book, so that was OK. (It would be a longer wait for Toto.) The new characters, particularly the pedantic yet pun-obsessed Wogglebug, are worthy additions. I always had a soft spot for the Saw-horse, because he's so down-to-earth. And this was years before Forest Gump, but I soon learned that the Gump took its name from turn-of-the-century slang for a "foolish person." As I mentioned in my post on Wizard, I loved how amazing Glinda is in this book. Her Crowning Moment of Awesome is when she jumps on the Saw-horse and chases Mombi (disguised as a Griffin) to the edge of the Deadly Desert.
I suppose there's a paper to be written, if it hasn't been done already, about the nature of gender in this book, particularly with the satire of the suffragette movement, as embodied in General Jinjur and her Army of Revolt. I never really saw the story as sexist, or anti-sexist. When Baum is racist, it's very obvious. But his feelings about men and women, boys and girls, are more complex. Certainly, Mombi is one of his great villainesses, and a lot scarier than the Nome King would ever be. (More on that later.)
As the second Oz book, this is less retconny than I expected. Tip's version of the Wizard's balloon escape doesn't match canon, but it may be how he heard it way up in the Gillikin Country, particularly if his source was the biased Mombi. This is pretty much Oz as we saw it four years earlier. (Except that less time has passed in Oz than in the real world, since Dorothy definitely won't be seven years older when she returns.) It does look different, thanks to Neill's characteristic "grinning houses." But it's still a land where money is important and witches have a lot of power. (Mombi is secretly breaking the law that the still nameless Good Witch of the North has passed about forbidding other witches in her region.) Once Ozma takes the throne, things will gradually change, but we're still in old-school Oz, literally in the case of the Wogglebug.
He's H.M., Highly Magnified, permanently, after Professor Nowitall uses a magnifying-glass and projects him on a screen. No one questions the logistics of this. It's a less Carrollian book than Mo, but I think the part about counting to 17 by twos is worthy of Carroll, both as math and as absurdity. The scene where Jellia Jamb, one of my favorite minor characters, "interprets" for the Scarecrow and Jack Pumpkinhead is also very absurd. If the story is better than Alice in Wonderland, it's probably because there's more at risk here. The lives of Tip and his friends are at stake, as is the future of Oz. It's definitely not a dream. And yet, there's time for wordplay and bickering and bonding and a reunion with the Queen of the Mice. No wonder that Tip wants to stay a boy and travel with his friends. His life as Ozma will become less adventurous. But first, there's going to be an experiment in interventionism....
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm
1903, 1931 Houghton Mifflin edition
Kate Douglas Wiggin
Illustrated by Helen Mason Grose
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm
Original and purchase price unknown
Hardcover with broken spine and stains
C+
I think I read this only once before and couldn't remember anything about it. In fact, for the first few chapters I kept mixing it up with Pollyanna. Rebecca is cheerful, but mostly she's hard-working and talkative. She's like a proto-Anne-of-Green-Gables, but the Anne books are much more memorable and moving. I encountered both heroines as an adult reader, so it's not a matter of nostalgia for my early reading days.
Oddly enough, there's a similarity to Claudine in that a man in his 30s falls for Rebecca, although "Mr. Aladdin" doesn't court her. They meet when she's 12, and the book ends five years later, with Rebecca still naive and innocent, so he never tells her his feelings. It's vaguely creepy, although handled as tastefully as possible. The difference between Paris and Maine?
The illustrations are generally good, although there's one of Rebecca holding a neighbor's baby as her aunt cries on her shoulder, and it seems both physically awkward and emotionally flat. It's a nice edition, but it's over 80 years old and in too poor condition for me to keep. I doubt I'll be replacing it, since the content isn't remarkable.
Kate Douglas Wiggin
Illustrated by Helen Mason Grose
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm
Original and purchase price unknown
Hardcover with broken spine and stains
C+
I think I read this only once before and couldn't remember anything about it. In fact, for the first few chapters I kept mixing it up with Pollyanna. Rebecca is cheerful, but mostly she's hard-working and talkative. She's like a proto-Anne-of-Green-Gables, but the Anne books are much more memorable and moving. I encountered both heroines as an adult reader, so it's not a matter of nostalgia for my early reading days.
