Books – Page 5 – derrickjknight

A Book Of Spooks And Spectres

This being the second successive day of unrelenting rain I finished reading

published by Methuen Children’s Books Ltd in 1979, of which this is the book jacket.

Manning-Sanders introduces her collection of stories from all over the world by explaining the difference between Spooks who have always been ghostly beings with a king to rule over them and a country of their own; and “Spectres [who] on the other hand have not always been Spectres. They were once creatures of flesh and blood, generally human beings, who after death, find the gates of heaven and hell shut against them, and so must return to earth…” Spooks are generally happy beings, and spectres unhappy ones.

Each piece has been translated into lucid and clear prose in the author’s own language. “Ruth Manning-Sanders [1886-1988] was an English poet and author born in Wales, known for a series of children’s books for which she collected and related fairy tales worldwide. She published over 90 books in her lifetime” (Wikipedia)

Robin Jacques /ˈdʒeɪks/ (27 March 1920 – 18 March 1995) was a British illustratorwhose work was published in more than 100 novels and children’s books. He is notable for his long collaboration with Ruth Manning-Sanders, illustrating many of her collections of fairy tales from all over the world. In much of his work, Jacques employed the stippling technique. (Wikipedia)

Here are the drawings from this book.

I was clearly influenced by such illustrators when I produced the 1981 cover for the Queens Park Family Service Unit Annual Report, and the drawing of Auntie Gwen in 1985 for my Social Work Area Team magazine Age Lines

This evening we dined on Pepperoni Pizza and plentiful fresh salad with which I drank more of the Cahors.

Wuthering Heights

In a comment on her post
Book Review: Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë of 1st July, the excellent reviewer https://bvitelli2002.wordpress.com

knowing full well what the answer was likely to be, asked me whether I had a copy in my library.

I therefore offer

as an accompaniment to Barbara’s review.

As usual images may be enlarged when accessing the gallery. Charles Keeping’s lithographs suit the mood of the book very well.

This afternoon I watched the Wimbledon Tennis men’s match between Carlos Alcaraz and Frances Tiafoe followed by the women’s game between Emma Raducanu and Maria Sakkari. Before the latter match had finished we dined on bowls of rice, noodles, and prawns from bowls on our knees in front of the TV. I drank more Malbec.

The Story Of Hamlet

Having decided to take a physical rest today I gave my brain a workout with this work.

Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch (born Nov. 21, 1863, Bodmin, Cornwall, Eng.—died May 12, 1944, Fowey, Cornwall) was an English poet, novelist, and anthologist noted for his compilationof The Oxford Book of English Verse 1250–1900(1900; revised 1939) and The Oxford Book of Ballads (1910).

He was educated at Newton Abbot College, Clifton College, and Trinity College, Oxford, where he became lecturer in classics (1886–87). In 1887 he wrote Dead Man’s Rock, the first of several novels of Cornwall and the sea. From 1887 to 1892 he worked in London for a publishing firm and as assistant editor of The Speaker. A number of short stories that he contributed to it were reprinted in book form as Noughts and Crosses (1891), the first of a dozen similar volumes. In 1892 he settled at Fowey, the small Cornish port that appears in his stories as “Troy Town.” He was knighted in 1910 and in 1912 was appointed King Edward VII professor of English literature at Cambridge and also elected a fellow of Jesus College. (https://www.britannica.com/biography/Arthur-Thomas-Quiller-Couch)

On the year in which he received his knighthood, he introduced

with “The Story of Hamlet” which details in erudite and fluent modern prose of his time the tale of Shakespeare’s timeless eponymous masterpiece. In more than 20 pages, he clarifies all the dramatis personae, their roles, their relationships, and their characters; he describes their actions, their locations, and their influences; finishing up with observations about the Scandinavian source material upon which our playwright is thought to have based his work. It would be extremely helpful in conveying an understanding of the play for any newcomer.

My first edition was presented with a fine copper plate inscription to “Tristan With love From J. A. R. Decber 25th 1910”.

