1919, 1987 Bantam edition
L. M. Montgomery
Rainbow Valley
Bought used for $1.98
Worn paperback
C+
Why is this my least favorite "Anne" book so far? To begin with, Anne is a minor character. The focus is on the Meredith family, four children and their widowed minister father. The Meredith kids befriend Anne's six, but other than Walter, most of the little Blythes aren't in the book much.
The child we get the most of is Mary Vance, who after about seventy-five pages I couldn't think of as anything other than "[expletive deleted] Mary Vance." It's all very well to have characters who are annoying to the other characters. Austen was a mistress of this, so it's awesome to read of, for instance, Miss Bates nattering on, even if you probably wouldn't want to hang out with her in real life. Montgomery herself manages this sometimes, as with the Pye sisters. But here Montgomery offers a character that even the friends are annoyed by, although they also love her for reasons they can't understand. (Hint, authorial intent.)
The third reason I'm not crazy about this book is that Montgomery has some very heavy-handed "foreshadowing" about the Great War, as in only two people realizing what a danger the Kaiser is, and in Walter's speeches about the Piper, who will call him and the other boys away, while the girls wait and cry at home.
I will admit I do like the plot of the two West sisters who've made a promise to never marry and abandon the other, but now both find chances to marry men they love. Rosemary West has a possible future with Rev. Meredith, and so of course she has to prove she'll be a good stepmother. There are moments when Montgomery teases the reader that one or more of the Merediths is going over to see Mrs. Blythe, but, nope, Anne isn't home, so they go talk to Rosemary. If this weren't supposed to be an "Anne of Green Gables" book but part of an unrelated series, this wouldn't bother me so much.
It was meant to be the fifth entry, but ended up as #7. The next "Anne" book, which does center on Anne's youngest daughter, was meant to be last, but it's now #8. And it will fulfill the foreshadowing of this one.
Showing posts with label 1910s. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1910s. Show all posts
Thursday, April 5, 2012
The Magic of Oz
1919, undated probably 1970s Rand McNally edition
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
The Magic of Oz
Bought new for $1.95
Paperback with stains and broken spine
B+
This is another book with Ozma's birthday, but much stronger than Road. This time the focus is on the gifts, particularly what Dorothy & the Wizard and Trot, Cap'n Bill, & the Glass Cat have to go through to get their gifts. Meanwhile, the Nome King is again hoping to conquer Oz. The three main plots are good on their own and interweave well.
The last plot I mentioned is the subject of the first three chapters. Bad boy Kiki Aru discovers a secret word of transformation, "Pyrzqxgl," which would also give him the winning score in Scrabble. As a child, I loved how coy Baum is about warning readers to not pronounce the word correctly, although I'm sure every child tried. Kiki makes himself into a bird and flies from his home on Mount Munch (the mountain that Nimmie lives near) to Hiland, Loland, Noland, Ix, and Ev, although we barely get glimpses of these places, unlike the visit to Mo in Scarecrow. (He has no trouble speaking as a bird, despite Baum sometimes claiming that animals can't talk outside Oz.) He encounters the Nome King, who encourages him to use the magic word for evil purposes. Kiki is inexperienced, but he knows enough not to fully trust Ruggedo.
Dorothy and the Wizard, with the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger as transportation and protection, journey to the Gillikin Forest in order to get monkeys who'll agree to be shrunk and pop out of a cake. They arrive just as the Nome King and Kiki, disguised as Li-Mon-Eags (lion-monkey-eagle hybrids) try to get the wild animals on their side. There's a slight parody of the Russian Revolution in the Nome King's speech to get the beasts to revolt, and earlier he remarks to Kiki that it's the fashion to make kings abdicate.
There are also references to the just finished Great War, as in Baum's dedication (which usually is to his family members), this time to "the Children of our Soldiers, the Americans and their Allies." And Neill gives the giant soldiers, which Kiki creates out of monkeys, the headgear of doughboys and other servicemen, rather than the plumes described in the text. For all the mockery of war and officers, Baum does seem to respect the bravery of the foot soldier. In fact, he shows female soldiers as especially gallant, Jinjur's Army of Revolt aside. Even in Land, Glinda's female army is treated with respect.
I wonder what those who think the Oz books are satanic would make of Cap'n Bill's speech about how people take the good things in their lives for granted, since he says in part, "Most folks forget to thank God for givin' 'em two good legs, till they lose one o' 'em, like I did; and then it's too late, 'cept to praise God for leavin' one." The piety here is simple and unassuming, as suits the speaker, but therefore easy to overlook.
Cap'n Bill and Trot are stuck on a magical island where a beautiful, ever-changing flower grows. Anything "meat" grows roots, like flesh, wool socks, and leather shoes, so the Glass Cat who's led them there is able to go get help. Bungle is more prominent in this book but just as vain yet loyal as ever. At the end of Patchwork Girl, the Wizard had replaced the cat's pink brains with ones that weren't so pretty, but Baum has forgotten that, along with Bungle's brief humility. The other feline regular, Eureka, gets a brief scene with Bungle, and we can tell the two cats don't get along. In fact, when the miniaturized monkeys later get even with Bungle for pulling their tails by covering her in blue mud, it is the thought of what her furry rival would say that particularly worries Bungle.
This book also marks the return of the Kalidahs, well, one in particular that Cap'n Bill stabs. It doesn't die but it is annoyed. Baum doesn't describe the Kalidah this time, probably knowing that readers well remember the creature from the first book. Neill's Kalidah is more realistic than the ones Denslow drew, but not any scarier.
The most notable illustration for this edition is the odd cover, as can be seen here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Magic_of_oz_cover.gif
The guilty look of the monkey, the amused look of the Wizard, and the odd trail of smoke coming from behind the monkey suggest the creature has farted in the cauldron.
I'm disappointed in the illustrations of the Magic Flower, since Neill doesn't convey its beauty. I do like the illustration of when it offers fruit for awhile. Similarly, Neill doesn't do justice to the diamond palace of the Lonesome Duck (a great minor character), but I like the look of amazement on Dorothy's face in that picture.
In Baum's introduction, he says, "A long and confining illness has prevented my answering all the good letters sent me-- unless stamps were enclosed-- but from now on I hope to be able to give prompt attention to each and every letter with which my readers favor me." It's sweet that Baum answered all the fan letters he could, but then you realize that he had died the month before this book came out. The Royal Historian was not quite done, as there was another posthumous book the next year, but his contradictory yet lovable version of Oz was nearly complete.
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
The Magic of Oz
Bought new for $1.95
Paperback with stains and broken spine
B+
This is another book with Ozma's birthday, but much stronger than Road. This time the focus is on the gifts, particularly what Dorothy & the Wizard and Trot, Cap'n Bill, & the Glass Cat have to go through to get their gifts. Meanwhile, the Nome King is again hoping to conquer Oz. The three main plots are good on their own and interweave well.
The last plot I mentioned is the subject of the first three chapters. Bad boy Kiki Aru discovers a secret word of transformation, "Pyrzqxgl," which would also give him the winning score in Scrabble. As a child, I loved how coy Baum is about warning readers to not pronounce the word correctly, although I'm sure every child tried. Kiki makes himself into a bird and flies from his home on Mount Munch (the mountain that Nimmie lives near) to Hiland, Loland, Noland, Ix, and Ev, although we barely get glimpses of these places, unlike the visit to Mo in Scarecrow. (He has no trouble speaking as a bird, despite Baum sometimes claiming that animals can't talk outside Oz.) He encounters the Nome King, who encourages him to use the magic word for evil purposes. Kiki is inexperienced, but he knows enough not to fully trust Ruggedo.
Dorothy and the Wizard, with the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger as transportation and protection, journey to the Gillikin Forest in order to get monkeys who'll agree to be shrunk and pop out of a cake. They arrive just as the Nome King and Kiki, disguised as Li-Mon-Eags (lion-monkey-eagle hybrids) try to get the wild animals on their side. There's a slight parody of the Russian Revolution in the Nome King's speech to get the beasts to revolt, and earlier he remarks to Kiki that it's the fashion to make kings abdicate.
There are also references to the just finished Great War, as in Baum's dedication (which usually is to his family members), this time to "the Children of our Soldiers, the Americans and their Allies." And Neill gives the giant soldiers, which Kiki creates out of monkeys, the headgear of doughboys and other servicemen, rather than the plumes described in the text. For all the mockery of war and officers, Baum does seem to respect the bravery of the foot soldier. In fact, he shows female soldiers as especially gallant, Jinjur's Army of Revolt aside. Even in Land, Glinda's female army is treated with respect.
I wonder what those who think the Oz books are satanic would make of Cap'n Bill's speech about how people take the good things in their lives for granted, since he says in part, "Most folks forget to thank God for givin' 'em two good legs, till they lose one o' 'em, like I did; and then it's too late, 'cept to praise God for leavin' one." The piety here is simple and unassuming, as suits the speaker, but therefore easy to overlook.
Cap'n Bill and Trot are stuck on a magical island where a beautiful, ever-changing flower grows. Anything "meat" grows roots, like flesh, wool socks, and leather shoes, so the Glass Cat who's led them there is able to go get help. Bungle is more prominent in this book but just as vain yet loyal as ever. At the end of Patchwork Girl, the Wizard had replaced the cat's pink brains with ones that weren't so pretty, but Baum has forgotten that, along with Bungle's brief humility. The other feline regular, Eureka, gets a brief scene with Bungle, and we can tell the two cats don't get along. In fact, when the miniaturized monkeys later get even with Bungle for pulling their tails by covering her in blue mud, it is the thought of what her furry rival would say that particularly worries Bungle.
This book also marks the return of the Kalidahs, well, one in particular that Cap'n Bill stabs. It doesn't die but it is annoyed. Baum doesn't describe the Kalidah this time, probably knowing that readers well remember the creature from the first book. Neill's Kalidah is more realistic than the ones Denslow drew, but not any scarier.
The most notable illustration for this edition is the odd cover, as can be seen here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Magic_of_oz_cover.gif
The guilty look of the monkey, the amused look of the Wizard, and the odd trail of smoke coming from behind the monkey suggest the creature has farted in the cauldron.
I'm disappointed in the illustrations of the Magic Flower, since Neill doesn't convey its beauty. I do like the illustration of when it offers fruit for awhile. Similarly, Neill doesn't do justice to the diamond palace of the Lonesome Duck (a great minor character), but I like the look of amazement on Dorothy's face in that picture.
In Baum's introduction, he says, "A long and confining illness has prevented my answering all the good letters sent me-- unless stamps were enclosed-- but from now on I hope to be able to give prompt attention to each and every letter with which my readers favor me." It's sweet that Baum answered all the fan letters he could, but then you realize that he had died the month before this book came out. The Royal Historian was not quite done, as there was another posthumous book the next year, but his contradictory yet lovable version of Oz was nearly complete.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
The Tin Woodman of Oz
1918, undated probably 1970s Reilly & Lee edition
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
The Tin Woodman of Oz
Bought new for $7.95
Slightly stained hardcover but one of my Oz books in better condition
B
In the 1939 movie of The Wizard of Oz, the Tin Woodman is always referred to as "the Tin Man," but I think Baum used the term "the Tin Woodman" (along with Nick Chopper and the Emperor of the Winkies of course) until this book, where he starts to sometimes say "the Tin Man." This is ironic since, as the cover shows, there are now two Tin Men. Perhaps he got tired of the longer name.
