1949, 1990 International Wizard of Oz edition
Jack Snow
Illustrated by Frank Kramer
The Shaggy Man of Oz
Original and/or purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
B-
This is an improvement over Magical Mimics in every regard. First of all, yes, the illustrations are much better, never reaching Neill's heights, seldom reaching his depths, but thoroughly competent. The writing is better, too, with more interesting places to visit, including the Valley of Romance, where denizens of a castle are forced to put on plays every night. Conjo, the villain, is a bit like old-school Roquat, before he became embittered Ruggedo. The Nomes (yes, we're back to Baum's spelling) have an impact on the story, since Snow forgets that the tunnel in Emerald City was all filled in.
The title character and the other protagonists aren't too memorable though, other than the goshawful names Snow comes up with: Twink and Tom, being the scarcely better nicknames for twins Abbadiah and Zebbidiah; and third-cousin wooden clowns (don't ask) Twiffle and Twoffle. The twins and one of the clowns travel via a television to the Island of Conjo. So, yes, 1949 is the Year of Books Where Televisions Do Amazing Things. (Too bad Colette didn't compare an orchid to a TV.)
Although Snow tried to emulate Baum, I was reminded of Thompson in four ways, three of them to do with Cowardly Lion of Oz. There's an unfunny clown, a car that flies, and a trip to a land in the sky. Also, Snow has a previously untapped potential for unintentional innuendo, with his fairy beavers (that Tom wants to fondle) and the frequent use of "arouse" for "rouse." Nothing like classic Thompson, but more than she managed in Ozoplaning.
Snow wrote Who's Who in Oz (1954), which I've always heard good things about, but this was his last full-length Oz story. He died in 1956, while Thompson lived on for another two decades. As for Oz, well, the next of the Famous Forty isn't too far off. But this is it for my 1940s books. See, I told you we wouldn't be here long.
Showing posts with label 1940s. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1940s. Show all posts
Friday, June 1, 2012
1984
1949, "Commemorative 1984 Edition" from Signet Classic
George Orwell
1984
Possibly bought new for $2.95
Worn paperback
B-
I'm not sure if this is the copy I had in high school, when it was a big deal to read the book in 1984, comparing it to reality. Certainly, there were repressive elements in the world then, including, as Walter Cronkite's Preface points out, in Khomeini's Iran. Eric Fromm's 1961 Afterword observes examples of "doublespeak" in the U.S. I think the Newspeak aspect of the novel is the most interesting, and in some ways the least dated, as language has continued to be abused by various figures of authority, including the makers of bumper stickers. ("Freedom Is Slavery" isn't terribly different from "Freedom Isn't Free," and six decades after Orwell, three decades after Reagan, waging war to create peace is still a common idea.)
If I recall correctly, left-wing writer Alexander Cockburn had two main objections to this novel in 1984. (I can't go check, because I've got his book coming up much later, and I'd rather be wrong than jump ahead.) One was what he called the "silly prole business," the idea that the uneducated, unwashed, but good-hearted proletarians were going to rise up and rebel. Not that Cockburn was being classist, but that the way that Orwell presents the proles was silly. The "hero" Winston Smith thinks that the proles are happy in their simplicity, and there's not much in the novel to indicate otherwise.
Cockburn's other gripe was with how Orwell handles sex. As I noted with Brave New World, the view of sex is very different, not Huxley's treatment of it as a form of control but as a form of rebellion. Smith's girlfriend Julia is a "rebel below the waist." While sex and/or love can be expressions of freedom, they can also be chains that tie people to society. Both Huxley and Orwell are too simplistic, as well as sexist about how they present women, and women's sexuality. This was not Cockburn's complaint, but rather that Orwell was, again, silly in how he wrote, and indeed the romance is a bit far-fetched.
I remember what most terrified me about this book when I read it as a teenager was the idea that you could rebel and then find that the rebellion was being controlled by society. In particular, it was scary that nice old Mr. Charrington and sympathetic O'Brien were agents of the state. Even "Goldstein's" book was written by committee.
As an adult, even in an age when technology and privacy have impacted each other in ways that were unimaginable in the past, even fifteen years ago when I first got into the Internet, I find that freedom is still possible. Yes, your employer (or potential employer) may be snooping into your Facebook. Yes, your bags (or your body) may be searched at the airport. But many people do manage to lead lives of freedom and integrity (in both senses), and we don't have to worry that we will, although it may take years, end up shot in the head for being ourselves. Or even if we are, we'll go ahead and express ourselves anyway.
And then there are the people who think that the computer is watching them like a telescreen.
George Orwell
1984
Possibly bought new for $2.95
Worn paperback
B-
I'm not sure if this is the copy I had in high school, when it was a big deal to read the book in 1984, comparing it to reality. Certainly, there were repressive elements in the world then, including, as Walter Cronkite's Preface points out, in Khomeini's Iran. Eric Fromm's 1961 Afterword observes examples of "doublespeak" in the U.S. I think the Newspeak aspect of the novel is the most interesting, and in some ways the least dated, as language has continued to be abused by various figures of authority, including the makers of bumper stickers. ("Freedom Is Slavery" isn't terribly different from "Freedom Isn't Free," and six decades after Orwell, three decades after Reagan, waging war to create peace is still a common idea.)
If I recall correctly, left-wing writer Alexander Cockburn had two main objections to this novel in 1984. (I can't go check, because I've got his book coming up much later, and I'd rather be wrong than jump ahead.) One was what he called the "silly prole business," the idea that the uneducated, unwashed, but good-hearted proletarians were going to rise up and rebel. Not that Cockburn was being classist, but that the way that Orwell presents the proles was silly. The "hero" Winston Smith thinks that the proles are happy in their simplicity, and there's not much in the novel to indicate otherwise.
Cockburn's other gripe was with how Orwell handles sex. As I noted with Brave New World, the view of sex is very different, not Huxley's treatment of it as a form of control but as a form of rebellion. Smith's girlfriend Julia is a "rebel below the waist." While sex and/or love can be expressions of freedom, they can also be chains that tie people to society. Both Huxley and Orwell are too simplistic, as well as sexist about how they present women, and women's sexuality. This was not Cockburn's complaint, but rather that Orwell was, again, silly in how he wrote, and indeed the romance is a bit far-fetched.
I remember what most terrified me about this book when I read it as a teenager was the idea that you could rebel and then find that the rebellion was being controlled by society. In particular, it was scary that nice old Mr. Charrington and sympathetic O'Brien were agents of the state. Even "Goldstein's" book was written by committee.
As an adult, even in an age when technology and privacy have impacted each other in ways that were unimaginable in the past, even fifteen years ago when I first got into the Internet, I find that freedom is still possible. Yes, your employer (or potential employer) may be snooping into your Facebook. Yes, your bags (or your body) may be searched at the airport. But many people do manage to lead lives of freedom and integrity (in both senses), and we don't have to worry that we will, although it may take years, end up shot in the head for being ourselves. Or even if we are, we'll go ahead and express ourselves anyway.
And then there are the people who think that the computer is watching them like a telescreen.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Love in a Cold Climate
1949
Nancy Mitford
Love in a Cold Climate
B
Although I don't generally like the term "companion novel," this is closer to that than to a sequel of The Pursuit of Love, since it's set from the mid 1920s to the early '30s, and it tells of Fanny's distant cousin Polly. The love of the title is Polly's for her uncle by marriage, Boy Dougdale, whom the Radletts have nicknamed The Lecherous Lecturer, because he likes to molest teenaged girls. It's not clear what he does to Polly at 13, at least hair-stroking, probably much more, since he pinches Jassy's bottom, and she must be about 7 at the time. Mitford is not at all consistent with the Radletts' ages in this novel. Not only does Jassy sound much older than she is, but so does little Victoria, who can't be more than 10 by the end of the novel. Also, Mitford has the Crash of '29 happening a year or two too soon if Fanny and Linda are born in 1911. (Polly is a year or two older.)