Well past a century old, the outside of my book bears signs of ageing in the spine, but its inner core is unharmed, except for slight creasing of two of the tipped in colour plates, each of which is protected by undamaged tissue.

The frontispiece is paired with the title page above, the left side of which shows the edge of the the protecting sheet.

As demonstrated by these colour plates, W. G. Simmonds was a master of the golden age of book illustration. Similar edges of the protectors are shown in this gallery of images.

The last page of each Act is decorated with a drawing by the artist; each sheet of tissue bears a similar illustration and lines from the play relevant to the specific colour plate.

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s wholesome sausages in red wine; creamy mashed potatoes; firm carrots, cauliflower and Brussels sprouts; and tender green beans, with which I drank Reserva Privada Chilean Malbec 2022

The Folio Wordsworth

Prompted by a comment yesterday from Anne of Something Over Tea I have today scanned sample pages from

The poems speak for themselves. Nicholas Roe’s introduction is informative and helpful.

Peter Reddick also designed the cover boards, and

decorated the pages with fine bucolic engravings, as fitted the poet.

Including pages of explanatory notes this volume contains almost 500 large format pages.

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s wholesome cottage pie; Lionnaise potatoes; carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, and runner beans, with which I drank Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2022, from a bottle Jackie had bought for me for my post operative return, yet which I hadn’t been able to open until now.

The Folio Hamlet

“An actor who is playing Hamlet should, perhaps, not write about the play. He has formulated his own opinions in order to portray the character as best he feels able. This means that, for the moment, he is set in his ideas about a character on the analysis of which the finest brains of critics and actors have been bent for three hundred and fifty years: so it may seem presumptuous of him to drag the cloak of his opinion in so vast an arena.” So begins Richard Burton’s insightful introduction to this volume. His decision not to review the play accords with mine for rather different reasons, given that others more knowledgeable would have so much more to offer.

I took this book into hospital for me but got no further than the first couple of scenes before I ran out of impetus for reading anything at all – certainly not

I continued at home over the last few days.

Here is the now rather fragile book jacket, looking pretty good after 70 years, and also

the front board design that adorns every issue in this series.

These are the special illustrations by Roger Furse.

This evening Becky, Ian , Jackie, and I all dined on Mr Pink’s battered cod and chips and mushy peas

The Old Wives’Tale

This morning I finished reading

In this truly great example of an English novel rivalling the realism of the French Balzac or Zola, Bennet has traced the disparate lives of two sisters born of the same provincial family, delineating their different characters and chosen paths, and reuniting them in their later lives. A sentence from the very last chapter could serve as a statement about the story as a whole: “she paused in wonder at the contrasting hazards of existence.”

The work was first published by Chapman and Hall in 1908, although the author’s chosen period was half a century earlier, as indicated by such as a test ride of the unsteady and uncomfortable aptly termed “bone-shaker” bicycle.

One of the sisters, the more traditionally restrained and less adventurous, never moves from her place of birth; the other, unpredictable, wilful and risk-taking leaves her homeland for a life abroad.

The author has a deep, insightful, knowledge of human nature and the skill of describing and exploring the thoughts, minds, and actions of his characters, both male and female.

Bennet has genuine sympathy with his protagonists, sensitively understanding their strengths and their flaws. He manages their negotiations with each other, – knowing when to enter into subtle persuasion or direct confrontation and when to accept an adamant stance. He shows the potential folly of either headstrong or too reticent love; the importance of trust, and the danger of deception.

