Book Oddities
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2022_05_02
Macro Mondays
Leather (very old dust jacket)
Cuir (très vieille liseuse en cuir)
Cuoio (vecchia sopracopertina)
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This is one from my archives as I'm unlikely to be able to travel south to see them this year. But I have just read Matthew Oates' book on the Purple Emperor and it has renewed my interest. The book reminded me just how difficult it is to see female Purple Emperors as they quietly go about their business of laying eggs on Sallow bushes while the males battle with each other in the skies above, and occasionally descend to the ground to imbibe salts and moisture. I have seen hundreds of Purple Emperor males over the years, but just a handful of females, including this one in a Sallow bush. If you search the internet you will see it is not just me. Countless photographs of males and very few females. Females are a little larger than males with "fuller" wings, especially the hindwings. Their markings are similar except they lack the iridescent purple sheen of males, and their white markings are broader, particularly on the hindwing as can be seen here. Matthew says that they select Goat Willow "types" (willows hybridise) like this with broad, matt, mid-sized leaves. Everything checks with this photograph, apart from the fact that they usually lay on shady leaves just below the canopy. This one was at eye-level in the sunshine. I took this photograph nine years ago at Fermyn Woods in Northamptonshire. I may even post a photograph of a male if I can find something a bit different.
The book by the way is His Imperial Majesty: A Natural History of the Purple Emperor by Matthew Oates, just published by Bloomsbury. It is worth buying for the beautiful artwork by Darren Woodhead on the dustjacket, but the book is very readable too.
Concept blanket I will make when I get around to it. It has one side for the workadays and one for the weekends to remind you what to do right when you awake.
My sock drawer is open and the dustjacket for a Harry Potter book is in it.
P.S. in real life my room is right side up.
Spotted at The Silk Mill pub...nice Art Deco Locomotive on the front cover.
The Wonder Book of Railways (edited by Harry Golding F.R.C.S., published by Ward, Lock & Co. Ltd.), featuring a colour image of the Coronation Scot in the USA on its 1939 tour.
The book's glossy front cover, and its extended wraparound dust cover, both show the red Coronation Scot train on American track, complete with headlight and bell, with the dustjacket back cover showing more of the image, including a black streamlined US locomotive with a cone-shaped nose.
This is a repost of a photo taken in April this year during that wonderful Spring weather.
It has been chosen as a book cover for the latest publication by Danish author Jens Christian Grøndahl and is now featured on the dust jacket.
The book is entitled "Det gør du ikke" and was published in November 2010.
Link to the Danish Literary Magazine: Autumn 10 which has a review of the book and shows this photo:
www.danishliterarymagazine.dk/index.php?id=5772.
My thanks to Imperiet of Denmark.
To anyone on Flickr who deletes photos after a few months my advice is "Don't!". You never know who is looking at your photostream.
Bleak landscape
*** this was chosen for the cover of Booker Prize-winning author, Ann Enright's novel 'The Green Road' ***
A strong graphic on this dust jacket attempting to combine both the construction of the road and the loading it would have carried.
UCBerkeley. I shot this as a memory-aid, but thought I’d post it, in case anyone else would be interested.
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we are at Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie. Lettice is visiting her old family home, which she does sporadically throughout the year, to see her parents and eldest brother.
As Lettice elegantly alighted from the London train at Glynes village railway station, there on the platform amid the dissipating steam of the departing train, stood Harris, the Chetwynd’s family chauffer. Dressed in his smart grey uniform, he took Lettice’s portmanteau, hatbox and umbrella and walked out through the station’s small waiting room and booking office, leading Lettice to where the Chetwynd’s 1912 Daimler awaited her. As they drove through the centre of the village and past the church hall, Harris told Lettice from the front seat, that Lady Sadie was helping co-ordinate a jumble sale to help raise funds for the local school. Quietly, Lettice breathed a sigh of relief and settled back more comfortably into the car’s maroon upholstery. Lettice has a strained relationship with her mother at the best of times as the two have differing views about the world and the role that women have to play in it. However she is her father’s undeniable favourite, and it is he whom she has really come to see on this visit, hoping to gain some additional inspiration and insight from him as she makes plans to start acquiring oriental furnishings to redecorate Wanetta Ward’s Pimlico flat.
As the Daimler purrs up the gravel driveway, Bramley, the Chetwynd’s butler, steps through the front door followed by Marsen, the liveried first footman. Marsden opens the door of the Daimler for Lettice.
“Welcome home, My Lady,” Bramley greets her with an open smile. “What a pleasure it is to see you.”
“Thank you Bramley,” she replies with a satisfied smile as she looks up at the classical columned portico of her beloved childhood home basking in the late summer sunshine. “It’s good to be home.”
“How was the train journey from London, My lady?” Bramley asks Lettice as he falls in step a few paces behind her.
“Oh, quite pleasant, thank you Bramley.”
“I’m afraid that Her Ladyship is…”
“Oh yes, Harris told me, Bramley. She’s down in the village organising things for a jumble sale, in aid of the village school, I believe.”
“A worthy cause, My Lady.”
“Indeed Bramley.” Lettice peels off her gloves as she walks through the marble floored vestibule and into the lofty hall of Glynes. The familiar scent of old wood, tapestries and carpets welcomes her home.
“Would you like to refresh yourself, My lady?” Bramley closes the front doors and then the vestibule doors behind her before walking over to her, holding out his arms.
“No thank you, Bramley.” Lettice replies, handing the butler her thick arctic fox stole and then shrugging off her powder blue three quarter length coat. “Where is Father?”
“In the library, My Lady.” He accepts Lettice’s elegant picture hat of powder blue felt ornamented with pheasant feathers. “Shall I serve tea there?”
“Thank you Bramley,” she flashes him a beaming smile of thanks. “You are a brick!”
“Very good, My Lady.” Bramley departs, slipping through a discreet doorway off the main hall that is one of many leading to the servants’ quarters of the Georgian mansion.
Lettice turns to her left and walks up to a pair of beautiful walnut double doors and knocks loudly.
“Come!” comes a muffled male voice from inside.
Lettice opens the doors and walks through into the light filled library where she is greeted by the comforting smell of old books and woodsmoke. The walls are lined with floor to ceiling shelves, all full of books: thousands of volumes on so many subjects. Sunlight pours through the tall windows facing out to the front of the house, burnishing the polished parquetry floors. Dust motes, something Lettice always associates with her father’s library, dance blithely through beams of sunlight. The fire, another constant in the library, crackles contentedly. And there, sitting at his Chippendale desk, sits Viscount Wrexham, addressing correspondence.
“Ah! My darling girl!” the Viscount puts aside his pen, pushes his chair back over the richly woven carpet and stands. Walking around the desk he paces across the length of the room and embraces his youngest daughter tenderly.
“Pappa!” Lettice sighs, allowing herself to fall into his arms.