Oddly enough, there's a similarity to Claudine in that a man in his 30s falls for Rebecca, although "Mr. Aladdin" doesn't court her. They meet when she's 12, and the book ends five years later, with Rebecca still naive and innocent, so he never tells her his feelings. It's vaguely creepy, although handled as tastefully as possible. The difference between Paris and Maine?
The illustrations are generally good, although there's one of Rebecca holding a neighbor's baby as her aunt cries on her shoulder, and it seems both physically awkward and emotionally flat. It's a nice edition, but it's over 80 years old and in too poor condition for me to keep. I doubt I'll be replacing it, since the content isn't remarkable.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Claudine and Annie
1903
Colette
Claudine and Annie
C+
The last Claudine story is actually narrated by Annie, a naive new friend of Claudine's. Annie has a domineering husband, too, Alain, her childhood sweetheart who early on made her his "slave." But we learn in this story that if you're already submissive and/or if you and your husband don't really love each other, it's not good for him to be domineering. On Claudine's advice, Annie decides to divorce (or be divorced from) Alain. As in Anna Karenina, there's a great difference between being the "innocent" and the "guilty" party in the divorce, from a legal standpoint more than a moral one. But Annie is willing to be accused of adultery, even though Alain is the one who did the cheating.
I think this story is better than the middle two Claudine tales, partly because the change in narrators freshens things up, and partly because it's nice to have different settings, in this case mostly the vacation spots of the idle upper-middle-class. Spas certainly come across differently than in Anna Karenina. And another point of comparison with AK, Annie is a bit like Kitty with her innocent crushes on women, although Anna never seduces Kitty like Claudine is tempted to seduce Annie.
"1903" moments: a discussion of birth control, a reference to "cinema," and another mention of male feminists.
Overall, this collection averages a C+, although I'd mostly just recommend the first story. And I guess I should mention that Colette's first husband, "Willy" (Henry Gauthier-Villars), used to take the credit for them. He was 14 years older than her, and unfaithful. They separated in 1906 and divorced four years later. I like to imagine that Claudine, une Divorcée would've been the next sequel. Or better yet, Claudine et Fanchette.
Colette
Claudine and Annie
C+
The last Claudine story is actually narrated by Annie, a naive new friend of Claudine's. Annie has a domineering husband, too, Alain, her childhood sweetheart who early on made her his "slave." But we learn in this story that if you're already submissive and/or if you and your husband don't really love each other, it's not good for him to be domineering. On Claudine's advice, Annie decides to divorce (or be divorced from) Alain. As in Anna Karenina, there's a great difference between being the "innocent" and the "guilty" party in the divorce, from a legal standpoint more than a moral one. But Annie is willing to be accused of adultery, even though Alain is the one who did the cheating.
I think this story is better than the middle two Claudine tales, partly because the change in narrators freshens things up, and partly because it's nice to have different settings, in this case mostly the vacation spots of the idle upper-middle-class. Spas certainly come across differently than in Anna Karenina. And another point of comparison with AK, Annie is a bit like Kitty with her innocent crushes on women, although Anna never seduces Kitty like Claudine is tempted to seduce Annie.
"1903" moments: a discussion of birth control, a reference to "cinema," and another mention of male feminists.
Overall, this collection averages a C+, although I'd mostly just recommend the first story. And I guess I should mention that Colette's first husband, "Willy" (Henry Gauthier-Villars), used to take the credit for them. He was 14 years older than her, and unfaithful. They separated in 1906 and divorced four years later. I like to imagine that Claudine, une Divorcée would've been the next sequel. Or better yet, Claudine et Fanchette.