“Constance, who bore Mrs Baines’s bunch of keys at her girdle, a solemn trust, moved a little fearfully to a corner cupboard which was hung in the angle to the right of the projecting fireplace, over a shelf on which stood a large copper tea-urn. That corner cupboard, of oak inlaid with maple and ebony in a simple border pattern, was typical of the room. It was of piece with the deep green ‘flock’ wallpaper, and the tea-urn, and the rocking-chairs with their antimacassars, and the harmonium in rosewood with a Chinese papier-mâché tea-caddy on the top of it; even with the carpet, certainly the most curious parlour carpet that ever was, being made of lengths of stair-carpet sewn together side by side. That corner cupboard was already old in service; it had held the medicines of generations. It gleamed darkly with the grave and genuine polish which comes from ancient use alone. The key which Constance chose from her bunch was like the cupboard, smooth and shining with years; it fitted and turned very easily, yet with a firm snap……..” demonstrates Bennet’s facility for description of place and person. Just as the room gives a flavour of the residents, there are many passages where physical images render their characters. Readers will note that plentiful alliteration eases the flow of the prose. Many further examples include those making use of the siblings’ names, e.g. “Sophia slipped out of bed”, “Constance eagerly consented”; “the tap in the coal-cellar out of repair could be heard distinctly and systematically dripping water into a jar on the drop-stone” emphasising a moment of tension; “the enervating voluptuousness of grief” being such an apt description.

Similes like “the topic which secretly ravaged the supper-world as a subterranean fire ravages a mine” abound; “During eight years the moth Charles had flitted round her brilliance and was now singed past escape” is an example of a rich metaphor.

Dry humour, such as the chapters on a troubling tooth removal, is in plentiful supply.

Tim Heald’s introduction gives useful information about Bennet and his time.

The header picture shows the title page and frontispiece, which is to my mind the more fitting lithograph by Glynn Boyd Harte.

Whilst the composition of Harte’s illustrations is impeccable the figures are ill defined and faces seem to be avoided, when I can’t see any justification for this in the author’s meticulous work. It is hard to see the beauty described by Bennet in the couple greeting each other in the second image, and one would never know the distressing disaster being discussed in the last one.

This evening we dined on succulent roast lamb, mint sauce, boiled baby new potatoes, firm carrots and broccoli, with tender cabbage and tasty gravy.

Rudin

Today I finished reading this work.

Given that until 1856, when Rudin, his first novel, was produced, Turgenev had produced only a series of short stories and drama it is perhaps unsurprising that this work reads very like a play. Much of the work consists of masterful dialogue with clearly defined scenes.

Almost as if introducing Act I, Scene I, the opening paragraph demonstrates the writer’s descriptive ability: “It was a quiet summer morning. The sun was already high in a clear sky; but the fields still glistened with dew, from newly awakened hollows rose a fragrant freshness and in woodland, still damp and unrustling, there could be heard the gay sound of early birdsong. On the summit of a gentle hill, covered from top to bottom with newly blossomed rye, a small village could be seen. Towards this little village, along a narrow cross-country track, a young woman walked, in a white Muslim dress and round straw hat, carrying a parasol. A servant boy followed some distance behind her.”

There are a number of examples of the moods of weather influencing those of the characters; and of its atmosphere lifting or depressing the cast. After a sudden summer storm “The sky had almost completely cleared when Natalya went into the garden. It breathed freshness and tranquility, that gentle and happy tranquility to which the heart of man responds with a sweetly oppressive stirring of secret sympathy and indefinable longings………”

Turgenev presents people, even relatives, who, despite thinking they know each other well, do not do so at all. Indeed, Rudin probably knows himself better than anyone, in that he understands that there is a disjointedness between his intellect and his emotions. He is able to throw himself into an activity or an idea, but always to let it slip away, destined to wander the world as he aged.

Through the voices of the eponymous protagonist and the several dramatis personae we learn that Rudin is an intellectually gifted and eloquent speaker immediately able to attract people but not to retain relationships. He is able to philosophise on love but not truly to engage with it.

The translator, Richard Freeborn, has produces a useful introduction.

Penguin’s cover shows a detail of ‘On the Banks’ by Repin.