“How are you, Lettice? How was the trip down from London?”
“I was just telling Bramley, it was fine, Pappa. It gave me a good chance to read my new novel from Boots.”
“Not a classic, I’ll wager.”
“No Pappa,” Lettice laughs. “Just a sentimental love story. I’ll leave the classics to you. Have Mayhew’s* found you any new rare editions of Goethe**?”
“No, but in their last shipment there was a beautiful velum bound 1910 edition of ‘Der Ring des Nibelungen’*** illustrated by Arthur Rackham****. I’ll show it to you. I know you always loved his illustrations of faeries and pixies as a child.”
“I’d like that, Pappa.”
A soft knock at the library door disturbs them.
“Come!” Viscount Wrexham calls commandingly.
Bramley enters carrying a silver tray laden with tea things and a biscuit sachet. “Tea, My Lord.”
“Bramley?” the older man looks in surprise at his butler. “I don’t remember calling for…”
“I ordered tea,” Lettice looks at her father, placing an assuring hand on his forearm. “I’m parched.”
“Capital idea, my girl!” the Viscount beams. He walks back over to his desk. “Put it on the table by the fire, would you Bramley.”
“My Lord.” The butler does as requested and for a moment the room falls silent, save for the gentle tick of the clock on the mantle, the crackle of the logs in the fireplace and the chink of porcelain, silver and cutlery as he sets out the tea for two.
“Thank you, Bramley.” Lettice acknowledges the butler.
Looking back across the room the butler asks, “Will there be anything else, My Lord.”
“I don’t think so, Bramley. No.” Viscount Wrexham replies after a moment’s deliberation.
“Very good, My Lord, My Lady.” After completing his task Bramley retreats obsequiously back through the library doors, which he closes quietly behind him.
“Shall I be mother?*****” Lettice asks as she walks over to the small three legged Georgian port table.
“Please, my dear girl.”
Taking up the cup of milky tea proffered to him by his daughter, both Viscount Wrexham and Lettice stand by the fire for a few moments, enjoying the chirp of birds in the shrubbery just outside the library and the warmth the burning logs in the fire put out. Lettice has always loved her father’s library as much for the fact that it is always the warmest room in the house as that it is filled with more books than she could ever hope to read in a lifetime.
“Now,” Viscount Wrexham asks Lettice, lowering his teacup into its saucer and setting it back down on the table’s surface. “You mentioned over the telephone that you had a problem you wished to discuss, Lettice?”
“Not so much a problem, Pappa, as I need your help with something.” Lettice begins.
“Well, what is it?”
“Well it’s about a new client really, Pappa.”
“A new client?” Viscount Wrexham’s eyebrow arches sharply over his right eye as he scrutinises his daughter.
“Yes Pappa, for my interior design business.”
“Yes?” he bristles slightly.
Lettice remains silent for a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. Remembering her father’s words over luncheon at her Cavendish Mews flat a few months ago, warning her about designing for the ‘right sort of people’, she thinks carefully about what to say. She is aware that he and her mother scarcely tolerate her desire to be an interior designer, so she knows that he won’t approve of her decorating for a moving picture actress.
“Well, she’s… she’s an American, and she spent the last few months living in Shanghai.”
“Damn Americans!” Viscount Wrexham blasts. “There are so many of them in London these days, one can scarcely go anywhere without running into one, or worse than that, hearing one. Must you do business with one?” He looks beseechingly at his daughter.
“As you say, Pappa,” Lettice attempts to soothe her father. “There are so many about, even in the highest circles now. Some are even presented at Court.”
“I blame that damn Gordon Selfridge!” the older man huffs. “If he hadn’t come over here with his damnable American department store, all his countryfolk wouldn’t have come flocking after him.”
Lettice sighs and cannot help but roll her eyes as she looks to her father. “Pappa! Really!”
“It’s true, Lettice! We were fine with the Army and Navy Stores****** before he came along, bringing that gaggle of American women in his wake. Anyway, you were saying about this, American woman?” His disgust hangs on the last two words.
“Well, as I said, she has been living in Shanghai for a while…”
“Damnable colonial outpost!”
“And,” Lettice raises her voice slightly, irritated at her father’s interruptions. “She wants her home decorated with oriental antiquities, or at least that what I’m thinking of doing after she told me that she wants Asian décor. I thought a few well placed antiques might add an element of elegance and style.”
“Well, she can’t have any of ours, Lettice!” Viscount Wrexham snorts derisively. “You can’t go promising what isn’t yours to give away!”
“I haven’t promised her any of the family’s antiques, Pappa,” Lettice sighs in frustration. “No, I have a contact in London who can help me find suitable pieces.”
“Then why do you need my help, my girl?”
Lettice tries to keep the irritation from her voice as she continues, “Well, I want to do my research before I go to them, and that is where I need your help, Pappa, or rather,” She waves her hands elegantly around her, indicating to the rows of books around them. “Your library’s help.”
“My library’s help?”
“Well yes, Pappa. There are so many books here, and I know you have an avid interest in antiques and art. I was hoping that I might be able to consult, or even perhaps borrow some of your books on oriental art.”
“Oh! Well, that’s alright then! Good show, my girl!” Viscount Wrexham beams in delight. He walks back across the library towards his desk with purposeful steps. “You know Lettice, you are the only one of my progenies who truly share my love for books and art.”
“Well, it’s why I immediately thought of you, Pappa.” Lettice flatters.
“Now, let’s see.” Viscount Wrexham mutters to himself as he drags his library stairs along the floor until he reaches a particular set of shelves. “I’m sure I had something up here.” He climbs the steps and begins running his fingers along the dark vellum volumes with gilt letting and others with brightly coloured dustjackets. “Ah! Here we are!” He pulls out a buff coloured volume. “Yes! ‘Nipponese Woodblock Prints’.” He hands it down to Lettice who has moved and stands at the foot of the movable steps her father stands on. “And ‘Traditional Chinese Arts and Crafts’.” He passes another pale brown book down covered with Chinese characters. “And here’s a book on cloisonné art.” He passes another red volume down. “And a book on satsuma ware from the Meji Period. I also know I have a few scrapbooks in here from when your Mother and I travelled through the Orient. I’ll keep looking. Start with those.”
Lettice smiles and sighs with satisfaction as soon the correspondence her father had been writing is covered by beautiful books on oriental arts and design. Volume after volume is brought over by Viscount Wrexham, so many in fact that soon there is barely room on the desk for the silver photo frames, the stuffed owl under glass and the salver on which his ink pots stand, which are a constant on its surface.
“Thank you so much, Pappa!” Lettice smiles in delight as she looks at a beautiful illustration of Japanese ladies in brightly coloured kimonos with ornate headdresses sitting on tatami mats. Her head swims with imagery and her mind considers what beautiful oriental antiques she might be able to acquire for Wanetta Ward’s Pimlico flat.