The uncle-niece romance is distasteful, but it's seen that way by most of the characters. It does lead to one of my favorite exchanges, between sassy Jassy and always hilarious Uncle Davey:
"'I say,' said Jassy. 'Come on, Dave.'"
"'Oh, no, dear, thank you. Marry one of you demons? Not for any money.'"
Polly does marry her uncle soon after his wife dies, but her parents, Lord and Lady Montdore, disinherit her. The estate is entailed, but she was going to get everything else. Now all the property is going to go to a distant relation, so distant he's Canadian. (Thank you, I'll be here all week. Try the veal.) People imagine a cross between Little Lord Fauntleroy and a lumberjack, but what they get in Cedric is closer to the former. He's a stereotypical but completely happy homosexual, gay you might say. (Tip your waitress.) The story ends well for him and everyone, as both he and Lady Montdore get the Boy, although Fanny points out that the stodgy Borely family "think it simply terrible."
As with Pursuit, read the novel for everything other than the main romance. Lady Montdore is a delightful old bitch and Uncle Matthew continues to be a delightful old bastard. My favorite section was the chub-fuddling, although I also enjoyed Fanny's disillusionment with Oxford wives.
Nancy Mitford
Love in a Cold Climate
B
Although I don't generally like the term "companion novel," this is closer to that than to a sequel of The Pursuit of Love, since it's set from the mid 1920s to the early '30s, and it tells of Fanny's distant cousin Polly. The love of the title is Polly's for her uncle by marriage, Boy Dougdale, whom the Radletts have nicknamed The Lecherous Lecturer, because he likes to molest teenaged girls. It's not clear what he does to Polly at 13, at least hair-stroking, probably much more, since he pinches Jassy's bottom, and she must be about 7 at the time. Mitford is not at all consistent with the Radletts' ages in this novel. Not only does Jassy sound much older than she is, but so does little Victoria, who can't be more than 10 by the end of the novel. Also, Mitford has the Crash of '29 happening a year or two too soon if Fanny and Linda are born in 1911. (Polly is a year or two older.)
The uncle-niece romance is distasteful, but it's seen that way by most of the characters. It does lead to one of my favorite exchanges, between sassy Jassy and always hilarious Uncle Davey:
"'I say,' said Jassy. 'Come on, Dave.'"
"'Oh, no, dear, thank you. Marry one of you demons? Not for any money.'"
Polly does marry her uncle soon after his wife dies, but her parents, Lord and Lady Montdore, disinherit her. The estate is entailed, but she was going to get everything else. Now all the property is going to go to a distant relation, so distant he's Canadian. (Thank you, I'll be here all week. Try the veal.) People imagine a cross between Little Lord Fauntleroy and a lumberjack, but what they get in Cedric is closer to the former. He's a stereotypical but completely happy homosexual, gay you might say. (Tip your waitress.) The story ends well for him and everyone, as both he and Lady Montdore get the Boy, although Fanny points out that the stodgy Borely family "think it simply terrible."
As with Pursuit, read the novel for everything other than the main romance. Lady Montdore is a delightful old bitch and Uncle Matthew continues to be a delightful old bastard. My favorite section was the chub-fuddling, although I also enjoyed Fanny's disillusionment with Oxford wives.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Excerpt from "The Blue Lantern"
1949
Colette, translated by Elaine Marks
Excerpt from The Blue Lantern
B-
It's somehow fitting that the last of Colette's works I own, from almost the last thing she published, ends with "To be continued...." The nearly 50-year span of her writing that we've covered has been wildly uneven, but I can't say that it hasn't been an interesting ride. And what's most notable about her and her characters (except the ones that commit suicide) is that they always go on, their sparks of life impossible to extinguish. Colette herself lived to 81, still writing, and still outrageous. This last piece tells of herself as an old woman shivering before the fire, but there's a memory of a prize-winning reader, "at twelve and a half years of age, Gabrielle-Sidonie Colette." That madcap but clever tomboy lived on inside the sophisticated writer.
Just taking the works of Gigi and Selected Writings, there are a B+, 3 B's, 6 B-s, 2 C+s, a C-, and a D, but of course these are various lengths. A B- for the overall grade feels fair though.
Colette, translated by Elaine Marks
Excerpt from The Blue Lantern
B-
It's somehow fitting that the last of Colette's works I own, from almost the last thing she published, ends with "To be continued...." The nearly 50-year span of her writing that we've covered has been wildly uneven, but I can't say that it hasn't been an interesting ride. And what's most notable about her and her characters (except the ones that commit suicide) is that they always go on, their sparks of life impossible to extinguish. Colette herself lived to 81, still writing, and still outrageous. This last piece tells of herself as an old woman shivering before the fire, but there's a memory of a prize-winning reader, "at twelve and a half years of age, Gabrielle-Sidonie Colette." That madcap but clever tomboy lived on inside the sophisticated writer.
Just taking the works of Gigi and Selected Writings, there are a B+, 3 B's, 6 B-s, 2 C+s, a C-, and a D, but of course these are various lengths. A B- for the overall grade feels fair though.
Orchid
1949
Colette, translated by Roger Senhouse
Orchid
B-
Colette describes, yes, an orchid, comparing it to everything from an octopus to a shoe. Colette's grown daughter has a very brief cameo, but then the whole thing is only two pages.
Colette, translated by Roger Senhouse
Orchid
B-
Colette describes, yes, an orchid, comparing it to everything from an octopus to a shoe. Colette's grown daughter has a very brief cameo, but then the whole thing is only two pages.
Spring Fever
1948, as part of 1983 Avenel edition of P. G. Wodehouse: Five Complete Novels
P. G. Wodehouse
Spring Fever
Original price $15.70, purchase price $9.99
Good condition hardcover
C-
Unlike the '30s Jeeves books, I seldom reread this volume, and this story is a good example of why. The plots and subplots are kind of boring. Also, the "hero" likes to jokingly insult and threaten violence to the "heroine." There are occasional flashes of the Wodehouse wit, and a bit of insight into Hollywood, but it's rather a slog to get to them. Not exactly terrible, but not something I'd recommend. The title has little to do with the story, other than it's set in the spring, and the cast is mostly dim-witted, although not feverish.
Also, this novel is riddled with typos, often of the extra-letter-in-a-word variety, I suspect due to Avenel trying to cash in on Wodehouse's name.
P. G. Wodehouse
Spring Fever
Original price $15.70, purchase price $9.99
Good condition hardcover
C-
Unlike the '30s Jeeves books, I seldom reread this volume, and this story is a good example of why. The plots and subplots are kind of boring. Also, the "hero" likes to jokingly insult and threaten violence to the "heroine." There are occasional flashes of the Wodehouse wit, and a bit of insight into Hollywood, but it's rather a slog to get to them. Not exactly terrible, but not something I'd recommend. The title has little to do with the story, other than it's set in the spring, and the cast is mostly dim-witted, although not feverish.
