1962, 1976 Pocket Books edition
Eric Gurney
How to Live with a Calculating Cat
Original price $1.95, purchase price unknown
Worn paperback with stains
C+
A very quick read, with a mix of humor and information about cats. There are illustrations throughout, and it could almost pass as a kids' book (I think I got it as a kid), except for some mildly suggestive bits, mostly in the section on mating and breeding. Includes a quiz that's preceded by a crib sheet!
Saturday, June 30, 2012
One Small Voice
1961, possibly first edition, from Julian Messner, Inc.
Bob and Jan Young
One Small Voice
Original and purchase price unknown
Worn hardcover with stains
B-
While in some ways this has a very 1950s heroine, ponytail and all, the plot of corrupt local officials-- mayor and police-- verges on the 1960s. Senior Gina goes from a shy girl who only cares about music to an activist who motivates her classmates to motivate most of the adults in their community to vote. The mayor remains in office, but some of his power is chipped away, and there's hope for more changes in the future. Along the way, Gina gets a boyfriend, and her scene-stealing little sister gets a bicycle.
I thought for awhile that Gina was going to end up with Paul, since she connects with him more than with Walter, but Paul is poor and Hungarian and therefore not even eligible as a romantic interest. The book isn't that progressive after all. Still, it's an interesting read, even if the small-fonted summary on the flap gives away nearly every plot point.
Bob and Jan Young
One Small Voice
Original and purchase price unknown
Worn hardcover with stains
B-
While in some ways this has a very 1950s heroine, ponytail and all, the plot of corrupt local officials-- mayor and police-- verges on the 1960s. Senior Gina goes from a shy girl who only cares about music to an activist who motivates her classmates to motivate most of the adults in their community to vote. The mayor remains in office, but some of his power is chipped away, and there's hope for more changes in the future. Along the way, Gina gets a boyfriend, and her scene-stealing little sister gets a bicycle.
I thought for awhile that Gina was going to end up with Paul, since she connects with him more than with Walter, but Paul is poor and Hungarian and therefore not even eligible as a romantic interest. The book isn't that progressive after all. Still, it's an interesting read, even if the small-fonted summary on the flap gives away nearly every plot point.
Sinclair Lewis: An American Life
1961, possibly first edition, from McGraw-Hill
Mark Schorer
Sinclair Lewis: An American Life
Original price unknown, purchase price $8.95
Worn hardcover with stains
B-
Schorer spent nine years researching and writing this 800+-page book, and he clearly remained interested in Lewis, since some of the editions I own of Lewis novels have Schorer afterwords. But I have to ask, why? Why meticulously recount, for instance, Lewis's travel itineraries if you're just going to sum up with "He was one of the worst writers in modern American literature, but without his writing one cannot imagine modern American literature"? I would venture that Lewis had the same effect on Schorer as he did on so many people, a mixture of repulsion and fascination.
As my reviews show, I don't think Lewis was a great writer, but he was sometimes a good one, and certainly not one of the worst. I said in my last (for Kingsblood Royal), "He was a very flawed man and a somewhat flawed writer, but I'm glad I own so many of his books." My image of him as flawed comes from this book, so I don't totally disagree with Schorer. Lewis was a lonely, awkward boy who grew up to be a lonely, awkward man. He slowly drank himself to death and destroyed almost all his relationships, including with his sons. And Schorer does point out the flaws in Lewis's writing, most hilariously on the weakest novels and short stories, the ones I haven't read. There's not much positive here, but then there wasn't much positive in Lewis's life, prizes and acclaim aside.
But nine years, really? Was it worth it? Well, Wikipedia lists this as Schorer's most famous work, so I suppose it was. Richard R. Lingeman's Sinclair Lewis: Rebel From Main Street (2002), which I've read once and don't own, presents a heroic Lewis who is almost unrecognizable compared to Schorer's Lewis. But then, Lingeman was writing four long decades later, when Lewis and his world were much more distant, as compared to Schorer who started this biography soon after Lewis died and was able to speak with his ex-wives and other people Lewis knew.
Mark Schorer
Sinclair Lewis: An American Life
Original price unknown, purchase price $8.95
Worn hardcover with stains
B-
Schorer spent nine years researching and writing this 800+-page book, and he clearly remained interested in Lewis, since some of the editions I own of Lewis novels have Schorer afterwords. But I have to ask, why? Why meticulously recount, for instance, Lewis's travel itineraries if you're just going to sum up with "He was one of the worst writers in modern American literature, but without his writing one cannot imagine modern American literature"? I would venture that Lewis had the same effect on Schorer as he did on so many people, a mixture of repulsion and fascination.
As my reviews show, I don't think Lewis was a great writer, but he was sometimes a good one, and certainly not one of the worst. I said in my last (for Kingsblood Royal), "He was a very flawed man and a somewhat flawed writer, but I'm glad I own so many of his books." My image of him as flawed comes from this book, so I don't totally disagree with Schorer. Lewis was a lonely, awkward boy who grew up to be a lonely, awkward man. He slowly drank himself to death and destroyed almost all his relationships, including with his sons. And Schorer does point out the flaws in Lewis's writing, most hilariously on the weakest novels and short stories, the ones I haven't read. There's not much positive here, but then there wasn't much positive in Lewis's life, prizes and acclaim aside.
But nine years, really? Was it worth it? Well, Wikipedia lists this as Schorer's most famous work, so I suppose it was. Richard R. Lingeman's Sinclair Lewis: Rebel From Main Street (2002), which I've read once and don't own, presents a heroic Lewis who is almost unrecognizable compared to Schorer's Lewis. But then, Lingeman was writing four long decades later, when Lewis and his world were much more distant, as compared to Schorer who started this biography soon after Lewis died and was able to speak with his ex-wives and other people Lewis knew.
Friday, June 29, 2012
The Borrowers Aloft
1961, undated but pre-1992 Odyssey Classic edition
Mary Norton
Illustrated by Beth and Joe Krush
The Borrowers Aloft
Original price $4.95, purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
C+
This is the fourth book in the series, following The Borrowers Afloat. While there are some things about it I like, the miniature villages and the balloon sequence, there are literally months where the Clock family is trapped in an attic, not doing much but wearing dungarees and trying to come up with a plan for escape.
As before, this book was not a big part of my growing up. I don't think I was even invested in the Arrietty/Spiller potential romance. It was just a book I read, once or twice, and moved on. This copy I probably picked up at the same time as Afield, and I'm guessing it's not quite as old, since the original price was higher, although it refers to Norton as if she were still alive, and she did live to be 88.
Mary Norton
Illustrated by Beth and Joe Krush
The Borrowers Aloft
Original price $4.95, purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
C+
This is the fourth book in the series, following The Borrowers Afloat. While there are some things about it I like, the miniature villages and the balloon sequence, there are literally months where the Clock family is trapped in an attic, not doing much but wearing dungarees and trying to come up with a plan for escape.
As before, this book was not a big part of my growing up. I don't think I was even invested in the Arrietty/Spiller potential romance. It was just a book I read, once or twice, and moved on. This copy I probably picked up at the same time as Afield, and I'm guessing it's not quite as old, since the original price was higher, although it refers to Norton as if she were still alive, and she did live to be 88.
Catch-22
1961 publication although copyright 1955, 1970 Dell edition to tie in with the "superb Mike Nichols film"
Joseph Heller
Catch-22
Original price 95 cents, purchase price 90 cents, such a bargain
Falling apart paperback
C+
THE AUTHOR
The Author uses so much profanity that even his name has a swear word. He celebrates women so much, or their bodies anyway, that it's too bad he's a misogynist who presents every woman as a crazy whore, especially the insane prostitutes. Of course, most of the men are insane, too, but they have other sides to them than their sexuality. Maybe The Author is a misanthrope, especially since he feels sorry for humanity.
YOSSARIAN
Yossarian is so abnormal that he's an Everyman. He's the only sane man in a world of insanity, but he's also the craziest because he's the most inconsistent. He "falls in love with" every woman he has sex with, but he never sees them as people, except for "Nately's whore," except when he almost gets seduced by her when she's trying to kill him.
CATCH-22
The first third of the novel has a very ironic style, where everything means its opposite, so that you come to expect irony. The second third gets more realistic/serious as it gets more absurd and unbelievable, like life. The last third is horrific. This "progression" is substituted for straight chronology, since the story keeps looping on itself, until it doesn't. Rebio lost track of who was alive (but going to die), dead (really most sincerely dead), and "dead" (not necessarily dead, in fact possibly, or even definitely, not dead), at different points in the story. She thought Snowden was dead but he kept showing up and dying again.
REBIO
Rebio is a middle-aged girl with a boy's name which actually means REBIO (Rereading Every Book I Own). She first read Catch-22 in high school and enjoyed the punny names (Colonel Korn, Major Major Major Major, etc.) as well as the ironic twists, like Milo's profiteering, Italy's plan for successful defeat, and of course Catch-22 itself. She didn't mind the misogyny because she was in high school and used to that sort of hostile admiration (directed at other girls, Rebio was happily invisible at the time). She tried to watch the 1970 movie on cable years later (but years ago from now), since it had an amazing cast (Alan Arkin, Richard Benjamin, Bob Newhart, etc.), but all she remembers looking back is the first five or ten minutes of no dialogue, which seemed odd for a book she read (maybe three times at that point) for its wit.
THE BOOK
Rebio started out reading this book this time thinking she would give it a high score, but after the first third it became a chore to read, except for when it got good again. She didn't even read it in chronological order for her project, because she thought it was 1955, but she has to give it to the 1960s because the timing of the publication, just in time to feel prescient to anti-war youth a few years later, matters more than when the book was completed, even though Wikipedia says that it's a more 1950s book (with references to loyalty oaths and IBM computers) than its 1940s setting.
Joseph Heller
Catch-22
Original price 95 cents, purchase price 90 cents, such a bargain
Falling apart paperback
C+
THE AUTHOR
The Author uses so much profanity that even his name has a swear word. He celebrates women so much, or their bodies anyway, that it's too bad he's a misogynist who presents every woman as a crazy whore, especially the insane prostitutes. Of course, most of the men are insane, too, but they have other sides to them than their sexuality. Maybe The Author is a misanthrope, especially since he feels sorry for humanity.
YOSSARIAN
Yossarian is so abnormal that he's an Everyman. He's the only sane man in a world of insanity, but he's also the craziest because he's the most inconsistent. He "falls in love with" every woman he has sex with, but he never sees them as people, except for "Nately's whore," except when he almost gets seduced by her when she's trying to kill him.
CATCH-22
The first third of the novel has a very ironic style, where everything means its opposite, so that you come to expect irony. The second third gets more realistic/serious as it gets more absurd and unbelievable, like life. The last third is horrific. This "progression" is substituted for straight chronology, since the story keeps looping on itself, until it doesn't. Rebio lost track of who was alive (but going to die), dead (really most sincerely dead), and "dead" (not necessarily dead, in fact possibly, or even definitely, not dead), at different points in the story. She thought Snowden was dead but he kept showing up and dying again.
REBIO
Rebio is a middle-aged girl with a boy's name which actually means REBIO (Rereading Every Book I Own). She first read Catch-22 in high school and enjoyed the punny names (Colonel Korn, Major Major Major Major, etc.) as well as the ironic twists, like Milo's profiteering, Italy's plan for successful defeat, and of course Catch-22 itself. She didn't mind the misogyny because she was in high school and used to that sort of hostile admiration (directed at other girls, Rebio was happily invisible at the time). She tried to watch the 1970 movie on cable years later (but years ago from now), since it had an amazing cast (Alan Arkin, Richard Benjamin, Bob Newhart, etc.), but all she remembers looking back is the first five or ten minutes of no dialogue, which seemed odd for a book she read (maybe three times at that point) for its wit.
THE BOOK
Rebio started out reading this book this time thinking she would give it a high score, but after the first third it became a chore to read, except for when it got good again. She didn't even read it in chronological order for her project, because she thought it was 1955, but she has to give it to the 1960s because the timing of the publication, just in time to feel prescient to anti-war youth a few years later, matters more than when the book was completed, even though Wikipedia says that it's a more 1950s book (with references to loyalty oaths and IBM computers) than its 1940s setting.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Little Me
1961, possibly first edition, from Fawcett Crest
Patrick Dennis
Photographs by Cris Alexander
Little Me
Original price 75 cents, purchase price $1.50
Very worn paperback
B
The very fake autobiography of a very fake star, this is much less funny than Auntie Mame, with a far less sympathetic "heroine," but some of the racy and very fake photos are priceless. Alexander shot buxom Jeri Archer as Belle Poitrine (the last name meaning "breast" in French), and as her mother, daughter, and granddaughter. Various friends and family of Alexander and Dennis, including "Roz" Russell, appear, and Dennis himself plays Belle's second of five husbands, a wimpy British earl. Belle's fourth husband, Letch Feeley is pure beefcake, and the book had/has quite the gay following. Even more than in Mame, there is a queer sensibility, with several of the supporting characters being bluntly gay or lesbian, and Belle's own over-the-top sexuality turning from enthusiastically hetero- to homo- when convenient.
The book is also about the ups and downs of Belle's acting career. She's clearly untalented, but she is certainly persistent. One down is her alcoholism, which I suspect parodies I'll Cry Tomorrow, although Belle "recovers" more easily. Belle is completely unscrupulous, even murdering two men she's been involved with, but of course nothing in the book can be taken seriously.
I wrote a paper in high school on Neil Simon (yes, I've always been drawn to what my dad called middlebrow writing), and so I read the script of the musical version of Little Me years before I read this book. From what I recall, it wasn't particularly faithful. I don't remember how it dealt with one of the most striking aspects of the book: Belle is born in 1900 (or a few years before), but soon starts shaving years off her age, so that in 1960 she's "Frankly Forty." I used to think that was pretty out there, until I read Teri Garr's autobiography (which I don't own), and I noticed that she was at least a decade younger by the end of it than she should've been.
Patrick Dennis
Photographs by Cris Alexander
Little Me
Original price 75 cents, purchase price $1.50
Very worn paperback
B
The very fake autobiography of a very fake star, this is much less funny than Auntie Mame, with a far less sympathetic "heroine," but some of the racy and very fake photos are priceless. Alexander shot buxom Jeri Archer as Belle Poitrine (the last name meaning "breast" in French), and as her mother, daughter, and granddaughter. Various friends and family of Alexander and Dennis, including "Roz" Russell, appear, and Dennis himself plays Belle's second of five husbands, a wimpy British earl. Belle's fourth husband, Letch Feeley is pure beefcake, and the book had/has quite the gay following. Even more than in Mame, there is a queer sensibility, with several of the supporting characters being bluntly gay or lesbian, and Belle's own over-the-top sexuality turning from enthusiastically hetero- to homo- when convenient.
The book is also about the ups and downs of Belle's acting career. She's clearly untalented, but she is certainly persistent. One down is her alcoholism, which I suspect parodies I'll Cry Tomorrow, although Belle "recovers" more easily. Belle is completely unscrupulous, even murdering two men she's been involved with, but of course nothing in the book can be taken seriously.
I wrote a paper in high school on Neil Simon (yes, I've always been drawn to what my dad called middlebrow writing), and so I read the script of the musical version of Little Me years before I read this book. From what I recall, it wasn't particularly faithful. I don't remember how it dealt with one of the most striking aspects of the book: Belle is born in 1900 (or a few years before), but soon starts shaving years off her age, so that in 1960 she's "Frankly Forty." I used to think that was pretty out there, until I read Teri Garr's autobiography (which I don't own), and I noticed that she was at least a decade younger by the end of it than she should've been.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Love and Peanut Butter
1961, possibly first edition, from Norton
Lesley Conger
Illustrated by Doug Anderson
Love and Peanut Butter
Original and purchase price unknown
Worn hardcover with stains
B
This is similar to Please Don't Eat the Daisies, although less satiric and more narrative. Like Kerr, Conger had six kids, although hers were already at least preschoolers at the time of her book. Conger had four teen or preteen sons and two younger daughters. Some of them seem to have been more memorable than others. (Even she admits that Andy is so even-keeled that they take him for granted.) Her professor husband suggested they do something adventurous for her year-in-a-life book, but she wanted to show a more typical year for the family. Still, there are events, from a foster daughter's marriage and pregnancy to the boys' successful and ridiculous production of Frankenstein.
Like Kerr, Conger is both typical and atypical for a housewife-writer. She's more sentimental about her children than Kerr, but she, too, loses her temper. The family is calmly atheistic, and she argues that television violence is less upsetting to children than contrived sitcom mishaps.
Also like Kerr's book, this has illustrations, although fewer and weaker. To make up for that, I'd rather have grown up a Conger than a Kerr. The family just seems to have been more fun, for parents and kids.
Lesley Conger
Illustrated by Doug Anderson
Love and Peanut Butter
Original and purchase price unknown
Worn hardcover with stains
B
This is similar to Please Don't Eat the Daisies, although less satiric and more narrative. Like Kerr, Conger had six kids, although hers were already at least preschoolers at the time of her book. Conger had four teen or preteen sons and two younger daughters. Some of them seem to have been more memorable than others. (Even she admits that Andy is so even-keeled that they take him for granted.) Her professor husband suggested they do something adventurous for her year-in-a-life book, but she wanted to show a more typical year for the family. Still, there are events, from a foster daughter's marriage and pregnancy to the boys' successful and ridiculous production of Frankenstein.