This other tin man is the Tin Soldier, and they were made in similar ways for similar reasons. There are differences, however, in Nick's origin story in the first book and the twelfth, particularly in the Wicked Witch of the West's role in the life of the Munchkin girl Nick loved, here revealed to be named Nimmie Amee. The Tin Soldier came along after Nick was rusted in the woods but before Dorothy rescued Nick. The not-yet-tin soldier, named Captain Fyter, got Nimmie on the rebound, and then the vengeful witch enchanted his sword as she'd enchanted Nick's axe, so he, too, chopped pieces of himself off, one at a time.
Their mutual friend the tinsmith replaced each part with tin, and in this book we find out he's been saving the "meat" pieces. Why? So as not to be wasteful, although it's still a bit horror-storyish. And in fact, he's made a sort of Frankenstein's monster out of them, named Chopfyt, even the name a mishmash of the two tin men. Chopfyt doesn't have a blend of their personalities though. He's moody and a bit lazy. He's also married Nimmie, since he reminds her of the two men she loved.
That's at the end of the quest to resolve Chopper's (and Fyter's) abandonment of the girl years ago. Even though no one ages in Oz (any more at least), people do get over heartbreak and move on with their lives. The tin twins (as Baum calls them a few times) think Nimmie is pining for one or both of them, so they'll give her the choice between them, but she's already chosen a husband.
Along the way, they meet Mrs. Yoop, who's not only a giant but a yookoohoo, which is not exactly a witch and not exactly a sorceress. (I believe that there's another yookoohoo in the last Baum book.) She doesn't miss her brutish husband, but she is lonely for company. She imprison the travelers, which at this point includes a boy wanderer named Woot (not to be confused with netspeak w00t), the Tin Woodman of course, and his faithful companion the Scarecrow. They meet another prisoner, Polychrome, who in this book comes across as very clever and kind. Mrs. Yoop transforms her and Nick into birds, which is ironic in light of the conversation that Nick and the Scarecrow have about the happiness of a bird's life near the end of Lost Princess.
After their escape but before meeting Capt. Fyter, Woot meets some dragons, and as always with Baum, there are jokes about how dragons age so slowly. We also spend a few chapters with Jinjur, and I have to ask, what happened to her husband? On the journey from the Nome Kingdom to the Emerald City in Ozma, they stop by Jinjur's place and she's gotten married to a man that she nags and hits. (As Nimmie treats Chopfyt.) She's mentioned in passing as the Scarecrow's friend and touch-up artist in Patchwork Girl. And here we visit her ranch and there's no sight or mention of her husband. Did he run off? Is there divorce in Oz? Altogether, the view of love and marriage in this book is not a happy one.
Well, the Swynes are happy. The proposal party meets the parents of the Nine Tiny Piglets, who give a completely different view of how the Wizard acquired their children than the story he told in DatW. You know what I think of the Wizard's honesty, so I'm inclined to believe the parent pigs and assume that he took the piglets sometime before he flew off in his balloon and made up the more colorful story about them as part of his showman's spiel.
The place that the questers go to that feels most original is Loonville, which is populated by balloon people whose last names are all Loon, including their king, Bal. There's also Panta Loon, who gets too big for his britches and explodes. He's repaired by Til Loon. As a child, I would rack my brains trying to figure out what a "tilloon" was. It wasn't till much later that I realized that Baum was referencing a 1914 Chaplin movie, Tillie's Punctured Romance. This certainly fits the theme of puncturing romance.
The other theme in the book is identity, since the tin men go into existential crises, starting with Nick talking to his "meat head," and climaxing in the encounter with Chopfyt. Even their mostly amicable twinship (made more amicable in the illustrations) has its limits, and Ozma ends up sending the captain to patrol the dangerous parts of the Gillikin Country, in order to keep him mostly out of sight and not reduce Nick's uniqueness.
Another story that is retold in this book is the origin of Oz and Ozma. Although in other books Ozma and Dorothy look about the same age, here we're told that Ozma looks a bit older than Dorothy, "perhaps fourteen or fifteen years of age." She may or may not be the fairy that Queen Lurline (a version of Queen Lulea in Zixi?) left behind to rule Oz after transforming it into a fairyland. That's the moment when Oz became a utopia, where no one ever ages, including those who emigrate from the outside world. I think that when the throne is usurped, as happened with the Wizard, people (including the Wizard and Tip-Ozma) do age, and then the utopian laws gradually reassert themselves when the rightful ruler is on the throne.
Again, I think Baum needed stronger editors, not just for each book (and there are always a few typos), but for the entire series, to improve continuity and consistency. The different versions of stories are interesting but impossible to reconcile. Still, this is one case where I disagree with The Oz Scrapbook (1977). I generally concur with their ranking of the Baum books, but I would not put this as a lesser entry in the series.
Speaking of errors, there are a few of Neill's illustrations that don't match the text, like Polychrome being herself rather than a canary when she feeds the Jaguar eggs. His work is generally good but not remarkable in this book. He does begin to use two-page pictures to good effect, as when Woot, Nick, and the Scarecrow talk to Mrs. Yoop. These double illustrations will become more common as the series goes on.
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
The Tin Woodman of Oz
Bought new for $7.95
Slightly stained hardcover but one of my Oz books in better condition
B
In the 1939 movie of The Wizard of Oz, the Tin Woodman is always referred to as "the Tin Man," but I think Baum used the term "the Tin Woodman" (along with Nick Chopper and the Emperor of the Winkies of course) until this book, where he starts to sometimes say "the Tin Man." This is ironic since, as the cover shows, there are now two Tin Men. Perhaps he got tired of the longer name.
This other tin man is the Tin Soldier, and they were made in similar ways for similar reasons. There are differences, however, in Nick's origin story in the first book and the twelfth, particularly in the Wicked Witch of the West's role in the life of the Munchkin girl Nick loved, here revealed to be named Nimmie Amee. The Tin Soldier came along after Nick was rusted in the woods but before Dorothy rescued Nick. The not-yet-tin soldier, named Captain Fyter, got Nimmie on the rebound, and then the vengeful witch enchanted his sword as she'd enchanted Nick's axe, so he, too, chopped pieces of himself off, one at a time.
Their mutual friend the tinsmith replaced each part with tin, and in this book we find out he's been saving the "meat" pieces. Why? So as not to be wasteful, although it's still a bit horror-storyish. And in fact, he's made a sort of Frankenstein's monster out of them, named Chopfyt, even the name a mishmash of the two tin men. Chopfyt doesn't have a blend of their personalities though. He's moody and a bit lazy. He's also married Nimmie, since he reminds her of the two men she loved.
That's at the end of the quest to resolve Chopper's (and Fyter's) abandonment of the girl years ago. Even though no one ages in Oz (any more at least), people do get over heartbreak and move on with their lives. The tin twins (as Baum calls them a few times) think Nimmie is pining for one or both of them, so they'll give her the choice between them, but she's already chosen a husband.
Along the way, they meet Mrs. Yoop, who's not only a giant but a yookoohoo, which is not exactly a witch and not exactly a sorceress. (I believe that there's another yookoohoo in the last Baum book.) She doesn't miss her brutish husband, but she is lonely for company. She imprison the travelers, which at this point includes a boy wanderer named Woot (not to be confused with netspeak w00t), the Tin Woodman of course, and his faithful companion the Scarecrow. They meet another prisoner, Polychrome, who in this book comes across as very clever and kind. Mrs. Yoop transforms her and Nick into birds, which is ironic in light of the conversation that Nick and the Scarecrow have about the happiness of a bird's life near the end of Lost Princess.
After their escape but before meeting Capt. Fyter, Woot meets some dragons, and as always with Baum, there are jokes about how dragons age so slowly. We also spend a few chapters with Jinjur, and I have to ask, what happened to her husband? On the journey from the Nome Kingdom to the Emerald City in Ozma, they stop by Jinjur's place and she's gotten married to a man that she nags and hits. (As Nimmie treats Chopfyt.) She's mentioned in passing as the Scarecrow's friend and touch-up artist in Patchwork Girl. And here we visit her ranch and there's no sight or mention of her husband. Did he run off? Is there divorce in Oz? Altogether, the view of love and marriage in this book is not a happy one.
Well, the Swynes are happy. The proposal party meets the parents of the Nine Tiny Piglets, who give a completely different view of how the Wizard acquired their children than the story he told in DatW. You know what I think of the Wizard's honesty, so I'm inclined to believe the parent pigs and assume that he took the piglets sometime before he flew off in his balloon and made up the more colorful story about them as part of his showman's spiel.
The place that the questers go to that feels most original is Loonville, which is populated by balloon people whose last names are all Loon, including their king, Bal. There's also Panta Loon, who gets too big for his britches and explodes. He's repaired by Til Loon. As a child, I would rack my brains trying to figure out what a "tilloon" was. It wasn't till much later that I realized that Baum was referencing a 1914 Chaplin movie, Tillie's Punctured Romance. This certainly fits the theme of puncturing romance.
The other theme in the book is identity, since the tin men go into existential crises, starting with Nick talking to his "meat head," and climaxing in the encounter with Chopfyt. Even their mostly amicable twinship (made more amicable in the illustrations) has its limits, and Ozma ends up sending the captain to patrol the dangerous parts of the Gillikin Country, in order to keep him mostly out of sight and not reduce Nick's uniqueness.
Another story that is retold in this book is the origin of Oz and Ozma. Although in other books Ozma and Dorothy look about the same age, here we're told that Ozma looks a bit older than Dorothy, "perhaps fourteen or fifteen years of age." She may or may not be the fairy that Queen Lurline (a version of Queen Lulea in Zixi?) left behind to rule Oz after transforming it into a fairyland. That's the moment when Oz became a utopia, where no one ever ages, including those who emigrate from the outside world. I think that when the throne is usurped, as happened with the Wizard, people (including the Wizard and Tip-Ozma) do age, and then the utopian laws gradually reassert themselves when the rightful ruler is on the throne.
Again, I think Baum needed stronger editors, not just for each book (and there are always a few typos), but for the entire series, to improve continuity and consistency. The different versions of stories are interesting but impossible to reconcile. Still, this is one case where I disagree with The Oz Scrapbook (1977). I generally concur with their ranking of the Baum books, but I would not put this as a lesser entry in the series.
Speaking of errors, there are a few of Neill's illustrations that don't match the text, like Polychrome being herself rather than a canary when she feeds the Jaguar eggs. His work is generally good but not remarkable in this book. He does begin to use two-page pictures to good effect, as when Woot, Nick, and the Scarecrow talk to Mrs. Yoop. These double illustrations will become more common as the series goes on.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Anne's House of Dreams
1917, 1987 Bantam edition
L. M. Montgomery
Anne's House of Dreams
Bought used for $1.98
Slightly worn paperback
B+
This has the worst cover of any edition of an "Anne book" I own, with Anne and Gilbert looking very cartoony. Not only that, they're both shown as redheads, when his hair is supposed to be dark. But, yes, don't judge a book by its cover, because this is possibly my favorite in the series.
Anne and Gilbert get married and move to the title location, an isolated home on the coast, where they seem to have only four near neighbors: Captain Jim, Miss Cornelia, and the Moores. However, these are among the most interesting characters Montgomery created. Captain Jim is similar to Uncle Jabe in Mary Midthorne, but all his tales of adventure are true. He's also wise and kind, and sort of feminist. (He thinks women can't write, but he does think they should have the vote and anything else they want, the dears.) Miss Cornelia is one of those rare characters who's as funny as the author thinks, with an ability to say the unsayable in a surprising way. When she talks to Susan, the kindly housekeeper, the two of them will say things like it's so sad that someone is going to Heaven.