In my second year of blogging, I was producing thumbnail pieces on books included in uncategorised posts. Here is an extract from https://derrickjknight.com/2014/09/04/the-scent-bottle/ produced on the old WP Classic Editor

“This afternoon I finished reading Ivan Turgenev’s masterpiece, ‘On The Eve’. In the 1850s, when he worked on the novel, the world was about to change through Russia’s devastating war with the English and European alliance. This is a tragic love story, beautifully, sensitively, and insightfully written. The characters are well drawn, and the prose flows pleasingly. The last chapters in which the ill-fated couple Elena and Insarov spend an evening watching ‘La Traviata’ brilliantly ties up the story, for, like Verdi’s heroine, Insarov is dying of consumption.

My Folio Society edition is elegantly illustrated by Lauren Nassef.”

This is the one picture I posted then.

This evening we dined on firm fillets of duck breast; tasty gravy; boiled new potatoes; tender brassica in the form of cabbage and cauliflower leaves; crunchy carrots; and cauliflower, broccoli al dente.

Huckleberry Finn

Two sisters came bearing birthday gifts for Jackie today; first Shelly this morning; then Elizabeth this afternoon – also bringing scones, butter, and jam.

We enjoyed convivial conversations.

Between visits I finished reading and scanning the illustrations to Mark Twain’s iconic novel.

After dining on Ashleigh’s fish and chips; Heinz baked beans; Mrs Elswoods’s pickled gherkins; and Garner’s pickled onions, I reviewed the book, of which this is the illustrated title page:

In a journey with his older friend Jim along the Mississippi River, itself a major character in the book, Huck Finn spends every effort to carry the runaway slave to freedom. Both man and boy seek freedom, peace, and comfort. Huck has been adopted by a woman wishing to convert him from his carefree lifestyle to a more traditional middle class one; the “nigger” Jim wants to own himself rather than be valued at $800 to someone else, although he feels that is where he belongs.

They take off together on a raft, meeting various adventures involving a violent village where a lethal vendetta rages, and a man of public position is able to shoot another dead; a generous, friendly family; a gang hunting runaway slaves; a commercial vessel prepared to run down their boat. On each occasion Jim was forced to hide while Huck reconnoitred the scenes.

The story is a plea for non-violence, and above all an exposure of how the negro slaves are regarded as property to be bought and sold. As such we are shown that certain attitudes have not progressed in the intervening century and a half since the original 1883 publication. There have been a number of attempts in the 20th and 21st centuries to ban the book.

Written in the vernacular of the unlettered eponymous protagonist and the tongue of his black friend, the fluid prose of the book follows the calms and the storms of the river along which they travel. “Pretty soon it darkened up and begun to thunder and lighten; so the birds was right about it. Directly it begun to rain, and it rained like all fury, too, and I never seen the wind blow so. It was one of those regular summer storms. It would get so dark that it looked all blue-black outside, and lovely; and the rain would thrash along by so thick that the tree off a little ways looked dim and spider-webby; and here would come a blast of wind that would bend the trees down and turn up the pale underside of the leaves; and then a perfect ripper of a gust would follow along and set the branches to tossing their arms as if they was just wild; and next, when it was just about the bluest and blackest – fst! it was a bright as glory and you’d have a little glimpse of treetops a-plunging about, away off yonder in the storm, hundreds of yards further than you could see before; dark as sin again in a second, and now you’d hear the thunder let go with an awful crash and then go rumbling, grumbling, tumbling down the sky towards the under side of the world, like rolling empty barrels down stairs, where it’s long stairs and they bounce a good deal, you know” also gives examples of Twain’s simile and metaphor.

Colin Ward’s knowledgeable introduction is well written and helpful.

The pages including Harry Brockway’s muscular wood engravings contain further examples of Twain’s prose.

The header picture is of the boards and spine of my Folio Society edition.

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Trilling songbirds heralded dawn this morning,

soon after which I embarked upon completing my reading of

Writing a review, and scanning pictures, which was to occupy me until well into the evening.

This undated edition by Heirloom Library Limited bears the inscription “Gordon Xmas 1949”. It is my loss that it has languished unopened on my shelves for the 50 years since I bought it, presumably in second hand bookshop.