*A. H. Mayhew was once one of many bookshops located in London’s Charring Cross Road, an area still famous today for its bookshops, perhaps most famously written about by American authoress Helene Hanff who wrote ’84, Charing Cross Road’, which later became a play and then a 1987 film starring Anne Bancroft and Anthony Hopkins. Number 56. Charing Cross Road was the home of Mayhew’s second-hand and rare bookshop. Closed after the war, their premises is now the home of Any Amount of Books bookshop.
**Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749 – 1832) was a German poet, playwright, novelist, scientist, statesman, theatre director, and critic. His works include plays, poetry, literature and aesthetic criticism, and treatises on botany, anatomy, and colour. He is considered to be the greatest German literary figure of the modern era.
***Der Ring des Nibelungen, also known as Wagner’s Ring, is a cycle of four German-language epic music dramas composed by Richard Wagner. The works are based loosely on characters from Germanic heroic legend, namely Norse legendary sagas and the Nibelungenlied.
****Arthur Rackham (1867 – 1939) was an English book illustrator. He is recognised as one of the leading figures during the Golden Age of British book illustration. His work is noted for its robust pen and ink drawings, which were combined with the use of watercolour, a technique he developed due to his background as a journalistic illustrator. His books are highly sought after by antiquarian bibliophiles, including me. Amongst other first editions of his work, I have a copy of his 1910 velum bound English edition of Der Ring des Nibelungen.
*****The meaning of the very British term “shall I be mother” is “shall I pour the tea?”
******Army and Navy Stores was a department store group in the United Kingdom, which originated as a co-operative society for military officers and their families during the nineteenth century. The society became a limited liability company in the 1930s and purchased a number of independent department stores during the 1950s and 1960s. In 1973 the Army and Navy Stores group was acquired by House of Fraser. In 2005 the remaining Army & Navy stores (the flagship store located on Victoria Street in London and stores in Camberley, and Chichester) were refurbished and re-branded under the House of Fraser nameplate. House of Fraser itself was acquired by Icelandic investment company, Baugur Group, in late 2006, and then by Sports Direct on the 10 August 2018.
Cluttered with books and art, Viscount Wrexham’s library with its Georgian furnishings is different from what you might think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures from my collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The majority of the books that you see lining the shelves of the Viscount’s library are 1:12 size miniatures made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. So too are all the books you see both open and closed on the Viscount’s Chippendale desk. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. Therefore, it is a pleasure to give you a glimpse inside two of the books he has made. The one open at the rear of the desk is a Japanese scrapbook, which is illustrated with scraps of Japanese imagery from the Nineteenth Century and older. It was not unusual for European travellers in the sentimental and exploratory Victorian Age to fill scrapbooks with images and art from places they visited as keepsakes. The open book in the forefront is an early Twentieth Century book of Japanese woodblock prints. To give you an idea of the work that has gone into this volume and the others, the book contains twelve double sided pages of Japanese images and measures thirty-three millimetres in height and width and is only three millimetres thick. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. The other closed books on the desk that you can see contain images of Japanese woodblock prints, except the red volume, which is a book of Japanese postcards. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make this a miniature artisan piece. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter. I hope that you enjoy this peek at just two of hundreds of his books that I own, and that it makes you smile with its sheer whimsy!
Also on the desk to the left stands a stuffed white owl on a branch beneath a glass cloche. A vintage miniature piece, the foliage are real dried flowers and grasses, whilst the owl is cut from white soapstone. The base is stained wood and the cloche is real glass. This I acquired along with two others featuring shells (one of which can be seen in the background) from Kathleen Knight’s Dollhouse Shop in the United Kingdom.
On the desk are some 1:12 artisan miniature ink bottles and a blotter on a silver salver all made by the Little Green Workshop in England who specialise in high end, high quality miniatures. The ink bottles are made from tiny faceted crystal beads and have sterling silver bottoms and lids. The ink blotter is sterling silver too and has a blotter made of real black felt, cut meticulously to size to fit snugly inside the frame.
The Chippendale desk itself is made by Bespaq, and it has a mahogany stain and the design is taken from a real Chippendale desk. Its surface is covered in red dioxide red dioxide leather with a gilt trim. Bespaq is a high-end miniature furniture maker with high attention to detail and quality.
In the background you can see the book lined shelves of Viscount Wrexham’s as well as a Victorian painting of cattle in a gold frame from Amber’s Miniatures in America, and a hand painted ginger jar from Thailand which stands on a Bespaq plant stand.
The Persian rug you can just glimpse in the bottom left-hand corer of the photo was hand woven by Pike, Pike and Company in the United Kingdom.
The gold flocked Edwardian wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we are at Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie and his wife Arabella. Lettice is visiting her family home over the Christmastide and New Year period. She motored down to Wiltshire with her old childhood chum, Gerald, also a member of the aristocracy who has tried to gain some independence from his family by designing gowns from a shop in Grosvenor Street. His family, the Brutons, are neighbours to the Cheywynds with their properties sharing boundaries. That is how Gerald and Lettice came to be such good friends. However, whilst both families are landed gentry with lineage going back centuries, unlike Lettice’s family, Gerald’s live in a much smaller baronial manor house and are in much more straitened circumstances.
It is mid-morning and Lettice pads as quietly as possible across the cavernous Adam style entrance hall of Glynes, the louis heels of her shoes echoing around the space. Anxiously she looks over her shoulder down the corridor that passes the morning room, her mother’s domain where she knows Lady Sadie is right now, and where she does not wish to be drawn into. She turns to her right and walks up to a pair of beautiful walnut double doors and knocks loudly.
“Come!” comes a muffled male voice from inside.
Lettice opens the doors and walks through into the light filled library where she is greeted by the comforting smell of old books and woodsmoke. Although as masculine as the morning room is feminine, Lettice feels far more at home in her father’s library, partially because it is his domain and also because he and she both know that, with her reading extending not much further than The Lady*, Horse and Hound** or a sedate Regency romance, Lady Sadie is unlikely to disturb either of them as long as they remain within the library’s four walls. The walls of the long room are lined with floor to ceiling shelves, all full of books: thousands of volumes on so many subjects. Weak wintery sunlight drifts through the tall windows facing out to the front of the house, burnishing the polished parquetry floors in a ghostly way. The fire, another constant in the library, crackles contentedly. And there, sitting at his Chippendale desk, sits Viscount Wrexham, dealing with estate business.
“Ah! My darling girl!” the Viscount puts aside his pen, pushes his chair back over the richly woven carpet and stands.
Lettice walks down the length of the room carrying a tapestry carpet bag in shades of red wine and moss green – a piece of luggage that she used to convey her Christmas presents for the family down to Wiltshire, and the only piece that does not match any of her other elegant deep blue leather Vuitton*** luggage that accompanied her from London in Gerald’s motorcar.