The Magical Monarch of Mo
1903, 1968 Dover edition
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by Frank Ver Beck
The Magical Monarch of Mo
Original price $2.95, purchase price unknown
Decent edition paperback
B-
Baum actually wrote this book back in 1896 but it wasn't published till 1900, as A New Wonderland. Then it was reissued in '03 with the current title, and the name of the country changed throughout from Phunnyland to Mo, probably because the latter more resembles Oz. It's not an Oz book but Mo has more affinity to Oz, particularly his later version of Oz, than do any of the places in American Fairy Tales. And there are some crossovers in a couple Oz books.
I think I liked the book more as a child than I do now, although even then I preferred Queen Zixi (1905). As Martin Gardner points out in his introduction, this is a more episodic story. The episodes, or "surprises" as the chapters are called, are more whimsy-driven than plot-driven. My favorite is The Ninth Surprise, "The Wizard and the Princess Truella." Not only is it one of the two adventures with Glinda wannabe Maëtta, but Truella shows true cleverness and courage. As for the rest of the book, it's mostly a matter of funny (or "phunny") moments, like the talking monkeys who discuss evolution or the prince who uses a flying fish to get an apple from a tall, trunkless tree. (Why not a bird? Because if you're going to be whimsical, you've got to out-Carroll Carroll.)
Due to the setting, there are fewer topical references than in American Fairy Tales, although on this reading I couldn't help wondering if Crown Prince Zingle, frustrated that his father can never die, was a tweaking of Edward VII, who was heir to the throne for almost 60 years. There's less racism than in AFT, but unfortunately Baum names one of the monsters "Gigaboo."
Baum considered Ver Beck's illustrations to be superior to any in his other books at that point. I agree that they're best I've seen so far, although I recall Zixi's as better. Unlike Denslow, Ver Beck is more successful drawing people than animals, so it's surprising that he specialized in comic animal drawings. The pictures here are mostly small, marginal ones, although Dover also includes color plates. This is a good moment to mention that I'm very pleased with the Dover editions of the non-Oz Baum books. As the note on the back deservedly boasts, the binding and paper are superior to what you'd expect for a paperback children's book. They've definitely stood up to multiple readings, including in this case by whatever reader got this book when I was a baby.
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by Frank Ver Beck
The Magical Monarch of Mo
Original price $2.95, purchase price unknown
Decent edition paperback
B-
Baum actually wrote this book back in 1896 but it wasn't published till 1900, as A New Wonderland. Then it was reissued in '03 with the current title, and the name of the country changed throughout from Phunnyland to Mo, probably because the latter more resembles Oz. It's not an Oz book but Mo has more affinity to Oz, particularly his later version of Oz, than do any of the places in American Fairy Tales. And there are some crossovers in a couple Oz books.
I think I liked the book more as a child than I do now, although even then I preferred Queen Zixi (1905). As Martin Gardner points out in his introduction, this is a more episodic story. The episodes, or "surprises" as the chapters are called, are more whimsy-driven than plot-driven. My favorite is The Ninth Surprise, "The Wizard and the Princess Truella." Not only is it one of the two adventures with Glinda wannabe Maëtta, but Truella shows true cleverness and courage. As for the rest of the book, it's mostly a matter of funny (or "phunny") moments, like the talking monkeys who discuss evolution or the prince who uses a flying fish to get an apple from a tall, trunkless tree. (Why not a bird? Because if you're going to be whimsical, you've got to out-Carroll Carroll.)
Due to the setting, there are fewer topical references than in American Fairy Tales, although on this reading I couldn't help wondering if Crown Prince Zingle, frustrated that his father can never die, was a tweaking of Edward VII, who was heir to the throne for almost 60 years. There's less racism than in AFT, but unfortunately Baum names one of the monsters "Gigaboo."
Baum considered Ver Beck's illustrations to be superior to any in his other books at that point. I agree that they're best I've seen so far, although I recall Zixi's as better. Unlike Denslow, Ver Beck is more successful drawing people than animals, so it's surprising that he specialized in comic animal drawings. The pictures here are mostly small, marginal ones, although Dover also includes color plates. This is a good moment to mention that I'm very pleased with the Dover editions of the non-Oz Baum books. As the note on the back deservedly boasts, the binding and paper are superior to what you'd expect for a paperback children's book. They've definitely stood up to multiple readings, including in this case by whatever reader got this book when I was a baby.