The Moores seem to be Leslie and her husband Dick, but there's a twist later where it turns out that it's actually Dick's look-alike cousin George. They're one pair of matching bookends, different as night and day. Well, not quite, but Dick is a mean, cheating drunk and George is relatively nice. However, George got beat up in Havana and lost his memory for a dozen years. So Leslie, whose life is full of tragedy, is sacrificing her life for a man she's never even met. And then Owen Ford shows up, and they fall in love, although they don't know each other's feelings, and their love is forbidden, and it all sounds very soap-operatic, especially when you throw in Anne's firstborn dying its first day of life.
And yet, it works. Montgomery has mastered a variety of emotional tones by now, and she expertly handles the more mature content. In fact, this is the first book where I have to break out the "YA" (Young Adult) label, because I think this is more of a book for teens than for children. After all, it does include "shameless orgies of love-making and ecstasies of adoration."
Actually, that's Anne and Leslie ooing and ahing over Anne's second baby, Jem. There is, however, a sense in which this story is more about Anne and Leslie's love than it is about newlywed bliss. Gilbert is around, but often in the background, while Anne and the narrator seem much more interested in beautiful, mysterious, bitter but good-hearted Leslie. And I can't really blame them.
As for "love-making," it must've retained that sense of "flattering and charming people" at least until the 1950s. I no longer own Silver Chair, but there's a similar use of the term there, which confused the heck out of me as a kid. (I knew that in 1932 it meant "to woo," since there's a line in Horse Feathers that's something like "Are you making love to me, Professor?") It's pretty funny to run across it in Pride & Prejudice, but you expect language to have changed since the 1810s.
I know, somewhat off topic. So I'll get back on topic by noting that telephones are mentioned in this book that must be set in the 1890s. Montgomery mentions the Grits (Liberals) getting back into power after 18 years, which would place that part of the book as 1896. But the math of http://avonlea.hu/cd/websites/hendricks_paul/kindreds/chronology.html means that this book is set 1890 to '92. If it were 1896, then this would mess up the World War I chronology in Rilla of Ingleside. Still, close enough, and it does allow Montgomery a great pay-off to a minor character, a double pay-off really, when he shaves his beard and becomes engaged to Miss Cornelia.
L. M. Montgomery
Anne's House of Dreams
Bought used for $1.98
Slightly worn paperback
B+
This has the worst cover of any edition of an "Anne book" I own, with Anne and Gilbert looking very cartoony. Not only that, they're both shown as redheads, when his hair is supposed to be dark. But, yes, don't judge a book by its cover, because this is possibly my favorite in the series.
Anne and Gilbert get married and move to the title location, an isolated home on the coast, where they seem to have only four near neighbors: Captain Jim, Miss Cornelia, and the Moores. However, these are among the most interesting characters Montgomery created. Captain Jim is similar to Uncle Jabe in Mary Midthorne, but all his tales of adventure are true. He's also wise and kind, and sort of feminist. (He thinks women can't write, but he does think they should have the vote and anything else they want, the dears.) Miss Cornelia is one of those rare characters who's as funny as the author thinks, with an ability to say the unsayable in a surprising way. When she talks to Susan, the kindly housekeeper, the two of them will say things like it's so sad that someone is going to Heaven.
The Moores seem to be Leslie and her husband Dick, but there's a twist later where it turns out that it's actually Dick's look-alike cousin George. They're one pair of matching bookends, different as night and day. Well, not quite, but Dick is a mean, cheating drunk and George is relatively nice. However, George got beat up in Havana and lost his memory for a dozen years. So Leslie, whose life is full of tragedy, is sacrificing her life for a man she's never even met. And then Owen Ford shows up, and they fall in love, although they don't know each other's feelings, and their love is forbidden, and it all sounds very soap-operatic, especially when you throw in Anne's firstborn dying its first day of life.
And yet, it works. Montgomery has mastered a variety of emotional tones by now, and she expertly handles the more mature content. In fact, this is the first book where I have to break out the "YA" (Young Adult) label, because I think this is more of a book for teens than for children. After all, it does include "shameless orgies of love-making and ecstasies of adoration."
Actually, that's Anne and Leslie ooing and ahing over Anne's second baby, Jem. There is, however, a sense in which this story is more about Anne and Leslie's love than it is about newlywed bliss. Gilbert is around, but often in the background, while Anne and the narrator seem much more interested in beautiful, mysterious, bitter but good-hearted Leslie. And I can't really blame them.
As for "love-making," it must've retained that sense of "flattering and charming people" at least until the 1950s. I no longer own Silver Chair, but there's a similar use of the term there, which confused the heck out of me as a kid. (I knew that in 1932 it meant "to woo," since there's a line in Horse Feathers that's something like "Are you making love to me, Professor?") It's pretty funny to run across it in Pride & Prejudice, but you expect language to have changed since the 1810s.
I know, somewhat off topic. So I'll get back on topic by noting that telephones are mentioned in this book that must be set in the 1890s. Montgomery mentions the Grits (Liberals) getting back into power after 18 years, which would place that part of the book as 1896. But the math of http://avonlea.hu/cd/websites/hendricks_paul/kindreds/chronology.html means that this book is set 1890 to '92. If it were 1896, then this would mess up the World War I chronology in Rilla of Ingleside. Still, close enough, and it does allow Montgomery a great pay-off to a minor character, a double pay-off really, when he shaves his beard and becomes engaged to Miss Cornelia.
Marjorie Dean, High School Senior
1917, undated probably 1920s A. L. Burt edition
Pauline Lester
Marjorie Dean, High School Senior
Bought used (of course) for $7.00
Hardcover with stains, broken spine, and loose pages
B
So there I was, more than twenty years later, and I found this book in a thrift store. I was very amused. But would I be able to follow it, having missed the middle of Marjorie's high school career? At the time (and this was only a year or two ago), there was online text of the sophomore year, but not the junior. (Now there are even her college years, although I don't think anyone's put up the "post-graduate" series yet.) I went ahead and read about her sophomore year, and pieced together what happened in the next year, based on the senior book. Anyway, I can't say I'm a huge enough fan to read that much online text, and this blog is just for the print books I own. (If I ever succumb to Nook or Kindle or what-have-you, I still consider that a different type of reading than turning pages.) I just want to explain the gap here, and note that I will try to judge MD, HSS on its own merits, as well as as a sequel.
I think it's better than the first book. It does deal less with school, hardly a mention of the classes, and despite the cover of Marjorie surrounded by her basketball teammates, it seems that the team has been disbanded based on issues that came up in the previous year. The three things that are improvements are Mignon's becoming a more complex villainess (if still somewhat falling into stereotypes about the French and the rich), the way that economic class is dealt with, and Jerry becoming even more wonderful than before.
Mignon, under the influence of an absent friend named Rowena (a character from the third book), becomes more Machiavellian than usual. Sometimes her schemes backfire on her, but mostly she causes misery for others. In the first book, she accused Constance of theft, while here she uses rumors, half-truths, full lies, and fake repentance to get what she wants. She genuinely repents in the end, in gratitude to Marjorie, who has tried to befriend her, based on a promise to Mr. La Salle.
In the first book, Mignon disliked Constance because the latter was poor. (She gets adopted by a rich aunt at some point in the middle years.) Here Mignon dislikes not only Lucy, who works as the school secretary, but Veronica, whom she assumes is a servant. Veronica plays along with this, although she's actually rich. (Another name that has new connotations in the years since, Veronica Lynne is much nicer than Veronica Lodge, although she's also nicknamed Ronny/Ronnie.) The main plot is that the girls have formed a charitable organization, the Lookout Club, whose biggest project is free daycare for the children of local mill workers. Mignon of course disapproves but pretends to go along with it. (Among the names considered for the club is "The Happy Hustlers," speaking of things with different connotations these days.)
And, yes, Jerry is great. Tired of Mignon's schemes, she resigns as President of the Lookouts, but she proves her loyalty to Marjorie and the others by playing sleuth and speaking truth. All the while, she wisecracks and speaks slang.
It's worth noting that the girls spend more time at the local soda fountains than in the first book. I think An Old-Fashioned Girl was the first of my books to mention eating ice cream in public, but it's definitely more of an archetype of the first half of the 1900s. And in the frozen-in-time world of Veronica Lodge of course.
The endpapers this time include not only the Marjorie Dean College Series, but such titles as The Blue Grass Seminary Girls on the Water, or, Exciting Adventures on a Summer's Cruise Through the Panama Canal; The Radio Boys on the Mexican Border; The Golden Boys and Their New Electric Cell; The Boy Allies in the Baltic, or, Through Fields of Ice to Aid the Czar; Our Young Aeroplane Scouts at the Marne, or, Hurrying the Huns from Allied Battle Planes; and The Boy Scouts Down in Dixie, or, the Strange Secret of Alligator Swamp. See, this could've been Marjorie Dean, High School Senior, or, Final Showdown with Mignon the Minx.
Or a suggestion of your choice, left in the comments.
Pauline Lester
Marjorie Dean, High School Senior
Bought used (of course) for $7.00
Hardcover with stains, broken spine, and loose pages
B
So there I was, more than twenty years later, and I found this book in a thrift store. I was very amused. But would I be able to follow it, having missed the middle of Marjorie's high school career? At the time (and this was only a year or two ago), there was online text of the sophomore year, but not the junior. (Now there are even her college years, although I don't think anyone's put up the "post-graduate" series yet.) I went ahead and read about her sophomore year, and pieced together what happened in the next year, based on the senior book. Anyway, I can't say I'm a huge enough fan to read that much online text, and this blog is just for the print books I own. (If I ever succumb to Nook or Kindle or what-have-you, I still consider that a different type of reading than turning pages.) I just want to explain the gap here, and note that I will try to judge MD, HSS on its own merits, as well as as a sequel.
I think it's better than the first book. It does deal less with school, hardly a mention of the classes, and despite the cover of Marjorie surrounded by her basketball teammates, it seems that the team has been disbanded based on issues that came up in the previous year. The three things that are improvements are Mignon's becoming a more complex villainess (if still somewhat falling into stereotypes about the French and the rich), the way that economic class is dealt with, and Jerry becoming even more wonderful than before.
Mignon, under the influence of an absent friend named Rowena (a character from the third book), becomes more Machiavellian than usual. Sometimes her schemes backfire on her, but mostly she causes misery for others. In the first book, she accused Constance of theft, while here she uses rumors, half-truths, full lies, and fake repentance to get what she wants. She genuinely repents in the end, in gratitude to Marjorie, who has tried to befriend her, based on a promise to Mr. La Salle.
In the first book, Mignon disliked Constance because the latter was poor. (She gets adopted by a rich aunt at some point in the middle years.) Here Mignon dislikes not only Lucy, who works as the school secretary, but Veronica, whom she assumes is a servant. Veronica plays along with this, although she's actually rich. (Another name that has new connotations in the years since, Veronica Lynne is much nicer than Veronica Lodge, although she's also nicknamed Ronny/Ronnie.) The main plot is that the girls have formed a charitable organization, the Lookout Club, whose biggest project is free daycare for the children of local mill workers. Mignon of course disapproves but pretends to go along with it. (Among the names considered for the club is "The Happy Hustlers," speaking of things with different connotations these days.)
And, yes, Jerry is great. Tired of Mignon's schemes, she resigns as President of the Lookouts, but she proves her loyalty to Marjorie and the others by playing sleuth and speaking truth. All the while, she wisecracks and speaks slang.