Also, this novel is riddled with typos, often of the extra-letter-in-a-word variety, I suspect due to Avenel trying to cash in on Wodehouse's name.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
The Loved One
1948, 1969 Dell Laurel edition
Evelyn Waugh
The Loved One
Original price 50 cents, purchase price 10 cents, quite a bargain
Not very worn paperback
B-
Dark comedy of love among the mortuary crowd, with the female love interest named Aimée Thanatogenos, meaning "beloved tribe of death." I have to agree with the original New Yorker review, "The freshest part of Mr. Waugh's story is the part which refers to the English in Hollywood, and we wish, wistfully, that he had concerned himself more exclusively with that theme." It's not that the parts about the Forest-Lawn-inspired Whispering Glades and the pet cemetery Happier Hunting Ground are in poor taste. They are, but the shock value is mostly gone, along with the resulting humour. It's much more entertaining reading about a Jewish actress who became "Spanish" a decade ago and now has to be revamped as Irish by one of the British expatriates.
Waugh dedicated the book to his friend Nancy Mitford, but if I recall correctly, he didn't care for Jessica Mitford's The American Way of Death (1963), which I think is funnier because it's nonfiction rather than satire. This edition came out not only after her book but after the now forgotten 1965 Terry Southern film loosely based on the novel. The cover here is by, quite appropriately, Charles Addams.
Evelyn Waugh
The Loved One
Original price 50 cents, purchase price 10 cents, quite a bargain
Not very worn paperback
B-
Dark comedy of love among the mortuary crowd, with the female love interest named Aimée Thanatogenos, meaning "beloved tribe of death." I have to agree with the original New Yorker review, "The freshest part of Mr. Waugh's story is the part which refers to the English in Hollywood, and we wish, wistfully, that he had concerned himself more exclusively with that theme." It's not that the parts about the Forest-Lawn-inspired Whispering Glades and the pet cemetery Happier Hunting Ground are in poor taste. They are, but the shock value is mostly gone, along with the resulting humour. It's much more entertaining reading about a Jewish actress who became "Spanish" a decade ago and now has to be revamped as Irish by one of the British expatriates.
Waugh dedicated the book to his friend Nancy Mitford, but if I recall correctly, he didn't care for Jessica Mitford's The American Way of Death (1963), which I think is funnier because it's nonfiction rather than satire. This edition came out not only after her book but after the now forgotten 1965 Terry Southern film loosely based on the novel. The cover here is by, quite appropriately, Charles Addams.
Cheaper by the Dozen
1948, 1988 Bantam edition
Frank Gilbreth, Jr. and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey
Illustrated by Donald McKay
Cheaper by the Dozen
Original price $5.50, purchase price $3.00
Fair condition paperback
B-
Although I'm an only child, I've always had a soft spot for stories of large families, which I suppose you can blame on The Brady Bunch. There are twice as many children in this real-life story, although one (Mary) died at age five. For the most part, this is ignored, and the brood is spoken of as a dozen throughout. In any case, eleven or twelve children was a lot even in the 1920s, and perhaps only a pair of efficiency experts could've deliberately planned and managed that amount (even down to there being half girls, half boys, although that was just luck).
Having read Making Time: Lillian Moller Gilbreth-- A Life Beyond "Cheaper by the Dozen," I know that she was a much more complex woman than the mother shown here, or in the 1950 movie. Even in the sequel, Belles on Their Toes, more sides are shown to her. But this book is about Dad, up to shortly after his death in 1924. He comes across as larger than life, bluff and charming. However, what really struck me this reading was his harsh discipline. I don't mean the spankings or the way the children had to check off things like teeth-brushing. I mean things like him hitting them on the head to teach typing, or flogging them when they're the crew on his boat. The punishments are told in the same breezy, humorous style as the rest of the book, but they leave a bad aftertaste.
The other weakness of the book is the illustrator. On the one hand, McKay shows many funny moments from the lives of the Gilbreths, but on the other, his style is kind of bland. I could blame this on the decline of illustration in the post-war period, and gosh knows he's not as ghastly as Kramer, but I own some 1950s books with pleasant or even beautiful illustrations. The worst thing that McKay does is hair. Whether the girls wear cootie-catchers (long hair) or bobs, their hair is nondescript, and the boys' isn't any better.
On the plus side, the book is still occasionally laugh-out-loud funny and the co-authors (eldest boy and third-eldest girl respectively) do a good job of making each of their siblings, even baby sister Jane, distinct to the reader. It's also fun to see how the early '20s seemed a quarter-century later.
Apparently, this book is sometimes assigned in high schools, and one of the Phyllis Reynolds Naylor "Alice" books (which I've read but don't own) has Alice taking the role of eldest sister Anne in the school play. I never thought of it as a children's, or YA, book. It contains enough mild swearing to offend some readers on Amazon, and there are references to illegitimacy and prostitution. There's also a quite funny scene, which made it into the movie, where a mother of eight sends a birth control activist over to the Gilbreths because Mrs. Gilbreth would be a better campaigner for the cause than she is.
And, yes, I can like this book and Margaret Sanger's autobiography. The Gilbreths wanted and could afford a dozen children, even sending them all to college. However, I despise the 2003 Steve Martin movie because it's tasteless without being funny.
Frank Gilbreth, Jr. and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey
Illustrated by Donald McKay
Cheaper by the Dozen
Original price $5.50, purchase price $3.00
Fair condition paperback
B-
Although I'm an only child, I've always had a soft spot for stories of large families, which I suppose you can blame on The Brady Bunch. There are twice as many children in this real-life story, although one (Mary) died at age five. For the most part, this is ignored, and the brood is spoken of as a dozen throughout. In any case, eleven or twelve children was a lot even in the 1920s, and perhaps only a pair of efficiency experts could've deliberately planned and managed that amount (even down to there being half girls, half boys, although that was just luck).
Having read Making Time: Lillian Moller Gilbreth-- A Life Beyond "Cheaper by the Dozen," I know that she was a much more complex woman than the mother shown here, or in the 1950 movie. Even in the sequel, Belles on Their Toes, more sides are shown to her. But this book is about Dad, up to shortly after his death in 1924. He comes across as larger than life, bluff and charming. However, what really struck me this reading was his harsh discipline. I don't mean the spankings or the way the children had to check off things like teeth-brushing. I mean things like him hitting them on the head to teach typing, or flogging them when they're the crew on his boat. The punishments are told in the same breezy, humorous style as the rest of the book, but they leave a bad aftertaste.
The other weakness of the book is the illustrator. On the one hand, McKay shows many funny moments from the lives of the Gilbreths, but on the other, his style is kind of bland. I could blame this on the decline of illustration in the post-war period, and gosh knows he's not as ghastly as Kramer, but I own some 1950s books with pleasant or even beautiful illustrations. The worst thing that McKay does is hair. Whether the girls wear cootie-catchers (long hair) or bobs, their hair is nondescript, and the boys' isn't any better.
On the plus side, the book is still occasionally laugh-out-loud funny and the co-authors (eldest boy and third-eldest girl respectively) do a good job of making each of their siblings, even baby sister Jane, distinct to the reader. It's also fun to see how the early '20s seemed a quarter-century later.
Apparently, this book is sometimes assigned in high schools, and one of the Phyllis Reynolds Naylor "Alice" books (which I've read but don't own) has Alice taking the role of eldest sister Anne in the school play. I never thought of it as a children's, or YA, book. It contains enough mild swearing to offend some readers on Amazon, and there are references to illegitimacy and prostitution. There's also a quite funny scene, which made it into the movie, where a mother of eight sends a birth control activist over to the Gilbreths because Mrs. Gilbreth would be a better campaigner for the cause than she is.
