My parents were born in the 1920s, and grew up on farms in rural North Carolina, as had their parents before them. They raised tobacco and corn, grew much of their own food in sizable gardens, were entertained by radio shows first heard through hand-made crystal radio sets, and viewed the world as an enormous place, extending far away into the mists of distance in every direction. This was a world very different from the post-war baby-boom housing-development country into which I was born.
My father told me about catching bumblebees, tying strings to their legs to tether them, and watching them fly in circles around his head. My mother showed me how to hook two violets together and play tug-of-war. Parents and grandparents taught me about the sweet drops in the center of honeysuckle blossoms. Visiting my uncles' farm, I saw the giant green "tobacco worm" caterpillars that live on tobacco plants, and saw my grandmother cooking on a wood stove.
Although she was born decades earlier and on the other side of the
Atlantic, Flora Thompson's stories of her childhood and youth remind me
of the stories I heard from my parents and grandparents.
A Reader's Companion
My Life in Books
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
In the October Moon, by Dallas Lore Sharp
Source |
The essay "In the October Moon" is included in his book Wild Life Near Home, published in 1901. John Burroughs said of the book "of all the nature books of recent years, I look upon Mr. Sharp's as the best." Excerpts from this book were collected in a small volume called A Watcher in the Woods, published in 1910 and intended for schoolchildren. My copy of the latter book has, stamped in light blue ink on its title page, the words "Prescribed for eighth grade reading in the 1910 syllabus of the New York State Dept. of Education".
Several people have owned the book before me. Written on its pages is the name of someone who called himself "Junior" in 1913, then seems to have decided to call himself "Jimmy" in 1914. These are written in indigo ink, in much better handwriting than mine, but a little awkwardly by the high standards of the time. There's also a (later?) name, written lightly in pencil, of a lady named Elizabeth. These are the things that change a book from a document into an artifact.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Doctor Dolittle's Post Office, by Hugh Lofting
My father was an upholsterer and a Baptist preacher. In his role as an upholsterer, people sometimes gave him unwanted furniture, which he'd then either sell, or keep for our own use. One of the most memorable pieces was a large, glass-fronted cabinet; a bookcase made of cherry wood with an old, dark, gummy finish. It stood about five feet tall and six feet wide, and lived near the front of my father's shop, in his "office", which was just a front corner by one of the display windows, with a desk and a telephone.
Most importantly, when my father acquired this cabinet it still contained a residue of books. There was a three-volume People's Cyclopedia of Universal Knowledge. There were the six volumes of The Century Dictionary. There were novels, like The Romance of an Old-Fashioned Gentleman by F. Hopkinson Smith, and The Cardinal's Mistress by Benito Mussolini (!). There was a large, coverless book of photographs of places in Switzerland and Italy, from around 1900. (Each page was thick cardboard, and there was one large photograph per page.)
As I've mentioned elsewhere, there were few books in the houses I frequented as a child. The books in this cabinet became my treasures. I claimed them all; all except one volume of the Century Dictionary, which my father casually gave away to a curious visitor. The loss still pains me.
One of the books in the cabinet was Doctor Dolittle's Post Office, by Hugh Lofting (which I mistakenly read as "High Lofting" for many years). It became the first "real" book (not a "Little Golden Book" or some such) that I ever read all the way through. I loved this book. I loved it so much I wept when I was done with it, devastated by the thought that the book was over.
Most importantly, when my father acquired this cabinet it still contained a residue of books. There was a three-volume People's Cyclopedia of Universal Knowledge. There were the six volumes of The Century Dictionary. There were novels, like The Romance of an Old-Fashioned Gentleman by F. Hopkinson Smith, and The Cardinal's Mistress by Benito Mussolini (!). There was a large, coverless book of photographs of places in Switzerland and Italy, from around 1900. (Each page was thick cardboard, and there was one large photograph per page.)
As I've mentioned elsewhere, there were few books in the houses I frequented as a child. The books in this cabinet became my treasures. I claimed them all; all except one volume of the Century Dictionary, which my father casually gave away to a curious visitor. The loss still pains me.