It's worth noting that the girls spend more time at the local soda fountains than in the first book. I think An Old-Fashioned Girl was the first of my books to mention eating ice cream in public, but it's definitely more of an archetype of the first half of the 1900s. And in the frozen-in-time world of Veronica Lodge of course.
The endpapers this time include not only the Marjorie Dean College Series, but such titles as The Blue Grass Seminary Girls on the Water, or, Exciting Adventures on a Summer's Cruise Through the Panama Canal; The Radio Boys on the Mexican Border; The Golden Boys and Their New Electric Cell; The Boy Allies in the Baltic, or, Through Fields of Ice to Aid the Czar; Our Young Aeroplane Scouts at the Marne, or, Hurrying the Huns from Allied Battle Planes; and The Boy Scouts Down in Dixie, or, the Strange Secret of Alligator Swamp. See, this could've been Marjorie Dean, High School Senior, or, Final Showdown with Mignon the Minx.
Or a suggestion of your choice, left in the comments.
Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman
1917, undated probably 1920s A. L. Burt edition
Pauline Lester
Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman
Bought used (of course) for $1.00
Hardcover with stains, broken spine, and loose pages
B-
I bought this a few years out of high school and used to half-joke that I was looking for Marjorie Dean, High School Sophomore. The end papers show that there are some equally prosaically named college books about Marjorie, which I now know from the Internet came out in 1922. Compared to Ann's Sterling Heart and Princess Polly's Playmates (not to be confused with the later Princess Polly at Play), these books by Lester are very plainly named, but then they are about a girl who is true to herself, her friends, her family, and her country. In fact, Marjorie likes to pretend that she's a soldier, not because she likes to fight (she rarely does), but because it helps her perform her duty.
Marjorie seems rather old for a freshman, being 16 at the start, but her peers are the same age. It's so strange compared to, for instance, Anne Shirley, who would've gone to college at 16 if she could've afforded it then, but instead became a teacher. Outside of manga, I can't think of anything else I've read where secondary school starts at such a late age.
Among the characters we meet in this first book is Mignon La Salle, the rich, snobbish, spoiled, scheming, French girl who will be a thorn in Marjorie's side during the high school years. (Apparently, Marjorie gets a new enemy in college.) Without Mignon, this first book would mostly just be parties and friendship. Yet, Mignon isn't the most interesting character. Nor is Marjorie.
Jerry Macy, the "stout" (both fat and stalwart), blunt girl who's one of the first to defect from Mignon to Marjorie, steals these books. She's totally comfortable with her weight, even basing a costume on it for the fairytale masquerade. She's creative, coming up with costumes for her friends, and the idea for the masquerade itself. She brings Marjorie and another friend back together after Mignon manipulates a misunderstanding.
That friend is named Constance Stevens, although Marjorie sometimes calls her Connie. Like her namesake, the '50s and '60s star, she's petite with blue eyes and fluffy blonde hair. As with Miss Tonks in Maurice, whom I forgot to mention, it's funny to read these old books when names have different associations now. Connie's love interest, by the way, is named Lawrence Armitage, and he's nicknamed Laurie, showing that the name was still considered masculine five decades after Little Women.
Marjorie's love interest is Jerry's brother Hal, who must be a twin, since they always seem to be in the same grade (although he goes to the boys' high school). There's no actual romance in these books, despite being recommended for girls 12 to 16. Instead, there's just foreshadowing of romance, along with a lot of other foreshadowing. So Lester will say something like "That would cause a great deal of trouble until late in their junior year." Translation: "Go buy Marjorie Dean, High School Junior."
Pauline Lester
Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman
Bought used (of course) for $1.00
Hardcover with stains, broken spine, and loose pages
B-
I bought this a few years out of high school and used to half-joke that I was looking for Marjorie Dean, High School Sophomore. The end papers show that there are some equally prosaically named college books about Marjorie, which I now know from the Internet came out in 1922. Compared to Ann's Sterling Heart and Princess Polly's Playmates (not to be confused with the later Princess Polly at Play), these books by Lester are very plainly named, but then they are about a girl who is true to herself, her friends, her family, and her country. In fact, Marjorie likes to pretend that she's a soldier, not because she likes to fight (she rarely does), but because it helps her perform her duty.
Marjorie seems rather old for a freshman, being 16 at the start, but her peers are the same age. It's so strange compared to, for instance, Anne Shirley, who would've gone to college at 16 if she could've afforded it then, but instead became a teacher. Outside of manga, I can't think of anything else I've read where secondary school starts at such a late age.
Among the characters we meet in this first book is Mignon La Salle, the rich, snobbish, spoiled, scheming, French girl who will be a thorn in Marjorie's side during the high school years. (Apparently, Marjorie gets a new enemy in college.) Without Mignon, this first book would mostly just be parties and friendship. Yet, Mignon isn't the most interesting character. Nor is Marjorie.
Jerry Macy, the "stout" (both fat and stalwart), blunt girl who's one of the first to defect from Mignon to Marjorie, steals these books. She's totally comfortable with her weight, even basing a costume on it for the fairytale masquerade. She's creative, coming up with costumes for her friends, and the idea for the masquerade itself. She brings Marjorie and another friend back together after Mignon manipulates a misunderstanding.
That friend is named Constance Stevens, although Marjorie sometimes calls her Connie. Like her namesake, the '50s and '60s star, she's petite with blue eyes and fluffy blonde hair. As with Miss Tonks in Maurice, whom I forgot to mention, it's funny to read these old books when names have different associations now. Connie's love interest, by the way, is named Lawrence Armitage, and he's nicknamed Laurie, showing that the name was still considered masculine five decades after Little Women.
Marjorie's love interest is Jerry's brother Hal, who must be a twin, since they always seem to be in the same grade (although he goes to the boys' high school). There's no actual romance in these books, despite being recommended for girls 12 to 16. Instead, there's just foreshadowing of romance, along with a lot of other foreshadowing. So Lester will say something like "That would cause a great deal of trouble until late in their junior year." Translation: "Go buy Marjorie Dean, High School Junior."
Friday, March 30, 2012
The Lost Princess of Oz
1917, undated probably 1980s Contemporary Books edition
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
The Lost Princess of Oz
Bought new for $3.95
Paperback with stains and loose pages
B-
This is the second time Ozma is the title character, since she's again been kidnapped, this time by Ugu the Shoemaker. The book has a number of plotholes and inconsistencies, most importantly that Ugu has learned some facts about Oz from the "books of his ancestors." This magic includes that Ozma is the fairy ruler of Oz, that Glinda is the most powerful sorceress and owns the Great Book of Records, that the Wizard is Glinda's student, and that there's a magic dishpan in the Yip Country. Only the last of these facts could've been recorded in a book owned even by Ugu's father, who abandoned the now middle-aged Ugu as a boy. Ozma has clearly not been on the throne for decades. (As for her being a fairy, that's a relatively recent development of Baum's, and somewhat inconsistent with her being changed into a boy who aged.) Glinda has been around for decades, but I don't think she owned the Record Book before Ozma came to the throne, because in Land she spoke of her spies gathering knowledge about the Wizard, rather than of a book that automatically recorded significant events around the world. And obviously, the Wizard hasn't been in training that long, only since the time of the fifth book at most, since he returned to Oz in the fourth and told of his apprenticeship in the sixth.
The two maps, one of Oz and the other showing the paths of the two main search parties, again put the Winkie Country in the West and right. The second map is spoilery, being on p. 75 and showing Ugu's castle as the final destination. But then this isn't really a mystery we're meant to solve. It's a rather meandering quest, better than the search for Shaggy's brother, but less gripping than Ojo's hunt for magic ingredients.
Part of the problem is that there are too many characters. Dorothy's group includes the other two little girls (Trot and Betsy), Button-Bright, the Wizard, the Patchwork Girl, the Cowardly Lion, the Woozy, the Sawhorse, Hank, and Toto, eleven total. The other search parties (most of whom we don't follow) consist of two to four people. I would've cut Dorothy's group down to her (since she wears the Magic Belt), Button-Bright (since he finds the peach that Ozma's hidden in), the Patchwork Girl (since she's clever and fun), the Cowardly Lion, the Woozy, and maybe Toto, five or six total. Toto, by the way, talks more in this book, but since he's mostly whining about losing his growl, I'm inclined to agree with the other animals that he shouldn't talk so much. The Cowardly Lion is as insightful as ever.
Baum still hasn't found a way to distinguish Trot and particularly Betsy as unique from Dorothy. In the illustrations, Betsy has longer hair, as she did in Rinkitink. Baum tells us that Betsy is a year older than Dorothy, who's a year older than Trot. He hasn't yet explained that people have stopped aging in Oz, but it's starting to be implied. Button-Bright is younger than Ojo, and we know he's younger than Trot and Dorothy. In Road, he seemed to be about half Dorothy's age, say 4 or 5 to her 8 or 9. He was half a head shorter than Trot in Scarecrow. If I remember correctly, Thompson will make Trot 9, I think in Giant Horse, so when we get to that point, I'll try to approximate the other kids' ages.
The other party we follow is the pair from Yip, Cayke the Cookie Cook (owner of the Dishpan) and the Frogman. The latter is like the Wogglebug in that he thinks his size and education make him very wise and impressive, but he takes a humbling bath in the Truth Pond, which since its appearance in Road has gained a plaque explaining its purpose. They're joined by two of the bears from Bear Center. Eight years after Teddy Roosevelt left office, teddy bears are still popular enough to inspire a whole city of them.
Ugu thinks he's stolen all the magic of Oz, but he doesn't know about the Nome King's Magic Belt or the magic of the Bear King. The Bear King can show you anything in the world, which leads to a great "infinity picture" of the united parties watching Ugu watch them watch him etc. As for the Belt, Dorothy isn't sure how to work it, despite having used it a bit in Ozma. She reveals that she's been practicing with it, a time when Baum should show not tell. She finds that the Belt will only grant one wish a day by closing her right eye and wiggling her "left toe" (which one?), restrictions that did not exist in Ozma or Emerald City, and then she manages to perform at least three wishes in quick succession.
This book could definitely have used some revision, but it's still better than Road, with an actual villain and plot, and more interesting places to visit. Of these, the City of Thi is probably best, with the diamond-shaped people who eat thistles, ride around in very slow auto-chariots pulled by dragons, and obey the man who's secretly their king. There's an odd picture on p. 165 of the giants of Herku, all of whom are bearded and fierce, except for one clean-shaven, vain-looking man. I suspect this was a caricature of someone Neill knew.
This is my 200th post (not counting the introduction), so let's see how things stack up since Vanity Fair. The breakdown was then
1 F
2 F+s
2 D-s
3 D's
7 D+s
6 C-s
12 C's
21 C+s
16 B-s
19 B's
9 B+s
2 A-s
There are the same number of F's and D-s, but there's another F+, another D, and another D+. C-s have increased to 8, C's to 15, and C+s to 37. B-s have tripled, with 53 now! B's have more than doubled, with 43 total. B+s have almost tripled, to 21. And there are three more A-s. So it's been a good seven decades.
I've also posted more this month than any of the five since I started, thanks to lots of children's books and short stories. I'm going to be busier for awhile, so I'll probably slow down this spring, especially as I hit Sinclair Lewis and other novelists of the 1920s and '30s.