And, yes, I can like this book and Margaret Sanger's autobiography. The Gilbreths wanted and could afford a dozen children, even sending them all to college. However, I despise the 2003 Steve Martin movie because it's tasteless without being funny.
Kingsblood Royal
1947, original Random House edition
Sinclair Lewis
Kingsblood Royal
Original price unknown, purchase price $4.95
Falling apart hardcover
B-
Although more horrible things happen in this book than in Cass Timberlane, including a couple and their friends arrested for defending their home from a mob, I find it a more pleasant and more hopeful book. Lewis takes a nice but bigoted young man-- a veteran, husband, father, and banker-- and shows how his world is turned upside-down when he finds out he has "black blood." His ancestor was an admirable pioneer, who happened to be a Negro. (Pace, George Carlin.) Neil Kingsblood's father thinks that the family is descended from Catherine of Aragon, but Neil's amateur explorations in genealogy turn up a more dramatic story on his mother's side of the family.
As other online reviews show, this book still has the power to startle, that Lewis was talking about race 65 years ago. (The year after it was published, Strom Thurmond ran for President as a Dixiecrat.) White critics of the time found the book contrived, which it is, while many black critics found it courageous, which it also is. I would give it a B, but I find the transformation of Neil and his wife Vestal, from owners of a dog named Nigger to the expectant parents of a child they half-jokingly plan to name Booker T., to be too quick and easy.
Also, I'm not sure what the point of Neil's flirtation with Sophie Concord is. In Arrowsmith, Orchid Pickerbaugh is a distraction from Martin's marriage to sloppy saint Leora and from his noble bride Science, but he doesn't let it go too far. Sophie seems to be here to assure readers that if Vestal leaves him, as her family and most people in town urge, Neil won't be alone. And he also has surrogate parents and dear friends in the black community by the end, making up for all the white associates he loses. (A few loyal whites, including Vestal, stick by him.)
The story is set in the same world as Timberlane, picking up at roughly the time that novel ended. Indeed, Vestal is friends with Jinny Timberlane. The judge is one of the more tolerant whites, although he doesn't have much impact on the story.
Lewis wrote two more novels after this, but I've never read them. He died in 1951. He was a very flawed man and a somewhat flawed writer, but I'm glad I own so many of his books.
Sinclair Lewis
Kingsblood Royal
Original price unknown, purchase price $4.95
Falling apart hardcover
B-
Although more horrible things happen in this book than in Cass Timberlane, including a couple and their friends arrested for defending their home from a mob, I find it a more pleasant and more hopeful book. Lewis takes a nice but bigoted young man-- a veteran, husband, father, and banker-- and shows how his world is turned upside-down when he finds out he has "black blood." His ancestor was an admirable pioneer, who happened to be a Negro. (Pace, George Carlin.) Neil Kingsblood's father thinks that the family is descended from Catherine of Aragon, but Neil's amateur explorations in genealogy turn up a more dramatic story on his mother's side of the family.
As other online reviews show, this book still has the power to startle, that Lewis was talking about race 65 years ago. (The year after it was published, Strom Thurmond ran for President as a Dixiecrat.) White critics of the time found the book contrived, which it is, while many black critics found it courageous, which it also is. I would give it a B, but I find the transformation of Neil and his wife Vestal, from owners of a dog named Nigger to the expectant parents of a child they half-jokingly plan to name Booker T., to be too quick and easy.
Also, I'm not sure what the point of Neil's flirtation with Sophie Concord is. In Arrowsmith, Orchid Pickerbaugh is a distraction from Martin's marriage to sloppy saint Leora and from his noble bride Science, but he doesn't let it go too far. Sophie seems to be here to assure readers that if Vestal leaves him, as her family and most people in town urge, Neil won't be alone. And he also has surrogate parents and dear friends in the black community by the end, making up for all the white associates he loses. (A few loyal whites, including Vestal, stick by him.)
The story is set in the same world as Timberlane, picking up at roughly the time that novel ended. Indeed, Vestal is friends with Jinny Timberlane. The judge is one of the more tolerant whites, although he doesn't have much impact on the story.
Lewis wrote two more novels after this, but I've never read them. He died in 1951. He was a very flawed man and a somewhat flawed writer, but I'm glad I own so many of his books.
Monday, May 28, 2012
The Magical Mimics in Oz
1946, 1990 International Wizard of Oz edition
Jack Snow
Illustrated by Frank Kramer
The Magical Mimics in Oz
Original and/or purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
C
If it weren't for the sometimes horrible art, I'd probably give this a C+, since the writing is on a level with Thompson and Baum at their weakest. Neill, after publishing two more books beyond Wonder City and leaving behind a manuscript for another, died in 1943. I don't miss him as a writer but, man, do I miss him as an illustrator! Kramer is at best passable, as with Scraps and the Wizard. But he can't manage Dorothy and at one point gives her scary sunken eyes. Snow had a horror background and Kramer would be fine if this were purely a horror story, as it verges on with the identity-stealing villains. Even the benign pine people seem terrifying on the cover, with their round, rosy cheeks that look like explosives. Kramer does try for humor at times, especially with Toto, but it's leaden compared to Neill's whimsicality.
Snow, born in '07, was a huge Oz fan from childhood, but he disliked Thompson and Neill's books to the point that he hoped Reilly & Lee would drop them, which seems to be going a bit far, particularly since it's not as if Snow was a better writer than Thompson. He is faithful to Baum, mentioning Lurline and Merryland, and I can't accuse him of misreading the Original Fourteen Oz books, as Neill seems to have. At times, he even quotes/plagiarizes lines from Baum. It's just, I can't say I'm particularly drawn into the story. It's OK but not memorable, not unlike Purple Prince. Also, I'm irritated by the laxness of Ozana, Ozma's first cousin who's supposed to be keeping an eye on the Mimics but gets distracted by gardening and carpentry.
The Pineville couple we meet have a mischievous, complaining son named Charlie. The Wizard owns a radio, so he knows what happened to the lad. Yes, there's a Charlie McCarthy joke in an Oz book. Wait till we get to Snow's next story....
Jack Snow
Illustrated by Frank Kramer
The Magical Mimics in Oz
Original and/or purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
C
If it weren't for the sometimes horrible art, I'd probably give this a C+, since the writing is on a level with Thompson and Baum at their weakest. Neill, after publishing two more books beyond Wonder City and leaving behind a manuscript for another, died in 1943. I don't miss him as a writer but, man, do I miss him as an illustrator! Kramer is at best passable, as with Scraps and the Wizard. But he can't manage Dorothy and at one point gives her scary sunken eyes. Snow had a horror background and Kramer would be fine if this were purely a horror story, as it verges on with the identity-stealing villains. Even the benign pine people seem terrifying on the cover, with their round, rosy cheeks that look like explosives. Kramer does try for humor at times, especially with Toto, but it's leaden compared to Neill's whimsicality.
Snow, born in '07, was a huge Oz fan from childhood, but he disliked Thompson and Neill's books to the point that he hoped Reilly & Lee would drop them, which seems to be going a bit far, particularly since it's not as if Snow was a better writer than Thompson. He is faithful to Baum, mentioning Lurline and Merryland, and I can't accuse him of misreading the Original Fourteen Oz books, as Neill seems to have. At times, he even quotes/plagiarizes lines from Baum. It's just, I can't say I'm particularly drawn into the story. It's OK but not memorable, not unlike Purple Prince. Also, I'm irritated by the laxness of Ozana, Ozma's first cousin who's supposed to be keeping an eye on the Mimics but gets distracted by gardening and carpentry.