One of the books in the cabinet was Doctor Dolittle's Post Office, by Hugh Lofting (which I mistakenly read as "High Lofting" for many years). It became the first "real" book (not a "Little Golden Book" or some such) that I ever read all the way through. I loved this book. I loved it so much I wept when I was done with it, devastated by the thought that the book was over.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
The Black Stone, by George Gibbs
George Fort Gibbs Source |
George Fort Gibbs (1870-1942) is the archetypal Forgotten Author. He was a talented and well-respected artist and illustrator, and the author of almost fifty novels. His illustrations were featured in such magazines as Cosmopolitan and the Saturday Evening Post. He created the cover illustration for the original edition of Anne of Green Gables. He created murals for Penn Station and Girard College in Philadelphia. As a "fine artist" he created lovely portraits that were exhibited at the Art Institute of Chicago and the Corcoran Gallery. Some of his novels were made into films (one of them, The Yellow Dove, twice!), and he co-authored the screenplay for a film version of the life of Voltaire. He was successful in many fields, and seems to have led a happy, prosperous life.
Yet today, you'll find few reference books that acknowledge his existence, and those that do only provide his birth and death dates and a partial list of his novels.
Friday, September 9, 2011
An Autobiography, by Janet Frame
Source |
Frame grew up in poverty. Her first toy was an empty kerosene tin, which she dragged behind her on a string. Her father was a railroad worker, and her mother was an amateur poet, who often had her poems published in the local papers. The family moved several times, because of reassignment by the railroad company or financial problems. The living conditions were generally filthy and decrepit. The family was close though, and Janet and her four siblings were generally happy. As a schoolgirl she was surprised when she was singled out as one of the "poor and dirty" children for special attention by a school nurse.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
The Trail of the Serpent, by Mary Elizabeth Braddon
Mary Elizabeth Braddon Source |
Miss Braddon was a very prolific author, though, with more than 150 novels to her credit, and her other work deserves attention too. The Trail of the Serpent was one of her earliest novels. It was originally serialized in 1860 as Three Times Dead, in which form it met with only a cool reception from the reading public. In 1861 she re-worked the novel and published it in book form under its new title. In this form it became a best-seller that remained popular for many years.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Daybreak - 2250 A.D., by Andre Norton
I attended grade school in a small town that might remind you of Andy Griffith's Mayberry. My father had a shop on Main Street, and he dropped me off at school every morning. There were two schools, for first through fourth grade and fifth through eighth grade, both also on Main Street and within easy walking distance of my father's shop. Afternoons, I walked along the sidewalk from school to my father's shop, being careful not to break my mother's back, and pausing at the town's single stoplight to wait for one of the town's two policemen to help me cross the street. I'd wait for my father to finish his work, then we'd drive back home.
Friday, August 19, 2011
"Cousin Mary" and "The First Primrose", by Mary Russell Mitford
Source |
But, at the age of ten, Mary picked a winning number in the Irish lottery and won a prize of £ 20,000. This made the family wealthy again, and they moved into an opulent house and lived well for a few years. But Mary's father once again squandered the family's money, and soon they were forced to move to the small village of Three Mile Cross in Berkshire, in Southeast England, where Mary's growing career as a writer supported them all for the rest of their lives.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
From Atoms to Stars, by Theodore Askounes Ashford
There were tobacco warehouses along the French Broad River in Asheville, North Carolina, where I grew up. During the off-season, when they were empty of tobacco, these huge buildings housed flea markets. When I was a kid, my father and I spent a lot of great Saturdays rummaging through them. We both loved junk. For us, visiting junk shops or flea markets was like exploring a marvelous cave or a tropical jungle.
Mostly, I was looking for books, and they were there in abundance at prices almost anyone could afford. I bought science and math textbooks and old Science Fiction magazines, and browsed through boxes of pulp magazines from my father's era. (Doc Savage! The Shadow!) The pulps were too pricey for me to buy though, even then. Most of the books I bought cost around 25 cents.
Mostly, I was looking for books, and they were there in abundance at prices almost anyone could afford. I bought science and math textbooks and old Science Fiction magazines, and browsed through boxes of pulp magazines from my father's era. (Doc Savage! The Shadow!) The pulps were too pricey for me to buy though, even then. Most of the books I bought cost around 25 cents.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
"Pickets", by Robert W. Chambers
Source |
Chambers' supernatural fiction was a powerful influence on such later writers as H.P. Lovecraft, Robert E. Howard and Clark Ashton Smith, all of whom incorporated the names of places and supernatural characters from Chambers' writing. Chambers' best known writing in this genre is his collection of connected stories The King in Yellow, which tells of encounters with a book called (naturally) "The King in Yellow" that drives each of its readers mad.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)