Claudine Married
1902
Colette
Claudine Married
C-
I don't care for either of Claudine's romances in this story. The father-husband thing with Renaud is troubling, especially when they're both flirting with 14-year-old girls. When she falls for the beautiful but boring and deceitful married woman Rezi, he encourages her and even finds a love nest for them. Then he has a fling with Rezi himself. Claudine finds out and returns to her father's country home. (The Slugman has gotten sick of Paris by this time.) The happy ending is supposed to be that Claudine reconciles with Renaud, planning to tell him, "I order you to dominate me!" I'm just glad that Claudine plans to live in the country permanently, with the much more interesting "menage" of Papa, Melie, and Fanchette, while Renaud visits occasionally.
Two "1902" notes of interest. This is the first work I own to mention "motor-cars." Also, there's a "feminist" writer at a party, but it's a man and too minor a character for us to find out anything else about his writing.
Colette
Claudine Married
C-
I don't care for either of Claudine's romances in this story. The father-husband thing with Renaud is troubling, especially when they're both flirting with 14-year-old girls. When she falls for the beautiful but boring and deceitful married woman Rezi, he encourages her and even finds a love nest for them. Then he has a fling with Rezi himself. Claudine finds out and returns to her father's country home. (The Slugman has gotten sick of Paris by this time.) The happy ending is supposed to be that Claudine reconciles with Renaud, planning to tell him, "I order you to dominate me!" I'm just glad that Claudine plans to live in the country permanently, with the much more interesting "menage" of Papa, Melie, and Fanchette, while Renaud visits occasionally.
Two "1902" notes of interest. This is the first work I own to mention "motor-cars." Also, there's a "feminist" writer at a party, but it's a man and too minor a character for us to find out anything else about his writing.
My Brilliant Career
1901, 1980 Washington Square Press edition
(Stella Maria Sarah) Miles Franklin
My Brilliant Career
Original price $3.50, purchase price unknown
Somewhat tattered paperback
C+
Meanwhile in Australia, spirited teenaged girls who want to find domineering husbands also want careers. Well, Sybylla Melvyn emphasises that she's unique, but the anonymous introduction to this edition claims that Franklin "fictionalizes the conflicts of adolescence and of every woman's life." So, Ladies, I'm sure you remember that conflict you had between marriage to a man you couldn't love because he couldn't control you, although he did once grab your arms violently enough to leave bruises ("a very happy day" for you), vs. a life alternating between dreary farmwork and dreary governessing.
I know, I'm probably being unfair. Most girls and women don't live lives like Jane Eyre's either. But at least Charlotte Brontë had Jane rebel against Rochester. It's supposed to be charming that when Sybylla meets Harold Beecham, he flirts with her because he thinks she's a servant. (Shades of She Stoops to Conquer.) Part of this flirtation includes her standing calmly still as he cracks a whip around her to see if she'll flinch. Of course, their courtship isn't just about his violent gestures towards her. Like Claudine with her future stepson, Sybylla almost blinds Harold. The difference is that Claudine claws Marcel when he calls her a gold-digger, while here Harold tries to kiss Sybylla after they've become engaged, so she picks up his whip from the table and hits his face. Sybylla and Harold have an on-again-off-again engagement over the next couple years, fortunately for them and the reader ending as permanently off.
It's that ending, along with Sybylla's desire for a brilliant career, which keeps me from rating this as low as a lesser Claudine story. The title is ironic since she doesn't actually get a career, just drudgery. She has a chance to go onstage, but her old-fashioned grandmother disapproves. She mostly wants to be a writer but doesn't pursue that yet. The novel is somewhat autobiographical (although less than Franklin's contemporaries thought), so it makes sense that there's a sequel, called My Career Goes Bung.