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
The Lost Princess of Oz
Bought new for $3.95
Paperback with stains and loose pages
B-
This is the second time Ozma is the title character, since she's again been kidnapped, this time by Ugu the Shoemaker. The book has a number of plotholes and inconsistencies, most importantly that Ugu has learned some facts about Oz from the "books of his ancestors." This magic includes that Ozma is the fairy ruler of Oz, that Glinda is the most powerful sorceress and owns the Great Book of Records, that the Wizard is Glinda's student, and that there's a magic dishpan in the Yip Country. Only the last of these facts could've been recorded in a book owned even by Ugu's father, who abandoned the now middle-aged Ugu as a boy. Ozma has clearly not been on the throne for decades. (As for her being a fairy, that's a relatively recent development of Baum's, and somewhat inconsistent with her being changed into a boy who aged.) Glinda has been around for decades, but I don't think she owned the Record Book before Ozma came to the throne, because in Land she spoke of her spies gathering knowledge about the Wizard, rather than of a book that automatically recorded significant events around the world. And obviously, the Wizard hasn't been in training that long, only since the time of the fifth book at most, since he returned to Oz in the fourth and told of his apprenticeship in the sixth.
The two maps, one of Oz and the other showing the paths of the two main search parties, again put the Winkie Country in the West and right. The second map is spoilery, being on p. 75 and showing Ugu's castle as the final destination. But then this isn't really a mystery we're meant to solve. It's a rather meandering quest, better than the search for Shaggy's brother, but less gripping than Ojo's hunt for magic ingredients.
Part of the problem is that there are too many characters. Dorothy's group includes the other two little girls (Trot and Betsy), Button-Bright, the Wizard, the Patchwork Girl, the Cowardly Lion, the Woozy, the Sawhorse, Hank, and Toto, eleven total. The other search parties (most of whom we don't follow) consist of two to four people. I would've cut Dorothy's group down to her (since she wears the Magic Belt), Button-Bright (since he finds the peach that Ozma's hidden in), the Patchwork Girl (since she's clever and fun), the Cowardly Lion, the Woozy, and maybe Toto, five or six total. Toto, by the way, talks more in this book, but since he's mostly whining about losing his growl, I'm inclined to agree with the other animals that he shouldn't talk so much. The Cowardly Lion is as insightful as ever.
Baum still hasn't found a way to distinguish Trot and particularly Betsy as unique from Dorothy. In the illustrations, Betsy has longer hair, as she did in Rinkitink. Baum tells us that Betsy is a year older than Dorothy, who's a year older than Trot. He hasn't yet explained that people have stopped aging in Oz, but it's starting to be implied. Button-Bright is younger than Ojo, and we know he's younger than Trot and Dorothy. In Road, he seemed to be about half Dorothy's age, say 4 or 5 to her 8 or 9. He was half a head shorter than Trot in Scarecrow. If I remember correctly, Thompson will make Trot 9, I think in Giant Horse, so when we get to that point, I'll try to approximate the other kids' ages.
The other party we follow is the pair from Yip, Cayke the Cookie Cook (owner of the Dishpan) and the Frogman. The latter is like the Wogglebug in that he thinks his size and education make him very wise and impressive, but he takes a humbling bath in the Truth Pond, which since its appearance in Road has gained a plaque explaining its purpose. They're joined by two of the bears from Bear Center. Eight years after Teddy Roosevelt left office, teddy bears are still popular enough to inspire a whole city of them.
Ugu thinks he's stolen all the magic of Oz, but he doesn't know about the Nome King's Magic Belt or the magic of the Bear King. The Bear King can show you anything in the world, which leads to a great "infinity picture" of the united parties watching Ugu watch them watch him etc. As for the Belt, Dorothy isn't sure how to work it, despite having used it a bit in Ozma. She reveals that she's been practicing with it, a time when Baum should show not tell. She finds that the Belt will only grant one wish a day by closing her right eye and wiggling her "left toe" (which one?), restrictions that did not exist in Ozma or Emerald City, and then she manages to perform at least three wishes in quick succession.
This book could definitely have used some revision, but it's still better than Road, with an actual villain and plot, and more interesting places to visit. Of these, the City of Thi is probably best, with the diamond-shaped people who eat thistles, ride around in very slow auto-chariots pulled by dragons, and obey the man who's secretly their king. There's an odd picture on p. 165 of the giants of Herku, all of whom are bearded and fierce, except for one clean-shaven, vain-looking man. I suspect this was a caricature of someone Neill knew.
This is my 200th post (not counting the introduction), so let's see how things stack up since Vanity Fair. The breakdown was then
1 F
2 F+s
2 D-s
3 D's
7 D+s
6 C-s
12 C's
21 C+s
16 B-s
19 B's
9 B+s
2 A-s
There are the same number of F's and D-s, but there's another F+, another D, and another D+. C-s have increased to 8, C's to 15, and C+s to 37. B-s have tripled, with 53 now! B's have more than doubled, with 43 total. B+s have almost tripled, to 21. And there are three more A-s. So it's been a good seven decades.
I've also posted more this month than any of the five since I started, thanks to lots of children's books and short stories. I'm going to be busier for awhile, so I'll probably slow down this spring, especially as I hit Sinclair Lewis and other novelists of the 1920s and '30s.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Come out of the Kitchen!
1916, original Century Co. edition
Alice Duer Miller
Illustrations by Paul Meylan
Come out of the Kitchen!: A Romance
Bought used (of course) for $3.50
Hardcover with broken spine and worn cover
B
I always want to add "And Live!" after the word "Kitchen." Despite the melodramatic title, this is a fun, "modern" book. At one point, Cora is supposed to be playing classical but breaks out into ragtime, and no one notices. Some of the illustrations look like photographs, but in a silent-movie-still sort of way. And the cavalier way the secondary romances are treated, as if it doesn't really matter who ends up with whom beyond Crane and the cook, is more refreshing than sloppy. (After all, it says "a" romance, not "a bunch of overlapping romances.") Light, frothy fun, although it does include a friendly debate about the Civil War and a rich hero who tries not to be prejudiced against people based on color, gender, or class.
Alice Duer Miller
Illustrations by Paul Meylan
Come out of the Kitchen!: A Romance
Bought used (of course) for $3.50
Hardcover with broken spine and worn cover
B
I always want to add "And Live!" after the word "Kitchen." Despite the melodramatic title, this is a fun, "modern" book. At one point, Cora is supposed to be playing classical but breaks out into ragtime, and no one notices. Some of the illustrations look like photographs, but in a silent-movie-still sort of way. And the cavalier way the secondary romances are treated, as if it doesn't really matter who ends up with whom beyond Crane and the cook, is more refreshing than sloppy. (After all, it says "a" romance, not "a bunch of overlapping romances.") Light, frothy fun, although it does include a friendly debate about the Civil War and a rich hero who tries not to be prejudiced against people based on color, gender, or class.
Mrs. Beazley's Deeds
1916
Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Mrs. Beazley's Deeds
B
The last short story in this collection is one of the better ones, as a female lawyer helps a woman and her three kids escape jerky Mr. Beazley. Of course there's a twist, as always, with the lawyer's profession not being immediately revealed. I like that Gilman made things darker than usual, the male chauvinist pig more piggish, although still plausible. It makes Mrs. Beazley's triumph that much better.
This collection definitely averages out to B-. Like I said, Gilman generally stays on the pretty-good level.
Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Mrs. Beazley's Deeds
B
The last short story in this collection is one of the better ones, as a female lawyer helps a woman and her three kids escape jerky Mr. Beazley. Of course there's a twist, as always, with the lawyer's profession not being immediately revealed. I like that Gilman made things darker than usual, the male chauvinist pig more piggish, although still plausible. It makes Mrs. Beazley's triumph that much better.
This collection definitely averages out to B-. Like I said, Gilman generally stays on the pretty-good level.
Joan's Defender
1916
Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Joan's Defender
B-
Young Joan is saved from her bullying brother and neglectful parents for a couple years, during which she stays with her awesome uncle and his awesome family. He cuts her too long hair, teaches her jiu-jitsu, and generally lets her reach her potential. She returns home and kicks her brother's butt. I don't get why she couldn't have stayed at the ranch, but whatever. A reasonably happy ending, even if her nuclear family still sucks. (It's like if Harry Potter went to Hogwarts for a couple years and then had to stay with the Dursleys for the rest of his adolescence.)
Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Joan's Defender
B-
Young Joan is saved from her bullying brother and neglectful parents for a couple years, during which she stays with her awesome uncle and his awesome family. He cuts her too long hair, teaches her jiu-jitsu, and generally lets her reach her potential. She returns home and kicks her brother's butt. I don't get why she couldn't have stayed at the ranch, but whatever. A reasonably happy ending, even if her nuclear family still sucks. (It's like if Harry Potter went to Hogwarts for a couple years and then had to stay with the Dursleys for the rest of his adolescence.)
Rinkitink in Oz
1916, undated probably 1970s Henry Regnery edition
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
Rinkitink in Oz
Bought new for $3.95
Somewhat worn paperback
B
I don't think this is the copy I had as a child, because that copy I read every summer floating on an inflatable raft in our pool. It seemed appropriate for a story set on islands, and I suspect it got waterlogged over the years. In any case, it was a big part of my childhood, connecting imagination and leisure. I liked Inga for his bravery, loyalty, and ingenuity, and envied him the three magic pearls. I liked Bilbil's sarcasm, but I don't think I cared very much for the title character, who wasn't as funny as the author thought.
The story is set mostly outside of Oz, but we get a map of Oz and some of the surrounding countries. West and Winkies are on the right. I've always been sort of dyslexic about left and right, in that I can't parse which is which immediately, and I'm terrible at giving street directions, so I wonder if I can blame Baum. In any case, Pingaree is the island on the upper right. Regos and Coregos (inspired by "regent" and "coregent"?) are off the map.
Some of the story takes place in the Nome Kingdom. Baum originally wrote the story as a non-Oz book a decade before, so Kaliko acts more like Roquat than his usual self. Interestingly, before agreeing to accept the King and Queen of Pingaree as his slaves, he makes sure that they aren't allies with Oz, because he doesn't want to annoy Ozma. Does this mean that Ev was allied with Oz during Ozma? If so, when was the treaty made? During the Wizard's time? Or is Ozma less interventionist these days, and so Kaliko is only worried if Ozma has a darned good reason to interfere? In any case, Dorothy and the Wizard, although on foot, arrive in the nick of time to save the day. It's too bad that Inga didn't get to rescue his parents himself. (And it's too bad he has a name that, thanks to Three's Company among other things, would soon sound like that of a bosomy blonde Swedish girl.)
The reference to "Hottentots" I mentioned in the Patchwork Girl review is that when Glinda and the Wizard are trying to change Bilbil back to Prince Bobo, one of the transitional phases is "tottenhot," here defined as "a lower form of man." Adding insult to injury, this is followed by a cross-eyed "mifket," which is "a great step in advance."
Back in Land, Glinda said she didn't deal in transformations, which are only for dishonest witches. Maybe she's now willing to do unclean magic in a good cause. The wizard figures out that Bilbil is enchanted because the goat can speak in the Nome Kingdom, never mind that Billina did as well.
Neill's artwork is his best in awhile, maybe helped by this being a more traditional fairytale. He's generally successful with the three main characters, and of course the palaces are gorgeous, even when in ruins. The most interesting image is that of the Regos soldier on p. 52. This invader from the north has a spiked helmet and an eagle-headed axe. Was this Neill's version of the "Hun" in WWI propaganda?