Like Kerr, Conger is both typical and atypical for a housewife-writer. She's more sentimental about her children than Kerr, but she, too, loses her temper. The family is calmly atheistic, and she argues that television violence is less upsetting to children than contrived sitcom mishaps.
Also like Kerr's book, this has illustrations, although fewer and weaker. To make up for that, I'd rather have grown up a Conger than a Kerr. The family just seems to have been more fun, for parents and kids.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
The Cricket in Times Square
1960, 1979 Farrar, Straus and Giroux edition
George Selden
Illustrated by Garth Williams
The Cricket in Times Square
Original price $7.95, purchase price unknown
Worn hardcover with split spine
B+
I love this book and yet I can't give it a higher grade. The animal characters are just perfect: artistic, high-strung, honorable Chester Cricket; greedy but good-hearted, very New-Yorky Tucker Mouse; and wise, dry-humored Harry Cat. Every illustration of them is among Williams's finest art. Their conversations are lively and fun, even during dark times, and I still wish I could go to one of their parties, liverwurst sandwiches and all. When Chester's music (he can imitate anything off the radio) brings New York, or at the least the part around Times Square, to a standstill, I almost cry.
But then there are the people. Even in the Little House books, Williams tended to do better with animals than with humans, and the humans in this story are sometimes nearly grotesque, particularly the crowds. And yet, he does sometimes bring, well, humanity to them, like the two Chinese men and cranky Mama Bellini, she when softened by Chester's Italian folk songs. Mario is always shown to be a bright, kind boy.
The people are the stumbling block in the writing as well, specifically those two Chinese men. They are stereotypical in the way they speak and act, like when Sai Fong says, "Clicket," and giggles like Japanese Ito in Auntie Mame. Part of me admires Williams for showing another culture, two really, since we also learn a bit about Italian-Americans. I just wish these were more nuanced portrayals. On the other hand, Sai Fong is a much more developed and sympathetic character than Mickey Rooney's Mr. Yunioshi, a thoroughly unpleasant Japanese stereotype in 1961's Breakfast at Tiffany's.
As a child, I remember preferring the sequel Tucker's Countryside (1969) to Cricket, partly because it had more of a plot and partly because it had Harry being temporarily adopted. We'll see how I feel when we get to the other end of the 1960s.
George Selden
Illustrated by Garth Williams
The Cricket in Times Square
Original price $7.95, purchase price unknown
Worn hardcover with split spine
B+
I love this book and yet I can't give it a higher grade. The animal characters are just perfect: artistic, high-strung, honorable Chester Cricket; greedy but good-hearted, very New-Yorky Tucker Mouse; and wise, dry-humored Harry Cat. Every illustration of them is among Williams's finest art. Their conversations are lively and fun, even during dark times, and I still wish I could go to one of their parties, liverwurst sandwiches and all. When Chester's music (he can imitate anything off the radio) brings New York, or at the least the part around Times Square, to a standstill, I almost cry.
But then there are the people. Even in the Little House books, Williams tended to do better with animals than with humans, and the humans in this story are sometimes nearly grotesque, particularly the crowds. And yet, he does sometimes bring, well, humanity to them, like the two Chinese men and cranky Mama Bellini, she when softened by Chester's Italian folk songs. Mario is always shown to be a bright, kind boy.
The people are the stumbling block in the writing as well, specifically those two Chinese men. They are stereotypical in the way they speak and act, like when Sai Fong says, "Clicket," and giggles like Japanese Ito in Auntie Mame. Part of me admires Williams for showing another culture, two really, since we also learn a bit about Italian-Americans. I just wish these were more nuanced portrayals. On the other hand, Sai Fong is a much more developed and sympathetic character than Mickey Rooney's Mr. Yunioshi, a thoroughly unpleasant Japanese stereotype in 1961's Breakfast at Tiffany's.
As a child, I remember preferring the sequel Tucker's Countryside (1969) to Cricket, partly because it had more of a plot and partly because it had Harry being temporarily adopted. We'll see how I feel when we get to the other end of the 1960s.
I Kid You Not
1960, possibly first edition, from Little, Brown and Company
Jack Paar
I Kid You Not
Original and purchase price unknown
Worn hardcover
B-
Like the Jim Backus book, this is more interesting than amusing. Part of the problem is that much of the book is about Paar's hosting of The Tonight Show (after Steve Allen and before Johnny Carson), and a lot of his guest stars just don't mean anything to a modern reader, like Genevieve, the no-surname French entertainer. It is cool to get early glimpses of Pat Harrington, Jr. (Schneider), Dody Goodman, and Hugh Downs though. Paar does talk about his infamous walk-out when NBC censored his "water closet" joke. He quotes the joke in full so readers can see how innocuous it was. Like most of the book, it's not all that funny.
Paar also recounts some of his feuds, including with Steve Allen, coming across as happily bitter. He seems incredibly naive about Castro, who assured him that he (Castro) was not a Communist, but this was very soon after Castro came to power.
Paar lived until 2004, having been married for an incredible 60 years. I suspect he would've been pleased but not all that surprised that his third marriage (he married his first wife twice) was more successful than his tumultuous career.
Jack Paar
I Kid You Not
Original and purchase price unknown
Worn hardcover
B-
Like the Jim Backus book, this is more interesting than amusing. Part of the problem is that much of the book is about Paar's hosting of The Tonight Show (after Steve Allen and before Johnny Carson), and a lot of his guest stars just don't mean anything to a modern reader, like Genevieve, the no-surname French entertainer. It is cool to get early glimpses of Pat Harrington, Jr. (Schneider), Dody Goodman, and Hugh Downs though. Paar does talk about his infamous walk-out when NBC censored his "water closet" joke. He quotes the joke in full so readers can see how innocuous it was. Like most of the book, it's not all that funny.
Paar also recounts some of his feuds, including with Steve Allen, coming across as happily bitter. He seems incredibly naive about Castro, who assured him that he (Castro) was not a Communist, but this was very soon after Castro came to power.
Paar lived until 2004, having been married for an incredible 60 years. I suspect he would've been pleased but not all that surprised that his third marriage (he married his first wife twice) was more successful than his tumultuous career.
Island of the Blue Dolphins
1960, 1978 Laurel-Leaf edition
Scott O'Dell
Island of the Blue Dolphins
Original price $3.50, purchase price $3.40 (not much of a bargain)
Worn paperback with possible mold
B
I generally disagree with the Newbery committee(s) on their selections for best children's book of the year, or at least the winners of the last dozen years. (Holes was great.) Back in the 1960s, they had a surer touch, and this is a fine choice, although I'm not sure whether it would be my top pick. (Newbery honor book The Cricket in Times Square is coming up.)
In any case, neither the Newberyites nor O'Dell could've known that the book would touch on issues that would become more relevant, specifically feminism and environmentalism. Karana lives alone on the island for many years and learns to fend for herself, despite her father the chief's teachings that women shouldn't handle weapons. Even before the other islanders have sailed away, but after Karana's father and most of the other men have been killed, there's cultural upheaval when the women take on some of the men's tasks and do a better job of providing food.
As for the environment, while Karana learns to hunt and fish, she eventually cuts back on it because she learns empathy with the other creatures on the island. This goes beyond the idea of "to (not) kill a mockingbird," since in Lee's novel it's OK to kill sometimes, like with mad dogs. Here, Karana even adopts a wild dog, although the pack killed her little brother.
Karana wouldn't even be "alone" on the island if not for annoying Ramo, who was left behind when the tribe sailed away. Karana jumped ship to get him, but the others never came back for them. Six-year-old Ramo was always pointlessly disobedient, as opposed to Karana who disobeys for good reasons, and this is probably blaming the victim, but his disobedience eventually leads to his death. Significantly, Karana doesn't miss him, although she does miss their elder sister Ulape. When the Aleuts visit the island, she befriends the one woman, but she has to be careful because the Aleuts are enemies of her people.
Like a Little House book, part of the appeal of this story is the how-to aspect. Karana is clever and creative, although I like how she's not perfect, sometimes failing. (This is not Jean Auel's "And then she invented the wheel" Earth's Children series.) Like Scout in Mockingbird, she's looking back as an adult, and we know that the real life girl she's based on lived on the island for 18 years before being "rescued." The ending is bittersweet, since although Karana is happy to hear human voices again, she has to give up much of what she's loved on the island, including her beautiful cormorant skirt, in order to be "civilized."
It really is a very 1960s book, at a time when other works still feel so '50s.
Scott O'Dell
Island of the Blue Dolphins
Original price $3.50, purchase price $3.40 (not much of a bargain)
Worn paperback with possible mold
B
I generally disagree with the Newbery committee(s) on their selections for best children's book of the year, or at least the winners of the last dozen years. (Holes was great.) Back in the 1960s, they had a surer touch, and this is a fine choice, although I'm not sure whether it would be my top pick. (Newbery honor book The Cricket in Times Square is coming up.)
In any case, neither the Newberyites nor O'Dell could've known that the book would touch on issues that would become more relevant, specifically feminism and environmentalism. Karana lives alone on the island for many years and learns to fend for herself, despite her father the chief's teachings that women shouldn't handle weapons. Even before the other islanders have sailed away, but after Karana's father and most of the other men have been killed, there's cultural upheaval when the women take on some of the men's tasks and do a better job of providing food.
As for the environment, while Karana learns to hunt and fish, she eventually cuts back on it because she learns empathy with the other creatures on the island. This goes beyond the idea of "to (not) kill a mockingbird," since in Lee's novel it's OK to kill sometimes, like with mad dogs. Here, Karana even adopts a wild dog, although the pack killed her little brother.
Karana wouldn't even be "alone" on the island if not for annoying Ramo, who was left behind when the tribe sailed away. Karana jumped ship to get him, but the others never came back for them. Six-year-old Ramo was always pointlessly disobedient, as opposed to Karana who disobeys for good reasons, and this is probably blaming the victim, but his disobedience eventually leads to his death. Significantly, Karana doesn't miss him, although she does miss their elder sister Ulape. When the Aleuts visit the island, she befriends the one woman, but she has to be careful because the Aleuts are enemies of her people.
Like a Little House book, part of the appeal of this story is the how-to aspect. Karana is clever and creative, although I like how she's not perfect, sometimes failing. (This is not Jean Auel's "And then she invented the wheel" Earth's Children series.) Like Scout in Mockingbird, she's looking back as an adult, and we know that the real life girl she's based on lived on the island for 18 years before being "rescued." The ending is bittersweet, since although Karana is happy to hear human voices again, she has to give up much of what she's loved on the island, including her beautiful cormorant skirt, in order to be "civilized."
It really is a very 1960s book, at a time when other works still feel so '50s.
Daughters and Rebels
1960, Avon edition from unknown year
Jessica Mitford
Daughters and Rebels
Original price 75 cents, purchase price $1.00
Very worn paperback with front cover detached
B
Yes, yet another biography, although this is more about the author than the colorful father. It goes only up to 1939, with Mitford's first husband dying in a footnote! Jessica has the same breezy tone about horrible events as big sister Nancy has. And yet, in the sequel autobiography, which I've read but don't own, she omits a son who died at a young age because it was too painful to write about him. Here, we never learn the name of her first baby, who died of measles.
It's fun to compare this mostly true book to Nancy's fiction, particularly since Jessica told Nancy that the latter had no imagination. For instance, the original (British) title of this autobiography was Hons and Rebels, and Jessica explains here how "Hon" came from the hens that she and little sister Debo (Deborah) raised in order to sell the eggs to their mother. In Nancy's novels, the older sisters are Hons as well, and "Hon" seems to come from "Honorable," since Fa/Farve was a baron.
While Jessica's life in the 1920s and 1930s was certainly interesting (if not always to her), her life afterwards got even more colorful. After this book, she became interested in the funeral industry and wrote a 1963 book about it, which I own. The cover of this book says, "The audacious lady who wrote The American Way of Death tells the marvelous story of her life." So this edition obviously came out three years or more after the first edition.
Jessica Mitford
Daughters and Rebels
Original price 75 cents, purchase price $1.00
Very worn paperback with front cover detached
B
Yes, yet another biography, although this is more about the author than the colorful father. It goes only up to 1939, with Mitford's first husband dying in a footnote! Jessica has the same breezy tone about horrible events as big sister Nancy has. And yet, in the sequel autobiography, which I've read but don't own, she omits a son who died at a young age because it was too painful to write about him. Here, we never learn the name of her first baby, who died of measles.
It's fun to compare this mostly true book to Nancy's fiction, particularly since Jessica told Nancy that the latter had no imagination. For instance, the original (British) title of this autobiography was Hons and Rebels, and Jessica explains here how "Hon" came from the hens that she and little sister Debo (Deborah) raised in order to sell the eggs to their mother. In Nancy's novels, the older sisters are Hons as well, and "Hon" seems to come from "Honorable," since Fa/Farve was a baron.
While Jessica's life in the 1920s and 1930s was certainly interesting (if not always to her), her life afterwards got even more colorful. After this book, she became interested in the funeral industry and wrote a 1963 book about it, which I own. The cover of this book says, "The audacious lady who wrote The American Way of Death tells the marvelous story of her life." So this edition obviously came out three years or more after the first edition.
Life with Groucho
1960 Popular Library edition
Arthur Marx
Life with Groucho
Original price 35 cents, purchase price unknown
Falling apart paperback
B-
For the most part, this seems to be the same as the original 1954 version, including a reference to Arthur as 33, but I'm going with the 1960 date, because a few chapters mention the quiz show scandals of the later 1950s, as well as a reference to Arthur's half-sister Melinda as 13, and she was born in '47. The early parts of Groucho's life are dateless (insert obligatory joke), although we now know that he was born in 1890. Not till the late 1920s does Arthur get more specific, which is also about the time his clear memories of his father start. (He was born in '21 and died April of last year.)
Arthur seems to have been fond of his father, although he does point out some of his contradictions, like about money. He doesn't question his father's sexism, like that the twice-divorced sixty-something Groucho was horrified to be set up with a 40-year-old. (In 1954, he married his third wife, who was 24. In the 1970s he was involved with Erin Fleming, who was 51 years his junior. I'll talk about her when we get up to Charlotte Chandler's 1978 Groucho biography, Hello, I Must Be Going.)
Groucho was alternately strict and indulgent with the children of his first marriage, while little Melinda, whom you can see on You Bet Your Life, seems to have been a bit spoiled. But, yes, like Charlie Chaplin, Groucho was as funny at home as on screen. The book is laugh-out-loud funny at times, although much of it has been quoted elsewhere. I most enjoyed the bits about his popular game show, including some accidentally suggestive quotes that got edited out before airing. (No sign of the now infamous "I like my cigar, too, but I take it out once in awhile.")
However, I like Groucho a little less after reading the book, because he was indeed grouchy. (I've read in other books that his name actually came from his grouch [money] bag.) He married pretty women he didn't have anything in common with, and then he'd want to stay home and play guitar or read while they'd want to go out and dance.
He also believed that women have no sense of humor and generally didn't enjoy Marx Brothers movies. He thought Thalberg saved the team's career. While the box office for those two "middle" Night and Day movies is unquestionable (after Duck Soup came along and baffled the depths-of-the-Depression audience in a notorious bit of bad timing), it's just not true that they're better than the Paramount movies. OK, I'll concede that Day at the Races is better than The Cocoanuts [sic], but the latter is a much funnier movie in a so-bad-it's-good sort of way. (When the male romantic lead looks like he could be a young Richard Nixon, you know a movie hasn't aged well.) Arthur understandably agrees with his father about the quality of the movies, but by the end of the 1960s, the public had definitely changed its mind about anti-war (and anti- much else) Duck Soup.
Arthur was named after his Uncle Harpo, in that Adolph Marx fortunately changed his name to Arthur in 1911, before acquiring his famous nickname. The younger Arthur wrote three more books about his father, none of which I've read.
Arthur Marx
Life with Groucho
Original price 35 cents, purchase price unknown
Falling apart paperback
B-
For the most part, this seems to be the same as the original 1954 version, including a reference to Arthur as 33, but I'm going with the 1960 date, because a few chapters mention the quiz show scandals of the later 1950s, as well as a reference to Arthur's half-sister Melinda as 13, and she was born in '47. The early parts of Groucho's life are dateless (insert obligatory joke), although we now know that he was born in 1890. Not till the late 1920s does Arthur get more specific, which is also about the time his clear memories of his father start. (He was born in '21 and died April of last year.)
Arthur seems to have been fond of his father, although he does point out some of his contradictions, like about money. He doesn't question his father's sexism, like that the twice-divorced sixty-something Groucho was horrified to be set up with a 40-year-old. (In 1954, he married his third wife, who was 24. In the 1970s he was involved with Erin Fleming, who was 51 years his junior. I'll talk about her when we get up to Charlotte Chandler's 1978 Groucho biography, Hello, I Must Be Going.)
Groucho was alternately strict and indulgent with the children of his first marriage, while little Melinda, whom you can see on You Bet Your Life, seems to have been a bit spoiled. But, yes, like Charlie Chaplin, Groucho was as funny at home as on screen. The book is laugh-out-loud funny at times, although much of it has been quoted elsewhere. I most enjoyed the bits about his popular game show, including some accidentally suggestive quotes that got edited out before airing. (No sign of the now infamous "I like my cigar, too, but I take it out once in awhile.")
However, I like Groucho a little less after reading the book, because he was indeed grouchy. (I've read in other books that his name actually came from his grouch [money] bag.) He married pretty women he didn't have anything in common with, and then he'd want to stay home and play guitar or read while they'd want to go out and dance.