“Have you a moment to spare for me, Pappa!” Lettice asks as she reaches her father’s desk.
“Yes,” the Viscount says a little wearily. “Only if it isn’t too long. Shall I ring for tea?”
When Lettice nods eagerly, the Viscount pulls the handle of the servants call bell. The Chetwynd’s faithful butler, Bramley’s, familiar footfall outside the library door precedes his knock, and he is quickly dispatched with an order for tea to be served indulgently in the Viscount’s favourite blue and white gilt Art Nouveau tea set.
Sitting opposite her father at his desk, Lettice ponders her father’s face, which looks wan, and she notices the dark circles in the sagging flesh under his eyes. “You look and sound tired, Pappa.” she states matter-of-factly. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, your brother and I have to deal with some not too pleasant business at Mile End Farm. It’s been keeping me awake at night, and I didn’t want to deal with it before Christmas.”
“What business, Pappa?”
“Estate business.” The Viscount brushes his daughter off with a dismissive wave. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty head about.”
“If it is causing you to have sleepless nights, and as the estate is our family’s, I think it is very much my business, Pappa.” Lettice presses. “Even if Leslie is to inherit it, and not me. Have you difficulties with old Farmer Cooper again?”
“Well,” the Viscount admits. “Since you insist, yes. Ever since his son died in Ypres, and his wife of influenza, he’s taken to drinking heavily, and all but given up on Mile End Farm, and I can’t have such fertile soil untilled. If Cooper doesn’t start working the farm again, Leslie and I will have no choice but to break his leasehold in favour of another farmer.”
“But Coopers have been farming Mile End Farm for generations.” Lettice protests.
“The estate is getting expensive to maintain. Taxes have increased to help pay for the war that the Kaiser dragged us into, yet the Weimar Republic won’t pay for****,” The Viscount sighs heavily. “And I can’t afford to run a charity any more, not even for the likes of Cooper, however long his family have worked our estate.”
“Charity?”
“He’s not paid his rent.”
“How in arrears is he?”
“Three months.”
“Oh my!” Lettice’s hand goes to her mouth.
“Now you see why I didn’t want to deal with this before Christmas.” The Viscount sighs sadly again. “For all his latter faults, Cooper doesn’t deserve to be given an ultimatum on Christmas Eve. But, I can’t wait any longer. I have at least three farmers I know of who would give their eye teeth to be given Mile End Farm to work, and as the future owner of the estate, Leslie needs to know how it works.”
“That’s sad, Pappa.”
“This is the new post-war world, Lettice. You know as much as anyone that the world has changed, inexorably so. If Cooper chooses to drink his life away, I can’t stop him.”
Their conversation is interrupted by the gentle knocking at the door.
“Come!” Viscount Wrexham calls commandingly again.
Bramley enters carrying a silver tray laden with the blue and white gild Art Nouveau tea things, just as requested. “Tea, My Lord.”
“Very good, Bramley.” the Viscount acknowledges the butler. “We’ll have it here, I think.” He looks to his daughter. “Yes?” To which she nods in reply.
With the tea things set up on the gilt tooled brown leather surface of the Viscount’s Chippendale desk, and Bramley discreetly retreated beyond the library doors this Viscount says, “Now, before Leslie and I pay a call on Cooper, what is it you wanted to see me about, my girl?”
“Well Pappa,” Lettice replies. “I need your advice on these.”
Lettice withdraws the four silhouettes in black ebonised frames that she bought from Mrs. Trevithick’s Treasures when working on Margot and Dickie’s house in Cornwall and places them on her father’s desk.
“And what have we here?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow as he admires the two Regency gentlemen and the Georgian lady and gentleman in black on white within the thin black frames. “Hhhmmm.” He scratches his cleanly shaven chin and ruminates quietly. “These look a little bit like something your mother has in the morning room. Wouldn’t you be better asking her?”
“Oh no, Pappa!” Lettice exclaims awkwardly and with a little too much protesting to be polite. “Mamma would only tell me what I already know about them.”
“And what do you know about them, my girl? What does your interior designer eye tell you?”
“They are silhouettes and two are Regency, or early Victorian and two are Georgian. The two gentlemen appear to be cut paper, and the Georgian couple possibly painted.”
“Where did you acquire these from, Lettice?”
“From a little curiosity shop in Cornwall when I was doing preliminary works on the redecoration of Dickie and Margot Channon’s house. I thought you might have a book on the subject?” Lettice asks hopefully.
The Viscount settles back in his seat and sips tea from his gilt edged cup, the blue and gilding glowing in the electric light of the chandelier overhead. He gazes around the shelves about them. Lettice holds her breath in anticipation of her father’s answer, not daring to speak for fear of breaking his considered concentration. Only the gentle ticking of the clock on the mantle and the quiet cracking of the fire breaking the silence.
“I think I do have a book on silhouettes here somewhere.”
He heaves himself out of his seat with a groan and dragging his library steps along the parquet floor to a section of shelves near the fireplace, he climbs up to one of the upper shelves. “I’m sure I had something up here, possibly ordered by your mother when she had a mania for collecting silhouettes that ended up in here when she grew tired of it.” He begins running his fingers along the dark vellum volumes with gilt letting and others with brightly coloured dustjackets. “Ah! Here we are!” He pulls out a blue coloured volume with gilt lettering. “The history of Silhouettes by E. Nevill Jackson*****!”
Taking the volume over to the desk, the pair begin to look through the photographic plates in the book, scanning image after image, sipping their tea as companionably they look at silhouette after beautiful silhouette.
“I’d say, looking at this,” Lettice points to an image of a gentleman in a top hat. “That the two gentlemen may be Swiss or German. See the similarity in the cut of the frock coats.”
“Very good, Lettice.” her father replies approvingly. “Well spotted, my girl. And they are thin card like these.” He indicates to the notes about how the image was created. “This would make them Biedermeier, then.”
They continue to look.
“Ahh, now this is interesting,” the Viscount announces as they reach a page featuring five very fine silhouettes. “Your Georgian couple, unlike the Biedermeier pair, appear to be Indian ink painted on paper, and look like the work of Francis Torond*******.”
“Who was Francis Torond?” Lettice asks excitedly.
“Let’s consult Ms Jackson’s biography section.” The Viscount flicks through the book. “Here we are. Francis Torond was French, but emigrated to England around 1796.” He scans the biography. “He only worked as a silhouette artist for about ten years. He painted in Indian ink on fine paper using a quill pen for fine detail. His works are usually in framed in oval turned ebonized wood or oval giltwood frames.” Lettice gasps. “And his works are often identified through trade labels. Let’s see.” The Viscount turns the picture of the Georgian lady over and using his silver letter opener, carefully prises the backing from its frame, and the pair see a very dirty paper label pasted across the back of the portrait. “There we are! Torond, number thirteen Wells Street, London. This is a Frances Torond! And I’ll wager the pair is then too!”