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
Rinkitink in Oz
Bought new for $3.95
Somewhat worn paperback
B
I don't think this is the copy I had as a child, because that copy I read every summer floating on an inflatable raft in our pool. It seemed appropriate for a story set on islands, and I suspect it got waterlogged over the years. In any case, it was a big part of my childhood, connecting imagination and leisure. I liked Inga for his bravery, loyalty, and ingenuity, and envied him the three magic pearls. I liked Bilbil's sarcasm, but I don't think I cared very much for the title character, who wasn't as funny as the author thought.
The story is set mostly outside of Oz, but we get a map of Oz and some of the surrounding countries. West and Winkies are on the right. I've always been sort of dyslexic about left and right, in that I can't parse which is which immediately, and I'm terrible at giving street directions, so I wonder if I can blame Baum. In any case, Pingaree is the island on the upper right. Regos and Coregos (inspired by "regent" and "coregent"?) are off the map.
Some of the story takes place in the Nome Kingdom. Baum originally wrote the story as a non-Oz book a decade before, so Kaliko acts more like Roquat than his usual self. Interestingly, before agreeing to accept the King and Queen of Pingaree as his slaves, he makes sure that they aren't allies with Oz, because he doesn't want to annoy Ozma. Does this mean that Ev was allied with Oz during Ozma? If so, when was the treaty made? During the Wizard's time? Or is Ozma less interventionist these days, and so Kaliko is only worried if Ozma has a darned good reason to interfere? In any case, Dorothy and the Wizard, although on foot, arrive in the nick of time to save the day. It's too bad that Inga didn't get to rescue his parents himself. (And it's too bad he has a name that, thanks to Three's Company among other things, would soon sound like that of a bosomy blonde Swedish girl.)
The reference to "Hottentots" I mentioned in the Patchwork Girl review is that when Glinda and the Wizard are trying to change Bilbil back to Prince Bobo, one of the transitional phases is "tottenhot," here defined as "a lower form of man." Adding insult to injury, this is followed by a cross-eyed "mifket," which is "a great step in advance."
Back in Land, Glinda said she didn't deal in transformations, which are only for dishonest witches. Maybe she's now willing to do unclean magic in a good cause. The wizard figures out that Bilbil is enchanted because the goat can speak in the Nome Kingdom, never mind that Billina did as well.
Neill's artwork is his best in awhile, maybe helped by this being a more traditional fairytale. He's generally successful with the three main characters, and of course the palaces are gorgeous, even when in ruins. The most interesting image is that of the Regos soldier on p. 52. This invader from the north has a spiked helmet and an eagle-headed axe. Was this Neill's version of the "Hun" in WWI propaganda?
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Anne of the Island
1915, 1992 Bantam edition
L. M. Montgomery
Anne of the Island
Bought new for $2.95
Good condition paperback
B
If you can put aside that for a book about Anne's four years at Redmond College there isn't really that much about college, like, oh, the courses she's taking, this is equal to the first two "Anne" books. It's mostly about romances, Anne's own (including, if I counted correctly, five proposals), Diana's (she marries good old Fred and has Fred, Jr. by the end of the book), her friends', and some random middle-aged strangers that show up only so that Anne can matchmake them.
There's thankfully less of Davy, although we are treated to the misadventures that ensue when he skips Sunday School, Dora the Dreary in tow. (Anne is visiting nameless friends at Carmody, another town on the island.) I totally forgot that Miss Lavendar's posse returns, twice, with Charlotta the Fourth now wearing a pompadour. Miss Lavendar's stepson Paul has developed the amazing ability to age twice as fast as everyone else, so he's thirteen when he should be twelve, and sixteen when he should be fourteen.
The best new character is frivolous Philippa, who has a swarm of beaux but falls for an ugly minister. I still can't remember much about Priscilla, other than her aunt is a writer. And who was the other roommate again? Not Aunt Jimsie, but the classmate. Not too memorable.
Speaking of writers, Anne starts to pursue her professional writing career, helped along by Diana. She's hoping to return to teaching-- now with a B.A.!-- but she wants to write, too. When Gilbert almost dies, she realizes she loves him (although I read her as lesbian for the most part), and he proposes to her again. She accepts, but they'll have to wait three years, as he gets his medical training.
As for readers, well, they only had to wait two years for Anne's House of Dreams, although that would end up being Book 5. More about that later....
L. M. Montgomery
Anne of the Island
Bought new for $2.95
Good condition paperback
B
If you can put aside that for a book about Anne's four years at Redmond College there isn't really that much about college, like, oh, the courses she's taking, this is equal to the first two "Anne" books. It's mostly about romances, Anne's own (including, if I counted correctly, five proposals), Diana's (she marries good old Fred and has Fred, Jr. by the end of the book), her friends', and some random middle-aged strangers that show up only so that Anne can matchmake them.
There's thankfully less of Davy, although we are treated to the misadventures that ensue when he skips Sunday School, Dora the Dreary in tow. (Anne is visiting nameless friends at Carmody, another town on the island.) I totally forgot that Miss Lavendar's posse returns, twice, with Charlotta the Fourth now wearing a pompadour. Miss Lavendar's stepson Paul has developed the amazing ability to age twice as fast as everyone else, so he's thirteen when he should be twelve, and sixteen when he should be fourteen.
The best new character is frivolous Philippa, who has a swarm of beaux but falls for an ugly minister. I still can't remember much about Priscilla, other than her aunt is a writer. And who was the other roommate again? Not Aunt Jimsie, but the classmate. Not too memorable.
Speaking of writers, Anne starts to pursue her professional writing career, helped along by Diana. She's hoping to return to teaching-- now with a B.A.!-- but she wants to write, too. When Gilbert almost dies, she realizes she loves him (although I read her as lesbian for the most part), and he proposes to her again. She accepts, but they'll have to wait three years, as he gets his medical training.
As for readers, well, they only had to wait two years for Anne's House of Dreams, although that would end up being Book 5. More about that later....
Monday, March 26, 2012
Dr. Clair's Place
1915
Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Dr. Clair's Place
B-
A depressed woman is saved from suicidal thoughts by visiting the title location, a benign sanitorium, where visitors perform positive, interesting tasks in a wholesome location somewhere in the Southern California hills. The irony that Gilman would herself commit suicide twenty years later, after being diagnosed with breast cancer, is heart-breaking. As Yellow Wallpaper shows, she knew that "rest cures" didn't always cure. And there are some lives that may be too unbearable to continue. Knitting and jigsaw puzzles are not enough. But as a suggestion of reform for sanitoriums, it's still an insightful work.
By the way, there are now more posts for the 1910s than for any other decade. This took awhile because most of the ones for the sixteenth century are from the 1590s. There are still more posts for the nineteenth century than the twentieth, but we're well on our way.
Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Dr. Clair's Place
B-
A depressed woman is saved from suicidal thoughts by visiting the title location, a benign sanitorium, where visitors perform positive, interesting tasks in a wholesome location somewhere in the Southern California hills. The irony that Gilman would herself commit suicide twenty years later, after being diagnosed with breast cancer, is heart-breaking. As Yellow Wallpaper shows, she knew that "rest cures" didn't always cure. And there are some lives that may be too unbearable to continue. Knitting and jigsaw puzzles are not enough. But as a suggestion of reform for sanitoriums, it's still an insightful work.
By the way, there are now more posts for the 1910s than for any other decade. This took awhile because most of the ones for the sixteenth century are from the 1590s. There are still more posts for the nineteenth century than the twentieth, but we're well on our way.
Spoken To
1915
Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Spoken To
B-
On the one hand, I applaud Lucille "Luke" Wright's bravado in going out in public alone, even as late as ten o'clock, despite warnings that she may be "spoken to." On the other, it brings up all sorts of memories of times that men have yelled out rude things to me, and not "Hey, Baby!" but really crude, sometimes menacing things. Once I didn't reply to a homeless man, so he called me a whore. Sometimes I'll ignore it, sometimes I'll even yell things back, but there is always that fear, even after a lifetime as a pedestrian, that someday one of those men is going to attack me violently, that that group of young jerks yelling things out of a car as they pass are going to come back. The worst that happens to Luke is in Paris she gets whispered to by the same cad who propositioned her aunt twenty years ago, and she puts him in his place with a smile. She doesn't even get pinched like Claudine.
I remember Woody Allen, of all people, talking about how women who'd been young in New York City before World War II used to go out at night unescorted. I think there was a time, of which this short story was probably at the beginning, when women were starting to exercise their freedom, even if just to go to lectures and the library, before fear of crime took some of that freedom away. I've often gone out by myself at night, including in London, but I've never been as blithe about it as Luke. So I think this is as dated in its very progressivism as Herland.
Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Spoken To
B-
On the one hand, I applaud Lucille "Luke" Wright's bravado in going out in public alone, even as late as ten o'clock, despite warnings that she may be "spoken to." On the other, it brings up all sorts of memories of times that men have yelled out rude things to me, and not "Hey, Baby!" but really crude, sometimes menacing things. Once I didn't reply to a homeless man, so he called me a whore. Sometimes I'll ignore it, sometimes I'll even yell things back, but there is always that fear, even after a lifetime as a pedestrian, that someday one of those men is going to attack me violently, that that group of young jerks yelling things out of a car as they pass are going to come back. The worst that happens to Luke is in Paris she gets whispered to by the same cad who propositioned her aunt twenty years ago, and she puts him in his place with a smile. She doesn't even get pinched like Claudine.
I remember Woody Allen, of all people, talking about how women who'd been young in New York City before World War II used to go out at night unescorted. I think there was a time, of which this short story was probably at the beginning, when women were starting to exercise their freedom, even if just to go to lectures and the library, before fear of crime took some of that freedom away. I've often gone out by myself at night, including in London, but I've never been as blithe about it as Luke. So I think this is as dated in its very progressivism as Herland.
Herland
1915
Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Herland
B-
Three modern men of various types, not unlike the suitors in A Mischievous Rudiment, discover a land populated solely by women. Narrator Van is quietly realistic, while Jeff is chivalrous and Terry is macho. Van is a sociologist, so he's particularly interested in how this society works. Jeff puts women on pedestals, so he adapts fairly well, once he realizes that the women don't need his protection. But Terry agrees with Wyndham that women need to be mastered. The three men find brides among the Herlanders, but Terry's marriage is very unhappy, culminating in attempted marital rape.
For 2000 years, the women have been reproducing through parthenogenesis. They're aware of sexual intercourse because of the animals they breed (Gilman is amusing about cats), but it's not part of their own lives. When Elladora, Celis, and Alima get married, the whole nation is excited about the possibility of Fatherhood. But sex is only seen as for reproduction, in a land where Motherhood is central. This leads to difficulties even for the more understanding Van. (Jeff and Celis soon decide to have a child.)
It's interesting to see what Gilman imagines a country without men would be like: peaceful, crime-free, clean, well-fed, well-educated, and generally well-run. There are also of course none of the limiting gender stereotypes, for men or women, that plagued her time. However, how utopian is this utopia? Besides the lack of sex (including lesbianism), it's a world where only women who are good enough, as defined by society, can have a child, with a few rare women ("Over Mothers") being allowed more than one. Yet motherhood, in the sense of childbirth, is seen as the great act of a woman's life. On the other hand, most women don't raise their children themselves, because that would be like, as Gilman says, practicing dentistry on your family when you don't have the training.