He also believed that women have no sense of humor and generally didn't enjoy Marx Brothers movies. He thought Thalberg saved the team's career. While the box office for those two "middle" Night and Day movies is unquestionable (after Duck Soup came along and baffled the depths-of-the-Depression audience in a notorious bit of bad timing), it's just not true that they're better than the Paramount movies. OK, I'll concede that Day at the Races is better than The Cocoanuts [sic], but the latter is a much funnier movie in a so-bad-it's-good sort of way. (When the male romantic lead looks like he could be a young Richard Nixon, you know a movie hasn't aged well.) Arthur understandably agrees with his father about the quality of the movies, but by the end of the 1960s, the public had definitely changed its mind about anti-war (and anti- much else) Duck Soup.
Arthur was named after his Uncle Harpo, in that Adolph Marx fortunately changed his name to Arthur in 1911, before acquiring his famous nickname. The younger Arthur wrote three more books about his father, none of which I've read.
To Kill a Mockingbird
1960, 1982 Warner edition
Harper Lee
To Kill a Mockingbird
Original price $6.99, purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
B
This won the Pulitzer Prize and still holds up well, although I think part of what makes it good also makes it odd. The novel works on several levels, due to Lee looking back at her fictionalized childhood. Each time I read the book, whether as a teenager or thirty years later, or at points in between, I get this sense of not quite, or just barely getting it. To take a crude example, when Jem and Dill are having their peeing contest, it's written in such a nonchalant way that I don't think I understood what was going on until maybe this reading. Throughout the book, it's unclear how much Scout understands of very grown-up subjects, and this creates a split consciousness in the reader. At the same time, there's a theme of how much adults understand children, and one reason why Atticus is one of the top dads of 20th-century fiction (particularly as portrayed by Gregory Peck in the 1962 film) is that he understands his children.
But then the whole book is about empathy, "walking around in another man's shoes." Tom Robinson's downfall is partially due to him "feeling sorry" for a white girl. The title is related to this theme, that it's wrong to kill what's good.
The novel deals with heavy issues, like rape and abuse, prejudice of all sorts, but it's also about growing up, with simple joys like chewing gum. I'm not sure how well it all hangs together, but Scout is an endearing and enduring narrator.
Harper Lee
To Kill a Mockingbird
Original price $6.99, purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
B
This won the Pulitzer Prize and still holds up well, although I think part of what makes it good also makes it odd. The novel works on several levels, due to Lee looking back at her fictionalized childhood. Each time I read the book, whether as a teenager or thirty years later, or at points in between, I get this sense of not quite, or just barely getting it. To take a crude example, when Jem and Dill are having their peeing contest, it's written in such a nonchalant way that I don't think I understood what was going on until maybe this reading. Throughout the book, it's unclear how much Scout understands of very grown-up subjects, and this creates a split consciousness in the reader. At the same time, there's a theme of how much adults understand children, and one reason why Atticus is one of the top dads of 20th-century fiction (particularly as portrayed by Gregory Peck in the 1962 film) is that he understands his children.
But then the whole book is about empathy, "walking around in another man's shoes." Tom Robinson's downfall is partially due to him "feeling sorry" for a white girl. The title is related to this theme, that it's wrong to kill what's good.
The novel deals with heavy issues, like rape and abuse, prejudice of all sorts, but it's also about growing up, with simple joys like chewing gum. I'm not sure how well it all hangs together, but Scout is an endearing and enduring narrator.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
My Father, Charlie Chaplin
1960, possibly first edition, from Random House
Charles Chaplin, Jr., with N. and M. Rau
My Father, Charlie Chaplin
Original and purchase price unknown
Worn hardcover
B-
This biography tries to put a positive spin on the elder Chaplin's controversial life, but there's a thread of Charles, Jr.'s unhappiness throughout, from nightmares as a child to alcoholism as an adult, and much of that unhappiness seems to come from his father's distancing himself, sometimes literally, as with months-long travel. Chaplin clearly was funny and talented, but his own unhappy childhood of poverty and neglect left its scars and seems to have made it hard for him to be close to his wives, children, or anyone else.
The book doesn't spend much time on the 1950s, although it does address the comic's self-exile during and after McCarthyism. Even the author's year-long marriage and resulting child don't get much attention. The elder Chaplin was married for a much longer period, the fourth time's the charm, to Oona O'Neill (Eugene's daughter). They had eight children, the last born when Charlie was 73. At that point, Charles, Jr. had only five years to live, dying in 1968 of a pulmonary embolism. His father lived till 1977, although I have no memories of him being alive in my lifetime.
I can't tell you anything more about the Raus, with their initials, except that they were a married couple with five children, and they'd been reporting on "the Hollywood scene" for more than 20 years at that point.
Charles Chaplin, Jr., with N. and M. Rau
My Father, Charlie Chaplin
Original and purchase price unknown
Worn hardcover
B-
This biography tries to put a positive spin on the elder Chaplin's controversial life, but there's a thread of Charles, Jr.'s unhappiness throughout, from nightmares as a child to alcoholism as an adult, and much of that unhappiness seems to come from his father's distancing himself, sometimes literally, as with months-long travel. Chaplin clearly was funny and talented, but his own unhappy childhood of poverty and neglect left its scars and seems to have made it hard for him to be close to his wives, children, or anyone else.
The book doesn't spend much time on the 1950s, although it does address the comic's self-exile during and after McCarthyism. Even the author's year-long marriage and resulting child don't get much attention. The elder Chaplin was married for a much longer period, the fourth time's the charm, to Oona O'Neill (Eugene's daughter). They had eight children, the last born when Charlie was 73. At that point, Charles, Jr. had only five years to live, dying in 1968 of a pulmonary embolism. His father lived till 1977, although I have no memories of him being alive in my lifetime.
I can't tell you anything more about the Raus, with their initials, except that they were a married couple with five children, and they'd been reporting on "the Hollywood scene" for more than 20 years at that point.
The Classics Reclassified
1960, undated fourth printing from McGraw-Hill
Richard Armour
"Nostalgically Illustrated by Campbell Grant"
The Classics Reclassified
Original price unknown, purchase price $5.00
Good condition hardcover with worn dustjacket
B-
I've been doing this project for awhile (although in some ways I'm just getting started), if I'm at a book that mocks four of the "classics" I've reread, plus a couple others I've read but don't own, The Iliad and The Scarlet Letter. The seventh work is Moby Dick, which I read some of, but I took Armour literally when he said you could skip almost one hundred chapters without losing anything.
Of the four classics I've reviewed, I seem to enjoy Armour's takes in proportion to how much I enjoyed the play/novel. So Julius Caesar I'm meh about, Ivanhoe has its moments, and Silas Marner and David Copperfield hold up, as do his snarks about them. He's a very gentle snarker, although he does point out contrivances and cliches, particularly in Dickens. Each section has a short biography, a pun-filled summary, and a quiz, the last of these being my favorite.
I remember reading Armour at a pretty young age, like 12, and I think I read this book before I read some of the works described in it, and even on rereadings I'm influenced by Armour, as with the quiz question, "Honestly, how could Ivanhoe have picked that dumb blonde, Rowena, over Rebecca?" I just wish the book was as funny as I remember.
The illustrations by Grant are suited to the text, although almost every nose is bizarre in some way. The best pictures are probably of Hester Prynne looking so darned proud of her "A," although I might be influenced by the movie Easy A, which does attempt to answer Armour's questions on whether Hester had one special "A" blouse, several with the letter, or a detachable "A" that could be used on any blouse. "This is the sort of problem that makes literary scholarship so fascinating."
And welcome to the 1960s. We'll be here a much longer while.
Richard Armour
"Nostalgically Illustrated by Campbell Grant"
The Classics Reclassified
Original price unknown, purchase price $5.00
Good condition hardcover with worn dustjacket
B-
I've been doing this project for awhile (although in some ways I'm just getting started), if I'm at a book that mocks four of the "classics" I've reread, plus a couple others I've read but don't own, The Iliad and The Scarlet Letter. The seventh work is Moby Dick, which I read some of, but I took Armour literally when he said you could skip almost one hundred chapters without losing anything.
Of the four classics I've reviewed, I seem to enjoy Armour's takes in proportion to how much I enjoyed the play/novel. So Julius Caesar I'm meh about, Ivanhoe has its moments, and Silas Marner and David Copperfield hold up, as do his snarks about them. He's a very gentle snarker, although he does point out contrivances and cliches, particularly in Dickens. Each section has a short biography, a pun-filled summary, and a quiz, the last of these being my favorite.
I remember reading Armour at a pretty young age, like 12, and I think I read this book before I read some of the works described in it, and even on rereadings I'm influenced by Armour, as with the quiz question, "Honestly, how could Ivanhoe have picked that dumb blonde, Rowena, over Rebecca?" I just wish the book was as funny as I remember.
The illustrations by Grant are suited to the text, although almost every nose is bizarre in some way. The best pictures are probably of Hester Prynne looking so darned proud of her "A," although I might be influenced by the movie Easy A, which does attempt to answer Armour's questions on whether Hester had one special "A" blouse, several with the letter, or a detachable "A" that could be used on any blouse. "This is the sort of problem that makes literary scholarship so fascinating."
And welcome to the 1960s. We'll be here a much longer while.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
The Years with Ross
1959, possibly first edition from Little, Brown and Company
Written and illustrated by James Thurber
The Years with Ross
Original and purchase price unknown
Worn hardcover
B+
This is my last book from the 1950s and easily the funniest. Harold Ross, publisher of The New Yorker, was unique, an unsophisticated guy who published a sophisticated magazine. He was full of contradictions like that, and Thurber clearly delighted in him, particularly his way of expressing himself. (One quote is something like, "I don't want you to think I'm not inarticulate.")
I wondered on my Is Sex Necessary post if Thurber had co-written or just illustrated that book, and he does talk about it here. He wrote it with White, who thought that Thurber should also illustrate it, although Thurber was not yet known as an illustrator. Ross had some funny reactions to the publication, partly because he never knew what to make of Thurber's art.
The illustrations in this book are less tied to the text, although I presume they're all from The New Yorker. Thurber talks about a few of them, including Ross's criticisms (of a first wife on top of a bookcase, who's not "stuffed, or just dead," he understandably asked, "Then, goddam it, what's she doing naked in the house of her former husband and his second wife?"), but mostly they're there for decoration.
Ross died in 1951, Thurber in '61.
Written and illustrated by James Thurber
The Years with Ross
Original and purchase price unknown
Worn hardcover
B+
This is my last book from the 1950s and easily the funniest. Harold Ross, publisher of The New Yorker, was unique, an unsophisticated guy who published a sophisticated magazine. He was full of contradictions like that, and Thurber clearly delighted in him, particularly his way of expressing himself. (One quote is something like, "I don't want you to think I'm not inarticulate.")
I wondered on my Is Sex Necessary post if Thurber had co-written or just illustrated that book, and he does talk about it here. He wrote it with White, who thought that Thurber should also illustrate it, although Thurber was not yet known as an illustrator. Ross had some funny reactions to the publication, partly because he never knew what to make of Thurber's art.
The illustrations in this book are less tied to the text, although I presume they're all from The New Yorker. Thurber talks about a few of them, including Ross's criticisms (of a first wife on top of a bookcase, who's not "stuffed, or just dead," he understandably asked, "Then, goddam it, what's she doing naked in the house of her former husband and his second wife?"), but mostly they're there for decoration.
Ross died in 1951, Thurber in '61.
Ingrid Bergman: An Intimate Portrait
1959, 1960 Popular Library edition
Joseph Henry Steele
Ingrid Bergman: An Intimate Portrait
Original price 50 cents, purchase price unknown
Very worn paperback with split spine
B-
Bergman's confidante Steele tells of her life of onscreen and off dramas, with almost a third of the book relating that tumultuous year 1949, when Bergman met, fell in love with, ran off with, got pregnant by, and made a movie with director Roberto Rossellini, although they were both married with children. This was probably the biggest post-World-War-II Hollywood scandal.
Both Bergman's first husband, Dr. Lindström, and Rossellini come off as controlling jerks, although, true to ethnic stereotypes, Swedish Lindström sounds aloof and unemotional, while Italian Rossellini was more of a drama king. In less than a decade, the Rossellini marriage was also falling apart, and since it was of dubious legality, it, too was dissolved. Bergman married another Swede, Lars Schmidt, who sounds more even-tempered. But according to Wikipedia, they divorced as well, in 1975. Bergman died of cancer in 1982 at age 67.
She had long since made a comeback. While at first she was threatened with having her films banned, she continued to work, mostly in flops by Rossellini, and then more successfully with others. She won her second Oscar for Anastastia (1956), and was warmly welcomed when she was a presenter at the 1959 Oscars.
As for this book, it's pretty good, although it has two disadvantages, "intimate portrait" or not. One, Steele couldn't be there for most of the important moments, and there were times (like when she was secretly pregnant) that Bergman actually lied to him. This gives it a second-hand feel, and I wonder if her Ingrid Bergman: My Story (1980) might be a better book for being more direct. The other flaw is that Steele's clear dislike of Bergman's first two husbands may overemphasize their jerkiness, and they might not have been quite as bad as they seem. (Schmidt comes off better.)
I've seen two or three Bergman movies-- Casablanca, Gaslight (which earned her first Oscar), and I can't remember about Notorious-- and while Bergman was certainly a good actress (not amazing) and pretty (not beautiful), she seems to have been more likable offscreen. With the quotes from her conversations and letters, her wit, bravery, and modesty shine through. I'll try to read her autobiography someday, or at least see Murder on the Orient Express, for which she won her third Oscar.
Joseph Henry Steele
Ingrid Bergman: An Intimate Portrait
Original price 50 cents, purchase price unknown
Very worn paperback with split spine
B-
Bergman's confidante Steele tells of her life of onscreen and off dramas, with almost a third of the book relating that tumultuous year 1949, when Bergman met, fell in love with, ran off with, got pregnant by, and made a movie with director Roberto Rossellini, although they were both married with children. This was probably the biggest post-World-War-II Hollywood scandal.
Both Bergman's first husband, Dr. Lindström, and Rossellini come off as controlling jerks, although, true to ethnic stereotypes, Swedish Lindström sounds aloof and unemotional, while Italian Rossellini was more of a drama king. In less than a decade, the Rossellini marriage was also falling apart, and since it was of dubious legality, it, too was dissolved. Bergman married another Swede, Lars Schmidt, who sounds more even-tempered. But according to Wikipedia, they divorced as well, in 1975. Bergman died of cancer in 1982 at age 67.
She had long since made a comeback. While at first she was threatened with having her films banned, she continued to work, mostly in flops by Rossellini, and then more successfully with others. She won her second Oscar for Anastastia (1956), and was warmly welcomed when she was a presenter at the 1959 Oscars.
As for this book, it's pretty good, although it has two disadvantages, "intimate portrait" or not. One, Steele couldn't be there for most of the important moments, and there were times (like when she was secretly pregnant) that Bergman actually lied to him. This gives it a second-hand feel, and I wonder if her Ingrid Bergman: My Story (1980) might be a better book for being more direct. The other flaw is that Steele's clear dislike of Bergman's first two husbands may overemphasize their jerkiness, and they might not have been quite as bad as they seem. (Schmidt comes off better.)
I've seen two or three Bergman movies-- Casablanca, Gaslight (which earned her first Oscar), and I can't remember about Notorious-- and while Bergman was certainly a good actress (not amazing) and pretty (not beautiful), she seems to have been more likable offscreen. With the quotes from her conversations and letters, her wit, bravery, and modesty shine through. I'll try to read her autobiography someday, or at least see Murder on the Orient Express, for which she won her third Oscar.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Date with a Career
1958, possibly original edition, from Funk & Wagnalls
Jan Nickerson
Date with a Career
Original and purchase price unknown
Fairly good condition hardcover
B-
Although this is a less realistic and more stiltedly written book than Something Foolish, Something Gay, I prefer it. For one thing, the central romantic relationship is much healthier. It is odd that one date means "going steady" in Fairmeadows, but Saphronia's boyfriend Jock is fun and supportive, without being a bully like Sammy. He's proud of her talent for clothes design and encourages her in her "date with a career." She also has some supportive female friends, one of whom wisely advises her to go by her middle name of Lee. This being a high school story, Lee of course has a spoiled, rich rival, although without the complexity or Machiavellianism of Mignon LaSalle in the Marjorie Dean books.
Unlike Marjorie Dean, I'm putting this in the YA category, because it does have a bit of kissing (much less than Something Foolish), as well as Lee being offered a cigarette and alcohol. It's still a pretty wholesome book, with even the hot-rodder turning out to be a nice guy.
Jan Nickerson
Date with a Career
Original and purchase price unknown
Fairly good condition hardcover
B-
Although this is a less realistic and more stiltedly written book than Something Foolish, Something Gay, I prefer it. For one thing, the central romantic relationship is much healthier. It is odd that one date means "going steady" in Fairmeadows, but Saphronia's boyfriend Jock is fun and supportive, without being a bully like Sammy. He's proud of her talent for clothes design and encourages her in her "date with a career." She also has some supportive female friends, one of whom wisely advises her to go by her middle name of Lee. This being a high school story, Lee of course has a spoiled, rich rival, although without the complexity or Machiavellianism of Mignon LaSalle in the Marjorie Dean books.
Unlike Marjorie Dean, I'm putting this in the YA category, because it does have a bit of kissing (much less than Something Foolish), as well as Lee being offered a cigarette and alcohol. It's still a pretty wholesome book, with even the hot-rodder turning out to be a nice guy.