I find Sybylla similar to Claudine in that they're both irreverent but charming. The differences between them fit the stereotypes of Australia and France, with Sybylla being more bitter and hard-working, Claudine more sensual, about nature as well as romance. I wish they were both less sadomasochistic, but oh well.
I should note that the same aunt who'd later buy me the Claudine collection also took me to see the movie of My Brilliant Career when I was 12. (It came out the previous year.) I remember liking the opening line, something like "This story will be all about me." I didn't particularly care for the romance. I haven't seen the film since, but I suspect that it won't hold up as the other "feminist movie" I saw that year, 9 to 5, does. (Not that there aren't problematic themes in 9 to 5, but that's a discussion for my future movie blog.) I think the problem with things getting called "feminist," as this book often does, is that there are so many versions of feminism, and people aren't going to agree on whether a particular work of art is truly feminist. So I can see Franklin and Brontë (not so much Colette, but I'll get to that next time) as women who were ahead of their respective times but still rooted in Victorian attitudes towards men and women. (Well, Brontë also had some Romantic tendencies as well.) In contrast, I can enjoy the friendship and empowerment of 9 to 5, while the violence doesn't bother me as much, since it's directed towards a piggish boss rather than a lover.
But, yes, back to the book blog....
(Stella Maria Sarah) Miles Franklin
My Brilliant Career
Original price $3.50, purchase price unknown
Somewhat tattered paperback
C+
Meanwhile in Australia, spirited teenaged girls who want to find domineering husbands also want careers. Well, Sybylla Melvyn emphasises that she's unique, but the anonymous introduction to this edition claims that Franklin "fictionalizes the conflicts of adolescence and of every woman's life." So, Ladies, I'm sure you remember that conflict you had between marriage to a man you couldn't love because he couldn't control you, although he did once grab your arms violently enough to leave bruises ("a very happy day" for you), vs. a life alternating between dreary farmwork and dreary governessing.
I know, I'm probably being unfair. Most girls and women don't live lives like Jane Eyre's either. But at least Charlotte Brontë had Jane rebel against Rochester. It's supposed to be charming that when Sybylla meets Harold Beecham, he flirts with her because he thinks she's a servant. (Shades of She Stoops to Conquer.) Part of this flirtation includes her standing calmly still as he cracks a whip around her to see if she'll flinch. Of course, their courtship isn't just about his violent gestures towards her. Like Claudine with her future stepson, Sybylla almost blinds Harold. The difference is that Claudine claws Marcel when he calls her a gold-digger, while here Harold tries to kiss Sybylla after they've become engaged, so she picks up his whip from the table and hits his face. Sybylla and Harold have an on-again-off-again engagement over the next couple years, fortunately for them and the reader ending as permanently off.
It's that ending, along with Sybylla's desire for a brilliant career, which keeps me from rating this as low as a lesser Claudine story. The title is ironic since she doesn't actually get a career, just drudgery. She has a chance to go onstage, but her old-fashioned grandmother disapproves. She mostly wants to be a writer but doesn't pursue that yet. The novel is somewhat autobiographical (although less than Franklin's contemporaries thought), so it makes sense that there's a sequel, called My Career Goes Bung.
I find Sybylla similar to Claudine in that they're both irreverent but charming. The differences between them fit the stereotypes of Australia and France, with Sybylla being more bitter and hard-working, Claudine more sensual, about nature as well as romance. I wish they were both less sadomasochistic, but oh well.
I should note that the same aunt who'd later buy me the Claudine collection also took me to see the movie of My Brilliant Career when I was 12. (It came out the previous year.) I remember liking the opening line, something like "This story will be all about me." I didn't particularly care for the romance. I haven't seen the film since, but I suspect that it won't hold up as the other "feminist movie" I saw that year, 9 to 5, does. (Not that there aren't problematic themes in 9 to 5, but that's a discussion for my future movie blog.) I think the problem with things getting called "feminist," as this book often does, is that there are so many versions of feminism, and people aren't going to agree on whether a particular work of art is truly feminist. So I can see Franklin and Brontë (not so much Colette, but I'll get to that next time) as women who were ahead of their respective times but still rooted in Victorian attitudes towards men and women. (Well, Brontë also had some Romantic tendencies as well.) In contrast, I can enjoy the friendship and empowerment of 9 to 5, while the violence doesn't bother me as much, since it's directed towards a piggish boss rather than a lover.