As utopias go, sure, I'd rather live here than in More's, although not as much as Oz. At least I'd be able to have an interesting job and lots of friends, without having to confess my "sins" to my husband, as in More's land. In Oz, I'd have to live where Ozma told me to, but I'd otherwise have some measure of freedom, and be surrounded by magic. Ironically, magic aside, I think Oz is the most plausible utopia, or dystopia, I've examined so far. Herland, in its isolation, with "savages" as the nearest neighbors, most resembles Erewhon.
This is a very dated novella but I think it'll be interesting to look back on when I get up to my "radical feminist" books of the 1970s. And it's not a bad little story, without the dull patches of Erewhon, although none of the hm moments of that novel.
Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Herland
B-
Three modern men of various types, not unlike the suitors in A Mischievous Rudiment, discover a land populated solely by women. Narrator Van is quietly realistic, while Jeff is chivalrous and Terry is macho. Van is a sociologist, so he's particularly interested in how this society works. Jeff puts women on pedestals, so he adapts fairly well, once he realizes that the women don't need his protection. But Terry agrees with Wyndham that women need to be mastered. The three men find brides among the Herlanders, but Terry's marriage is very unhappy, culminating in attempted marital rape.
For 2000 years, the women have been reproducing through parthenogenesis. They're aware of sexual intercourse because of the animals they breed (Gilman is amusing about cats), but it's not part of their own lives. When Elladora, Celis, and Alima get married, the whole nation is excited about the possibility of Fatherhood. But sex is only seen as for reproduction, in a land where Motherhood is central. This leads to difficulties even for the more understanding Van. (Jeff and Celis soon decide to have a child.)
It's interesting to see what Gilman imagines a country without men would be like: peaceful, crime-free, clean, well-fed, well-educated, and generally well-run. There are also of course none of the limiting gender stereotypes, for men or women, that plagued her time. However, how utopian is this utopia? Besides the lack of sex (including lesbianism), it's a world where only women who are good enough, as defined by society, can have a child, with a few rare women ("Over Mothers") being allowed more than one. Yet motherhood, in the sense of childbirth, is seen as the great act of a woman's life. On the other hand, most women don't raise their children themselves, because that would be like, as Gilman says, practicing dentistry on your family when you don't have the training.
As utopias go, sure, I'd rather live here than in More's, although not as much as Oz. At least I'd be able to have an interesting job and lots of friends, without having to confess my "sins" to my husband, as in More's land. In Oz, I'd have to live where Ozma told me to, but I'd otherwise have some measure of freedom, and be surrounded by magic. Ironically, magic aside, I think Oz is the most plausible utopia, or dystopia, I've examined so far. Herland, in its isolation, with "savages" as the nearest neighbors, most resembles Erewhon.
This is a very dated novella but I think it'll be interesting to look back on when I get up to my "radical feminist" books of the 1970s. And it's not a bad little story, without the dull patches of Erewhon, although none of the hm moments of that novel.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
The Scarecrow of Oz
1915, undated probably 1970s Rand McNally edition
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
The Scarecrow of Oz
Bought new for $1.95
Waterlogged paperback
B-
Our old friend doesn't show up until the second half of this Oz book, although he sort of saves the day. It could more accurately be called Orks in Oz, after the bird-like creatures that come to the rescue several times, but I suppose that wouldn't have sold as well. Or it could've been Trot and Cap'n Bill in Oz, since those two find their way to the fairyland. There are some references to their two earlier adventures, but the main thing you need to know is he's like her unofficial uncle. (I think her father is dead, although her mother is mentioned, but forgotten later in the series.) I think their pre-Oz journey, with concerns about running out of candles and food, is more interesting than what happens in Jinxland, another of the mini-kingdoms on the edges of Oz. It is notable that there are still wicked witches, despite Ozma's decree.
Our favorite good witch is now back home in the Quadling Country, looking out for people with her Great Book of Records of course, but I still can't tell if she's ruling the South. She sends the Scarecrow to Jinxland, with a spider-bridge reminiscent of one of the Mo adventures.
Speaking of Mo, Trot and Cap'n Bill spend a night in that land, Baum having forgotten that there is no night in Mo. They meet the Bumpy Man and eat their way through a popcorn snowstorm, finding an old friend in a snowbank.
Button-Bright is back, having met Trot and Cap'n Bill in Sky Island. He's older now and more articulate than in DatW, although he's also further developed his habit of getting lost. The three of them permanently move to Oz, with no immigration debate, or concern for the families back home. Uncle Henry and Aunt Em, by the way, now live in a cottage near the palace, allowing Dorothy to continue her aristocratic lifestyle. Yet, she's still down to earth. Betsy has undergone a personality change and is now shy, rather than Oklahomically frank.
Neill's best drawings this time are of the title character, in many moods, and Princess Gloria of Jinxland. Ozma and Glinda are supposed to be more beautiful, but I like the way Neill does Gloria's hair.
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
The Scarecrow of Oz
Bought new for $1.95
Waterlogged paperback
B-
Our old friend doesn't show up until the second half of this Oz book, although he sort of saves the day. It could more accurately be called Orks in Oz, after the bird-like creatures that come to the rescue several times, but I suppose that wouldn't have sold as well. Or it could've been Trot and Cap'n Bill in Oz, since those two find their way to the fairyland. There are some references to their two earlier adventures, but the main thing you need to know is he's like her unofficial uncle. (I think her father is dead, although her mother is mentioned, but forgotten later in the series.) I think their pre-Oz journey, with concerns about running out of candles and food, is more interesting than what happens in Jinxland, another of the mini-kingdoms on the edges of Oz. It is notable that there are still wicked witches, despite Ozma's decree.
Our favorite good witch is now back home in the Quadling Country, looking out for people with her Great Book of Records of course, but I still can't tell if she's ruling the South. She sends the Scarecrow to Jinxland, with a spider-bridge reminiscent of one of the Mo adventures.
Speaking of Mo, Trot and Cap'n Bill spend a night in that land, Baum having forgotten that there is no night in Mo. They meet the Bumpy Man and eat their way through a popcorn snowstorm, finding an old friend in a snowbank.
Button-Bright is back, having met Trot and Cap'n Bill in Sky Island. He's older now and more articulate than in DatW, although he's also further developed his habit of getting lost. The three of them permanently move to Oz, with no immigration debate, or concern for the families back home. Uncle Henry and Aunt Em, by the way, now live in a cottage near the palace, allowing Dorothy to continue her aristocratic lifestyle. Yet, she's still down to earth. Betsy has undergone a personality change and is now shy, rather than Oklahomically frank.
Neill's best drawings this time are of the title character, in many moods, and Princess Gloria of Jinxland. Ozma and Glinda are supposed to be more beautiful, but I like the way Neill does Gloria's hair.
If I Were a Man
1914
Charlotte Perkins Gilman
If I Were a Man
B-
The title is a bit misleading. It sounds like it's going to be in first person, like When I Was a Witch. And Mollie doesn't exactly become a man. Her consciousness is submerged in that of her husband's, so she's reacting with double vision to his typical day. An outright body switch story might've worked better, but Gilman does bring up some interesting points, including that women's hats are still as ridiculous as they were in the previous decade, and allows Mollie some empathy for men.
Charlotte Perkins Gilman
If I Were a Man
B-
The title is a bit misleading. It sounds like it's going to be in first person, like When I Was a Witch. And Mollie doesn't exactly become a man. Her consciousness is submerged in that of her husband's, so she's reacting with double vision to his typical day. An outright body switch story might've worked better, but Gilman does bring up some interesting points, including that women's hats are still as ridiculous as they were in the previous decade, and allows Mollie some empathy for men.
Maurice
1914, published posthumously 1971, this Norton edition 2006
E. M. Forster
Maurice
Bought new for $13.95
Very good condition paperback
B+
It's easy to see why this book wasn't published in Forster's lifetime. Even in 1960, the time of his charming as ever "Terminal Note" (afterword), the year before Dirk Bogarde starred as Melville Farr in Victim, homosexual acts were still illegal in England. This changed in 1967, with the Sexual Offenses Act. And Forster knew that the most controversial part of this novel was the happy ending, that two men go off into the sunset together. If you take a look at, for instance, mainstream movies or YA novels of the 1960s, you'll see that death or at least separation was the acceptable end for gay couples.
Not publishing the book in its time seems to have given Forster more freedom than usual. It's seen in the profanity, as in the crude but insightful "You could call your cousin a shit if you liked, but not a eunuch." And it's seen in the clear but not graphic contrast of Maurice's emotional but asexual relationship with Clive vs. his earthier and more honest relationship with Alec. Clive is a hypocrite, but he's his own greatest victim.
The book is also about class, with the ironic suggestion that men can cross class lines more successfully than straight couples, if they're willing to risk everything. Maurice learns, from his hypnotist, that homosexuals are tolerated much more in France and Italy. Like Oscar Wilde, who's mentioned a few times as a type that Maurice sometimes fears to become, Maurice and his lover will find more acceptance in Paris.
The novel is also about education, from school and life. Maurice and Clive meet at Cambridge, although their relationship indirectly causes Maurice to be expelled. They have enough privacy in their rooms to flirt, but they do go off to the country on a motorcycle. Forty-six years after finishing the novel, Forster saw the most dated aspect to be the disappearance of the "greenwood." Miss Honeychurch could no longer be kissed among the violets, and Mr. Hall could no longer press his cheek against his lover's in a field. The novel ends in 1912, and the older Forster knew that he couldn't have looked too far into the future, because the First World War was about to change everything.
I sort of like that Maurice and the other characters aren't exactly likable. It makes him more heroic when he takes a stand. Forster is quite blunt that Maurice and Clive are misogynists, especially towards their mothers and sisters. (Poor Ada!) Clive thinks he overcomes his homosexuality, so he marries, but the marriage is obviously as empty physically as his with Maurice, and without the deeper connection he has with Maurice. I think of Alec as bisexual, but, unlike Clive, he isn't someone who cares about labels. He can't even blackmail properly, so what's tragedy for Mr. Farr is comedy for Mr. Hall.
I think this book has more substance, more at stake, than Room with a View, but it's not as heavy and fatalistic as Howards End. So it's better than both, but this is only my second reading, and I'm not sure how it'll stack up against A Passage to India (1924). I do know it inspired the best Merchant Ivory adaptation of Forster I've seen, the 1987 film with Hugh Grant as Clive. The movie isn't as good or as optimistic as the book-- with the Wilde-like Lord Risley being sentenced, a warning to the young couple-- but it's worth seeing.
E. M. Forster
Maurice
Bought new for $13.95
Very good condition paperback
B+
It's easy to see why this book wasn't published in Forster's lifetime. Even in 1960, the time of his charming as ever "Terminal Note" (afterword), the year before Dirk Bogarde starred as Melville Farr in Victim, homosexual acts were still illegal in England. This changed in 1967, with the Sexual Offenses Act. And Forster knew that the most controversial part of this novel was the happy ending, that two men go off into the sunset together. If you take a look at, for instance, mainstream movies or YA novels of the 1960s, you'll see that death or at least separation was the acceptable end for gay couples.
Not publishing the book in its time seems to have given Forster more freedom than usual. It's seen in the profanity, as in the crude but insightful "You could call your cousin a shit if you liked, but not a eunuch." And it's seen in the clear but not graphic contrast of Maurice's emotional but asexual relationship with Clive vs. his earthier and more honest relationship with Alec. Clive is a hypocrite, but he's his own greatest victim.
The book is also about class, with the ironic suggestion that men can cross class lines more successfully than straight couples, if they're willing to risk everything. Maurice learns, from his hypnotist, that homosexuals are tolerated much more in France and Italy. Like Oscar Wilde, who's mentioned a few times as a type that Maurice sometimes fears to become, Maurice and his lover will find more acceptance in Paris.
