An Epistle for Charlotte, A Postscript for Enid:Bronte/Bagnold

I have it easy. I work, but am not beholden to anyone. I love, but am not reliant on others' good graces. I write, but am not required by polite mores to hide it from the world. I am female, middle class, and a writer at a time when those are not inherent handicaps. I am not intimidated into making my voice, my stature and my intellect smaller than they are, naturally or through ambition.

Charlotte, the eldest surviving Bronte sister, had gifts, abiding and abundant,of brilliance and insight, intellect and sensibility and the ill luck to be born at a less encouraging time. The Bronte siblings, of course, have come down to us in legend as sad symbols of ill fortune and neglected talent, wasted away and dead while hardly beyond youth. Branwell the ne'er-do-well, Emily the mystic, Anne the forgotten and Charlotte, for awhile, the survivor.
Charlotte, she of the longevity, lived to write more words and volumes than her sisters. Her legacy relies on much more than 'Jane Eyre', which is an accomplishment rich and textured, by turns dramatic, complex, yearning and simple.
'Villette' is a glowing achievement. Her Lucy Snowe is a heroine both worthy and ordinary, a woman of good family and little means with no greater ambition than making an independent, if limited, living. She is sensible, determined rather than brave, pragmatic yet undeniably individual.She is quietly defiant, yet unapologetic in her stance, only when there is no other way. She is not a character to be pigeon-holed as this way or that, as good or bad, lily-white or a vamp: this is what makes her irrefutably, appealingly modern.

Charlotte, with an existence that seems limited to modern eyes, was not a recluse by the standards of her day. She went away to school (it was this same educational institution that claimed the lives of her elder sisters), traveled to London, and taught, bittersweetly, abroad. As with so many informally or haphazardly educated nineteenth century female writers, the erudition of her literary voice, so powerful and keen, is extraordinary.

Although destiny kept it brief, she was the lone Bronte child to wed. It is believed that she was pregnant at the time of her death, just shy of 39. A sturdy,strong and profitable cult has grown up around the 4 Bronte siblings who made it to adult-hood.This was started with the publication, shortly after Charlotte's death, of a biased, not-exactly truthful biography written by Mrs. Elizabeth Gaskell, a casual friend. She is the source, with nothing solid to back it up, of Mr. Bronte's reported bad nature and occasional ill-treatment of his offspring. It is an image that has never entirely been shaken off, even after 150-years and countless better-sourced and researched critical studies. She is also the culprit behind the earlier-mentioned cliched images of the siblings which, at this juncture, seem hardly likely to budge.

The other 3 famous Bronte children are seemingly doomed to wander through eternity, desperately unhappy,and misunderstood: Branwell, forever a drunken adulterer, his artistry forgotten. Emily, the aesthete, walking the moors and yearning for, then welcoming, death. Anne, talented and neglected, living sadly and resignedly in her sisters' tall shadows.

Only Charlotte, granted an extra decade, seems a fully-fleshed, complex human being. She is neither a stock character, nor a literary genius created in a vacuum. She lived in a world, firm of earth and fresh of air, that is like ours, not something out of countless biographers' imaginations. Perhaps that, as much as her magical way of commanding words on ink and paper, is why she remains on our radar, on our shelves and in our hearts.





POSTSCRIPT





Enid Bagnold is little known today yet two words send familiar, colourful and energetic images spinning through our heads: "National Velvet". The film based on her novel made 12-year-old Elizabeth Taylor a star. It is charming, sweet, spirited and, after a fashion, dramatic. It remains a classic of its kind,, in both literature and film.


Additionally,she wrote The Chalk Garden, a play also adapted successfully to the silver screen.


The acclaimed English author--Lady Jones in her private life--had a career of impressive duration, dying at 90. She did a lot of interesting things in her time, more than can be chronicled in a few slim paragraphs. Her 'Autobiography' (yes, that is its title), published in 1969, is a good place to strike up your acquaintance.





CHARLOTTE BRONTE: April 21, 1816-March 31, 1855


ENID BAGNOLD: October 27, 1889-March 31, 1980





PHOTO: CHARLOTTE BRONTE

Dinner for Two, Complete with Clumsy Photos

When: Sunday night,late:9:30 PM

Where: Sitting room, loft: home

Meal by: The Chef

Photos by: Me, nearly forgot, seconds from digging in...