But, yes, back to the book blog....
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Claudine in Paris
1901
Colette
Claudine in Paris
C
More twisted than the original, and not in a fun way. The worst is Colette's friend Luce being abused by her sister and then escaping to Paris, where she becomes the reluctant mistress of her 60-something uncle. It's clear that she's mostly doing this as an alternative to starvation. Claudine herself falls in love with an "uncle," Renaud, the middle-aged widower of her first cousin, after a flirtation with her "Breton nephew," Renaud's gay son. She's quite clear that Renaud is a father figure for her, since her own father, who studies slugs, is an absent-minded professor type.
I do like the portrayals of Papa and Melie, who's sort of like Juliet's nurse. Fanchette has a larger role here, as she deals with Paris and pregnancy. (Colette is probably the best writer about cats until Doris Lessing comes along.) I want to like this story more than I do, but there's so much unpleasantness, especially in the second half, and some pointless retconning (e.g. suddenly she's known Luce at least since they were 14), I can't.
Colette
Claudine in Paris
C
More twisted than the original, and not in a fun way. The worst is Colette's friend Luce being abused by her sister and then escaping to Paris, where she becomes the reluctant mistress of her 60-something uncle. It's clear that she's mostly doing this as an alternative to starvation. Claudine herself falls in love with an "uncle," Renaud, the middle-aged widower of her first cousin, after a flirtation with her "Breton nephew," Renaud's gay son. She's quite clear that Renaud is a father figure for her, since her own father, who studies slugs, is an absent-minded professor type.
I do like the portrayals of Papa and Melie, who's sort of like Juliet's nurse. Fanchette has a larger role here, as she deals with Paris and pregnancy. (Colette is probably the best writer about cats until Doris Lessing comes along.) I want to like this story more than I do, but there's so much unpleasantness, especially in the second half, and some pointless retconning (e.g. suddenly she's known Luce at least since they were 14), I can't.
Erewhon Revisited
1901, from the same volume as Erewhon
Samuel Butler
B-
As with Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, once again I remember preferring the sequel and then find that the original holds up better. Butler felt that the sequel was superior but correctly suspected it would be less popular. Despite fleshing out the characters more and making the plot more cohesive, the satire is weaker. The hero returns to Erewhon after almost twenty years and finds that he's become the subject of a cult because of his mysterious escape in a balloon. This is funny to read so soon after The Wizard of Oz, especially since his last name is revealed to be Higgs, and the Wizard's last name will turn out to be Diggs. Butler has some interesting insights into cults and religions, but they're less profound than the multiple layers of the first book.
In The Way of All Flesh, illegitimate children are treated sympathetically, and in this book Butler reveals that Higgs unknowingly has a bastard by Yram, his gaoler's daughter. This son, George (the names aren't all backwards this time), is kind, brave, and wise for his years. Higgs's legitimate son, John, befriends him when he himself visits briefly. The book ends with John planning a longer return to Erewhon, which seems to set up another sequel, but Butler died the year after this came out.
This book reveals that Erewhon is located near New Zealand, bordering on Erewhemos (sort of "Somewhere" backwards). Presumably, there's an Erewhyna out there, too.
Samuel Butler
B-
As with Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, once again I remember preferring the sequel and then find that the original holds up better. Butler felt that the sequel was superior but correctly suspected it would be less popular. Despite fleshing out the characters more and making the plot more cohesive, the satire is weaker. The hero returns to Erewhon after almost twenty years and finds that he's become the subject of a cult because of his mysterious escape in a balloon. This is funny to read so soon after The Wizard of Oz, especially since his last name is revealed to be Higgs, and the Wizard's last name will turn out to be Diggs. Butler has some interesting insights into cults and religions, but they're less profound than the multiple layers of the first book.