The Pineville couple we meet have a mischievous, complaining son named Charlie. The Wizard owns a radio, so he knows what happened to the lad. Yes, there's a Charlie McCarthy joke in an Oz book. Wait till we get to Snow's next story....
Snugglepot and Cuddlepie
1946, 1987 Bluegum edition
"Pictures & Words by May Gibbs
Snugglepot and Cuddlepie
Original price unknown, purchase price $6.00
OK condition paperback
C+
I bought this one because the title characters sound like cutesy pet names that lovers give each other. Actually, they're foster brothers who are gumnuts that look like Kewpie dolls. In fact, there's a very 1910s or 1920s feel about the book, not surprisingly since the series began in 1918. But the earliest date on the copyright page is '46 and, as with The World Of Jeeves, I'm going to assume that the act of collection is what matters.
It's a very odd book, if not as bizarre as Wonder City of Oz. The fact that this edition has no page numbers adds to the feeling of everything just spilling out of Gibbs's mind in a stream of consciousness. S & C decide to go see humans, "at a distance" (which is often the best way), but they keep getting sidetracked, until you realize that the sidetracks are the plot, such as it is. There are three stories in the book, but you only know this because there are three sort of resolutions, and after the first two you get a new title page.
The pictures are better than the words, with some of the underwater views quite lovely. The text sometimes refers to the pictures, such as when explaining that one "Native Bear" (Koala) isn't visible because he's up a tree. The Nuts (male) and Blossoms (female) are almost naked, in that they wear clothes that don't cover up anything, but they're as sexless as Kewpies, so I guess it's all right. (Some Nuts do go on strike, the leaf-banners proclaiming that they want more clothes.) At the end of the last story, Ragged Blossom, who's raised a baby who's now a princess older than her, wants another baby. Snugglepot knows how to give her one: he'll take her to the Baby Shop.
There is a marriage, with Ann Chovy marrying evil John Dory to save the protagonists' lives, and of course her love redeeming him. But there's actually more about employment than romance, with the Nuts and Blossoms easily getting jobs wherever they go. The creatures do have a version of civilization, even if it's kangaroos for cabs and a praying mantis (I think) for a dentist. There are also evil banskia cones who sometimes work for the evil Mrs. Snake. (When the first becomes deadibones, another Mrs. Snake appears.)
The book feels like such an oddity it's a shock to read on the back cover that it "has become, undoubtedly, Australia's best-loved children's book." Maybe The Wizard of Oz feels as weird to people outside the culture, but I doubt it.
"Pictures & Words by May Gibbs
Snugglepot and Cuddlepie
Original price unknown, purchase price $6.00
OK condition paperback
C+
I bought this one because the title characters sound like cutesy pet names that lovers give each other. Actually, they're foster brothers who are gumnuts that look like Kewpie dolls. In fact, there's a very 1910s or 1920s feel about the book, not surprisingly since the series began in 1918. But the earliest date on the copyright page is '46 and, as with The World Of Jeeves, I'm going to assume that the act of collection is what matters.
It's a very odd book, if not as bizarre as Wonder City of Oz. The fact that this edition has no page numbers adds to the feeling of everything just spilling out of Gibbs's mind in a stream of consciousness. S & C decide to go see humans, "at a distance" (which is often the best way), but they keep getting sidetracked, until you realize that the sidetracks are the plot, such as it is. There are three stories in the book, but you only know this because there are three sort of resolutions, and after the first two you get a new title page.
The pictures are better than the words, with some of the underwater views quite lovely. The text sometimes refers to the pictures, such as when explaining that one "Native Bear" (Koala) isn't visible because he's up a tree. The Nuts (male) and Blossoms (female) are almost naked, in that they wear clothes that don't cover up anything, but they're as sexless as Kewpies, so I guess it's all right. (Some Nuts do go on strike, the leaf-banners proclaiming that they want more clothes.) At the end of the last story, Ragged Blossom, who's raised a baby who's now a princess older than her, wants another baby. Snugglepot knows how to give her one: he'll take her to the Baby Shop.
There is a marriage, with Ann Chovy marrying evil John Dory to save the protagonists' lives, and of course her love redeeming him. But there's actually more about employment than romance, with the Nuts and Blossoms easily getting jobs wherever they go. The creatures do have a version of civilization, even if it's kangaroos for cabs and a praying mantis (I think) for a dentist. There are also evil banskia cones who sometimes work for the evil Mrs. Snake. (When the first becomes deadibones, another Mrs. Snake appears.)
The book feels like such an oddity it's a shock to read on the back cover that it "has become, undoubtedly, Australia's best-loved children's book." Maybe The Wizard of Oz feels as weird to people outside the culture, but I doubt it.
Animal Farm: A Fairy Story
1945, 1996 Signet Classic edition
George Orwell
Animal Farm: A Fairy Story
Original price $5.95, purchase price $2.99
OK condition paperback
B
I thought I had only two books from 1945, since the copyright page of this edition says '46, and it's supposed to be a 50th anniversary edition. Then I saw that the Introduction says '45, and Wikipedia confirms this. Oh well. Unlike the other '45ers, and many "fairy stories," this is not about love but about war. And Communism vs. Socialism. And farming of course.
Other than obvious things like Old Major, Napoleon, and Snowball being Marx, Stalin, and Trotsky respectively, I don't know what the specific elements of the story represent. I remember that when my 7th-grade English teacher assigned this, she didn't go into detail. We were just told (this being the still cold-war early '80s) that the book showed why Russia was wrong. No one mentioned that Orwell was a disappointed Socialist.
This reading, I mostly approached the story as a fable. As such, it holds up fairly well, although it's certainly bleak. I think Gulliver's Travels, the nearest comparison I can think of, is better in some ways in that it's more complex and funnier. However, Animal Farm manages to be more quotable per page, "Some animals are more equal than others" a particular stand-out. I'm also reminded of Charlotte's Web, with the talking (and arguing) farm animals, but we haven't got up to that yet.
The Introduction by C. M. Woodhouse is from '54 and talks about what an impact the novel had already had. The Russell Baker Preface is for the "anniversary" and points out that Russia was unprepared for technology, both how to use it themselves and how to defend themselves against things like blue jeans and rock 'n' roll. While Orwell was protesting against Stalin, as always he was most objecting to tyrants, and anyone who betrays the high ideals of founders. And pointing out why pigs should never drink, at least to excess.
George Orwell
Animal Farm: A Fairy Story
Original price $5.95, purchase price $2.99
OK condition paperback
B
I thought I had only two books from 1945, since the copyright page of this edition says '46, and it's supposed to be a 50th anniversary edition. Then I saw that the Introduction says '45, and Wikipedia confirms this. Oh well. Unlike the other '45ers, and many "fairy stories," this is not about love but about war. And Communism vs. Socialism. And farming of course.
Other than obvious things like Old Major, Napoleon, and Snowball being Marx, Stalin, and Trotsky respectively, I don't know what the specific elements of the story represent. I remember that when my 7th-grade English teacher assigned this, she didn't go into detail. We were just told (this being the still cold-war early '80s) that the book showed why Russia was wrong. No one mentioned that Orwell was a disappointed Socialist.
This reading, I mostly approached the story as a fable. As such, it holds up fairly well, although it's certainly bleak. I think Gulliver's Travels, the nearest comparison I can think of, is better in some ways in that it's more complex and funnier. However, Animal Farm manages to be more quotable per page, "Some animals are more equal than others" a particular stand-out. I'm also reminded of Charlotte's Web, with the talking (and arguing) farm animals, but we haven't got up to that yet.