SIRLOIN

RICE

and, the best side dish I have had in ages:

EDAMAME-With onions (caramelized with Marsala), mirin, salt, pepper and cilantro. Amazing, thank you Chef!!

YUM!!!!

Banned From Books: A Reading List a Mile Long, Part III

Today is the last day of The Challenge: reading commences tomorrow. I am relieved to slip back into the homey yet challenging skin of being a reader, and my self-identification as such. I already feel as if I shall want to devour one of everything, please! This will make April as much of a challenge as March. Whittling down my wish-list is going to take a mental chisel of epic proportions--continuing to peruse that Daedalus catalogue is probably not the best use of my idle time. I am, sadly, too deeply engrossed to pull back. Here is Part III of my Reading List, straight out of Daedalus Early Spring 2009. It is probably a good thing that I have not broken the seal of the Bas Bleu catalogue that arrived a few days ago!

1-Love and Louis XIV The Women in the Life of the Sun King by Antonia Fraser (NAN A. TALESE)A soon-to-be notch on my post of biographies read, it is authored by the superb Antonia Fraser, who specializes in chronicling the lives of historical figures. Plus, the re-telling of the Court of the Sun King must read like the trashiest modern tabloid, wrought real.

2-La Dame D'Esprit A Biography of the Marquise du Chatelet by Judith P. Zinsser (VIKING)A peek into the life and careers of one of the most accomplished women of the 18th-Century.

3-The Thames: A Cultural History by Mick Sinclair (OXFORD) This is essentially a biography of the iconic English river. This would be a good place to call me a history geek and obsessive Anglophile. Go ahead. I know you want to.

4-Whores of the Devil Witch-Hunts and Witch-Trials by Erik Durschmied (SUTTON) The title is reason enough, don't you think? Persecution of women of power and influence was sadly wide-spread, even in otherwise civilized societies. I find studies of such endemic superstition, fear and greed incredibly fascinating.

5-Mary Magdalene: A Biography by Bruce Chilton (DOUBLEDAY) Rounding out the genre is a telling of the life of the woman who, in unknown and unknowable capacities, walked by the side of Jesus.

6-Letters of EB White Revised Edition EB White Dorothy Lobrano Guth & Martha White, eds. John Updike, forward. (HARPERCOLLINS) The world and insight of the man behind the extraordinary worlds of creatures Charlotte, Wilbur and Stuart is presented through decades of his letters.

7-Burning Bright by Tracy Chevalier (DUTTON) She wrote the lovely, evocative and believable 'Girl With a Pearl Earring'. All of her novels create, and re-create, in the most breathtaking capacity imaginable, lost eras and the human, complicated individuals who inhabited them.

8-Emilio's Carnival (Senilita) by Italo Svevo (YALE)His early masterpiece, dating from 1898.

9-Maxfield Parrish and the American Imagists by Laurence S. Cutler & Judy Goffman Cutler (CHARTWELL) Another lush coffee-table art book.

10-Toulouse-Lautrec in Paris by Franck Maubert (ASSOULINE) The life + artwork of the bedazzled, sordid legend.

11-Obsessed with Hollywood Test Your Knowledge of the Silver Screen by Andrew J. Rausch (CHRONICLE) I am, and I will.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head-BJ Thomas

Umbrellas (Sort of): One Final Post-Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head

As a child, I adored this song, even though it was already a number of years old. The tune, so catchy, lovely and optimistic, was featured in a Morton salt television ad. The bobbed-haired, illustrated "Morton Salt Girl", just my age, always looked as if she was having the best kind of fun, splashing happily through puddles.
A few years later,on cable,I saw the film that immortalized the song--"Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" (1969). One of cinema's most exuberant, giddy scenes is entirely extraneous to the plot of the film, but no matter:it is pure magic.
Although the David-Bacharach tune has been recorded by dozens of diverse artists, the movie version--sung by BJ Thomas-- remains the most famous. It is my favourite and, therefore, the one featured here. Strictly speaking, umbrellas are nowhere to be seen in the movie clip, nor are they mentioned in the song itself. Yet, it is hardly a long leap from raindrops to umbrellas, so here you go. Enjoy!!