A Ripple from the Storm
1958, 1991 Plume edition
Doris Lessing
A Ripple from the Storm
Bought new for $8.95
Worn paperback
B-
An improvement over the second book in the series, this covers several months in 1943 to 1944, as Martha gets involved (politically and emotionally) with the local Communists. Her first husband, after some more guilt-tripping, divorces her, so of course she gets married foolishly a second time. Her second husband is the leader of the local Communists and, as with Douglas, she doesn't love him or particularly like him. She does say at one point that she needs to stop drifting, but of course doesn't.
I was glad to see more of Jasmine, who's humble and yet so perfect that when the comrades have to criticize each other at a meeting, all they can come up with is that she's a workaholic. I suppose Jasmine would be annoying in another novel, but she's such a pleasant contrast to Martha that I was sorry when she left town. But at least she left town, instead of endlessly talking about it, like most of the cast.
There's also more of Maisie, Martha's childhood "friend." They weren't close as girls, but they become better friends as women. I was confused by Maisie's pregnancy because I could've sworn she was also pregnant in the last book, yet no mention is made of that. Did that baby die? I ask because a big deal is made out of Maisie being married and widowed twice yet having nothing to show for it. This time, she's pregnant by a rich idiot, with the sort of now ironic name of Binkie (as in pacifier). She doesn't want to marry him because of his interfering parents, so she marries someone else but unfortunately she and her third husband fall in love.
That's how it goes in a Lessing novel. Oh, and there's much more about politics than in the first two novels, although it's mostly about the in-fighting, and about their stupidity over Stalin. (Lessing gives "immature" Solly Cohen, a Trotskyite, the most astute observations about Russia.)
Doris Lessing
A Ripple from the Storm
Bought new for $8.95
Worn paperback
B-
An improvement over the second book in the series, this covers several months in 1943 to 1944, as Martha gets involved (politically and emotionally) with the local Communists. Her first husband, after some more guilt-tripping, divorces her, so of course she gets married foolishly a second time. Her second husband is the leader of the local Communists and, as with Douglas, she doesn't love him or particularly like him. She does say at one point that she needs to stop drifting, but of course doesn't.
I was glad to see more of Jasmine, who's humble and yet so perfect that when the comrades have to criticize each other at a meeting, all they can come up with is that she's a workaholic. I suppose Jasmine would be annoying in another novel, but she's such a pleasant contrast to Martha that I was sorry when she left town. But at least she left town, instead of endlessly talking about it, like most of the cast.
There's also more of Maisie, Martha's childhood "friend." They weren't close as girls, but they become better friends as women. I was confused by Maisie's pregnancy because I could've sworn she was also pregnant in the last book, yet no mention is made of that. Did that baby die? I ask because a big deal is made out of Maisie being married and widowed twice yet having nothing to show for it. This time, she's pregnant by a rich idiot, with the sort of now ironic name of Binkie (as in pacifier). She doesn't want to marry him because of his interfering parents, so she marries someone else but unfortunately she and her third husband fall in love.
That's how it goes in a Lessing novel. Oh, and there's much more about politics than in the first two novels, although it's mostly about the in-fighting, and about their stupidity over Stalin. (Lessing gives "immature" Solly Cohen, a Trotskyite, the most astute observations about Russia.)
G. O. Fizzickle Pogo
1958
Written and illustrated by Walt Kelly
G. O. Fizzickle Pogo
B
The title refers to the 18-month-long International Geophysical Year of 1957-58. Howland Owl, the scientist who wears a wizard's cap, of course happily embraces the concept and plans to send some of the swamp critters into space. He even plans a honeymoon on the moon for Beauregard Bugleboy. You see, there's a flea of indeterminate gender who wants to marry the hound. No one objects, even though the flea is usually referred to as "he," except for Beauregard, who understandably doesn't want to marry a flea. And then earlier there's a plot where Howland has Albert dress up as Lulu Arfin' Nanny, Beauregard's silent-screen star crush, so that Albert can seduce Beauregard and push him off the moon (when it's in its crescent stage and therefore smaller), so that Howland can conquer the moon. There's a strip where Albert as Lulu does the Charleston and then kisses Howland, crying "Ta-boo!" I am not making this up. This ran in daily newspaper strips.
There's less of politics, although the ways that various parties fight over the moon and over the straight-down canal that will eliminate the need for the Suez certainly have parallels to the actions of various countries of the time and later.
Oh, and we get what might be the first version of Beauregard's answer to "Deck Us All (with Boston Charlie)," his stirring rendition of "Bark Us All Bow-Wows of Folly."
Written and illustrated by Walt Kelly
G. O. Fizzickle Pogo
B
The title refers to the 18-month-long International Geophysical Year of 1957-58. Howland Owl, the scientist who wears a wizard's cap, of course happily embraces the concept and plans to send some of the swamp critters into space. He even plans a honeymoon on the moon for Beauregard Bugleboy. You see, there's a flea of indeterminate gender who wants to marry the hound. No one objects, even though the flea is usually referred to as "he," except for Beauregard, who understandably doesn't want to marry a flea. And then earlier there's a plot where Howland has Albert dress up as Lulu Arfin' Nanny, Beauregard's silent-screen star crush, so that Albert can seduce Beauregard and push him off the moon (when it's in its crescent stage and therefore smaller), so that Howland can conquer the moon. There's a strip where Albert as Lulu does the Charleston and then kisses Howland, crying "Ta-boo!" I am not making this up. This ran in daily newspaper strips.
There's less of politics, although the ways that various parties fight over the moon and over the straight-down canal that will eliminate the need for the Suez certainly have parallels to the actions of various countries of the time and later.
Oh, and we get what might be the first version of Beauregard's answer to "Deck Us All (with Boston Charlie)," his stirring rendition of "Bark Us All Bow-Wows of Folly."
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Rocks on the Roof
1958, possibly first edition, from G. P. Putnam's Sons
Jim Backus
Rocks on the Roof
Original price unknown, purchase price $2.75
Worn hardcover
B-
Backus writes about radio, TV, and the movies, as well as his adored wife Henny and various homes they've had, including the place where rocks kept mysteriously appearing on their roof. Since I grew up with Mr. Magoo and Gilligan's Island, I wanted to like this book more on the reread than I did, but a lot of his humor falls flat. The funniest part is actually the series of quotes for Hubert Updyke III, his popular radio character, the richest man in the world, so sort of a proto-Thurston-Howell. The tribute to James Dean, whose father Backus played in Rebel without a Cause (which I still need to see someday), is probably the most interesting aspect of the book to a modern reader.
Jim Backus
Rocks on the Roof
Original price unknown, purchase price $2.75
Worn hardcover
B-
Backus writes about radio, TV, and the movies, as well as his adored wife Henny and various homes they've had, including the place where rocks kept mysteriously appearing on their roof. Since I grew up with Mr. Magoo and Gilligan's Island, I wanted to like this book more on the reread than I did, but a lot of his humor falls flat. The funniest part is actually the series of quotes for Hubert Updyke III, his popular radio character, the richest man in the world, so sort of a proto-Thurston-Howell. The tribute to James Dean, whose father Backus played in Rebel without a Cause (which I still need to see someday), is probably the most interesting aspect of the book to a modern reader.
Please Don't Eat the Daisies
1957, Doubleday, possibly first edition
Jean Kerr
Illustrated by Carl Rose
Please Don't Eat the Daisies
Original and purchase price unknown
Worn hardcover with very worn dustjacket
B
Kerr's sarcastic honesty makes this book feel fresher than most of the other books of its time. She admits that her four young sons deliberately drive her crazy, and she thinks dieting and getting up before noon are even crazier. She married theater critic Walter Kerr and herself wrote some plays, including Mary, Mary, which used to be the longest-running non-musical on Broadway. They had two more children, including finally a girl, and I first heard of Jean Kerr on the back flap of Freaky Friday, where she said something like "If I'm in any way typical (I am in every way typical), mothers will love this book, too."
She was not typical in the sense that she was a "normal" 1950s wife and mother, but she seems to have been relatable, even now, even for someone who's only been married about 10% of my life and never had kids. (But then, I was reading Erma Bombeck when I was ten.) Besides her observations on marriage and motherhood, Kerr also satirizes Mickey Spillane and the "depressed French" genre, the latter piece called "Toujours Tristesse."
This book, which like Bombeck is just a collection of humorous essays, became a movie with Doris Day and David Niven in 1960, and a TV show from 1965 to 1967. I watched the latter as a child but all I can remember is the theme music was catchy and there were twins. The movie is more interesting than funny. Instead, read the book if you can find it. Plus, the illustrations are funny in their literalness.
Jean Kerr
Illustrated by Carl Rose
Please Don't Eat the Daisies
Original and purchase price unknown
Worn hardcover with very worn dustjacket
B
Kerr's sarcastic honesty makes this book feel fresher than most of the other books of its time. She admits that her four young sons deliberately drive her crazy, and she thinks dieting and getting up before noon are even crazier. She married theater critic Walter Kerr and herself wrote some plays, including Mary, Mary, which used to be the longest-running non-musical on Broadway. They had two more children, including finally a girl, and I first heard of Jean Kerr on the back flap of Freaky Friday, where she said something like "If I'm in any way typical (I am in every way typical), mothers will love this book, too."
She was not typical in the sense that she was a "normal" 1950s wife and mother, but she seems to have been relatable, even now, even for someone who's only been married about 10% of my life and never had kids. (But then, I was reading Erma Bombeck when I was ten.) Besides her observations on marriage and motherhood, Kerr also satirizes Mickey Spillane and the "depressed French" genre, the latter piece called "Toujours Tristesse."
This book, which like Bombeck is just a collection of humorous essays, became a movie with Doris Day and David Niven in 1960, and a TV show from 1965 to 1967. I watched the latter as a child but all I can remember is the theme music was catchy and there were twins. The movie is more interesting than funny. Instead, read the book if you can find it. Plus, the illustrations are funny in their literalness.
Positively Pogo
1957, 1979 Simon and Schuster edition with G. O. Fizzickle Pogo, under the joint title Pogo's Will Be That Was
Written and illustrated by Walt Kelly
Positively Pogo
Bought newish for $5.95
Very worn paperback with a couple pages coming loose
B
This includes the 1956 election, with advice from a pig who resembles Khrushchev; satire of TV, especially comedy; and, best of all, Pogo and the Mouse (I forget his name, but the sophisticated one with a bowler and cane) being blasted in a trash-can rocket ship and landing in Australia, where Pogo represents Mars in the Olympics. Some of the pithier quotes involve friendship and its opposite, such as Albert's observation that it's getting so a man can't even count on his enemies. Oh, and Churchy's routine with Howland Owl about how Churchy is going to make money is amusing in a "Who's on First" sort of way.
Written and illustrated by Walt Kelly
Positively Pogo
Bought newish for $5.95
Very worn paperback with a couple pages coming loose
B
This includes the 1956 election, with advice from a pig who resembles Khrushchev; satire of TV, especially comedy; and, best of all, Pogo and the Mouse (I forget his name, but the sophisticated one with a bowler and cane) being blasted in a trash-can rocket ship and landing in Australia, where Pogo represents Mars in the Olympics. Some of the pithier quotes involve friendship and its opposite, such as Albert's observation that it's getting so a man can't even count on his enemies. Oh, and Churchy's routine with Howland Owl about how Churchy is going to make money is amusing in a "Who's on First" sort of way.
Friday, June 15, 2012
The Butler Did It
1956
P. G. Wodehouse
The Butler Did It
C+
This is much better than the first three stories from the collection in that it has a decent plot, and plot twist, about a marriage tontine (bet). There are again typos, and at least the third character named Bill in the volume, but I wasn't as restless as before. Hardly classic Wodehouse, but on a level with If I Were You. The volume averages out to a C, so I won't be keeping it. Oh, and the title of this story could apply to any of the five stories, since they all contain butlers, although Avenel seems to think Jeeves is a butler, rather than a valet.
P. G. Wodehouse
The Butler Did It
C+
This is much better than the first three stories from the collection in that it has a decent plot, and plot twist, about a marriage tontine (bet). There are again typos, and at least the third character named Bill in the volume, but I wasn't as restless as before. Hardly classic Wodehouse, but on a level with If I Were You. The volume averages out to a C, so I won't be keeping it. Oh, and the title of this story could apply to any of the five stories, since they all contain butlers, although Avenel seems to think Jeeves is a butler, rather than a valet.
The Bedside MAD
1956, 1964 Signet edition
The Bedside MAD
Original price 50 cents, purchase price 25 cents
Worn and waterlogged paperback
C
A disappointing successor to The MAD Reader, this contains mostly unfunny and/or forgettable stories. Only "Restaurant!", with the detailed Bill Elder art and a description of a family dining at a "chow-mein restaurant (popular in big cities)," and "Robinson Crusoe," again with Bill Elder craziness and better than average writing from Kurtzman (including a surprisingly enviromentalist message), feel fresh and original. There's nothing terrible, except for some of the Jack Davis illustrations, but it's hard to believe that this is a "Best of."
The Bedside MAD
Original price 50 cents, purchase price 25 cents
Worn and waterlogged paperback
C
A disappointing successor to The MAD Reader, this contains mostly unfunny and/or forgettable stories. Only "Restaurant!", with the detailed Bill Elder art and a description of a family dining at a "chow-mein restaurant (popular in big cities)," and "Robinson Crusoe," again with Bill Elder craziness and better than average writing from Kurtzman (including a surprisingly enviromentalist message), feel fresh and original. There's nothing terrible, except for some of the Jack Davis illustrations, but it's hard to believe that this is a "Best of."
Bertie Wooster Sees It Through
1955
P. G. Wodehouse
Bertie Wooster Sees It Through
B-
It's so nice to have Bertie back as narrator that I don't mind that this is one of the weaker stories in the series. It refers to events in Joy in the Morning (1946), which I'm not sure if I've read, but that book has Aunt Agatha becoming the stepmother of Lady Florence Craye, Bertie's former fiancée who's now betrothed to "Stilton" Cheesewright. Both Florence and Stilton appear in this novel, as do Aunt Dahlia (who's only been publishing Milady's Boudoir for three years somehow), and Roderick Spode, now Lord Sidcup. So we're further along in the Wooster chronology, but I'm not sure how much, beyond it's July and Humphrey Bogart is a popular actor. (1941 maybe?)
Yes, there are typos, including a whole line of narration replaced by a line that also appears later. The original title of the story was Jeeves and the Feudal Spirit, which fits the story better, but perhaps the publishers of this collection didn't want "Jeeves" in two titles of the five. For those keep tracking, this is at least the second time that Bertie has grown facial hair that Jeeves has disapproved of. There's a reference to David Niven's mustache, which almost counts as in-joke, since Niven played Bertie back in 1936.
Wodehouse has a bit of fun with his own age in his musings on book dedications, telling his friend, "I have rather gone off dedications these last forty years or so," and speaking of how it was "back at the turn of the century." By this point, Wodehouse was about 74, and he had indeed been publishing since 1902. He was far from done of course, and there's still one more story in this collection....
P. G. Wodehouse
Bertie Wooster Sees It Through
B-
It's so nice to have Bertie back as narrator that I don't mind that this is one of the weaker stories in the series. It refers to events in Joy in the Morning (1946), which I'm not sure if I've read, but that book has Aunt Agatha becoming the stepmother of Lady Florence Craye, Bertie's former fiancée who's now betrothed to "Stilton" Cheesewright. Both Florence and Stilton appear in this novel, as do Aunt Dahlia (who's only been publishing Milady's Boudoir for three years somehow), and Roderick Spode, now Lord Sidcup. So we're further along in the Wooster chronology, but I'm not sure how much, beyond it's July and Humphrey Bogart is a popular actor. (1941 maybe?)
Yes, there are typos, including a whole line of narration replaced by a line that also appears later. The original title of the story was Jeeves and the Feudal Spirit, which fits the story better, but perhaps the publishers of this collection didn't want "Jeeves" in two titles of the five. For those keep tracking, this is at least the second time that Bertie has grown facial hair that Jeeves has disapproved of. There's a reference to David Niven's mustache, which almost counts as in-joke, since Niven played Bertie back in 1936.
Wodehouse has a bit of fun with his own age in his musings on book dedications, telling his friend, "I have rather gone off dedications these last forty years or so," and speaking of how it was "back at the turn of the century." By this point, Wodehouse was about 74, and he had indeed been publishing since 1902. He was far from done of course, and there's still one more story in this collection....
Something Foolish, Something Gay
1955, 1968 Berkley [sic] Highland edition
Glen and Jane Sire
Something Foolish, Something Gay
Original price 50 cents, purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
C+
It's impossible to talk about this book without talking about how dated it is. Let's start with the title. Now, in the mid-1950s, the "homosexual" meaning of "gay" had been around for at least a couple decades, although it had barely hit the mainstream at the time this edition was released. (Stonewall was the following year.) By the time I first read this YA novel in junior high, I knew of the "new" and "old" meanings of "gay." But it wasn't for another decade or two that "gay" came to mean, well, "foolish." The title comes from 16-year-old Laurie's suggestion of a frivolous gift, which causes her prospective boyfriend Sammy to buy her a puppy.
There are some homosexuals mentioned in the novel, although the Sires would presumably have been shocked when dreamy Rock Hudson and abstract (marvelous) Tab Hunter came out. (After all, Rock was still closeted when I was Laurie's age, and Tab didn't come out till 2006, although there had been rumors about both for a long time.) The book is full of then-topical references, and Laurie compares two suave, handsome college men to those actors.