The Introduction by C. M. Woodhouse is from '54 and talks about what an impact the novel had already had. The Russell Baker Preface is for the "anniversary" and points out that Russia was unprepared for technology, both how to use it themselves and how to defend themselves against things like blue jeans and rock 'n' roll. While Orwell was protesting against Stalin, as always he was most objecting to tyrants, and anyone who betrays the high ideals of founders. And pointing out why pigs should never drink, at least to excess.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
The Pursuit of Love
1945, 1982 Modern Library edition with Love in a Cold Climate
Nancy Mitford
The Pursuit of Love
Bought newish for $12.95
Good condition hardcover although dustjacket a bit worn
B
Despite an arguably more depressing ending than Cass Timberlane-- the heroine dies in childbirth-- this is a frothier, funnier book than its year-peer. Set roughly 1925 to '41, it tells of romantic Linda's romances, although you'll want to read it for the Radlett family, a thinly disguised version of the Mitfords. The Mitford siblings were six (in)famous sisters and a brother who died the year this book was published. The Radletts are four sisters and three brothers, although the boys are less memorable. Rather than Nancy born in 1904 down to Deborah (still alive and writing at 92), we have Louisa (1909), Linda (1911), Bob (1913?), Jassy (1917ish), Matt (1918ish), "little Robin" (male, unknown birth year), and Victoria (1923). Not that Mitford is very consistent about the ages, in this or the 1949 sequel. The seven siblings are joined by their cousin the narrator, relatively sensible Fanny, who's Linda's age. Fa and Mother, Uncle Matthew and Aunt Sadie to Fanny, are as eccentric as their children, Mitford taking the real-life oddities of her parents and exaggerating them, apparently to the amusement of Baron Redesdale (Farve, AKA her father).
Linda marries first a stodgy "middle-class" millionaire and then a distracted Communist, then she finds love with a French Resistance nobleman. None of the romances are particularly interesting, and it's always a relief to get back to things like Jassy running away to marry film star Gary Coon (or was it Cary Goon?), or Uncle Davey fretting about his health, or Uncle Matthew ranting hilariously about foreigners. Even "good" sister Louisa is wittier and more fun than any of Linda's love interests. Oh, and there's the Bolter, Fanny's much-married and much-divorced mother.
The humour is outrageous and sometimes deliberately in bad taste, joking about rape and abortion. But it's all part of the over-the-topness of the Radletts, who can make Linda cry over a matchbox-less match or wage an ongoing battle with the gamekeeper. There is some snobbishness in the book, but it takes surprising forms, as in the contrast between Society parties and those of "The Party."
As in Cass Timberlane, the war is mostly offstage, although it comes figuratively and literally closer to home in England than the U.S. Linda's French lover dies, leaving their son to be raised by Fanny. And yet, this is less depressing than Cleo the cat dying in Cass, even if Cleo's granddaughter shows up at the end. The Radletts and friends are much more unsinkable than the denizens of Grand Republic.
This edition has a charming foreword by Jessica Mitford, who doesn't even seem to mind that her involvement in the Spanish Civil War is given to a nonexistent brother, while irrepressible Jassy goes to Hollywood.
Nancy Mitford
The Pursuit of Love
Bought newish for $12.95
Good condition hardcover although dustjacket a bit worn
B
Despite an arguably more depressing ending than Cass Timberlane-- the heroine dies in childbirth-- this is a frothier, funnier book than its year-peer. Set roughly 1925 to '41, it tells of romantic Linda's romances, although you'll want to read it for the Radlett family, a thinly disguised version of the Mitfords. The Mitford siblings were six (in)famous sisters and a brother who died the year this book was published. The Radletts are four sisters and three brothers, although the boys are less memorable. Rather than Nancy born in 1904 down to Deborah (still alive and writing at 92), we have Louisa (1909), Linda (1911), Bob (1913?), Jassy (1917ish), Matt (1918ish), "little Robin" (male, unknown birth year), and Victoria (1923). Not that Mitford is very consistent about the ages, in this or the 1949 sequel. The seven siblings are joined by their cousin the narrator, relatively sensible Fanny, who's Linda's age. Fa and Mother, Uncle Matthew and Aunt Sadie to Fanny, are as eccentric as their children, Mitford taking the real-life oddities of her parents and exaggerating them, apparently to the amusement of Baron Redesdale (Farve, AKA her father).
Linda marries first a stodgy "middle-class" millionaire and then a distracted Communist, then she finds love with a French Resistance nobleman. None of the romances are particularly interesting, and it's always a relief to get back to things like Jassy running away to marry film star Gary Coon (or was it Cary Goon?), or Uncle Davey fretting about his health, or Uncle Matthew ranting hilariously about foreigners. Even "good" sister Louisa is wittier and more fun than any of Linda's love interests. Oh, and there's the Bolter, Fanny's much-married and much-divorced mother.
The humour is outrageous and sometimes deliberately in bad taste, joking about rape and abortion. But it's all part of the over-the-topness of the Radletts, who can make Linda cry over a matchbox-less match or wage an ongoing battle with the gamekeeper. There is some snobbishness in the book, but it takes surprising forms, as in the contrast between Society parties and those of "The Party."
As in Cass Timberlane, the war is mostly offstage, although it comes figuratively and literally closer to home in England than the U.S. Linda's French lover dies, leaving their son to be raised by Fanny. And yet, this is less depressing than Cleo the cat dying in Cass, even if Cleo's granddaughter shows up at the end. The Radletts and friends are much more unsinkable than the denizens of Grand Republic.
This edition has a charming foreword by Jessica Mitford, who doesn't even seem to mind that her involvement in the Spanish Civil War is given to a nonexistent brother, while irrepressible Jassy goes to Hollywood.
Cass Timberlane
1945, original Random House edition
Sinclair Lewis
Cass Timberlane: A Novel of Husbands and Wives
Original price unknown, purchase price $4.95
OK condition hardcover
C+
While Tik-Tok of Oz (1914) managed a reference to WW I, this is the first of my books to mention WW II. Not only does the copyright page say, "THIS IS A WARTIME BOOK. The text is complete and unabridged but every effort has been made to comply with the Government's request to conserve essential materials," but the novel is set 1941 to '45. However, the story takes place on the homefront and is more about the Battle of the Sexes. Indeed, with the central story of Cass Timberlane's second marriage, and "An Assemblage of Husbands and Wives" interspersed throughout the book, it presents the bleakest collection of marriages until perhaps The Women's Room (1977).
At this point, Lewis was 60 and his second marriage had broken up. If I remember correctly, he was dating a much younger woman, so it's not too surprising that he matches up 41-year-old Cass with 24-year-old Jinny. And yet, it's the old Dodsworth conflict, not all that different from the Main Street conflict: solid but sensitive man deals with clever, flirtatious wife. (Lewis, as he did in Babbitt, has characters mock Main Street and Sinclair Lewis, here mixed up with Upton Sinclair.) In this novel, the wife has an affair and returns, partly because she knows Cass will take care of her, and she's suffering from diabetes. It's supposed to be a relatively happy ending, with Jinny (and Cass) sadder but wiser, but you know she's going to fall for some other heel within a year.
One of the things I liked about the novel was the list of modern synonyms for "cad" and "bounder." Although Lewis's references to jazz as a new thing feel incredibly dated (after all, Babbitt had jazz in '22), it is interesting to see his continued interest in evolving language. In this book and the other '45 book I own, for the first time "making love" means sex, not just wooing, although for many of the characters there's nothing loving about it.