The novel is also about education, from school and life. Maurice and Clive meet at Cambridge, although their relationship indirectly causes Maurice to be expelled. They have enough privacy in their rooms to flirt, but they do go off to the country on a motorcycle. Forty-six years after finishing the novel, Forster saw the most dated aspect to be the disappearance of the "greenwood." Miss Honeychurch could no longer be kissed among the violets, and Mr. Hall could no longer press his cheek against his lover's in a field. The novel ends in 1912, and the older Forster knew that he couldn't have looked too far into the future, because the First World War was about to change everything.
I sort of like that Maurice and the other characters aren't exactly likable. It makes him more heroic when he takes a stand. Forster is quite blunt that Maurice and Clive are misogynists, especially towards their mothers and sisters. (Poor Ada!) Clive thinks he overcomes his homosexuality, so he marries, but the marriage is obviously as empty physically as his with Maurice, and without the deeper connection he has with Maurice. I think of Alec as bisexual, but, unlike Clive, he isn't someone who cares about labels. He can't even blackmail properly, so what's tragedy for Mr. Farr is comedy for Mr. Hall.
I think this book has more substance, more at stake, than Room with a View, but it's not as heavy and fatalistic as Howards End. So it's better than both, but this is only my second reading, and I'm not sure how it'll stack up against A Passage to India (1924). I do know it inspired the best Merchant Ivory adaptation of Forster I've seen, the 1987 film with Hugh Grant as Clive. The movie isn't as good or as optimistic as the book-- with the Wilde-like Lord Risley being sentenced, a warning to the young couple-- but it's worth seeing.
The Old Lady and the Bear
1914
Colette, translated by Enid McLeod
The Old Lady and the Bear
C+
This is only three pages, but it still feels like it takes too long to get to the point, comparing political debates to the title characters in a folktale.
Colette, translated by Enid McLeod
The Old Lady and the Bear
C+
This is only three pages, but it still feels like it takes too long to get to the point, comparing political debates to the title characters in a folktale.
Tik-Tok of Oz
1914, undated probably 1970s Reilly & Lee edition
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
Tik-Tok of Oz
Bought new for $7.95
Mostly good condition hardcover but with slightly worn corners and a few stains
C+
This is based on the musical The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, which was based on Ozma of Oz and elements of DatW and Road. So if you feel de ja vu, it's understandable. For instance, Betsy plucks Rose Princess Ozga, like Dorothy picking a princess in the Vegetable Kingdom. It gets a bit strange when the Shaggy Man and Polychrome don't remember meeting three books ago, especially when he offers himself as a beau to replace her lost bow. In Road, Polly looked like she was Dorothy's age, although she seems to be a young lady here.
Perhaps due to the roots in a stage musical, there's also a romance between Ozga (Ozma's distant relative, I'm not sure how that works with plants and fairies) and Private Files, after he resigns from the army. Queen Ann Soforth (one of the best punny names, and her sister Salye is decades before the comic Sally Forth), the ruler of the very small kingdom of Oogaboo, has decided to conquer the world. Glinda, who's still living in the north, diverts her army, and so they meet up with Shaggy and friends near the Nome Kingdom. Files is the only private in the army, similar to Ozma's army in the third book. When he quits, she drafts Tik-Tok. Again, Baum makes fun of the military, particularly the officers, here on the edge of WWI. There's a moment when the Long-Eared Hearer tells the Nome King that there's a war somewhere in the world, and Ruggedo replies, "Bah! there's [sic] always a war!"
Roquat has changed his name but not his personality. Thanks to the Water of Oblivion, he's forgotten what he was once called but somehow relearned all his wickedness. He supposedly reforms by the end of the story, but I think his humility is feigned. Kaliko is the new king, and seems like he'll be a vast improvement, although that will be debatable in Rinkitink.
Shaggy is looking for his long-lost brother, a prisoner of Ruggedo's for ten years, which means probably even at the time of the third book. The army of Oogaboo joins Shaggy's mission to save his brother, though Shaggy hopes to win over the Nomes using his Love Magnet. Even as a child, I thought there was something a bit, ahem, queer about the effect this Magnet has on the Royal Gardener, who dresses in pink and ribbons, and "dotes" on Shaggy, calling him a "lovely, lovely man."
(I've skimmed a bit of this early draft of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, from when it was called Ozma of Oz, http://static.nypl.org/MOTM/Ozma/Ozma.txt , and "Gardy" not only tries to embrace Shaggy, but he offers him all the money from his pockets.)
What actually conquers Ruggedo is the adolescent dragon Quox, a 3056-year-old who's being sent by Tititi-Hoochoo as punishment for disrespect to his ancestor, the still living first dragon. Ruggedo has the would-be invaders pushed through the redundantly named Hollow Tube, where they meet a land of powerful fairies ruled by a private citizen. The travelers ride on Quox's back but dismiss his help in the conquest until it's almost too late.
Overall, the book is uneven, meandering despite the quest. I do like some details, like the fog-breathing Rak who politely accepts the Oogaboo Army's previous engagement to conquer the world and doesn't kill them. Shaggy gets away with breaking the fourth wall when he tells Betsy Bobbin, the Dorothy wannabe, that no one knows what's going to happen next, except the person writing the story.
Betsy was always my least favorite of the four recurring little girl characters. (Trot is coming up.) There's nothing wrong with her, but she just seemed redundant. She of course moves to Oz, after a debate between Ozma, the Wizard, Tik-Tok, and Dorothy about immigration, and immediately becomes besties with Ozma and Dorothy.
Her mule, Hank, also emigrates, and suddenly finds he has the power of speech. There's no explanation of why he didn't talk in the Nome Kingdom, as Billina did. Perhaps he didn't know he could. We do finally find out why Toto doesn't talk, when the Pink Kitten does. He just doesn't want to, preferring to communicate nonverbally. He finally says, "All right. Here I go!" As I recall, he talks quite a bit more in the eleventh book.
I'm using the "utopias" tag again, even though not much time is spent in Oz, since we learn that Oz "is a Land of Love, and here friendship outranks every quality." That's debatable, but that's Ozma, whom in the previous book was said to enforce whether people lived in the city or the country. She's a loving little control freak, our glorious leader is.
The final chapter is called "The Land of Love," and every previous chapter is alliterative, the best of these being "Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless."
Neill's artwork isn't particularly notable, except for the illustration that spans front cover, spine, and back cover, with a wagon hitched to a frightened-looking Hank. The passengers are Shaggy, Tik-Tok, and the four main female characters: Polychrome, Betsy, Ozga, and Ann. Three of these gals (all but Ann) kiss Shaggy's brother, to break the spell of ugliness Ruggedo has cast. To my surprise, this was not in the musical, or at least not in that early draft.
L. Frank Baum
Illustrated by John R. Neill
Tik-Tok of Oz
Bought new for $7.95
Mostly good condition hardcover but with slightly worn corners and a few stains
C+
This is based on the musical The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, which was based on Ozma of Oz and elements of DatW and Road. So if you feel de ja vu, it's understandable. For instance, Betsy plucks Rose Princess Ozga, like Dorothy picking a princess in the Vegetable Kingdom. It gets a bit strange when the Shaggy Man and Polychrome don't remember meeting three books ago, especially when he offers himself as a beau to replace her lost bow. In Road, Polly looked like she was Dorothy's age, although she seems to be a young lady here.
Perhaps due to the roots in a stage musical, there's also a romance between Ozga (Ozma's distant relative, I'm not sure how that works with plants and fairies) and Private Files, after he resigns from the army. Queen Ann Soforth (one of the best punny names, and her sister Salye is decades before the comic Sally Forth), the ruler of the very small kingdom of Oogaboo, has decided to conquer the world. Glinda, who's still living in the north, diverts her army, and so they meet up with Shaggy and friends near the Nome Kingdom. Files is the only private in the army, similar to Ozma's army in the third book. When he quits, she drafts Tik-Tok. Again, Baum makes fun of the military, particularly the officers, here on the edge of WWI. There's a moment when the Long-Eared Hearer tells the Nome King that there's a war somewhere in the world, and Ruggedo replies, "Bah! there's [sic] always a war!"
Roquat has changed his name but not his personality. Thanks to the Water of Oblivion, he's forgotten what he was once called but somehow relearned all his wickedness. He supposedly reforms by the end of the story, but I think his humility is feigned. Kaliko is the new king, and seems like he'll be a vast improvement, although that will be debatable in Rinkitink.
Shaggy is looking for his long-lost brother, a prisoner of Ruggedo's for ten years, which means probably even at the time of the third book. The army of Oogaboo joins Shaggy's mission to save his brother, though Shaggy hopes to win over the Nomes using his Love Magnet. Even as a child, I thought there was something a bit, ahem, queer about the effect this Magnet has on the Royal Gardener, who dresses in pink and ribbons, and "dotes" on Shaggy, calling him a "lovely, lovely man."
(I've skimmed a bit of this early draft of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, from when it was called Ozma of Oz, http://static.nypl.org/MOTM/Ozma/Ozma.txt , and "Gardy" not only tries to embrace Shaggy, but he offers him all the money from his pockets.)
What actually conquers Ruggedo is the adolescent dragon Quox, a 3056-year-old who's being sent by Tititi-Hoochoo as punishment for disrespect to his ancestor, the still living first dragon. Ruggedo has the would-be invaders pushed through the redundantly named Hollow Tube, where they meet a land of powerful fairies ruled by a private citizen. The travelers ride on Quox's back but dismiss his help in the conquest until it's almost too late.
Overall, the book is uneven, meandering despite the quest. I do like some details, like the fog-breathing Rak who politely accepts the Oogaboo Army's previous engagement to conquer the world and doesn't kill them. Shaggy gets away with breaking the fourth wall when he tells Betsy Bobbin, the Dorothy wannabe, that no one knows what's going to happen next, except the person writing the story.
Betsy was always my least favorite of the four recurring little girl characters. (Trot is coming up.) There's nothing wrong with her, but she just seemed redundant. She of course moves to Oz, after a debate between Ozma, the Wizard, Tik-Tok, and Dorothy about immigration, and immediately becomes besties with Ozma and Dorothy.
Her mule, Hank, also emigrates, and suddenly finds he has the power of speech. There's no explanation of why he didn't talk in the Nome Kingdom, as Billina did. Perhaps he didn't know he could. We do finally find out why Toto doesn't talk, when the Pink Kitten does. He just doesn't want to, preferring to communicate nonverbally. He finally says, "All right. Here I go!" As I recall, he talks quite a bit more in the eleventh book.
I'm using the "utopias" tag again, even though not much time is spent in Oz, since we learn that Oz "is a Land of Love, and here friendship outranks every quality." That's debatable, but that's Ozma, whom in the previous book was said to enforce whether people lived in the city or the country. She's a loving little control freak, our glorious leader is.
The final chapter is called "The Land of Love," and every previous chapter is alliterative, the best of these being "Ruggedo's Rage is Rash and Reckless."
Neill's artwork isn't particularly notable, except for the illustration that spans front cover, spine, and back cover, with a wagon hitched to a frightened-looking Hank. The passengers are Shaggy, Tik-Tok, and the four main female characters: Polychrome, Betsy, Ozga, and Ann. Three of these gals (all but Ann) kiss Shaggy's brother, to break the spell of ugliness Ruggedo has cast. To my surprise, this was not in the musical, or at least not in that early draft.
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