I don't remember what edition the junior high library had, but I think I knew it was set in the 1950s, if for no other reason than that Laurie keeps saying "dippy" for "awesome," while I would've guessed it had something to do with silliness or ice cream. This edition screams 1968. Here's the front cover:
The back cover tells us that Sammy is "a crew-cut type." The novel also tells us that Sammy's blond, but apparently the illustrator of the front cover didn't get the word. He also has decided to give Laurie the Twiggy look, while the "cherry-colored bomb" of the book looks psychedelic enough to be John Lennon's car.
Anyway, the story is actually a series of anecdotes, all of them with Laurie thinking she knows best and being proven wrong. She's the narrator and has a breezy, slangy style. For the most part I like the book, even if now I'm more likely to relate to her wise if vague mother. I can't disagree much with New York Herald Tribune, who said, "Laurie and Sammy are the pleasantest pair of teens to pop from between the covers of a book in some time," although they don't have much competition in my book collection so far.
And then we get to the last chapter, where Sammy tricks and bullies Laurie into entering a drama competition, which she wins. And he literally drags her onto stage when she gets stage fright. The last paragraph has him "grab her elbow in a viselike grip" and "tug her" back onstage to receive her scholarship. "Suddenly, then, I knew what I wanted, all the rest of my life-- that grip, on my elbow. I don't care, I thought, wincing happily, if it breaks every bone in my body!" Oh, those happy-go-lucky teens!
Anyway, I'd otherwise give the book a B-. Read it at your own risk and for the 1950sness, good and bad.
Glen and Jane Sire
Something Foolish, Something Gay
Original price 50 cents, purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
C+
It's impossible to talk about this book without talking about how dated it is. Let's start with the title. Now, in the mid-1950s, the "homosexual" meaning of "gay" had been around for at least a couple decades, although it had barely hit the mainstream at the time this edition was released. (Stonewall was the following year.) By the time I first read this YA novel in junior high, I knew of the "new" and "old" meanings of "gay." But it wasn't for another decade or two that "gay" came to mean, well, "foolish." The title comes from 16-year-old Laurie's suggestion of a frivolous gift, which causes her prospective boyfriend Sammy to buy her a puppy.
There are some homosexuals mentioned in the novel, although the Sires would presumably have been shocked when dreamy Rock Hudson and abstract (marvelous) Tab Hunter came out. (After all, Rock was still closeted when I was Laurie's age, and Tab didn't come out till 2006, although there had been rumors about both for a long time.) The book is full of then-topical references, and Laurie compares two suave, handsome college men to those actors.
I don't remember what edition the junior high library had, but I think I knew it was set in the 1950s, if for no other reason than that Laurie keeps saying "dippy" for "awesome," while I would've guessed it had something to do with silliness or ice cream. This edition screams 1968. Here's the front cover:
 |
| It's the 1950s, honest! |
The back cover tells us that Sammy is "a crew-cut type." The novel also tells us that Sammy's blond, but apparently the illustrator of the front cover didn't get the word. He also has decided to give Laurie the Twiggy look, while the "cherry-colored bomb" of the book looks psychedelic enough to be John Lennon's car.
Anyway, the story is actually a series of anecdotes, all of them with Laurie thinking she knows best and being proven wrong. She's the narrator and has a breezy, slangy style. For the most part I like the book, even if now I'm more likely to relate to her wise if vague mother. I can't disagree much with New York Herald Tribune, who said, "Laurie and Sammy are the pleasantest pair of teens to pop from between the covers of a book in some time," although they don't have much competition in my book collection so far.
And then we get to the last chapter, where Sammy tricks and bullies Laurie into entering a drama competition, which she wins. And he literally drags her onto stage when she gets stage fright. The last paragraph has him "grab her elbow in a viselike grip" and "tug her" back onstage to receive her scholarship. "Suddenly, then, I knew what I wanted, all the rest of my life-- that grip, on my elbow. I don't care, I thought, wincing happily, if it breaks every bone in my body!" Oh, those happy-go-lucky teens!
Anyway, I'd otherwise give the book a B-. Read it at your own risk and for the 1950sness, good and bad.
The Borrowers Afield
1955, 1983 Odyssey Classic edition
Mary Norton
Illustrated by Beth and Joe Krush
The Borrowers Afield
Original price $3.95, purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
B-
I read the Borrowers series, as well as The Littles, as a child, but I checked the books out from the library. I bought this copy in the past decade and I don't remember reading it more than once before this. So, unlike Charlotte's Web for example, it's not a big part of my life. Consuming the second book in the series, I could still follow well enough, although the frame device, of a story told to someone who was told by Arrietty (the girl Borrower), is clumsy and unnecessary. The writing and illustrations are pretty good, roughly halfway between those of Hidden Valley of Oz and The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I like the descriptions of nature and the ways that the personalities of the Clock family (Arrietty and her parents, Pod and Homily) play off each other.
There have been several screen adaptations of The Borrowers, including a 2011 version with Stephen Fry, but I've never seen any.
Mary Norton
Illustrated by Beth and Joe Krush
The Borrowers Afield
Original price $3.95, purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
B-
I read the Borrowers series, as well as The Littles, as a child, but I checked the books out from the library. I bought this copy in the past decade and I don't remember reading it more than once before this. So, unlike Charlotte's Web for example, it's not a big part of my life. Consuming the second book in the series, I could still follow well enough, although the frame device, of a story told to someone who was told by Arrietty (the girl Borrower), is clumsy and unnecessary. The writing and illustrations are pretty good, roughly halfway between those of Hidden Valley of Oz and The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I like the descriptions of nature and the ways that the personalities of the Clock family (Arrietty and her parents, Pod and Homily) play off each other.
There have been several screen adaptations of The Borrowers, including a 2011 version with Stephen Fry, but I've never seen any.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Auntie Mame: An Irreverent Escapade
1955, undated but probably 1974 (see below) Popular Library edition
Patrick Dennis
Auntie Mame: An Irreverent Escapade
Original price 95 cents, purchase price $1.25
Paperback with every page detached from the binding
B
As you can guess from the condition, I've read this book a lot, although of course I bought it used. The cover says it inspired "the new Warner Bros.' [sic] picture Mame-- starring Lucille Ball," which came out in 1974. Since Lucy was already 18 and an actress at the time the beginning of the book is set (1929), it's hard to buy her as 35ish Mame, although her offkey singing does add to the so-bad-it's-goodness. Rosalind Russell did a much better job onstage and screen in the late 1950s, although she was about 50 at the time, and she took the title of her autobiography, Life Is a Banquet, from the script. (It doesn't appear in the novel. I'll get to Russell's book in the late 1970s.)
Although Dennis named the nephew narrator after himself, "Patrick Dennis" was actually one of the two pseudonyms of Edward Everett Tanner III, who'd earlier published two novels as "Virginia Rowans." This book was his breakthrough, an immediate success that appealed to a wide range of people. Even now, it's a fun, frothy read, with a camp/queer sensibility. (Tanner was bisexual.) Not that the book is pro-gay, with "dike" [sic] as a Mamian slur, but it's not anti-gay either, since Mame has many male homosexual friends.
The book is full of contradictions like that. Is Mame a snob, or is she just snobbish towards snobs? Is she open-minded and tolerant, or does she raise a boy who can call their beloved servant a "Jap" without irony? (Both as it turns out.) She is "color blind" about race, and yet she happily buys into a plantation fantasy when she gets married to a rich Southerner.
The main thing Mame is is an Auntie Mame type, that is she's eccentric, flamboyant, self-centered, and yet good-hearted. Patrick is, more than Vera Charles, "her best friend and severest critic." He tells anecdotes of his life with her, each connected by a contrast with an "Unforgettable Character" from Reader's Digest. (This linkage was at the suggestion of Tanner's editor, if I remember correctly.) Mame's outrageousness is meant to conflict with the stodginess around her, but by 1955 her nephew has grown up to be a perfectly normal upper-middle-class man. The book ends with her about to take his 7-year-old son Mike to India.
The book is dated in that outrageousness isn't the same as it was back then. One still revolutionary aspect though is that Mame is quite sexual, well into her 40s. Yes, she's mocked for dating a college student half her age when she's 45, but there's no question that he and many other men find her desirable, as she finds them. And she's never punished for this, although she has setbacks of course. Even pathetic Agnes Gooch, who's both homely spinster (at 19!) and fallen woman (at 21), gets a happy ending. After reading so many books where sexual women (in or out of marriage) suffer for it, Auntie Mame is a breath of fresh air.
Plus, I think the name "Lindsay Woolsey" for a publisher is inspired.
Patrick Dennis
Auntie Mame: An Irreverent Escapade
Original price 95 cents, purchase price $1.25
Paperback with every page detached from the binding
B
As you can guess from the condition, I've read this book a lot, although of course I bought it used. The cover says it inspired "the new Warner Bros.' [sic] picture Mame-- starring Lucille Ball," which came out in 1974. Since Lucy was already 18 and an actress at the time the beginning of the book is set (1929), it's hard to buy her as 35ish Mame, although her offkey singing does add to the so-bad-it's-goodness. Rosalind Russell did a much better job onstage and screen in the late 1950s, although she was about 50 at the time, and she took the title of her autobiography, Life Is a Banquet, from the script. (It doesn't appear in the novel. I'll get to Russell's book in the late 1970s.)
Although Dennis named the nephew narrator after himself, "Patrick Dennis" was actually one of the two pseudonyms of Edward Everett Tanner III, who'd earlier published two novels as "Virginia Rowans." This book was his breakthrough, an immediate success that appealed to a wide range of people. Even now, it's a fun, frothy read, with a camp/queer sensibility. (Tanner was bisexual.) Not that the book is pro-gay, with "dike" [sic] as a Mamian slur, but it's not anti-gay either, since Mame has many male homosexual friends.
The book is full of contradictions like that. Is Mame a snob, or is she just snobbish towards snobs? Is she open-minded and tolerant, or does she raise a boy who can call their beloved servant a "Jap" without irony? (Both as it turns out.) She is "color blind" about race, and yet she happily buys into a plantation fantasy when she gets married to a rich Southerner.
The main thing Mame is is an Auntie Mame type, that is she's eccentric, flamboyant, self-centered, and yet good-hearted. Patrick is, more than Vera Charles, "her best friend and severest critic." He tells anecdotes of his life with her, each connected by a contrast with an "Unforgettable Character" from Reader's Digest. (This linkage was at the suggestion of Tanner's editor, if I remember correctly.) Mame's outrageousness is meant to conflict with the stodginess around her, but by 1955 her nephew has grown up to be a perfectly normal upper-middle-class man. The book ends with her about to take his 7-year-old son Mike to India.
The book is dated in that outrageousness isn't the same as it was back then. One still revolutionary aspect though is that Mame is quite sexual, well into her 40s. Yes, she's mocked for dating a college student half her age when she's 45, but there's no question that he and many other men find her desirable, as she finds them. And she's never punished for this, although she has setbacks of course. Even pathetic Agnes Gooch, who's both homely spinster (at 19!) and fallen woman (at 21), gets a happy ending. After reading so many books where sexual women (in or out of marriage) suffer for it, Auntie Mame is a breath of fresh air.
Plus, I think the name "Lindsay Woolsey" for a publisher is inspired.
Monday, June 11, 2012
I'll Cry Tomorrow
1954, possibly first edition from Frederick Fell, Inc.
Lillian Roth
I'll Cry Tomorrow
Original and purchase price unknown
Worn and stained hardcover
C+
This is another of my depressing books from 1954, although it does have a happier ending than the two novels. (And much of MAD and Pogo now that I think of it.) Roth tells of her descent from fame to poverty, due to alcoholism, low self-esteem, and a gift for marrying a series of Mr. Wrongs. The book is sometimes horrifying, especially during her abusive third marriage. Eventually, Lillian joined the AA and married her sponsor. Her life improved and she at last made a successful comeback as a singer, after long years of struggle. Her autobiography was immediately made into a Susan Hayward movie, which I've never seen.
And then in 1963 that last husband left her, withdrawing all the money from their joint bank account. She fell off the wagon the following year, and died in relative obscurity in 1980. Sad, but at least she helped to make the AA better known and more accepted.
I originally got this book because I found her adorable as the cheeky ingenue in Animal Crackers (1930). She does write about working with the Marx Brothers, including how hard it was not to laugh at Groucho's delivery, but most of her stories are less enjoyable, although even in her darkest hours she kept her puckish sense of humor. I also liked how for her time she was fairly tolerant of homosexuals, and I smiled at her description of women in tweed as "chorus boys in reverse."
I'll let her have the last word, from her gravestone marker: "As bad as it was it was good."
Lillian Roth
I'll Cry Tomorrow
Original and purchase price unknown
Worn and stained hardcover
C+
This is another of my depressing books from 1954, although it does have a happier ending than the two novels. (And much of MAD and Pogo now that I think of it.) Roth tells of her descent from fame to poverty, due to alcoholism, low self-esteem, and a gift for marrying a series of Mr. Wrongs. The book is sometimes horrifying, especially during her abusive third marriage. Eventually, Lillian joined the AA and married her sponsor. Her life improved and she at last made a successful comeback as a singer, after long years of struggle. Her autobiography was immediately made into a Susan Hayward movie, which I've never seen.
And then in 1963 that last husband left her, withdrawing all the money from their joint bank account. She fell off the wagon the following year, and died in relative obscurity in 1980. Sad, but at least she helped to make the AA better known and more accepted.
I originally got this book because I found her adorable as the cheeky ingenue in Animal Crackers (1930). She does write about working with the Marx Brothers, including how hard it was not to laugh at Groucho's delivery, but most of her stories are less enjoyable, although even in her darkest hours she kept her puckish sense of humor. I also liked how for her time she was fairly tolerant of homosexuals, and I smiled at her description of women in tweed as "chorus boys in reverse."
I'll let her have the last word, from her gravestone marker: "As bad as it was it was good."
Sunday, June 10, 2012
The Group
1954, 1964 New American Library edition
Mary McCarthy
The Group
Original price unknown, purchase price 25 cents
Very worn paperback
C+
Despite the title, this novel does not focus equal attention on the eight friends, all Vassar '33, who form The Group. It begins with Kay's wedding, soon after graduation, and ends seven years later, at her burial. Her husband Harald is a complete jerk-- pretentious, lazy, and adulterous-- who eventually has her institutionalized after beating her.
But then none of the marriages in the book seem happy, except for Polly and Jim. Polly and her parents were my favorite characters, although I also liked Helena. While the book is somewhat well-written, I can't say I enjoyed the majority of it, since it was mostly about unlikable people having bad things happen to them, but not in a fun way. (Believe me, Schadenfreude can be amusing, even with fiction.)
As in A Proper Marriage, I got most depressed by the regimentation of infancy, the babies being fed on a schedule and left to cry the rest of the time. I've never had kids but I can't see who it benefited to raise them this way. I know that this book (like Lessing's novel) is about a pre-Dr.-Spock time, but if a baby was making itself, its mother, and the nurses miserable (the doctors never seem to mind in these novels), what was the point? Perhaps it's good that McCarthy and Lessing pointed this out, looking back 15 to 20 years, but I don't want to read about it. It's an abuse of my empathy as a reader.
As for the rest of the Group, they are (in descending order of how much attention they get from the author):
2. Dottie (whose one-night stand makes her buy contraception, as he misleads her into thinking they'll have an ongoing fling)
3. Priss (the unhappy wife of a pediatrician, which is why I brought up the regimentation of infancy)
4. Libby (as pretentious and self-centered as Harald)
5. Polly (sweet and fairly intelligent, even about romance)
6. Helena (definitely not enough of her and her wit)
7. Pokey (I know much more about the family butler than about her)
8. Lakey (who disappears for most of the book, even though as a Lesbian [always capitalized] living in Italy, she has the most interesting life)
Another similarity to A Proper Marriage is that there are references to politics, but the characters don't really do much to try to change society. (I haven't mentioned Martha's dabbling in Communism because honestly it's typical of the rest of her passivity and you could hardly call her an "activist.")
The Group was made into a movie after this edition came out, in 1966. I've never seen it but I'm mildly curious about it, since it has Candice Bergen (as Lakey oddly enough) and Larry Hagman (appropriately playing despicable charmer Harald, although this was years before J.R. and he was still on I Dream of Jeannie).
Mary McCarthy
The Group
Original price unknown, purchase price 25 cents
Very worn paperback
C+
Despite the title, this novel does not focus equal attention on the eight friends, all Vassar '33, who form The Group. It begins with Kay's wedding, soon after graduation, and ends seven years later, at her burial. Her husband Harald is a complete jerk-- pretentious, lazy, and adulterous-- who eventually has her institutionalized after beating her.
But then none of the marriages in the book seem happy, except for Polly and Jim. Polly and her parents were my favorite characters, although I also liked Helena. While the book is somewhat well-written, I can't say I enjoyed the majority of it, since it was mostly about unlikable people having bad things happen to them, but not in a fun way. (Believe me, Schadenfreude can be amusing, even with fiction.)
As in A Proper Marriage, I got most depressed by the regimentation of infancy, the babies being fed on a schedule and left to cry the rest of the time. I've never had kids but I can't see who it benefited to raise them this way. I know that this book (like Lessing's novel) is about a pre-Dr.-Spock time, but if a baby was making itself, its mother, and the nurses miserable (the doctors never seem to mind in these novels), what was the point? Perhaps it's good that McCarthy and Lessing pointed this out, looking back 15 to 20 years, but I don't want to read about it. It's an abuse of my empathy as a reader.