Mood: Dreaming Myself into Black and White

Dreaming in Black and White - by amisslis on Polyvore.com

Seurat/Seurat

'Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte' is the iconic work of Georges Seurat's brief, meteoric career. While the neo-impressionist left behind many fine works-and even managed to sway the brilliant Camille Pissarro to Pointillism, for a year or two-it is for his massive study of people and animals delighting in a sunny, lakeside day that he is known.

The original is in permanent residence at The Art Institute of Chicago. Yet it is my hometown of Columbus that offers a living, breathing, multi-dimensional take on the famous painting. The Topiary Garden in Old Deaf School Park--tucked away in a quiet corner of downtown--is one of a kind: it is the only example of a painting rendered in greenery.

There are 4 1/2 dozen topiary people (considerably taller than life-size), pets, boats and a (real) lake. You see the painting from the view of the painter, and it is extraordinary. It is the only place in the world where you can walk through a painting, interacting, as it were, with boaters, umbrella'd women and even a monkey.

I have, indeed, walked through the park on a Sunday afternoon. I have also been there late at night,in the off season, walking back to a friend's house after an evening at the museum.Winter denudes it of its lushness, and the forms show through, giving it a haunting beauty.During Spring and Summer it is, naturally, the scene of weddings, work-day lunches and intimate chats.It is both a neighborhood park and the only tourist destination of its kind on the planet.

It is set to go into its annual seasons of beauty. It will be at its peak for the next few months. If you happen to be passing through Ohio, it is well worth a diversion.I hope to visit it myself the next time I go home as, for me, it is a symbol of the uniqueness of my beloved city.

Check it out online at: topiarygarden.org

Joe Strummer & The Mescaleros-Straight to Hell

PUNK ROCK SUNDAY:STRUMMER

I have described myself, for those who do not know me, as a punk rocker in ingenue's clothing, so rarely do I look the part. In reality, my morals, ideals and worldview are a harmonious pairing of the punk ethos and my hippie upbringing.It just so happens that I prefer to make my way through life looking like a retro starlet, when at all possible.

As they have with so many others, The Clash helped me find my moral footing. It is impossible to listen to their music--which remains relevant, transcendent and original--without thinking about the meaning, tone and impact of the words. As the lead singer, Joe Strummer was much more than the face of the band: he was the lyricist, and it was his pissed-off, compassionate ethics of inclusion that formed the heart of their gospel.

I have no idols;rather, I have guides. They helped me, when younger, to identify what is important in this world, and their individual fights armored me with the right set of tools to go forth and make the kind of difference that I want to make, in my own way. My mother, George Bernard Shaw and Joe Strummer are the examples that I refer and return to with greatest frequency.

I was driving to work on 23 December 2002, listening to my favourite alternative station, the same as I did every commute. Ten minutes into my drive--perhaps fifteen, I can never be sure--I heard the announcement: Joe Strummer was dead. Suspected heart attack. Only fifty years old. I wept, and I am unashamed to say that I wept until my face was raw. It was a gut reaction; it took over and inhabited my body, with no conscious thought on my part.

It was not for the death of an admired celebrity that I wept. It was for the passing of a great man--a flawed man--who spun his natural genius, and compassion for all that this world contains of injustice and beauty, into a web, steel-strong, of tireless dedication, righteous anger and, loudest of all, buoyant hope.

"Raise a toast to Saint Joe Strummer/I think he might have been our only decent teacher"-Craig Finn

PUNK ROCK SUNDAY IS A NEW COLUMN ON 1000 FOLLIES SO BE SURE TO CHECK BACK WEEKLY.

Frida

I found a link--courtesy of Gala Darling on Icing--that you just have to check out. This is something that I rarely do but this is too good not to share. It is an editorial layout in Dujour called "Frida Come Back to Me." Its vibrant, decadent homage to Frida Kahlo is so scrumptiously stunning that I want to run out and grab a tactile copy for myself, now.

Umbrellas-Fashionistas

In looking through the Umbrella images that I have gathered for this month's series,one thing, of undeniable truth, jumps out at me:the women, no matter the era or the artist, are all quite fashionable.So, as I wrap up my ode to National Umbrella Month, I am going to focus on style.