And it is hard to read of spouses making each other miserable in so many ways. Some are driven to suicide, while others live out their lives of misery. Some belittle their spouses, while others worship them too much. One man is in love with his 15-year-old daughter, another with his "Sweetheart" mother, although he gets a burly male lover after her death. There's not much wife- or husband-beating, since most of the abuse is psychological. There are a few happy couples, but it's implied that they're an endangered species.
Actually, "implied" is the wrong word to use for this book. Everything is very heavy-handed, particularly the connection of Cleo the cat and Isis the figurine to Jinny and her fragile love for Cass. And yet, I liked Cleo and I liked Mrs. Higbee the cook and I liked the houses that Cass and Jinny live in, old and modern. It's a strange story in that I liked the trappings of it, including Grand Republic (a gentler Zenith), but didn't really care for most of the inhabitants. I will say that it is nice to have Lewis show genuine emotion after the dryness of It Can't Happen Here.
Yes, there's a decade between the two novels. He published three novels in the interval, but given these two C+ book-ends, I've never been strongly tempted to read them.
Sinclair Lewis
Cass Timberlane: A Novel of Husbands and Wives
Original price unknown, purchase price $4.95
OK condition hardcover
C+
While Tik-Tok of Oz (1914) managed a reference to WW I, this is the first of my books to mention WW II. Not only does the copyright page say, "THIS IS A WARTIME BOOK. The text is complete and unabridged but every effort has been made to comply with the Government's request to conserve essential materials," but the novel is set 1941 to '45. However, the story takes place on the homefront and is more about the Battle of the Sexes. Indeed, with the central story of Cass Timberlane's second marriage, and "An Assemblage of Husbands and Wives" interspersed throughout the book, it presents the bleakest collection of marriages until perhaps The Women's Room (1977).
At this point, Lewis was 60 and his second marriage had broken up. If I remember correctly, he was dating a much younger woman, so it's not too surprising that he matches up 41-year-old Cass with 24-year-old Jinny. And yet, it's the old Dodsworth conflict, not all that different from the Main Street conflict: solid but sensitive man deals with clever, flirtatious wife. (Lewis, as he did in Babbitt, has characters mock Main Street and Sinclair Lewis, here mixed up with Upton Sinclair.) In this novel, the wife has an affair and returns, partly because she knows Cass will take care of her, and she's suffering from diabetes. It's supposed to be a relatively happy ending, with Jinny (and Cass) sadder but wiser, but you know she's going to fall for some other heel within a year.
One of the things I liked about the novel was the list of modern synonyms for "cad" and "bounder." Although Lewis's references to jazz as a new thing feel incredibly dated (after all, Babbitt had jazz in '22), it is interesting to see his continued interest in evolving language. In this book and the other '45 book I own, for the first time "making love" means sex, not just wooing, although for many of the characters there's nothing loving about it.
And it is hard to read of spouses making each other miserable in so many ways. Some are driven to suicide, while others live out their lives of misery. Some belittle their spouses, while others worship them too much. One man is in love with his 15-year-old daughter, another with his "Sweetheart" mother, although he gets a burly male lover after her death. There's not much wife- or husband-beating, since most of the abuse is psychological. There are a few happy couples, but it's implied that they're an endangered species.
Actually, "implied" is the wrong word to use for this book. Everything is very heavy-handed, particularly the connection of Cleo the cat and Isis the figurine to Jinny and her fragile love for Cass. And yet, I liked Cleo and I liked Mrs. Higbee the cook and I liked the houses that Cass and Jinny live in, old and modern. It's a strange story in that I liked the trappings of it, including Grand Republic (a gentler Zenith), but didn't really care for most of the inhabitants. I will say that it is nice to have Lewis show genuine emotion after the dryness of It Can't Happen Here.
Yes, there's a decade between the two novels. He published three novels in the interval, but given these two C+ book-ends, I've never been strongly tempted to read them.
Friday, May 25, 2012
The Sick Child
1944
Colette, translated by Antonia White
The Sick Child
C-
The title character lives a life of fantasy, until he gets well. Too drawn out, although there are a few nice turns of phrase.
Colette, translated by Antonia White
The Sick Child
C-
The title character lives a life of fantasy, until he gets well. Too drawn out, although there are a few nice turns of phrase.
Armande
1944
Colette, translated by Antonia White
Armande
D
What could be an interesting story about a young doctor who is afraid to tell the local heiress of his love for her is bogged down in sadism. He can't separate love from violence-- for instance, after he has an accident, he imagines "turning her into a wounded, moaning creature"-- and this is probably the most unpleasant thing of Colette's I've ever read.
Colette, translated by Antonia White
Armande
D
What could be an interesting story about a young doctor who is afraid to tell the local heiress of his love for her is bogged down in sadism. He can't separate love from violence-- for instance, after he has an accident, he imagines "turning her into a wounded, moaning creature"-- and this is probably the most unpleasant thing of Colette's I've ever read.
The Photographer's Missus
1944
Colette, translated by Antonia White
The Photographer's Missus
B-
The biggest problem with this story is the title character. I'd much rather read about the pearl-stringer. Still, it's interesting to see Colette as a character in what I assume is a fictional story. The setting is during the Great War, and she has working-class friends that her then-husband knows nothing about.
Colette, translated by Antonia White
The Photographer's Missus
B-
The biggest problem with this story is the title character. I'd much rather read about the pearl-stringer. Still, it's interesting to see Colette as a character in what I assume is a fictional story. The setting is during the Great War, and she has working-class friends that her then-husband knows nothing about.
Gigi
1944
Colette, translated by Roger Senhouse
Gigi
B
Here it is, probably Colette's most famous work, and it's still delightful. Set in 1899, shortly before the first Claudine book came out, it has automobiles and ortolans, scandal and innocence. As so often with Colette, none of the characters are exactly sympathetic, but it's fun to see them play off of each other. Even Gigi's weary actress mother, who's less involved in her life than the grandmother and great-aunt, has her moments. The joke of the story is that 15-year-old Gigi is being groomed to be a courtesan, but when a family friend offers for her, she loves him too much to accept, so he has to make a matrimonial offer instead. Tasteless, sure, but in a sophisticated way. I have almost no memory of the musical-- other than "Thank Heaven for Little Girls" of course-- but I'm amused that the 1951 stageplay was by that old expert of humorous gold-digging, Anita Loos.
Pity that Colette's humor is less in evidence for her other stories from '44....
Colette, translated by Roger Senhouse
Gigi
B
Here it is, probably Colette's most famous work, and it's still delightful. Set in 1899, shortly before the first Claudine book came out, it has automobiles and ortolans, scandal and innocence. As so often with Colette, none of the characters are exactly sympathetic, but it's fun to see them play off of each other. Even Gigi's weary actress mother, who's less involved in her life than the grandmother and great-aunt, has her moments. The joke of the story is that 15-year-old Gigi is being groomed to be a courtesan, but when a family friend offers for her, she loves him too much to accept, so he has to make a matrimonial offer instead. Tasteless, sure, but in a sophisticated way. I have almost no memory of the musical-- other than "Thank Heaven for Little Girls" of course-- but I'm amused that the 1951 stageplay was by that old expert of humorous gold-digging, Anita Loos.
Pity that Colette's humor is less in evidence for her other stories from '44....