As for the rest of the Group, they are (in descending order of how much attention they get from the author):
2. Dottie (whose one-night stand makes her buy contraception, as he misleads her into thinking they'll have an ongoing fling)
3. Priss (the unhappy wife of a pediatrician, which is why I brought up the regimentation of infancy)
4. Libby (as pretentious and self-centered as Harald)
5. Polly (sweet and fairly intelligent, even about romance)
6. Helena (definitely not enough of her and her wit)
7. Pokey (I know much more about the family butler than about her)
8. Lakey (who disappears for most of the book, even though as a Lesbian [always capitalized] living in Italy, she has the most interesting life)
Another similarity to A Proper Marriage is that there are references to politics, but the characters don't really do much to try to change society. (I haven't mentioned Martha's dabbling in Communism because honestly it's typical of the rest of her passivity and you could hardly call her an "activist.")
The Group was made into a movie after this edition came out, in 1966. I've never seen it but I'm mildly curious about it, since it has Candice Bergen (as Lakey oddly enough) and Larry Hagman (appropriately playing despicable charmer Harald, although this was years before J.R. and he was still on I Dream of Jeannie).
Friday, June 8, 2012
The MAD Reader
1954, 1973 Ballantine edition
The MAD Reader
Original price 75 cents, purchase price 65 cents
Very worn paperback
B-
I grew up reading MAD Magazine, including reprints of issues from the 1950s and '60s. But I will freely admit that the funniest thing in this collection is the "vital message from Roger Price." The creator of "Droodles" (which we'll get to in the '60s, for reasons I'll explain then) and co-creator of Mad Libs (no relation to MAD Magazine) was one of the funniest post-WWII writers, and he contributed a bit to MAD in the mid-'50s. (If I remember correctly, the hilarious satire of bull-fighting, about the "sport" of dog-kicking, was his.)
The rest of the writing here is mostly by the over-rated Harvey Kurtzman. I've always maintained that MAD did a pmuj (reverse shark-jump) when he left and they got "The Usual Gang of Idiots." The best thing about the comic book days is the artwork, but reproduced smaller and in black and white it definitely loses something, particularly the detailed illustrations by Bill Elder. (I've got late '80s color reprints of the earliest comics, so we'll revisit this much later.)
Still, there's enough here to enjoy in this early "best of," including the satires Dragged Net! ("Dom Badomm Dom!"), Gasoline Valley! (funnier than ever since the characters are still aging six decades later, although "Alexander Bumpstead" no longer does), and of course Starchie (no exclamation point). The last of these remains one of the best things ever in MAD, and I say that as someone who also grew up reading Archie comics. Everything in this satire is "typical teen-age" something, they make fun of the jagged-line in phone conversations, there's gratuitous nudity (of "Wedgie"), gratuitous drug humor, and a not at all gratuitous question: Why does Starchie prefer Salonica to Biddy?
At the time of these early MADs, comics were coming under fire, the "media that's corrupting our children" of that era (compare rap music or violent video games in the '90s). It was mostly comic magazines that were targeted, although Walt Kelly faced some censorship in the newspapers. E.C. (publisher Gaines's "Educational Comics") got into more trouble over its horror comics, but MAD was also controversial. One of the better Jack-Davis-drawn stories is Newspapers!, pointing out the hypocrisy of grown-ups being horrified by comic books when there were equal outrages in their reading material.
The best of the Wally-Wood-illustrated stories is Flesh Garden!, which is not all that different from the title of the 1974 porno satire, Flesh Gordon. (No, I've never seen it.)
The MAD Reader
Original price 75 cents, purchase price 65 cents
Very worn paperback
B-
I grew up reading MAD Magazine, including reprints of issues from the 1950s and '60s. But I will freely admit that the funniest thing in this collection is the "vital message from Roger Price." The creator of "Droodles" (which we'll get to in the '60s, for reasons I'll explain then) and co-creator of Mad Libs (no relation to MAD Magazine) was one of the funniest post-WWII writers, and he contributed a bit to MAD in the mid-'50s. (If I remember correctly, the hilarious satire of bull-fighting, about the "sport" of dog-kicking, was his.)
The rest of the writing here is mostly by the over-rated Harvey Kurtzman. I've always maintained that MAD did a pmuj (reverse shark-jump) when he left and they got "The Usual Gang of Idiots." The best thing about the comic book days is the artwork, but reproduced smaller and in black and white it definitely loses something, particularly the detailed illustrations by Bill Elder. (I've got late '80s color reprints of the earliest comics, so we'll revisit this much later.)
Still, there's enough here to enjoy in this early "best of," including the satires Dragged Net! ("Dom Badomm Dom!"), Gasoline Valley! (funnier than ever since the characters are still aging six decades later, although "Alexander Bumpstead" no longer does), and of course Starchie (no exclamation point). The last of these remains one of the best things ever in MAD, and I say that as someone who also grew up reading Archie comics. Everything in this satire is "typical teen-age" something, they make fun of the jagged-line in phone conversations, there's gratuitous nudity (of "Wedgie"), gratuitous drug humor, and a not at all gratuitous question: Why does Starchie prefer Salonica to Biddy?
At the time of these early MADs, comics were coming under fire, the "media that's corrupting our children" of that era (compare rap music or violent video games in the '90s). It was mostly comic magazines that were targeted, although Walt Kelly faced some censorship in the newspapers. E.C. (publisher Gaines's "Educational Comics") got into more trouble over its horror comics, but MAD was also controversial. One of the better Jack-Davis-drawn stories is Newspapers!, pointing out the hypocrisy of grown-ups being horrified by comic books when there were equal outrages in their reading material.
The best of the Wally-Wood-illustrated stories is Flesh Garden!, which is not all that different from the title of the 1974 porno satire, Flesh Gordon. (No, I've never seen it.)
A Proper Marriage
1954, 1966 New American Library edition
Doris Lessing
A Proper Marriage
Original price unknown, purchase price $1.95
Falling apart paperback
C+
So I was on the bus yesterday and the young man sitting behind me tapped my shoulder and asked if this was a good book. I said it was pretty good. He said he wondered because he noticed how worn it was and thought it must be good. I said, "Well, it's from the '60s." (I didn't want to explain about editions vs. copyrights.) He asked what it's about. I said it's about an unhappily married woman during World War II, and it's sort of depressing.
I don't know that it's any more depressing than Martha Quest, although the view of marriage, love, and now motherhood remains bleak. The reason for the lower score is that at some point Lessing gets fed up with passive Martha (understandable), and starts using the perspectives of other people, who turn out to be even more pathetic than Martha. Our "heroine" gets pregnant on accident, considers an abortion but is too drifty to decide (of course), has the baby under heart-breaking but I suppose once standard circumstances (that is, a strict "nursing home" that has the babies cry for hours while the mothers' breasts leak milk), raises her by the book (even though Martha is supposed to be unconventional), drifts into an almost-affair, and eventually drifts into separating from her husband. By this point, the few people who understand that Martha is unhappy, such as her father and the too-awesome-for-this-series Jasmine Cohen, wonder what's taking her so long.
If this was what Lessing was like in her youth, I wonder how she ever got her act together enough to be the successful novelist she became. Or did she just drift into publishing?
I will admit that Martha is a victim of society blah blah, and it is interesting to see how bad women had it in the 1940s (and '50s), but that doesn't mean it's worth reading. I told the stranger it was "pretty good," because there are moments that it is, and who wants to bad-mouth a book in person? That's what the Internet is for.
Doris Lessing
A Proper Marriage
Original price unknown, purchase price $1.95
Falling apart paperback
C+
So I was on the bus yesterday and the young man sitting behind me tapped my shoulder and asked if this was a good book. I said it was pretty good. He said he wondered because he noticed how worn it was and thought it must be good. I said, "Well, it's from the '60s." (I didn't want to explain about editions vs. copyrights.) He asked what it's about. I said it's about an unhappily married woman during World War II, and it's sort of depressing.
I don't know that it's any more depressing than Martha Quest, although the view of marriage, love, and now motherhood remains bleak. The reason for the lower score is that at some point Lessing gets fed up with passive Martha (understandable), and starts using the perspectives of other people, who turn out to be even more pathetic than Martha. Our "heroine" gets pregnant on accident, considers an abortion but is too drifty to decide (of course), has the baby under heart-breaking but I suppose once standard circumstances (that is, a strict "nursing home" that has the babies cry for hours while the mothers' breasts leak milk), raises her by the book (even though Martha is supposed to be unconventional), drifts into an almost-affair, and eventually drifts into separating from her husband. By this point, the few people who understand that Martha is unhappy, such as her father and the too-awesome-for-this-series Jasmine Cohen, wonder what's taking her so long.
If this was what Lessing was like in her youth, I wonder how she ever got her act together enough to be the successful novelist she became. Or did she just drift into publishing?
I will admit that Martha is a victim of society blah blah, and it is interesting to see how bad women had it in the 1940s (and '50s), but that doesn't mean it's worth reading. I told the stranger it was "pretty good," because there are moments that it is, and who wants to bad-mouth a book in person? That's what the Internet is for.
The Incompleat Pogo
1954, 1975 Simon and Schuster edition with Pogo: Prisoner of Love, under the joint title Pogo: Romances Recaptured
Written and illustrated by Walt Kelly
The Incompleat Pogo
Bought newish for $6.95
Very worn paperback
B
This collection of 1953 newspaper comics is full of topical references, some of which haven't aged well, but it's still fun to see a chicken under McCarthyite suspicion for being a Rhode Island Red. Although she's wooed by the deacon, there's not all that much romance here, and the "incompleat" title feels more fitting, since this was fairly early on in the collected editions (sixth, with Pogo [1951] as the first), with many more to come. Due to the daily nature of comic strips, the "story" is very episodic, with arcs coming along and either resolving (as when Pupdog turns out to have been packed in Albert's suitcase) or fizzling out. Kelly enjoys playing with words, not just puns but dialect, and even typography. His justly famous version of "Deck Us All (with Boston Charlie)" appears, if not for the first time, at least for one of the earliest times.
I prefer Kelly's later, lighter art style, with thinner lines and more impressive scenery. (Prehysterical Pogo [in Pandemonia] was my favorite as a child.) But I will say that there some priceless expressions on these very emotional animals' faces. I want to give the cowbirds, with their cute little berets and turtlenecks, a hug, even when they're stirring up trouble, like accusing the aforementioned chicken.
Written and illustrated by Walt Kelly
The Incompleat Pogo
Bought newish for $6.95
Very worn paperback
B
This collection of 1953 newspaper comics is full of topical references, some of which haven't aged well, but it's still fun to see a chicken under McCarthyite suspicion for being a Rhode Island Red. Although she's wooed by the deacon, there's not all that much romance here, and the "incompleat" title feels more fitting, since this was fairly early on in the collected editions (sixth, with Pogo [1951] as the first), with many more to come. Due to the daily nature of comic strips, the "story" is very episodic, with arcs coming along and either resolving (as when Pupdog turns out to have been packed in Albert's suitcase) or fizzling out. Kelly enjoys playing with words, not just puns but dialect, and even typography. His justly famous version of "Deck Us All (with Boston Charlie)" appears, if not for the first time, at least for one of the earliest times.
I prefer Kelly's later, lighter art style, with thinner lines and more impressive scenery. (Prehysterical Pogo [in Pandemonia] was my favorite as a child.) But I will say that there some priceless expressions on these very emotional animals' faces. I want to give the cowbirds, with their cute little berets and turtlenecks, a hug, even when they're stirring up trouble, like accusing the aforementioned chicken.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
The Return of Jeeves
1953
P. G. Wodehouse
The Return of Jeeves
C-
Don't let the title get your hopes up. Yes, Jeeves returns, but he's working for someone else while Bertie is off getting post-war lessons on taking care of himself, like ironing. Jeeves's new employer has no patience with Jeeves's literary quotes, or much other appreciation of him. Again, we get staleness, typos, and warped romance. (This time, "I'll steal a pendant from the woman I gave it to years ago, even though she thinks it's from one of her late husbands, so I can use it to bet on a race, and then you can marry your girl, who is suspicious of you sneaking out of my woman's room in your pyjamas.") No mention of Hollywood though.
P. G. Wodehouse
The Return of Jeeves
C-
Don't let the title get your hopes up. Yes, Jeeves returns, but he's working for someone else while Bertie is off getting post-war lessons on taking care of himself, like ironing. Jeeves's new employer has no patience with Jeeves's literary quotes, or much other appreciation of him. Again, we get staleness, typos, and warped romance. (This time, "I'll steal a pendant from the woman I gave it to years ago, even though she thinks it's from one of her late husbands, so I can use it to bet on a race, and then you can marry your girl, who is suspicious of you sneaking out of my woman's room in your pyjamas.") No mention of Hollywood though.
Madame de Pompadour
1953, 2001 New York Review Books edition
Nancy Mitford
Madame de Pompadour
Original price $12.95, purchase price $7.50
Worn paperback
B-
Mitford writes a sympathetic account of Louis XV's famous mistress, although as the Introduction by Amanda Foreman makes clear, Mitford originally planned to present Pompadour as an example of why women shouldn't interfere in politics. (And, yes, this was after her sister Diana did time in prison for supporting British Fascism; sister Unity, an admirer of Hitler, shot herself when Britain declared war on Germany; and sister Jessica became a notorious Red. Not that Nancy was apolitical herself.)
Mitford does show Pompadour's political side, but the emphasis is more on where Pompadour put it, "life as art." Pompadour enjoyed herself, and she also supported artists, architects, and writers. She also seems to have been a nice person, much nicer than most of the people around her. It's Mitford who makes the catty remarks about the 18th-century French notables, but that's part of the fun.
Two gripes. One, there are too many untranslated French passages. And two, Mitford never mentions the famous hairstyle.
Nancy Mitford
Madame de Pompadour
Original price $12.95, purchase price $7.50
Worn paperback
B-
Mitford writes a sympathetic account of Louis XV's famous mistress, although as the Introduction by Amanda Foreman makes clear, Mitford originally planned to present Pompadour as an example of why women shouldn't interfere in politics. (And, yes, this was after her sister Diana did time in prison for supporting British Fascism; sister Unity, an admirer of Hitler, shot herself when Britain declared war on Germany; and sister Jessica became a notorious Red. Not that Nancy was apolitical herself.)
Mitford does show Pompadour's political side, but the emphasis is more on where Pompadour put it, "life as art." Pompadour enjoyed herself, and she also supported artists, architects, and writers. She also seems to have been a nice person, much nicer than most of the people around her. It's Mitford who makes the catty remarks about the 18th-century French notables, but that's part of the fun.
Two gripes. One, there are too many untranslated French passages. And two, Mitford never mentions the famous hairstyle.
Charlotte's Web
1952, 1980 copyright (but see below about condition) HarperCollins edition
E. B. White
Illustrated by Garth Williams
Charlotte's Web
Purchased new for $3.95
Good condition paperback
B
This was a childhood favorite for me, and even in my late 20s I thought it was one of the best children's books I'd ever read. Now though? It's still good, with its blend of naturalism, fantasy, and humor. But the things that bothered me about it before bother me more now. And sadly, the main two things are the two significant characters we're introduced to in the first chapter: Fern and Wilbur. I like Fern through most of the book. She's a sweet, imaginative tomboy. But then, after her mother worries about whether it's normal for Fern to spend all her time in a barn, with no friends but animals, Fern spends time at the fair with Henry Fussy, and she loses interest in the pig who was like a child to her. You just know in a decade she'll marry Henry and be Fern Fussy, and it's just too awful to contemplate.
As for that pig, Wilbur is like a child, and not all in good ways. He's very self-centered and whiny, expecting Charlotte the spider to solve all his problems. Not till the end, when he protects the sac with the 514 baby spiders, does he start to grow up.
Charlotte is awesome though: smart, brave, kind, witty, and loyal. She's even a hairy-legged feminist, with her very matriarchal family. The other character I like is Templeton. Yes, he's a rat in more ways than one but, as he points out, he performs more heroic acts than Wilbur. And he's got much more personality than Percy the Personality Kid in Hidden Valley of Oz.
And suffice to say, Williams knows how to draw rats, and other animals, much better than Dirk. The illustrations are among Williams's best, without a weak one in the bunch, unlike the sometimes off Little House drawings. Actually, his Wilbur is more endearing than White's, even when the pig is crying. The humans aren't as good, but the cover picture of Fern, Wilbur, Charlotte, the old sheep, and the goose is just right.
(I suppose I could also compare this story to the earlier book by White, but all I can think of is that, as in Is Sex Necessary?, females have their act together more than males.)
The 1973 movie of Charlotte's Web, which White disliked, was a big part of my childhood, since it was constantly on TV and had Debbie Reynolds as Charlotte, Paul Lynde as Templeton, and many other voices that I knew from movies and television. Even now I'll happily sing "Fine swine, wish he was mine, Zuckerman's famous pig" at little provocation. Reading the book this time, I was surprised at how faithful the movie was, except for the songs, a bigger role for Henry Fussy and his nagging mother (ugh), and an elaboration of Templeton's junk food junkie dream of the fair. At least, much of the dialogue and the basic messages of friendship and the cycle of life come through. The 2006 version, with Julia Roberts as Charlotte and Dakota Fanning as Fern, is OK but it could no more replace the earlier version than Johnny Depp's Willy Wonka would replace Gene Wilder's.