With the authors dry wit and sound knowledge of boys, their philosophy, their deviousness, their fluctuating relationships, their machinations, their vulnerable bravado, their games, their likes and dislikes, and their fundamental honesty, Twain introduces us to the eponymous protagonist with a series of exchanges of fast moving dialogue and descriptions of scrapes and speculation. Family, friends, and enemies are featured in this manner, while we have many examples of the author’s descriptive powers encompassing characterisation, place, and the natural world. He has an in depth knowledge of plants and wildlife effortlessly woven into tales of Tom and those around him.

Imaginary scenarios are invented and played out until exhaustion or boredom causes interest to wane; the passion is easily transferable.

Twain’s prose is poetic, with plenty of metaphor, such as “the sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them”; and alliteration, as in “varnished foliage and festooning vines” or “voluptuous votary of fashion”

Soon the action picks up and the important adventures begin, with excitement, dread, and wavering progress. We are reminded that even courageous children can wilt at the drop of a hat. Throughout everything the courage and leadership of Tom prevails.

Geoffrey Whittham’s immaculate illustrations are drawn with such perfect precision of perspective and movement.

The frontispiece is featured above; Here are the cover boards and spine;

and the endpapers, repeated back and front.

Where the black and white drawings appear opposite a page of text I have included this for those who wish to sample Twain’s prose.

There are 8 full page colour plates, including the frontispiece.

This evening we dined on the last of Jackie’s tasty chicken and vegetable stewp accompanied by pizza, with which I drank more of the Alentejano.

Jane Eyre

Today I finished reading

This superbly constructed story of the search for love of a heroine wishing to blend passionate physical needs with the emotional and spiritual aspects, bearing in mind the constraints of duty and a strong Christian faith, has rightly stood the test of time since its first bursting on the literary scene in 1847.

We are carried along with fluid prose at a breakneck speed. Bronte has full command of dialogue, and the thoughts of Jane as she struggles with her wishes and her sense of propriety. She experiences a lifetime of self denial. Humour is absent.

There have been so many filmed versions of the story that we all think we know it well. Knowledge of the finish could have affected my reading, but it really didn’t, and I hope not to give the game away in this review.

Our author has observant descriptive powers of place and person and uses this to good advantage in setting her scenes. This is lyrically demonstrated on the very first page: “A small breakfast room adjoined the drawing room. I slipped in there. It contained a book-case: I soon possessed myself of a volume, taking care that it should be one stored with pictures. I mounted into the window-seat: gathering up my feet, I sat cross-legged, like a Turk; and, having drawn the red moreen curtain nearly close, I was shrined in double retirement.

Folds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand; to the left were the clear planes of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear November day. At intervals, while turning over the leaves of my book, I studied the aspect of that winter afternoon. Afar, it offered a pale bank of mist and cloud; near, a scene of wet lawn and storm-beat shrub, with ceaseless rain sweeping away wildly before a long and lamentable blast.”

The harsh weather is a constant feature reflecting the unrelenting cruel neglect of her childhood that gave her a sense of having no value to anyone, yet unable to quell her inner strength.

Fear of failure in “habituating [her]self to new rules and unwonted tasks” was to dog her adult life. Her such for love was apparently unsuccessful, partly because of the strong principles outlined in my second paragraph.

Throughout Jane’s time at Thornfield there is evidence of a dark secret during which we are misled into imagining a misleading source. Another secret concerning her upbringing emerges later.

There is no shortage of exciting activity. The wreck of a storm blasted chestnut tree; “the cloven halves…not broken from each other” becomes a prophetic metaphor by the end of the tale.

J.H.’s introduction puts the work in the context of the Brontes’ lives and time.

Anthony Colbert’s lithographs are evocative of the mood of the story.

This evening we dined on tender roast lamb; boiled new potatoes; firm broccoli and cauliflower, the chopped leaves of which produce cabbage; and crunchy carrots, with meaty gravy. I finished the Sangiovese and Syrah.