These Happy Golden Years
1943, 1971 Harper & Row edition
Laura Ingalls Wilder
Illustrated by Garth Williams
These Happy Golden Years
Original and purchase price unknown
Stained and possibly moldy hardcover
B
This book covers about three years, taking Laura from a 15-year-old who's beginning to teach school to a just-married 18-year-old. Since The First Four Years was published posthumously, this will be the last we'll see of the Ingallses and Wilders for a long while. As such, there's a bittersweetness, despite the title. Laura and her sisters are growing up, as Mary reluctantly admits and Carrie proudly states.
There are some dark moments, including Laura's stay with a very unhappily married couple, the wife threatening her husband with a knife one night! Laura is boarding with them but bravely stays on so as to finish her teaching term. Also, there's a tale of a cyclone that wreaks havoc for some of the distant neighbors. Laura and her family come through the rough times, as before, but the rough times are fewer. Indeed, there's a surprising amount of comparative prosperity, as the shanty expands to include even a parlor with an organ. Thanks partly to Pa's farming going well and partly to Laura's own hard work, she's able to afford nicer clothes, and Mary even comes home from college a couple times. In contrast to the snowflakes of Long Winter, there are drawings of wildflowers throughout.
Perhaps because earlier books covered shorter spans (Long Winter in particular of course), this book feels a bit rushed. The courtship is handled well though, showing Laura's growing love for Almanzo in an understated way. The scene with her scaring Nellie, who's horned in on Almanzo's buggy rides, by riling up the colts is funny and believable. Laura herself handles the horses well, which is part of what he admires about her. He agrees to leave "obey" out of the wedding ceremony, and, as she tells Mary, they just seem to suit each other. I found Ida's wedding gift of lace very touching.
I would've liked to have seen more of the teaching though. After the first school, where she wins over the students, there's less detail. But, as she also tells Mary, time goes so much faster as they get older. (In my own case, it's slowed down the older I get, but I know that's unusual.)
Farewell for now, Laura Ingalls Wilder. You are still an admirable heroine seven or eight decades later. I just wish your books were a little more worthy of you.
Laura Ingalls Wilder
Illustrated by Garth Williams
These Happy Golden Years
Original and purchase price unknown
Stained and possibly moldy hardcover
B
This book covers about three years, taking Laura from a 15-year-old who's beginning to teach school to a just-married 18-year-old. Since The First Four Years was published posthumously, this will be the last we'll see of the Ingallses and Wilders for a long while. As such, there's a bittersweetness, despite the title. Laura and her sisters are growing up, as Mary reluctantly admits and Carrie proudly states.
There are some dark moments, including Laura's stay with a very unhappily married couple, the wife threatening her husband with a knife one night! Laura is boarding with them but bravely stays on so as to finish her teaching term. Also, there's a tale of a cyclone that wreaks havoc for some of the distant neighbors. Laura and her family come through the rough times, as before, but the rough times are fewer. Indeed, there's a surprising amount of comparative prosperity, as the shanty expands to include even a parlor with an organ. Thanks partly to Pa's farming going well and partly to Laura's own hard work, she's able to afford nicer clothes, and Mary even comes home from college a couple times. In contrast to the snowflakes of Long Winter, there are drawings of wildflowers throughout.
Perhaps because earlier books covered shorter spans (Long Winter in particular of course), this book feels a bit rushed. The courtship is handled well though, showing Laura's growing love for Almanzo in an understated way. The scene with her scaring Nellie, who's horned in on Almanzo's buggy rides, by riling up the colts is funny and believable. Laura herself handles the horses well, which is part of what he admires about her. He agrees to leave "obey" out of the wedding ceremony, and, as she tells Mary, they just seem to suit each other. I found Ida's wedding gift of lace very touching.
I would've liked to have seen more of the teaching though. After the first school, where she wins over the students, there's less detail. But, as she also tells Mary, time goes so much faster as they get older. (In my own case, it's slowed down the older I get, but I know that's unusual.)
Farewell for now, Laura Ingalls Wilder. You are still an admirable heroine seven or eight decades later. I just wish your books were a little more worthy of you.
The Boxcar Children
1942, 1977 Albert Whitman & Company edition
Gertrude Chandler Warner
Illustrated by L. Kate Deal
The Boxcar Children
Original and purchase price unknown
Worn hardcover
B-
I read many of the "Boxcar Children" books as a child, but I have to admit that I was always disappointed that the series became about a bunch of kids living in luxury and solving mysteries. I much preferred the siblings living in the boxcar and making do with what they find and make. Going back to the story, I'm still disappointed in the "happy ending" where they're reunited with their rich grandfather, but I'm also struck by two other things. The plot and vocabulary are much simpler than I remembered, a contrast to most of the other children's books I've read for this project. Also, it's definitely a safer time, with no real dangers threatening the children. The one "wild" animal they meet turns into their trusty watchdog Watch. Even the mean adults aren't violent. Mostly, the children meet with kindness and encouragement. Anne Shirley and Laura Ingalls face much greater hardship. Even the Automobile Girls are living in a scarier world. I can't attribute it to the time period, because the 1940s were a scary time for some children, admittedly more so in other parts of the world than the U.S.
On its own, I'd give the story a C+, but the sort of silhouette illustrations by Deal are perfect, managing to convey emotions and scenery in a striking way. The cover of this edition looks more 1960s/70s, with the two boys wearing t-shirts and brown slacks, as opposed to the short pants/knickerbockers, jackets, and hats that the two brothers wear. Even by my 1970s childhood, this book was a period piece, and I now suspect that it may've been one even in the 1940s, although supposedly set in the then contemporary world. That's part of its continuing appeal, the fantasy that you could go live in a boxcar, but I find that fantasy less appealing, or at least less well done, than I did as a child.
P.S. After looking on the Internet, I discover the book was originally published in 1924 but heavily revised by Warner in '42. That may account for some of its datedness.
P.P.S. This finishes off the third bookshelf, covering a score of years, with lots of children's books in particular.
Gertrude Chandler Warner
Illustrated by L. Kate Deal
The Boxcar Children
Original and purchase price unknown
Worn hardcover
B-
I read many of the "Boxcar Children" books as a child, but I have to admit that I was always disappointed that the series became about a bunch of kids living in luxury and solving mysteries. I much preferred the siblings living in the boxcar and making do with what they find and make. Going back to the story, I'm still disappointed in the "happy ending" where they're reunited with their rich grandfather, but I'm also struck by two other things. The plot and vocabulary are much simpler than I remembered, a contrast to most of the other children's books I've read for this project. Also, it's definitely a safer time, with no real dangers threatening the children. The one "wild" animal they meet turns into their trusty watchdog Watch. Even the mean adults aren't violent. Mostly, the children meet with kindness and encouragement. Anne Shirley and Laura Ingalls face much greater hardship. Even the Automobile Girls are living in a scarier world. I can't attribute it to the time period, because the 1940s were a scary time for some children, admittedly more so in other parts of the world than the U.S.
On its own, I'd give the story a C+, but the sort of silhouette illustrations by Deal are perfect, managing to convey emotions and scenery in a striking way. The cover of this edition looks more 1960s/70s, with the two boys wearing t-shirts and brown slacks, as opposed to the short pants/knickerbockers, jackets, and hats that the two brothers wear. Even by my 1970s childhood, this book was a period piece, and I now suspect that it may've been one even in the 1940s, although supposedly set in the then contemporary world. That's part of its continuing appeal, the fantasy that you could go live in a boxcar, but I find that fantasy less appealing, or at least less well done, than I did as a child.
P.S. After looking on the Internet, I discover the book was originally published in 1924 but heavily revised by Warner in '42. That may account for some of its datedness.
P.P.S. This finishes off the third bookshelf, covering a score of years, with lots of children's books in particular.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)