E. B. White
Illustrated by Garth Williams
Charlotte's Web
Purchased new for $3.95
Good condition paperback
B
This was a childhood favorite for me, and even in my late 20s I thought it was one of the best children's books I'd ever read. Now though? It's still good, with its blend of naturalism, fantasy, and humor. But the things that bothered me about it before bother me more now. And sadly, the main two things are the two significant characters we're introduced to in the first chapter: Fern and Wilbur. I like Fern through most of the book. She's a sweet, imaginative tomboy. But then, after her mother worries about whether it's normal for Fern to spend all her time in a barn, with no friends but animals, Fern spends time at the fair with Henry Fussy, and she loses interest in the pig who was like a child to her. You just know in a decade she'll marry Henry and be Fern Fussy, and it's just too awful to contemplate.
As for that pig, Wilbur is like a child, and not all in good ways. He's very self-centered and whiny, expecting Charlotte the spider to solve all his problems. Not till the end, when he protects the sac with the 514 baby spiders, does he start to grow up.
Charlotte is awesome though: smart, brave, kind, witty, and loyal. She's even a hairy-legged feminist, with her very matriarchal family. The other character I like is Templeton. Yes, he's a rat in more ways than one but, as he points out, he performs more heroic acts than Wilbur. And he's got much more personality than Percy the Personality Kid in Hidden Valley of Oz.
And suffice to say, Williams knows how to draw rats, and other animals, much better than Dirk. The illustrations are among Williams's best, without a weak one in the bunch, unlike the sometimes off Little House drawings. Actually, his Wilbur is more endearing than White's, even when the pig is crying. The humans aren't as good, but the cover picture of Fern, Wilbur, Charlotte, the old sheep, and the goose is just right.
(I suppose I could also compare this story to the earlier book by White, but all I can think of is that, as in Is Sex Necessary?, females have their act together more than males.)
The 1973 movie of Charlotte's Web, which White disliked, was a big part of my childhood, since it was constantly on TV and had Debbie Reynolds as Charlotte, Paul Lynde as Templeton, and many other voices that I knew from movies and television. Even now I'll happily sing "Fine swine, wish he was mine, Zuckerman's famous pig" at little provocation. Reading the book this time, I was surprised at how faithful the movie was, except for the songs, a bigger role for Henry Fussy and his nagging mother (ugh), and an elaboration of Templeton's junk food junkie dream of the fair. At least, much of the dialogue and the basic messages of friendship and the cycle of life come through. The 2006 version, with Julia Roberts as Charlotte and Dakota Fanning as Fern, is OK but it could no more replace the earlier version than Johnny Depp's Willy Wonka would replace Gene Wilder's.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
The Singing Sands
1952, 1985 Penguin edition
Josephine Tey
The Singing Sands
No American price listed, purchase price 99 cents
Worn paperback
C+
While this book has potential, it seems as if Tey wants to deliberately frustrate the reader. Alan Grant from Daughter of Time travels to the Highlands to see his favourite cousin Laura, but a fellow passenger dies on the train North. Although Grant is on vacation, recovering from stress and claustrophobia, it's more like a busman's holiday, as he investigates the mysterious death.
Frustrations, in roughly chronological order:
1. Grant is going to spend his time fishing, but he keeps getting distracted.
2. He goes to get clues in the Hebrides, but it's a dead end.
3. Except that that side trip cures his stress and claustrophobia for good, so they have no further impact on the story.
4. Laura's butch nephew has to present a bouquet to a viscountess, and of course we see nothing of this since Grant is off on his side trip.
5. The viscountess is a potential love interest for either Grant or this book's young American, so of course neither of them gets involved with her.
6. The killer confesses in a letter since he's planning suicide.
This novel was published posthumously, but I don't think that excuses the cavalier way Tey treats the reader.
I've now reviewed 300 works, these last hundred covering 35 years. After Lost Princess of Oz, the stats were:
1 F
3 F+s
2 D-s
4 D's
8 D+s
8 C-s
15 C's
37 C+s
53 B-s
43 B's
21 B+s
5 A-s
No new F's, F+s, or D-s. But there's another D, another D+, three more C-s, and two more C's, so the ranks of the mediocre have broadened a bit. C+s have increased to 48, B-s to 92, which may mean I'm too soft on some books, or too hard on others. (Or maybe I own a lot of "pretty good" books.) There are 76 B's and 30 B+s. And only one new A-.
Josephine Tey
The Singing Sands
No American price listed, purchase price 99 cents
Worn paperback
C+
While this book has potential, it seems as if Tey wants to deliberately frustrate the reader. Alan Grant from Daughter of Time travels to the Highlands to see his favourite cousin Laura, but a fellow passenger dies on the train North. Although Grant is on vacation, recovering from stress and claustrophobia, it's more like a busman's holiday, as he investigates the mysterious death.
Frustrations, in roughly chronological order:
1. Grant is going to spend his time fishing, but he keeps getting distracted.
2. He goes to get clues in the Hebrides, but it's a dead end.
3. Except that that side trip cures his stress and claustrophobia for good, so they have no further impact on the story.
4. Laura's butch nephew has to present a bouquet to a viscountess, and of course we see nothing of this since Grant is off on his side trip.
5. The viscountess is a potential love interest for either Grant or this book's young American, so of course neither of them gets involved with her.
6. The killer confesses in a letter since he's planning suicide.
This novel was published posthumously, but I don't think that excuses the cavalier way Tey treats the reader.
I've now reviewed 300 works, these last hundred covering 35 years. After Lost Princess of Oz, the stats were:
1 F
3 F+s
2 D-s
4 D's
8 D+s
8 C-s
15 C's
37 C+s
53 B-s
43 B's
21 B+s
5 A-s
No new F's, F+s, or D-s. But there's another D, another D+, three more C-s, and two more C's, so the ranks of the mediocre have broadened a bit. C+s have increased to 48, B-s to 92, which may mean I'm too soft on some books, or too hard on others. (Or maybe I own a lot of "pretty good" books.) There are 76 B's and 30 B+s. And only one new A-.
Martha Quest
1952, 1970 New American Library edition
Doris Lessing
Martha Quest
Original price $4.95, purchase price $1.95
Worn paperback with broken spine
B-
This is the first book in Lessing's Children of Violence series and tells of Martha's late adolescence, from 15 to 19, in the years just before World War II. As such, it makes an interesting follow-up to Anne Frank's diary, although the setting is Southern Rhodesia rather than Holland. Like Anne, Martha is an idealist, but she's much more easily discouraged, despite facing less hardship. Anne even in her attic hideaway is a more active figure. Martha drifts, deciding by not deciding, whether it's going to university, getting a job, losing her virginity, or getting married.
This book is based on Lessing's life, although I don't know to what degree. Lessing also grew up in Southern Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe, but she was born in Persia, now Iran. Even by 1952, the world of her teens had changed irrevocably, and just listing the places shows what a period piece this is. And yet, Lessing is the first of the authors I'm rereading that is still alive. In fact, in 2007 she became at 87 the oldest recipient of the Nobel Prize in Literature.
I found this early work of hers painful to reread, both because of the pains of her coming of age, and of the reminder of how I first read it in my idealistic early 20s. Like the slightly younger heroine, I read authors in a random fashion, sometimes because they were mentioned by other writers. My book collection today is a legacy of that eclectic self-education. But now I'm in my mid 40s, and I want to issue maternal warnings to Martha.
Another painful aspect of the novel is the racism. This is not the racism of Kingsblood Royal or Passing, where bigots are subhuman. What's scary here is how "normal" the bigotry is, how the bigots think that their prejudice is reasonable and even friendly. A scene late in the novel has the wedding-goers chasing after the bridal couple in cars, delayed only for a moment when they knock down a black man. They're like the upper-class people who hit a cat in Howards End, thinking that their money can solve everything. (The cat died, the man lives, but he's clearly injured.) When Martha's mother accuses a servant of stealing an item she misplaced, she insists that he's a thief anyway. It's darkly funny, but she's not exaggerated as Uncle Matthew is in the Mitford novels. Mrs. Quest is all too real and believable. This book is both universal and very specific to its time and place.
Not only geography and politics have changed in 60 years. There were three pop-cultural moments that took me out of the book. One is Martha asking in regards to her mother, "What's love got to do with it?" Earlier, she says something is as ridiculous as a beetle singing. And the name of Martha's brother? Jonathan Quest.
Doris Lessing
Martha Quest
Original price $4.95, purchase price $1.95
Worn paperback with broken spine
B-
This is the first book in Lessing's Children of Violence series and tells of Martha's late adolescence, from 15 to 19, in the years just before World War II. As such, it makes an interesting follow-up to Anne Frank's diary, although the setting is Southern Rhodesia rather than Holland. Like Anne, Martha is an idealist, but she's much more easily discouraged, despite facing less hardship. Anne even in her attic hideaway is a more active figure. Martha drifts, deciding by not deciding, whether it's going to university, getting a job, losing her virginity, or getting married.
This book is based on Lessing's life, although I don't know to what degree. Lessing also grew up in Southern Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe, but she was born in Persia, now Iran. Even by 1952, the world of her teens had changed irrevocably, and just listing the places shows what a period piece this is. And yet, Lessing is the first of the authors I'm rereading that is still alive. In fact, in 2007 she became at 87 the oldest recipient of the Nobel Prize in Literature.
I found this early work of hers painful to reread, both because of the pains of her coming of age, and of the reminder of how I first read it in my idealistic early 20s. Like the slightly younger heroine, I read authors in a random fashion, sometimes because they were mentioned by other writers. My book collection today is a legacy of that eclectic self-education. But now I'm in my mid 40s, and I want to issue maternal warnings to Martha.
Another painful aspect of the novel is the racism. This is not the racism of Kingsblood Royal or Passing, where bigots are subhuman. What's scary here is how "normal" the bigotry is, how the bigots think that their prejudice is reasonable and even friendly. A scene late in the novel has the wedding-goers chasing after the bridal couple in cars, delayed only for a moment when they knock down a black man. They're like the upper-class people who hit a cat in Howards End, thinking that their money can solve everything. (The cat died, the man lives, but he's clearly injured.) When Martha's mother accuses a servant of stealing an item she misplaced, she insists that he's a thief anyway. It's darkly funny, but she's not exaggerated as Uncle Matthew is in the Mitford novels. Mrs. Quest is all too real and believable. This book is both universal and very specific to its time and place.
Not only geography and politics have changed in 60 years. There were three pop-cultural moments that took me out of the book. One is Martha asking in regards to her mother, "What's love got to do with it?" Earlier, she says something is as ridiculous as a beetle singing. And the name of Martha's brother? Jonathan Quest.
The Diary of a Young Girl
1952, probably early 1980s Pocket Books edition
Anne Frank
The Diary of a Young Girl
Original price $2.25, see below
Falling apart paperback
B
The inside cover has my name in cursive that's bolder than what I write now but still recognizable. The stamp says this is a gift from my junior high PTA. So the book is at least 30 years old. By the time it was assigned in high school, I'd read it at least twice, and I've reread it a few times over the years.
This time, while I see Anne's (justified) fears of being captured by the Nazis, I mostly see a girl who is a bright but in some ways typical adolescent, 13- to 15-years-old, trapped with a set of people that she sometimes gets along with and sometimes doesn't. Like many teens (and adults), she rants about how people get on her nerves, although she's able to look back, maybe minutes later but usually months later, and see things from another perspective. While on the surface a bubbly, popular girl, she's also very introspective, made more so by the circumstance of never going outside for two years.
Anne thinks about serious issues and wishes she had someone other than "Kitty" (her diary) to confide in. Both her father and Peter, the boy a few years older than herself that she grows fond of, disappoint her in different ways. Peter is of course the only eligible boy around, and there's an implication that they probably wouldn't have got involved in normal life, but their young love is sweet. Despite the concerns and teasing of the adults, they kiss and cuddle.
Anne is, excuse the pun, very frank, including about sexual feelings. I remember two of the six boys in my high school Advanced English class objecting to the "lesbian" part of her diary. (No, they didn't think it was "hot." The '80s were a weird time.) Anne discusses her attraction to and curiosity about other girls. I don't think she was bisexual, although it's impossible to say since her father edited out some of the sexual content on the advice of the original Dutch publishers. The 1995 English translation is based on an unexpurgated text, but I haven't read it. The American Library Association says there have been six challenges to the diary since 1990, due to "complaints about its sexual content and homosexual themes."
This is sort of a side issue. Anne was a whole person, and the diary reveals different sides, including her sense of humor, as shown in little essays and stories. There are many complaints on Amazon about her complaining, but that didn't really bother me because, one, I'm a complainer (if you haven't guessed by now); two, her gripes were mostly justified; three, she was writing in her diary; and four, she also could be very upbeat and positive.
So what are my complaints about the book, why don't I rate it higher? Two things. I don't think the tragedy of her life makes the book better, since this isn't about her life in Bergen-Belsen, and it feels uneven in that over half the book is from the 1944 entries. On the one hand, I can understand that she didn't always have something to write about, but on the other, it feels weird that she'll sometimes skip over a month. It's a good book but I don't think a great one. However, for a girl in her young teens, it's impressive, and it remains an inspiring document of life under oppression.
Anne Frank
The Diary of a Young Girl
Original price $2.25, see below
Falling apart paperback
B
The inside cover has my name in cursive that's bolder than what I write now but still recognizable. The stamp says this is a gift from my junior high PTA. So the book is at least 30 years old. By the time it was assigned in high school, I'd read it at least twice, and I've reread it a few times over the years.
This time, while I see Anne's (justified) fears of being captured by the Nazis, I mostly see a girl who is a bright but in some ways typical adolescent, 13- to 15-years-old, trapped with a set of people that she sometimes gets along with and sometimes doesn't. Like many teens (and adults), she rants about how people get on her nerves, although she's able to look back, maybe minutes later but usually months later, and see things from another perspective. While on the surface a bubbly, popular girl, she's also very introspective, made more so by the circumstance of never going outside for two years.
Anne thinks about serious issues and wishes she had someone other than "Kitty" (her diary) to confide in. Both her father and Peter, the boy a few years older than herself that she grows fond of, disappoint her in different ways. Peter is of course the only eligible boy around, and there's an implication that they probably wouldn't have got involved in normal life, but their young love is sweet. Despite the concerns and teasing of the adults, they kiss and cuddle.
Anne is, excuse the pun, very frank, including about sexual feelings. I remember two of the six boys in my high school Advanced English class objecting to the "lesbian" part of her diary. (No, they didn't think it was "hot." The '80s were a weird time.) Anne discusses her attraction to and curiosity about other girls. I don't think she was bisexual, although it's impossible to say since her father edited out some of the sexual content on the advice of the original Dutch publishers. The 1995 English translation is based on an unexpurgated text, but I haven't read it. The American Library Association says there have been six challenges to the diary since 1990, due to "complaints about its sexual content and homosexual themes."
This is sort of a side issue. Anne was a whole person, and the diary reveals different sides, including her sense of humor, as shown in little essays and stories. There are many complaints on Amazon about her complaining, but that didn't really bother me because, one, I'm a complainer (if you haven't guessed by now); two, her gripes were mostly justified; three, she was writing in her diary; and four, she also could be very upbeat and positive.
So what are my complaints about the book, why don't I rate it higher? Two things. I don't think the tragedy of her life makes the book better, since this isn't about her life in Bergen-Belsen, and it feels uneven in that over half the book is from the 1944 entries. On the one hand, I can understand that she didn't always have something to write about, but on the other, it feels weird that she'll sometimes skip over a month. It's a good book but I don't think a great one. However, for a girl in her young teens, it's impressive, and it remains an inspiring document of life under oppression.
Monday, June 4, 2012
The Daughter of Time
1951, 1995 Scribner edition
Josephine Tey
The Daughter of Time
Original price $9.00, purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
B
The "title character" is truth, which is debatable. Sometimes the passage of time can reveal the truth, but often it obscures it. When it comes to Richard III, who knows? Tey does make a compelling case that Henry VII, rather than his predecessor, killed "the Princes in the Tower," but there is a lot of leaping to conclusions by the detective Alan Grant and his American sidekick. It's a fun read, whatever you decide. This time, I particularly liked Tey's pastiches, including of historical fiction. I kept thinking they were real. But I suspect that The Sweat and the Furrow is from the genre that Gibbons was parodying in Cold Comfort Farm. Getting back to the historical portions of the novel, Tey does a good job of keeping the major figures clear, even if she does sometimes oversimplify. I think both Richard III and Henry VII were ruthless, but that doesn't necessarily mean either ordered the killing of small children. And it's not necessary to blame Henry to get Richard off the hook, although I suppose a murder mystery has to have a definite killer. At least Tey acknowledges she's not the first to suggest Richard's innocence, although she was the first in awhile. (Remember, even Jane Austen had her doubts about Richard's villainy.)
Josephine Tey
The Daughter of Time
Original price $9.00, purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
B
The "title character" is truth, which is debatable. Sometimes the passage of time can reveal the truth, but often it obscures it. When it comes to Richard III, who knows? Tey does make a compelling case that Henry VII, rather than his predecessor, killed "the Princes in the Tower," but there is a lot of leaping to conclusions by the detective Alan Grant and his American sidekick. It's a fun read, whatever you decide. This time, I particularly liked Tey's pastiches, including of historical fiction. I kept thinking they were real. But I suspect that The Sweat and the Furrow is from the genre that Gibbons was parodying in Cold Comfort Farm. Getting back to the historical portions of the novel, Tey does a good job of keeping the major figures clear, even if she does sometimes oversimplify. I think both Richard III and Henry VII were ruthless, but that doesn't necessarily mean either ordered the killing of small children. And it's not necessary to blame Henry to get Richard off the hook, although I suppose a murder mystery has to have a definite killer. At least Tey acknowledges she's not the first to suggest Richard's innocence, although she was the first in awhile. (Remember, even Jane Austen had her doubts about Richard's villainy.)