I am including two of my favourite images here--to omit them would simply be a shame. The first is from an issue of La Gazette du Bon Ton, 1915. It is breathtaking. The ensembles remain striking nearly a century later. This is no wonder, as the illustration features clothing by Paquin, Lanvin and Doeuillet. The women are obviously meant to represent the cream of the crop--nothing less would grace the pages of Bon Ton--every line, angle and centimeter presents them as fashionable, modern perfection.

The suits are exquisite and runway-worthy. All that the Lanvin, in the middle, needs to be 21st-Century ready is a slightly less bulky silhouette and a shorter skirt. The belt and the bubble hem are all the rage, very 2009.

The second is a Dorothea Lange photograph, circa 1937. She captured, in spare black and white, the face and spirit of the Depression years better than anyone else. Her photographs need no description--they say everything better than a writer ever could.

I have also included paintings by Leighton and Sorolla. Even with umbrellas in hand, the subjects remind one of the dawning warmth of early Summer, as seen through the eyes of those charmed with happy, relaxed lives.

Top to Bottom: Sorolla, Leighton, Lange, Gazette du Bon Ton

Swanson and Joplin on The Dick Cavett Show-Best Talk Show Line-Up EVER

Gloria Swanson-"Queen Kelly"

LA SWANSON

Gloria Swanson is the very definition of nonpareil. There has been no one, in the unbelievable 95-years since her film debut, to approach, even by a nautical mile, the shining facets of her peculiar gifts. She possessed an inherent singularity which, when coupled with a steely-nature, was hell-bent on carving not just a niche for herself but inventing a new species, of which she was to be the sole exemplar. And she was.

Her film career proper started in comedies. She was a teenager when she found herself doing the slapstick game in movies for Mack Sennett and, later, for Triangle Pictures. She had a transformation at the hands of Cecil B. DeMille. Now known for his extravagant epics, he also turned out sophisticated fare, which Gloria found herself the centerpiece of for several years. She became a true worldwide phenomena during that time.

She was tiny--not quite 5 feet tall--but broke the delicate-woman-as-china-doll mold by being a bona fide, elegant fashion plate. She was never coy or child-like; drollery and repartee were more her thing. This attitude extended to her attire: there was always something slightly odd--what we would call fashion-forward or edgy today--about her appearance. She was the most stylish star of silent cinema yet her look, like the lady herself, was beyond the reach of anyone who desired to copy her.

Her features were not pretty in any accepted sense: she was sharp-angled with large eyes. Yet her looks,falling short of the ideal, somehow transcended convention to become beautiful. Film loved her. She is always luminous on screen, and in photographs, at eighteen or eighty.

In many ways, her life, career and genuinely unconventional attitude seem, on the surface, to be of text-book quality. If that is so, it is only because she authored the text-book to which the public, and later stars, have spent their lives studying.

Married multiple (in her case, 6) times? Check.Married to a movie star AND minor royalty? Check. Acted the diva? Check. Earned huge salaries? Check. Was mobbed wherever she went? Check. Never appeared in public looking less than perfect (for SEVENTY YEARS of stardom)?Check. Lived through scandals and thrived? Check.

Yet, all it takes is a minor excursion into the interior to find that, not only was she a true pioneer in the cult of personality,but a deeply-dyed believer in holding true to your own character, however unconventional. She had three children--two to whom she gave birth--and flaunted them in a profession, and at a time, when to do so could be career suicide.She equally embraced her many grandchildren. She was a health food fanatic decades ahead of the curve.

She gamely joined the medium of television in its live heyday, even hosting her own show: other movie stars soon followed. She remained stylish until the end but became, from the 'fifties onward, more accessible to real women. She designed fashionable clothes for plus-sized women at a time when they had few options. She helped develop a natural cosmetics line fifty years before that became the rage. In 2009, while pure cosmetics are widely available, they have yet to become the norm.She was also an accomplished artist and able singer.

She was a star of the brightest light who never ceased working long hours. If she became famous and wealthy, it was largely through her own physical,mental and artistic toil. She never tired of putting in an extraordinary effort to achieve, and then maintain,her special status. During her many years of inactivity in film, she found other ways to feed her muse, and herself. When she got it all back again--thanks to a legendary performance in 'Sunset Boulevard' (1950) opposite William Holden--she held onto it permanently, with an attitude and ethic as keen as ever.