Outside in the entrance hall, the distant trill of the telephone can be heard ringing out anxiously.
“How much did you pay for them?” the Viscount asks, continuing to look at the portraits before him.
“Fifteen shillings each.”
“Quite the bargain then, I’d say.” the Viscount says proudly with an approving nod. “Canny girl.”
Their conversation is interrupted yet again by the gentle knocking at the library door.
“Come!” Viscount Wrexham calls commandingly again.
Bramley pokes his head around the door. “Sorry to disturb, My Lord.”
“Good heavens Bramley! Is Leslie here already?” the Viscount asks anxiously. “I’m afraid Lettice and I have quite lost track of the time. We’ve been quite engrossed in successfully solving a little mystery.”
“Ahh… no My Lord. It’s the telephone. My Lord.”
“Who is it then, Bramley?”
“It’s actually for Miss Lettice, My Lord.” the butler replies coolly in his friendly baritone voice.
“For me?” Lettice raises her hand to the pearls at her throat and toys with them.
“Yes, My Lady. It’s Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon******** ringing from St. Paul's, Walden Bury.”
“Oh well, I’ll take the telephone call in here then, Bramley.” Lettice says, walking over to the small round three legged Georgian pedestal table the old fashioned black candlestick telephone stands on. ‘That is if you don’t mind, Father.”
“Not at all.” the Viscount acquiesces.
Lettice picks up the telephone and picks up the receiver in her left hand, placing it to her ear, and speaks clearly into the round mouthpiece of the candlestick base that she holds in her right hand. “Hullo Elizabeth darling!” she exclaims happily. “What an unexpected surprise! Merry Christmas and happy New Year.” A distant female voice speaks down the line. “Oh yes! Yes, it was marvellous. Mamma wasn’t too painful. Lally, Charles and the children came up, and so did Aunt Egg, of course. And Pappa,” She glances over at her father who has resumed looking at the silhouette portraits in an effort to be discreet and not overhear his daughter’s conversation. “Gave me a wonderful book on Egyptian art. He thinks that the discovery like the boy king’s tomb by Mr. Carter********* in Egypt is going to start a new wave of Egyptomania**********.” She smirks. “How was yours?” She listens to Elizabeth’s voice. “Is he?” The voice at the other end grows more excited. “Did he really? Again?” The voice answers animatedly. “And what did you say?” Even the Viscount, however discreet with his back turned, cannot help but pick up his ears to his daughter’s conversation. “You did? Oh congratulations, Elizabeth darling!” Lettice beams with delight. “No misgivings this time, I hope?” She listens again. “Well, that is a relief! How absolutely thrilling!” She listens again. “Oh, thank you Elizabeth darling! Oh yes I’d love to!” The voice at the other end of the telephone grows more serious. “Well of course I will! How could I refuse? Well, I’ll be back in London the day after tomorrow. Gerald’s motoring us both back to town. You must come over for tea, or cocktails and tell me all about it.” The voice speaks again. “Yes, alright Elizabeth darling. Yes… yes, I shall see you then. And congratulations again! Alright. Goodbye for now!”
Lettice hangs up the receiver and squeals with delight.
“Well!” Lettice gasps with excitement. “You’ll never guess who that was, Pappa!”
“I was led to believe by Bramley that it was your friend, Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon.” her father says dourly.
“She won’t be Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon much longer! The Duke of York proposed for a third time, and this time she said yes!” Lettice squeals again, jumping up and down on the spot. “She’s going to become the Duchess of York!”
“Well, that is jolly news!” the Viscount replies. “I can’t wait to tell your mother! She’ll be beside herself with joy that she entertained the future Duchess of York here at the Hunt Ball last year! I might even get a few days without any quibbles from her thanks to the news. Here’s hoping, anyway.” He crosses his fingers. “I say,” he adds dourly at the end. “I do hope she knows what she’s doing, getting married to the Windsors. I can’t say I’d fancy the King and Queen as my in-laws, Queen Mary especially!”
“I suppose since this is the third time the Duke of York proposed, that she realises. She says that she has no misgivings this time. I’ll have to get Gerald to design me a new dress and get Harriet to make me a hat for the wedding.”
“When will the wedding take place?”
“Elizabeth doesn’t know yet, but I don’t imagine it will be too far away.”
“Yes, no doubt the Windsors want to secure her for the Duke and marry them quickly before she changes her mind, if this is the third proposal.”
*The Lady is one of Britain's longest-running women's magazines. It has been in continuous publication since 1885 and is based in London. It is particularly notable for its classified advertisements for domestic service and child care; it also has extensive listings of holiday properties.
**Horse and Hound is the oldest equestrian weekly magazine of the United Kingdom. Its first edition was published in 1884. The magazine contains horse industry news, reports from equestrian events, veterinary advice about caring for horses, and horses for sale.
***Louis Vuitton Malletier, commonly known as Louis Vuitton, is a French luxury fashion house and company founded in 1854 by Louis Vuitton. The label's LV monogram appears on most of its products, ranging from luxury bags and leather goods to ready-to-wear, shoes, watches, jewellery, accessories, sunglasses and books. The Louis Vuitton label was founded by Vuitton in 1854 on Rue Neuve des Capucines in Paris. Louis Vuitton started at $10,567 as a sales price. Louis Vuitton had observed that the HJ Cave Osilite trunk could be easily stacked. In 1858, Vuitton introduced his flat-topped trunks with Trianon canvas, making them lightweight and airtight. Before the introduction of Vuitton's trunks, rounded-top trunks were used, generally to promote water runoff, and thus could not be stacked. It was Vuitton's grey Trianon canvas flat trunk that allowed the ability to stack them on top of another with ease for voyages. Many other luggage makers later imitated Vuitton's style and design, but Vuitton was the choice of luggage for the rich and influential.
****In order to repay the expenditures made by the British during the Great War, like had been occurring since the Napoleonic Wars, the government increased Income Tax. The standard rate of income tax, which was six per cent in 1914, stood at thirty per cent in 1918. Following the ratification of article 231 of the Treaty of Versailles at the conclusion of the Great War, the Central Powers were made to give war reparations to the Allied Powers. Each of the defeated powers was required to make payments in either cash or kind. Because of the financial situation in Austria, Hungary, and Turkey after the war, few to no reparations were paid and the requirements for reparations were cancelled. Bulgaria, having paid only a fraction of what was required, saw its reparation figure reduced and then cancelled. Due to the lack of reparation payments by Germany, France occupied the Ruhr in 1923 to enforce payments, causing an international crisis and hyperinflation in Germany. As a result of all of this, income tax rates amongst the wealthy were maintained at a high level, far in excess of those charged in the years before the war, making the management of estates very difficult if they were not productive.