A Mouse Is Born
1951, first edition
Anita Loos
Illustrated by Pallavicini
A Mouse Is Born
Original price unknown, purchase price $1.50
Good condition hardcover
B-
Loos tells the story of another dumb blonde, but this one is an expectant mother, Effie Huntriss, who writes her autobiography addressed to her unborn "mouse," a term she chooses because it's "by-sexual," i.e. gender-neutral. There is some actual bisexuality in the book though, since Effie finds herself attracted to Inga Swenson, whom she thinks her current (fourth) husband is having an affair with. There's also a gay bookstore manager, Vernon, who gets Effie reading material and helps her manage her household, but he's rudely cast aside after Effie's son is born. Effie is more sentimental and romantic than Lorelei Lee, and in fact when Vernon brings her Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Effie thinks it's about finance.
Effie tells of her many marriages and of her film career as a sex symbol, with The Nude Deal as her debut. The writing isn't as sharp as in the "Lorelei" books, but it's definitely better than in the Wodehouse books about Hollywood. The Pallavicini drawings are mostly of the racier moments in Effie's movies, although he does illustrate the bundle of joy as a mouse.
Anita Loos
Illustrated by Pallavicini
A Mouse Is Born
Original price unknown, purchase price $1.50
Good condition hardcover
B-
Loos tells the story of another dumb blonde, but this one is an expectant mother, Effie Huntriss, who writes her autobiography addressed to her unborn "mouse," a term she chooses because it's "by-sexual," i.e. gender-neutral. There is some actual bisexuality in the book though, since Effie finds herself attracted to Inga Swenson, whom she thinks her current (fourth) husband is having an affair with. There's also a gay bookstore manager, Vernon, who gets Effie reading material and helps her manage her household, but he's rudely cast aside after Effie's son is born. Effie is more sentimental and romantic than Lorelei Lee, and in fact when Vernon brings her Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Effie thinks it's about finance.
Effie tells of her many marriages and of her film career as a sex symbol, with The Nude Deal as her debut. The writing isn't as sharp as in the "Lorelei" books, but it's definitely better than in the Wodehouse books about Hollywood. The Pallavicini drawings are mostly of the racier moments in Effie's movies, although he does illustrate the bundle of joy as a mouse.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Hidden Valley of Oz
1951, 1991 International Wizard of Oz edition
Rachel R. Cosgrove
Illustrated by "Dirk" (Dirk Gringuis)
Hidden Valley of Oz
Original and/or purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
C
A giant pink-eyed rat waves to a little boy and very cartoony versions of the Scarecrow, Tin Woodman, and Hungry Tiger. Oh boy! I can't wait to read this!
Maybe in the early 1950s, the artwork didn't stand out as so bad, but it certainly doesn't look inviting now. Sometimes you can judge a book by its cover, and this is indeed a much weaker book than The Lion, tWatW. I didn't read it till I was an adult, but I can't imagine ever enjoying it as much as Baum. The writing is OK. Cosgrove has some creative ideas, like Spots the Leopard who changes, well, his spots. But she shows a Thompsonian liking for rambling. Characters will show up and then leave, for almost no reason in either case. Again like Thompson, she gives Dorothy almost nothing to do. Not that the Snowically-badly named protagonist "Jam" has much to do either. The actual hero is the aforementioned rat, Percy the Personality Kid, who calls everyone "kiddo."
One thing that Cosgrove does better than the other Royal Historians, including Baum, is write doggerel. She's got some clever rhymes for the Rhyming Dictionary, a citizen of Bookville. I wish she'd been given the task of going back and rewriting the poetry in most of the previous Oz books, particularly some of Thompson's. As for writing a full-length Oz book, well, obviously it's not the worst. She shows more knowledge of Oz than Neill did, and of course more sanity. Given an artist who could improve and a second chance, like Snow got, her second book would probably get a B-.
And in fact, in her forty-years-later Afterword, she tells of her then still unreleased Wicked Witch of Oz. The International Wizard of Oz Club published it in '93, five years before her death. I've never read it, but I do appreciate that they got Eric Shanower, the best modern Oz artist, to do the illustrations. Dirk died in '74, after illustrating three Boxcar Children books among others. Presumably, he'd improved by then.
There's one more book of the Famous Forty. For years and years, I've been hearing that it's a vast improvement over the post-Thompson stories. So of course I've never seen Merry Go Round in Oz (1963). I suppose I could get it as an interlibrary loan, but it wouldn't fit in with this project. We'll see how I feel when I get up to '63, since I could mention it briefly in another post.
Rachel R. Cosgrove
Illustrated by "Dirk" (Dirk Gringuis)
Hidden Valley of Oz
Original and/or purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
C
A giant pink-eyed rat waves to a little boy and very cartoony versions of the Scarecrow, Tin Woodman, and Hungry Tiger. Oh boy! I can't wait to read this!
Maybe in the early 1950s, the artwork didn't stand out as so bad, but it certainly doesn't look inviting now. Sometimes you can judge a book by its cover, and this is indeed a much weaker book than The Lion, tWatW. I didn't read it till I was an adult, but I can't imagine ever enjoying it as much as Baum. The writing is OK. Cosgrove has some creative ideas, like Spots the Leopard who changes, well, his spots. But she shows a Thompsonian liking for rambling. Characters will show up and then leave, for almost no reason in either case. Again like Thompson, she gives Dorothy almost nothing to do. Not that the Snowically-badly named protagonist "Jam" has much to do either. The actual hero is the aforementioned rat, Percy the Personality Kid, who calls everyone "kiddo."
One thing that Cosgrove does better than the other Royal Historians, including Baum, is write doggerel. She's got some clever rhymes for the Rhyming Dictionary, a citizen of Bookville. I wish she'd been given the task of going back and rewriting the poetry in most of the previous Oz books, particularly some of Thompson's. As for writing a full-length Oz book, well, obviously it's not the worst. She shows more knowledge of Oz than Neill did, and of course more sanity. Given an artist who could improve and a second chance, like Snow got, her second book would probably get a B-.
And in fact, in her forty-years-later Afterword, she tells of her then still unreleased Wicked Witch of Oz. The International Wizard of Oz Club published it in '93, five years before her death. I've never read it, but I do appreciate that they got Eric Shanower, the best modern Oz artist, to do the illustrations. Dirk died in '74, after illustrating three Boxcar Children books among others. Presumably, he'd improved by then.
There's one more book of the Famous Forty. For years and years, I've been hearing that it's a vast improvement over the post-Thompson stories. So of course I've never seen Merry Go Round in Oz (1963). I suppose I could get it as an interlibrary loan, but it wouldn't fit in with this project. We'll see how I feel when I get up to '63, since I could mention it briefly in another post.
The Old Reliable
1950
P. G. Wodehouse
The Old Reliable
C-
This is much like Spring Fever, in that it is a bit boring, has lots of typos, mildly satirises Hollywood, and presents a warped view of romance. The title character is "Aunt Bill," short for Wilhelmina, a down on her luck writer who one, has had a mostly unrequited crush on her sister's brother-in-law for twenty years even though he's scared of marriage; two, encourages her friend Joe to keep proposing to her niece Kay, even though Kay has turned him down fifteen times and he has threatened to break a bottle over Kay's head; and three, slips a Mickey Finn into Joe's drink to make Kay feel sorry for him. (It works.) Meanwhile, Bill is ghost-writing her sister's autobiography about being an actress in the silent-movie days. And there's a red-hot diary by another actress, now dead. And a butler who knows how to crack safes. And lots of quotes of Shakespeare by Bill. And it feels rather stale, all the more so for then almost 70-year-old Wodehouse attempting to be modern. (At one point he uses "Hedy Lamarr" and "Lily Langtry" in the same sentence.)
P. G. Wodehouse
The Old Reliable
C-
This is much like Spring Fever, in that it is a bit boring, has lots of typos, mildly satirises Hollywood, and presents a warped view of romance. The title character is "Aunt Bill," short for Wilhelmina, a down on her luck writer who one, has had a mostly unrequited crush on her sister's brother-in-law for twenty years even though he's scared of marriage; two, encourages her friend Joe to keep proposing to her niece Kay, even though Kay has turned him down fifteen times and he has threatened to break a bottle over Kay's head; and three, slips a Mickey Finn into Joe's drink to make Kay feel sorry for him. (It works.) Meanwhile, Bill is ghost-writing her sister's autobiography about being an actress in the silent-movie days. And there's a red-hot diary by another actress, now dead. And a butler who knows how to crack safes. And lots of quotes of Shakespeare by Bill. And it feels rather stale, all the more so for then almost 70-year-old Wodehouse attempting to be modern. (At one point he uses "Hedy Lamarr" and "Lily Langtry" in the same sentence.)
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
1950, 1970 Collier edition
C. S. Lewis
Illustrated by Pauline Baynes
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe: A Story for Children
Original price $2.50, purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
B+
This is the best children's book, or indeed any book I own, in almost a decade, the first sign that the 1950s will be better than the 1940s. To begin with, the illustrations are good. It was the sort of Yellow-Submarinish cover art that originally drew me in, but the tiny art for the chapter headings by Baynes, with their surprising amount of detail and characterization, helped keep me going.
There's also the cosiness of the writing. That may seem an odd word to apply to a book where a charming yet evil witch has made it always winter but never Christmas. Lewis has a very chatty style, often addressing the reader as "you," in a much less condescending way than Bronte in Jane Eyre. Also, the descriptions of the homes of Mr. Tumnus and the beavers sound very inviting. Even the description of Rumblebuffin, the good giant, is warm and down to earth.
Of course, this is also a story of battle, where Peter and Edmund must prove themselves in different ways. Lewis says that girls and women fighting in war is an ugly thing, which would be news to Glinda and her army, although Narnia is admittedly a much more violent place than Oz.
As a child raised by an atheist, I remember feeling betrayed when I found out that the Narnia books were Christian parables. I thought that was very sneaky of Lewis, compared to Wilder, who simply was a Christian as part of being a 19th-century pioneer. By the third or fourth reading, then in my teens, I didn't mind, except for the heavy-handed last book, appropriately called The Last Battle.
The penultimate book, The Magician's Nephew, is a prequel, and explains why the Professor isn't surprised by the children's tales of Narnia. I think this book works fine as a stand-alone though. And as an advert for Turkish Delight.
C. S. Lewis
Illustrated by Pauline Baynes
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe: A Story for Children
Original price $2.50, purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
B+
This is the best children's book, or indeed any book I own, in almost a decade, the first sign that the 1950s will be better than the 1940s. To begin with, the illustrations are good. It was the sort of Yellow-Submarinish cover art that originally drew me in, but the tiny art for the chapter headings by Baynes, with their surprising amount of detail and characterization, helped keep me going.
There's also the cosiness of the writing. That may seem an odd word to apply to a book where a charming yet evil witch has made it always winter but never Christmas. Lewis has a very chatty style, often addressing the reader as "you," in a much less condescending way than Bronte in Jane Eyre. Also, the descriptions of the homes of Mr. Tumnus and the beavers sound very inviting. Even the description of Rumblebuffin, the good giant, is warm and down to earth.
Of course, this is also a story of battle, where Peter and Edmund must prove themselves in different ways. Lewis says that girls and women fighting in war is an ugly thing, which would be news to Glinda and her army, although Narnia is admittedly a much more violent place than Oz.
As a child raised by an atheist, I remember feeling betrayed when I found out that the Narnia books were Christian parables. I thought that was very sneaky of Lewis, compared to Wilder, who simply was a Christian as part of being a 19th-century pioneer. By the third or fourth reading, then in my teens, I didn't mind, except for the heavy-handed last book, appropriately called The Last Battle.
The penultimate book, The Magician's Nephew, is a prequel, and explains why the Professor isn't surprised by the children's tales of Narnia. I think this book works fine as a stand-alone though. And as an advert for Turkish Delight.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Belles on Their Toes
1950, undated but probably 1950s Thomas Y. Crowell edition
Frank Gilbreth, Jr. and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey
Illustrated by Donald McKay
Belles on Their Toes
Original price unknown, purchase price $1.50
Hardcover with stains and broken spine
B
This book picks up right where Cheaper by the Dozen left off, three days after Dad's death. Mother is going to Europe to deliver speeches that Dad was scheduled for, and so Anne is left in charge of the brood, although thrifty Martha is in charge of the budget. So various crises break out, including chicken pox. Although the book takes the family up to nearly the then present, most of it covers the year following Dad's death, as the Gilbreths adjust to life without father.
The dustjacket claims that "it is one of the few sequels that is more entertaining than the original," and it is indeed funnier and more touching. Like Cheaper, it was an immediate success, and this is the 17th printing. The dustjacket refers to Ernestine's "two teen-age children," and since her kids were born in '38 and '42, that gives this a date between '55 and '57, unless the biographical blurbs hadn't been updated. Both authors lived long lives, Frank dying at 89 in 2001, Ernestine at 98 in '06. In fact, all of the dozen except Mary, whose childhood death is mentioned in a footnote early on, and Martha, who died at 59, lived to be at least 77. Fred is still around at 95. And Mother Lillian survived till age 93.
The title refers to the saying (invented by the authors or common at the time I don't know) that belles have to be on their toes to get rings on their fingers. Much of the book is about the struggles the girls go through in dating, particularly since their mother and their late father were so Victorian. A later chapter shows how baby sister Jane's "big brothers" (the four little boys from earlier anecdotes) teach her how to be popular in the mid-1930s, in contrast to Anne's generation. As in the earlier book, the six brothers don't get as much attention, although there is a funny chapter about the clothes they wear when meeting President Hoover. Oh, and there's Frank dressing up as a girl to scare Ern's suitor.
Another thread of the book is Mother's engineering career, and how she combined it with motherhood. When a nosy teacher asks about the career, one of the little boys indignantly says that if she has one, she never showed it to him. There's an acknowledgement of the sexism Mother had to face, but as with all the other problems, it's discussed in a breezy manner. This remains a comedy, despite poignancy.
The family misses Dad, but as a reader I didn't. I'd rather read about Tom, the incompetent but good-hearted cook and "handy" man. At one point, he brews moonshine in the basement (during the Prohibition era) and of course it explodes when an annoying guest is visiting.
McKay's illustrations are again forgettable, except that he seems to think that all (rather than most) of the children were redheads.
This became a movie in 1952, with a mostly new cast, although Myrna Loy as Mother and Jeanne Crain as "Ann" [sic] returned from Cheaper. It's not quite as good, but it does have its moments.
And welcome to the 1950s. We'll be here awhile.
Frank Gilbreth, Jr. and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey
Illustrated by Donald McKay
Belles on Their Toes
Original price unknown, purchase price $1.50
Hardcover with stains and broken spine
B
This book picks up right where Cheaper by the Dozen left off, three days after Dad's death. Mother is going to Europe to deliver speeches that Dad was scheduled for, and so Anne is left in charge of the brood, although thrifty Martha is in charge of the budget. So various crises break out, including chicken pox. Although the book takes the family up to nearly the then present, most of it covers the year following Dad's death, as the Gilbreths adjust to life without father.
The dustjacket claims that "it is one of the few sequels that is more entertaining than the original," and it is indeed funnier and more touching. Like Cheaper, it was an immediate success, and this is the 17th printing. The dustjacket refers to Ernestine's "two teen-age children," and since her kids were born in '38 and '42, that gives this a date between '55 and '57, unless the biographical blurbs hadn't been updated. Both authors lived long lives, Frank dying at 89 in 2001, Ernestine at 98 in '06. In fact, all of the dozen except Mary, whose childhood death is mentioned in a footnote early on, and Martha, who died at 59, lived to be at least 77. Fred is still around at 95. And Mother Lillian survived till age 93.
The title refers to the saying (invented by the authors or common at the time I don't know) that belles have to be on their toes to get rings on their fingers. Much of the book is about the struggles the girls go through in dating, particularly since their mother and their late father were so Victorian. A later chapter shows how baby sister Jane's "big brothers" (the four little boys from earlier anecdotes) teach her how to be popular in the mid-1930s, in contrast to Anne's generation. As in the earlier book, the six brothers don't get as much attention, although there is a funny chapter about the clothes they wear when meeting President Hoover. Oh, and there's Frank dressing up as a girl to scare Ern's suitor.
Another thread of the book is Mother's engineering career, and how she combined it with motherhood. When a nosy teacher asks about the career, one of the little boys indignantly says that if she has one, she never showed it to him. There's an acknowledgement of the sexism Mother had to face, but as with all the other problems, it's discussed in a breezy manner. This remains a comedy, despite poignancy.
The family misses Dad, but as a reader I didn't. I'd rather read about Tom, the incompetent but good-hearted cook and "handy" man. At one point, he brews moonshine in the basement (during the Prohibition era) and of course it explodes when an annoying guest is visiting.
McKay's illustrations are again forgettable, except that he seems to think that all (rather than most) of the children were redheads.
This became a movie in 1952, with a mostly new cast, although Myrna Loy as Mother and Jeanne Crain as "Ann" [sic] returned from Cheaper. It's not quite as good, but it does have its moments.
And welcome to the 1950s. We'll be here awhile.
Friday, June 1, 2012
The Shaggy Man of Oz
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.
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.
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.
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