Gloria Swanson's life was dramatic, long and varied. She lived to tell the tale on herself in her autobiography "Swanson on Swanson". As with all such projects, it should be taken with a grain of salt but it still remains a must-read for any true fan of cinema when it was silent. Its brush-strokes are expertly applied, not a bristle is askew. It paints Ms. Swanson exactly as she wished to be remembered: hard-working, sincere, witty, independent, smart, pioneering, loving,imperfect,modern, strong-willed, talented, accomplished and entirely unique. How many of those qualities were held by the real woman can be attested by the accounts of her contemporaries but that is hardly the point.

She took the raw material of her being and shaped it into exactly the version of herself that she desired. As someone I know loves to say, "Your perception is your reality." Gloria Swanson's perception was her reality and, by her careful filtering, it has become ours as well:she remains modern, relevant, stylish and highly watchable.

Photo: Gloria Swanson in 'Don't Change Your Husband' (1919).

A Small Press Life:Sorta Outside Rebel Leaders

"Yeah, I get this idea of us being a pair of sorta outside 'rebel leaders' of a group of neo-Lost Generation types who reap heaps of cash for the quality stuff they do, unaffected by some talent-free corporate big wig who would ruin everything."

The above quote, while a bit off-the-cuff, and less tongue-in-cheek than you might expect, captures the spirit and driving force of "A Small Press Life" with humorous perfection. It was said--typed, rather--by my excellent friend and collaborator, Kevin, during a convo on Facebook this past weekend. He lives in Korea; I do not. The Internet is the conduit that keeps our mutual creativity flowing uninterrupted.
While we may practice that creativity in private, as all artists ultimately must, it is through a sense of connectedness and community that we find inspiration, hope and the ability to continue moving down such a difficult path. A support system is a necessity to the well-being of any artisan: it lessens the isolation in-born of such consuming intellectual yet hands-on endeavors.
For some, that serves; it is enough. For others, it is a jumping off point to different ambitions. Such is my case, and Kevin's. The quote is not the result of an unbridled, flagrant ego: it is born of a positive, open desire to spread talent far and wide, ours and that of countless others.
I have jokingly referred to us as like a poor man's Elaine May and Mike Nichols. This is probably unfair to us as individuals and artists, as we are distinctly ourselves. Perhaps, as outsiders, we are more akin to Robert McAlmon and Kay Boyle. Everything that we do, separately or together,is small-scale, though well-regarded: and, in following the muse, we try to include others in the ride.
McAlmon and Boyle, to be sure, never collaborated as such, and neither do Kevin and I. They published their goods--poems, stories, articles, criticisms--in the same places. She edited periodicals, so did he: they ultimately printed each other's work many times over the years. They were friends, insightful to each other's singular talent and life. Their career-boosting and warm regard were mutual. The lives of both were a long saga of creating, inspiring, and trying their damnedest to spread the work of fellow wordsmiths to as many people, in as many corners of the world, as possible.
While Kevin and I are unlikely to re-create a Lost Generation type environment--at the very least we would need Paris and London for that--there is a true spirit behind our intentions and what we do. Our refusal to give in to big media, and remain craftily independent, while encouraging others to do the same and enjoy the ride with us, makes at least part of his quote ring true. Every day that artisans embrace their uniqueness, and set to work doing only what they can do, without ceding to others' requirements, they are holding true to Lost Generation ideals. Rebel leaders? We all are!

Austen Family Cooks/Recipe:Walnut Squares

Walnut Squares are rich. They are decadent. They are not singular but, rather, plural: one is never enough. Even with a reservoir of amazing desserts at our finger-tips, this is on everybody's favourites list. They are best paired with a cup of coffee or, in my case, tea.
Be careful who you share this recipe with: once tasted, people cannot get enough. You will be pestered for the recipe or, most likely, asked to make it at every gathering.

WALNUT SQUARES

PART I:

1 CUP FLOUR
1/4 CUP BROWN SUGAR
1/2 CUP SOFTENED MARGARINE

MIX LIKE PIE CRUST. PAT INTO THE BOTTOM OF A 9X9 PAN AND BAKE FOR 10 MINUTES @ 350 DEGREES.