In The Way of All Flesh, illegitimate children are treated sympathetically, and in this book Butler reveals that Higgs unknowingly has a bastard by Yram, his gaoler's daughter. This son, George (the names aren't all backwards this time), is kind, brave, and wise for his years. Higgs's legitimate son, John, befriends him when he himself visits briefly. The book ends with John planning a longer return to Erewhon, which seems to set up another sequel, but Butler died the year after this came out.
This book reveals that Erewhon is located near New Zealand, bordering on Erewhemos (sort of "Somewhere" backwards). Presumably, there's an Erewhyna out there, too.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
American Fairy Tales
1901, 1978 Dover edition
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by N.P. Hall, Harry Kennedy, Ike Morgan, and Ralph Fletcher Seymour
American Fairy Tales
Bought new for $3.00
Fair condition paperback
B-
As Martin Gardner notes in the introduction, not all of these are set in America, and not all of these are about fairies, but they all involve magic and/or fantasy. Sadly, one of the non-American tales is racist. "The Laughing Hippopotamus" has a line about the "oily odor of black people." Also, "The Mandarin and the Butterfly" is racist against the Chinese. The Italian bandits in the first story, "The Box of Robbers," are a bit less stereotypical. Yes, Baum was a product of his time, but it's still worth noting his racism.
On the plus side of this being a very early-20th-century children's book, there are such "1901" moments as the satire of women's fashion (in "The Enchanted Types" and "The Dummy That Lived") and the reference to "the republic of Macvelt" in "The Queen of Quok." (William McKinley was still President at the time this story was serialized in newspapers , although he'd be assassinated on Sept. 6th, succeeded by Teddy Roosevelt.) Much of the humor is aimed at adults, in a sort of Shrek way, but that makes it more enjoyable now than when I was a kid.
On the other hand, I really don't care for most of the illustrations. At least Denslow did some nice pictures in Wizard, but almost all of Morgan's are bad, and he did two-thirds of the dozen stories. Kennedy's art is good, especially in "The Glass Dog," where there's no clear moral, as Baum facetiously admits. Certainly, Baum's moral for the best fairy tale here, "The Magic Bonbons," is debatable, since Bessie Bostwick enjoys "playing the piano better than Rubenstein."
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by N.P. Hall, Harry Kennedy, Ike Morgan, and Ralph Fletcher Seymour
American Fairy Tales
Bought new for $3.00
Fair condition paperback
B-
As Martin Gardner notes in the introduction, not all of these are set in America, and not all of these are about fairies, but they all involve magic and/or fantasy. Sadly, one of the non-American tales is racist. "The Laughing Hippopotamus" has a line about the "oily odor of black people." Also, "The Mandarin and the Butterfly" is racist against the Chinese. The Italian bandits in the first story, "The Box of Robbers," are a bit less stereotypical. Yes, Baum was a product of his time, but it's still worth noting his racism.
On the plus side of this being a very early-20th-century children's book, there are such "1901" moments as the satire of women's fashion (in "The Enchanted Types" and "The Dummy That Lived") and the reference to "the republic of Macvelt" in "The Queen of Quok." (William McKinley was still President at the time this story was serialized in newspapers , although he'd be assassinated on Sept. 6th, succeeded by Teddy Roosevelt.) Much of the humor is aimed at adults, in a sort of Shrek way, but that makes it more enjoyable now than when I was a kid.
On the other hand, I really don't care for most of the illustrations. At least Denslow did some nice pictures in Wizard, but almost all of Morgan's are bad, and he did two-thirds of the dozen stories. Kennedy's art is good, especially in "The Glass Dog," where there's no clear moral, as Baum facetiously admits. Certainly, Baum's moral for the best fairy tale here, "The Magic Bonbons," is debatable, since Bessie Bostwick enjoys "playing the piano better than Rubenstein."
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