*****“The History of Silhouettes” by Emily Neville Jackson was published by The Connoisseur, in London in 1911. The first edition has blue cloth boards with gilt lettering on the cover. It has one hundred and twenty one pages of text and bibliography with an additional seventy two plates of photographs of silhouettes. Emily Jackson was a noted collector and authority on silhouettes, especially the work of Auguste Amant Constant Fidèle Edouart, who was a French-born portrait artist who worked in England, Scotland and the United States in the Nineteenth Century who specialised in silhouette portraits.
*******Francis Torond was an accomplished and successful silhouette artist of the late Georgian and Regency periods in England. He experienced financial difficulty and decided it was not a profitable career, so sadly only worked as a profilist for a decade. He is renowned today for his exquisite conversation pieces, and also for his clare-obscur style – the technique of using light and shade in a pictorial piece of art. Born around 1743, he emigrated withhis family from France to England around 1776, settling in Westminster in London. Francis Torond painted entirely in Indian ink on fine laid paper, using a quill pen to depict detail. He was incredibly skilled in highlighting the details of clothing and the background in which his sitters were painted. China, furniture and lighting were all beautifully painted. He did not use any mechanical means to produce his silhouettes, and he advertised that he could copy any silhouette onto furniture or jewellery. He died at his St Giles home in 1812.
********Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, as she was known at the beginning of 1923 when this story is set, went on to become Queen of the United Kingdom and the Dominions from 1936 to 1952 as the wife of King George VI. Whilst still Duke of York, Prince Albert initially proposed to Elizabeth in 1921, but she turned him down, being "afraid never, never again to be free to think, speak and act as I feel I really ought to". He proposed again in 1922 after Elizabeth was part of his sister, Mary the Princess Royal’s, wedding party, but she refused him again. On Saturday, January 13th, 1923, Prince Albert went for a walk with Elizabeth at the Bowes-Lyon home at St Paul’s, Walden Bury and proposed for a third and final time. This time she said yes. The wedding took place on April 26, 1923 at Westminster Abbey.
*********On the 4th of November 1922, English archaeologist Howard Carter and his men discovered the entrance to the boy king, Pharaoh Tutankhamun's tomb in the Valley of the Kings. He unseals the entrance on the 16th of February 1923, discovering the most intact Egyptian burial chamber ever unearthed. It sparks a worldwide interest in all things Egyptian. The craze he started became known as Tutmania, and it inspired everything from the architecture of public building and private houses alike to interior design and fashion. Famously at the time, socialite Dolores Denis Denison applied one of the earliest examples of getting the media of the day to pay attention to her because of her dress by arriving at the prestigious private view of the King Tut Exhibition in London, dressed as an Egyptian mummy complete in a golden sarcophagus and had to be carried inside by her driver and a hired man. Although it started before the discovery of the tomb, the Art Deco movement was greatly influenced by Egyptian style. Many of the iconic decorative symbols we associate with the movement today came about because of Howard Carter’s discovery of Tutankhamun's tomb in the Valley of the Kings.
**********Egyptomania refers to a period of renewed interest in the culture of ancient Egypt sparked by Napoleon's Egyptian Campaign in the 19th century. Napoleon was accompanied by many scientists and scholars during this Campaign, which led to a large interest after the documentation of ancient monuments in Egypt. The ancient remains had never been so thoroughly documented before and so the interest in ancient Egypt increased significantly. Jean-François Champollion deciphered the ancient hieroglyphs in 1822 by using the Rosetta Stone that was recovered by French troops in 1799 which began the study of scientific Egyptology.
Cluttered with books and art, Viscount Wrexham’s library with its Georgian furnishings is different from what you might think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures from my collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The majority of the books that you see lining the shelves of the Viscount’s library are 1:12 size miniatures made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. So too are all the books you see both open and closed on the Viscount’s Chippendale desk. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. Therefore, it is a pleasure to give you a glimpse inside one of the books he has made. “The History of Silhouettes” by Emily Nevill Jackson was published by The Connoisseur, in London in 1911. To give you an idea of the work that has gone into this volume and the others, the book contains thirty double sided pages of silhouette images and script and measures thirty-three millimetres in height and thirty millimetres in width and is only five millimetres thick. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make this a miniature artisan piece. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter. I hope that you enjoy this peek at just one of hundreds of his books that I own, and that it makes you smile with its sheer whimsy!
The miniature silhouettes that Lettice bought in Cornwall were made by Lady Mile Miniatures in the United Kingdom.
The Art Nouveau tea set I acquired from an online specialist of miniatures in E-Bay.
Also on the desk to the left stands a stuffed white owl on a branch beneath a glass cloche. A vintage miniature piece, the foliage are real dried flowers and grasses, whilst the owl is cut from white soapstone. The base is stained wood and the cloche is real glass. This I acquired along with two others featuring shells (one of which can be seen in the background) from Kathleen Knight’s Dollhouse Shop in the United Kingdom.
On the desk are some 1:12 artisan miniature ink bottles and a blotter on a silver salver all made by the Little Green Workshop in England who specialise in high end, high quality miniatures. The ink bottles are made from tiny faceted crystal beads and have sterling silver bottoms and lids. The ink blotter is sterling silver too and has a blotter made of real black felt, cut meticulously to size to fit snugly inside the frame.
The Chippendale desk itself is made by Bespaq, and it has a mahogany stain and the design is taken from a real Chippendale desk. Its surface is covered in red dioxide red dioxide leather with a gilt trim. Bespaq is a high-end miniature furniture maker with high attention to detail and quality.
In the background you can see the book lined shelves of Viscount Wrexham’s as well as a Victorian painting of cattle in a gold frame from Amber’s Miniatures in America, and a hand painted ginger jar from Thailand which stands on a Bespaq plant stand.
The Persian rug you can just glimpse in the bottom left-hand corer of the photo was hand woven by Pike, Pike and Company in the United Kingdom.
The gold flocked Edwardian wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.
Old style record shop near Bangkok's Chinatown District. Treasure-trove for the vinyl collector.
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About 6.5 x 9.5 inches.
This summer my 15 year old son is teaching himself calculus. Me, I'm sticking with geometry.
There is a reason for my recent Lego shots that are about the events on the snowy planet of Hoth. They were photographed for a book.
The book is small, only 38 pages, a hardcover with dustjacket. It consists of my photographs with little stories to them, all of which you can find in the Lego on Hoth set on my Flickr account. Many photos were re-processed from the original RAW-files for the book and the little stories were revised for consistency.
In the back cover of the book it says:
Here’s a thought: What if we did not know everything there is to know about what happened on the planet Hoth in Star Wars, Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back? The rebel forces had their hidden base there for some time, what do we know of everyday life in and around the base before the evil Empire’s attack? What do we know of the events during and after the attack? Who were the people who did all the hard work? What if they were all made of Lego?
I did the layout last year, but did not send it for printing because I felt it was missing something. I could not figure it out at first, but then I realized that it was missing the weight of the mighty AT-AT. It played an important role in the events located on Hoth and the book seemed shallow without it. Once I shot those AT-AT shots and added them to the book it was ready for printing.