PART II:

1/4 TEASPOON BAKING POWDER
2 TABLESPOONS FLOUR
1 TEASPOON VANILLA
2 EGGS
1/2 TEASPOON SALT
1 CUP FINELY CHOPPED WALNUTS

POUR THIS OVER THE FIRST MIXTURE AND BAKE AN ADDITIONAL 25 MINUTES. COOL. FROST WITH BUTTER ICING.

BUTTER ICING

1 1/2 CUPS CONFECTIONER'S SUGAR
1/4 CUP FLOUR
1/2 CUP BUTTER, SOFTENED
1 TEASPOON VANILLA
2 TABLESPOONS COLD WATER

COMBINE ALL INGREDIENTS IN A SMALL BOWL. STIR TOGETHER TO SETTLE INGREDIENTS, THEN BEAT WITH A MIXER ON MEDIUM SPEED FOR A MINIMUM OF 10 MINUTES. THIS WILL BECOME THIN AND CREAMY AFTER ABOUT 5 MINUTES AND FLUFFY IN 10 MINUTES.

If I Were a Slapstick Comedienne....(Circa 1914)

I would:

1-Lift up my petticoats and get my feet dirty.

2-Chase (quite literally) after men and not be branded a loose woman ( also known as a hoyden).

3-Learn to drive a roadster, recklessly, at top speed.

4-Do my own daredevil stunts, such as:

5-Fly planes and dive off of teetering platforms.

6-Be tied to railroad tracks and get myself out of trouble, without relying on the "hero" to save the day and my skin.

7-Get paid for acting infinitely, energetically silly.

8-Always win the last laugh and the leading man, by film's end.

9-Not worry about acting like a "lady" at all times, on or off screen, as no one will expect me to have the morals or decorum of the Gish Sisters.

10-As a funny girl, I will be allowed to do things that heroines, vamps and real-life women cannot do without offending prevailing morals and dignity, such as: kiss, argue and kick pompous person in the derriere.

11-Make heaps of money and spend it all on things I did not know existed when I was poor. This is de rigeuer. I will buy gold lame slippers, ostrich feather hats and exotic frippery. I shall eat bon bons.

12-Have my entire family--parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncled and cousins--move out to sunny, Southern California and get them all put on the studio payroll.

13-Move behind the camera and direct and write films, for myself and others. I won't get credit for at least 75 years but it will be a lark.

14-Always look pretty and fashionable in all situations, no matter how absurd or impossible.

15-Work long days and party all night, every night, for at least 3 years. Everything in California is cheap and plentiful. Makeup can cover anything, don't you know.

16-Take "The Cure" once a year. See above.

17-Play practical jokes between takes. No one will be safe from my impish humor.

PHOTO: Mabel Normand

Dueling Poets, A Playwright and a Novelist

The 26th day of March, in various years, has given and taken from America some of her most unique literary voices.Walt Whitman, the singer of poetry's songs, died on this day in 1892--exactly eighteen years after Robert Frost, uniquely American, was born. Although often opposite of each other in sensibility and approach, they both penned words wise and soaring, intimate and simple.

"A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom."

"I exist as I am, that is enough."

"A poem never takes notes. You never take notes in a love affair."

"I am as bad as the worst, but, thank God, I am as good as the best."

"Education doesn't change life much. It just lifts trouble to a higher regard."

"Freedom to walk free and own no superior."

"Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice."

"Henceforth I ask not good fortune. I myself am good fortune."

CAN YOU GUESS WHO WROTE WHAT??

Walt Whitman: 5/31/1819 - 3/26/1892

Robert Frost: 3/26/1874 - 1/29/1963

Also on this day:

Tennessee Williams: 3/26/1911 - 2/25/1983

Raymond Chandler: 7/23/1888 - 3/26/1959

PHOTOS, T to B: Walt Whitman ( at approximately 35 years old); Robert Frost ( at approximately 36 years old).

Banned From Books: A Reading List a Mile Long, Part II

It was Tuesday night, warm, breezy and clear: post-dinner out with The Chef.I had to break out in a trot to keep up with him--the strides of a tall man are too much for me to keep pace with. He was through the doors before I could shout "slow down". I was led, surely quite knowingly, straight down the primrose path: that door opened into Barnes & Noble.

I followed The Chef around the many tables and shelves, up and down escalators, going whither he went, wherever his desire carried us, avoiding too closely anything that looked tempting to my eyes. I am in the waning days of MY GREAT CHALLENGE--this book fast, or intellectual famine--and did not wish to needlessly make things harder on myself.

Besides, I have been walking around with a large portion of the Daedalus Books catalogue swimming circles in my head. I unloaded some of my wish list a few days ago. Below, is Part the Second.

1-The Awful End of Prince William the Silent: The First Assassination of a Head of State with a Handgun by Lisa Jardine (HARPERCOLLINS)Call me morbid, if you must. The entire nature of the world and our future as human beings changed as a result of this single event.

2-American Cities: Historic Maps and Views by Paul E. Cohen & Henry G. Taliaferro (ASSOULINE)A big, expensive, interactive coffee table book. I have so many of these that, like my framed pieces of art, I have to routinely change them out in order to display them all. Still, there is always room for another, correct?

3-Charlotte Perriand: A Life of Creation by Charlotte Perriand (MONACELLI)A designer, she worked alongside legends (Le Corbusier, people!)and lived fascinatingly and singularly: this is her autobiography.

4-Jack the Ripper: Letters From Hell by Stewart P. Evans & Keith Skinner (SUTTON) In case you thought I was morbid with the assassination book.

5-Storm Warning The Origins of the Weather Forecast by Pauline Halford (SUTTON) I am fairly certain that reading this book will forever classify me as an utter geek yet I care not. Forecasting weather is still an imperfect science: we continuously whine about the erratic ability of our meteorologists. However, the leaps we have made in a couple hundred years is really impressive. This book tells the story of how far we have come, and why.

6-The Art of Burning Bridges A Life of John O'Hara by Geoffrey Wolff (KNOPF)Never the most popular man in literary--or life-circles, he is a mostly forgotten writer. In his day, he was brilliant, polarizing and famous. As I have stated before, I love literary biographies--especially when they are devoted to someone whose star was once bright but has since grown dim. Unfortunately, those are often the best writers.

7-Lighthouses of North America by Barry Pickthall (CHARTWELL) I break for lighthouses, really I do. If I see one on my travels, I must stop. While nothing short of towering reality can capture their beauty and history, a coffee table book is a good start.

8-D.H. Lawrence's Paintings by D.H. Lawrence. Keith Sagar, intro. (CHAUCER PRESS)D.H. Lawrence the artist, category visual, is given due notice and examination in this book. Finally.

9-Film Posters of the 60s The Essential Movies of the Decade by Tony Nourmand & Graham Marsh, ed. (TASCHEN) Films of the 60s as seen through promotional posters, full-size and in-color, published by Taschen. Enough said.

Commitments

Posting has been a bit light the last few days and will likely continue to be so tomorrow. However, I will be back with my normal high output starting Friday. There will be at least one new addition then so the wait will be worth it, I promise!!

Reckless Blooming

"Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night."-Rainer Maria Rilke

Collection Obsession

There are a few things that make my heart and mind exceptionally happy, aside from life's essential, simple pleasures. Any time that I am able to combine two or more of those loves, I feel as if I have been given an extra slice of pie.Rarely do I find something that catches hold of me in such a way as to spark an instant itch to start a collection. Recently, I came across an artist whose work meets all of the above criteria.ART+GOLDEN-ERA MOVIE STARS=LOVE at first sight, at least at the gifted hand and eye of Kate Gabrielle.

I am an old-movie nut of the first tier. It is therefore not by coincidence but by sly design that I write, among other things, both on this site and elsewhere, about Classic Hollywood in its many strange, riveting facets.I also have an art background hidden in the not-so-distant depths of my past. Thus, while I know my stuff, I am much like anyone else: I know what I like when I see it, period.

Kate Gabrielle has an Etsy shop full of delightful, slightly quirky yet spare, and altogether arresting images of old stars.She sells originals as well as excellent high-quality copies, all signed.The array of her subject matter is contained tidily within the name of her shop: silents and talkies (silentsandtalkies.etsy.com). There you will find represented the iconic ( Audrey Hepburn, Steve McQueen)alongside the (to modern eyes) obscure ( Audrey Totter, Annette Hanshaw, George Brent). In between are true heavyweights (Barbara Stanwyck, James Cagney) and living legends (Maureen O'Hara,Shirley MacLaine).