The first trial came from Blurb yesterday and it looked great. There are some minor issues to be resolved with the layout before ordering the final copies (poor cropping here and there and some work needs to be done with the gutter area, which was deeper than I had anticipated). There'll be three copies in English and maybe ten in Finnish, they will all be given away to the kid and his friends.
Maybe I'll keep one for myself. :D
1951; Edge of Panic by Henry Kane. Cover art by Denis McLoughlin. Hard Cover edition with Dust Jacket.
Pre-decimal pricing.
Encouraging, gentle marketing.
Too bad that internet and supermarket shopping killed off companies like this.
Some interesting titles listed here.
1938; Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift. With black and white drawings by Theodore Naish. Dust Jacket edition
Intorduce more members to Readers Union and yu could claim a Conway Stewart fountain pen. Notably, Winston Churchill favored a Conway Stewart. They still make pens, with buttery-smooth gold nibs, but they are somewhat more expensive today than 25 shillings.
“Nayland Smith is pitted against Fu Manchu in a desperate attempt to preserve the peace of Europe.
“Nayland Smith, whose battle with Dr. Fu Manchu has raged up and down the world for many years and several books, finds himself appointed to the responsible job of protecting the various dictators, financiers, and diplomats to whom the Chinese doctor has decreed death. As possible aggressors in a war which he does not wish to happen, two of these men have already been poisoned by Fu Manchu’s orders, and several others given final warning of his intentions should they continue their international disturbance. Nayland Smith is partly unsuccessful in his mission to protect Rudolf Adlon, German dictator, and Monaghani, Italian leader, but is still able, by using Fu Manchu’s weapons against himself, to salvage the key position in their struggle. In a thrilling, dramatic close, the voice of Fu Manchu speaks to Nayland Smith, promising unceasing, devious war on Europe and the Western World.”
The novel was made into a 15-chapter movie serial of the same name in 1940, that starred Henry Brandon as Dr. Fu Manchu.
Chapter 1: www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjXII9gq3Nw&list=PLi5s3-YiYzf...
Professor Hoffmann (1839 - 1919), born Angelo John Lewis in England, was a lawyer, professor and the leading writer on magic, and on the games, amusements and puzzles of his time. He wrote a series of articles on magic for a boy's magazine (“Every Boy's Annual”) that was later expanded into his classic book on magic, “Modern Magic,” first published in 1876. He used the pen name, Professor Hoffman, because he feared that his professional prospects as a lawyer would be injured if it became known that he possessed such an intimate knowledge of the arts of deception. He was also the author of a novel for kids entitled “Conjurer Dick” (1886). Another of his works is entitled “The Haunted Hat,” a magical short story, first published in Chambers's Journal, January 7, 1905.
His classic “Modern Magic” (1876), and three sequels (“More Magic” (1890), “Later Magic” (1903), and “Latest Magic” (1918) have been reprinted numerous times in many different editions since their original publication, and are still in print and enjoy popular sales today to magic enthusiasts.
Of the series, “Modern Magic” is the most famous. It provides advice on the appearance, the manner of dress, and the staging for magicians. It goes on to describe many different effects with playing cards, coins, watches, rings, handkerchiefs, dominoes, dice, cups and balls, balls, and hats. It concludes with a long chapter on miscellaneous tricks, including magic with strings, gloves, eggs, rice and descriptions of some utility devices. The penultimate chapter describes large stage illusions, and the final chapter contains advice on routines for a magic show, and more advice on staging.
Its popularity is due in part to the scarcity of teaching materials available to would-be magicians in the late 19th Century. “Modern Magic” was the first book in the English language to really explain the techniques of how to perform magical feats.
[Source: Magicpedia at www.geniimagazine.com/magicpedia/Professor_Hoffmann
On the dust jacket is Rockwell's "Triple Self-Portrait' which first appeared as a cover illustration on the "The Saturday Evening Post," February 13, 1960.
Humor and humility were essential aspects of Norman Rockwell’s character, so when asked to do a self-portrait, the results were lighthearted and somewhat self-deprecating. Rockwell was a stickler for neatness, but here he has scattered matchsticks, paint tubes, and brushes over the studio floor. The glass of Coca-Cola, his usual afternoon pick-me-up, looks as if it will tip over at any moment.
A little older artist is gazing at himself in the mirror and he looks very different on canvas. He’s got a little more hair, his pipe is a little perkier and he’s looking out directly at you, without glasses.
Paint rags and pipe ashes sometimes conspired to ignite small fires in Rockwell’s brass bucket, so the wisp of smoke in the painting rings true. It is a reminder that once Rockwell’s studio caught fire as a result of his carelessness with pipe ashes. His brass helmet, a French fireman’s helmet he acquired in Paris in 1923, usually placed on an unused easel, crowns this one.
The four self-portraits on his canvas – Albrecht Durer, Rembrandt, Pablo Picasso, and Vincent Van Gogh – are his references. He did tack or tape studies to his drawings or canvases and he did immerse himself in favorite artwork before beginning a project.
[Source: Norman Rockwell Museum]
From the blurb on the dustjacket:
“With this new departure – a ‘special’ in ‘The Young Traveller Series’ – we present a book for young people in which space science is taken out of the realms of fiction and fantasy into those of fact and probability.
“. . . It is by the foremost authority on the subject (and lately Chairman of the British Interplanetary Society) . . . Man’s curiosity about worlds beyond his own is unlimited. Arthur Clarke tells us of the history of this curiosity from the visions of de Bergerac in 1656, through the prophesies of Verne and Wells, to recent experiments of sending animals into space by rocket, and man’s deepening knowledge of life on other planets. . .
“There is an account of the solar system; of what life would mean on a space station; of the solutions which must be found before space travel becomes a practical reality; and of the engineering problems connected with rocket construction. Thirty-two plates and six diagrams prepared especially for the book combine to make a volume to be recommended as an authoritative, reliable and exciting account of the problems of man’s greatest adventure, the conquest of space.”
Ten stories about the time when men will be adventuring to the stars. Authors include Walter M. Miller, Jr (“No Moon for Me”), Edward Grendon (“Trip One”), Raymond F. Jones (“Tools of the Trade”), Arthur C. Clarke (“Hide and Seek”), Richard Ashby (“Master Race”), Eric Frank Russell (“Dear Devil”), Clifford D. Simak (“Courtesy”), Alan E. Nourse (“Nightmare Brother”), Fletcher Pratt & Walter Kibilius (“Second Chance”), and Irving Cox, Jr. (“Like Gods They Came”).
“. . . these are stories amusing, serious – in one or two cases, even grim – about how the world of tomorrow, with its horizons extended to the infinities of space, will challenge the people who live in it.” [From the blurb on the dust jacket]
This book reprints two full-length novels featuring the sinister Oriental master villain, Shiwan Khan, stories that originally appeared in 1939 in “The Shadow” magazine. Khan wants nothing less than world domination and only one man can stop him from achieving his goal: Lamont Cranston, better known as The Shadow. The Shadow is a crimefighter who has the power to cloud men’s minds and, in the 1930s and 40s, was the most popular radio and pulp magazine hero. Shiwan Khan was his most formidable foe.
Eric Kroll (editor) - The Wonderful World of Bill Ward
King of the Glamour Girls
Taschen Books, 2006
Cover Artist: Bill Ward
Missing caption:
"Gee, Mr. Rank, we sure were lucky you had this cute little place nearby when the car broke down and it started raining!" (Jest, Jan 1960, p71)
From the blurb on the dust jacket:
The human body is a physical miracle we all take for granted. Now John Fisher unveils the body as a self-contained magic show, with the brain directing the performance and the senses and powers of imagination exhibiting their enormous capacity to amaze, deceive, instruct and entertain. He strips away some of the mystique and pretension from the world of magical arts and the paranormal, and in a fully illustrated series of fascinating tricks shows how easily we can realise our body potential and perform all kinds of seeming miracles that hypnotists, magicians and illusionists have practised and exploited for centuries.
Mirror-writing, table-tilting, mind reading, the "law of reversed effort" which allows matches to walk along a knife-blade -- this is an absorbing book of entertainment, and more -- "Body Magic" opens up a vital new awareness of our miraculous human mechanism and in exploring our positive body functions and defining the general principles of psychology, acoustics, optics and mnemonics pinpoints the source and potential of our own and others "body magic." This highly original view of the human body as a treasure-house of illusion offers an enlightening entree to an apparent magical expertise which will both baffle and entertain.
Professor Hoffmann (1839 - 1919), born Angelo John Lewis in England, was a lawyer, professor and the leading writer on magic, and on the games, amusements and puzzles of his time. He wrote a series of articles on magic for a boy's magazine (“Every Boy's Annual”) that was later expanded into his classic book on magic, “Modern Magic,” first published in 1876. He used the pen name, Professor Hoffman, because he feared that his professional prospects as a lawyer would be injured if it became known that he possessed such an intimate knowledge of the arts of deception. He was also the author of a novel for kids entitled “Conjurer Dick” (1886). Another of his works is entitled “The Haunted Hat,” a magical short story, first published in Chambers's Journal, January 7, 1905.
His classic “Modern Magic” (1876), and three sequels (“More Magic” (1890), “Later Magic” (1903), and “Latest Magic” (1918) have been reprinted numerous times in many different editions since their original publication, and are still in print and enjoy popular sales today to magic enthusiasts.
Of the series, “Modern Magic” is the most famous. It provides advice on the appearance, the manner of dress, and the staging for magicians. It goes on to describe many different effects with playing cards, coins, watches, rings, handkerchiefs, dominoes, dice, cups and balls, balls, and hats. It concludes with a long chapter on miscellaneous tricks, including magic with strings, gloves, eggs, rice and descriptions of some utility devices. The penultimate chapter describes large stage illusions, and the final chapter contains advice on routines for a magic show, and more advice on staging.
Its popularity is due in part to the scarcity of teaching materials available to would-be magicians in the late 19th Century. “Modern Magic” was the first book in the English language to really explain the techniques of how to perform magical feats.
[Source: Magicpedia at www.geniimagazine.com/magicpedia/Professor_Hoffmann
From the blurb on the dust jacket:
“Something was moving about the house. It was not alive, nor was it being propelled. Yet it moved.” That is the beginning of one of the most engrossing science novels ever to appear in print. Charged with thrills and suspense, it grips and holds your attention from the very first word.
When Captain Robert Lane of the U.S. Marines leaves for the Orient on the day before Easter, he has no idea that his young wife and four-year-old son are to become involved in a conflict far more deadly than the one in which he is to engage, a war older than the human race. Nor does he realize that he himself is potentially the most dangerous man in the world.
“The Crystal Horde” begins with an Easter egg, a storage egg dyed a virulent green, and it concludes with one of the most tremendous – and unique – battles ever conceived by the mind of man. The body of the tale is made up of action and mystery, beginning in California and moving from there to the interior of China.
Written by Dr. E.T. Bell of the California Institute of Technology (who writes science fiction as “John Taine”), “The Crystal Horde” displays the author’s customary ingenuity and originality in dealing with the unusual. In marked contrast with the otherworldly menace which supplies the basic plot of the story is the array of all-too-human characters. Dr. Saxby, who collects earthquakes, is definitely not a conventional science fiction scientist. He might well be one of Dr. Bell’s colleagues. You will be interested in meeting Hu the Good and his daughter, White Lily; the communist agents, Markoff and Liapanouff; and other ordinary and extraordinary people.
It is worth noting that, although “The Crystal Horde” cannot be called a satire in any sense of the word, Dr. Bell was unable to resist completely the thrusting of a satiric scalpel into some of the infected areas of modern society – and on occasion giving it a not-too-gentle twist!
“The Crystal Horde,” to summarize, is adult, literate reading fare – entertaining and thought-provoking, and written with the skill you’d expect to find in the work of an author who has produced twenty-five reasonably successful books.
A pic of some of my much loved first editions. Apart from a rogue V.S. Naipaul book, these are all Australian authors from the 1950s, 60s, and 70s.
Among them are two of my favourite authors, Frank Hardy and George Johnston. Also, some Barry Oakley books. Oakley was an Australian book critic who wrote some energetic novels in the 1970s. As of the time of writing he is still around at the grand age of 91.
For me the holy grail has been to get a copy of Power Without Glory with its original dust jacket. Quite a feat given how poorly made the first edition was, but a year or so ago I managed it.
Hardy was known mainly for this book but, later in life, he wrote a few exceptional works, namely The Unlucky Australians and But The Dead Are Many.
“The ability to read minds isn't an unmixed blessing, so learns George Hanlon, Secret Operative of the Inter-Stellar Corps. His unique gift helps him with his assignments, of course -- except that he has a lot of trouble with alien minds. He encounters a whole planet full of alien minds on Estrella when the semi-human inhabitants of this Earth-like world of another sun decide that they want nothing to do with the Federation Planets. Hanlon's investigation's lead him into complications and troubles, all of which contribute to the entertainment of this tale of intrigue on a distant world. The striking jacket of this book is by the master of science fiction art – Hannes Bok.” [Summary at Goodreads.com]
For Project 365, 2022 Edition: Day 336/365
One of my favourite books for 25 years. Rumi was a 13th-Century Persian poet and Sufi mystic. As I age I've stopped having an allergic reaction to the religious aspects. So I can simply enjoy reading the whole thing now. I'm rereading it and finding new beauty I don't remember.
Thank you to everyone who visits, faves, and comments.