I do not recall, even after such brief time, exactly how I came across her page. Yet, once I saw the images, I knew that a new collecting mania was about to take hold and inhabit my consciousness. I purchased three pieces, all copies;proving that I possess a strength and self-discipline of which I should be proud.

Wrapped up nice and tight, ready for their trip to the framer's, are energetic, personable likenesses of Myrna Loy, Veronica Lake and Clara Bow. They will soon be joined by a number of others; their ranks will doubtless be growing over the next few months. On seeing her work for the first time, I instantly envisioned an entire wall dedicated to her movie star renderings. All that remains is deciding which ones will find their home on that wall,which will act as a giant inspiration board as I sit typing away at my articles and stories-some of which will be about the very people whose faces and features surround me.

ARTWORK: KATE GABRIELLE

PLEASE VISIT HER SHOP AT: silentsandtalkies.etsy.com

HER SECOND SHOP IS AT: kategabrielle.etsy.com

SHE ALSO HAS A BLOG: silentsandtalkies.blogspot.com

PHOTOS BY: THE AUTHOR

Joan Crawford

"I have always known what I wanted, and that was beauty...in every form."-Joan Crawford

Joan Crawford's career spanned nearly fifty years, making her one of the longest-employed movie stars in Hollywood's history. She was able and versatile but, more importantly, she was the possessor of a ferocious tenacity. It was this last quality, rather than exceptional ability, that ensured her longevity.

Madonna was not the originator of physical and career reinvention--Crawford had her beat by half a century. Both started out as sexy, vigorous representations of their generations. In order to move their careers forward, they adapted and, in so doing, often set trends. Joan Crawford transformed herself from jazzy Flapper to Depression-era working girl to Boss Lady, surviving periods where she was distinctly out of fashion to bounce back higher than before.

She exemplified, perhaps more than any other celebrity, what it meant to be famous during Hollywood's Golden Age. She devoted more time,energy and ingenuity into developing and maintaining her image than anyone before or since. She was not an outstanding beauty, and her talent was average. She transformed her ordinary gifts into something that was, while not exactly perfection, an admirable mixture of style, relatability and sexiness.

"Hollywood is like life, you face it with the sum total of your equipment."-Joan Crawford

Happy Birthday, Ms. Crawford

Umbrella Series #5-Call Me Up Some Rainy Afternoon

I came across this image of sheet music for an old Irving Berlin tune of which I had never heard. My familiarity with his music stems from films, old and new. His songs are still widely used in movies and television. According to IMDB ( The Internet Movie Database ), his work has appeared in both mediums a combined total of nearly 300 times. He also lived to the respectable age of 101--he was still alive when I was in my teens--so it is no wonder that a significant amount of his canon remains unheard by my ears.

If you have never had the opportunity or proclivity to take a closer look at vintage sheet music, you are missing out on miniature time capsules to the art, fashions and pop culture of bygone eras. The sheet music of 80 or 90 years ago is comparable to album art of later years: its imagery runs the gamut from breathtaking to offensive and is always interesting to behold.

While I could not find a recording of the song, I was able to track down the lyrics. They were definitely not what one might expect from the title! I am including them as part of this post. They go to show that, while the calendar and outward proprieties, or current lack thereof, reflect a different year, not so much has changed.

CALL ME UP SOME RAINY AFTERNOON (IRVING BERLIN)

Nellie Green met Harry Lee

At a masquerade the other night

He liked she and she liked he

Just a case of love at single sight

He took Nellie home that eve

And took the number of her phone

Just before he took his leave

Nellie whispered in the cutest tone

Call me up some rainy afternoon

I'll arrange for a quiet little spoon

Think of all the joy and bliss

We can hug and we can talk about the weather

We can have a quiet little talk

I will see that my mother takes a walk

Mum's the word when we meet

Be a mason, don't repeat

Angel eyes, are you wise?

Goodbye

He look'd wise, then looked for rain

Sure enough it rained that Saturday

"Give me three, four, five, six Main

Nellie dear, prepare I'm on my way"

When he rang the front door bell

No one there responded to his call

Soon he heard his pretty Nell

Singing to somebody in the hall

Call me up some rainy afternoon

Then again how's the evening for a spoon

Call around tomorrow night

We can then put out that fire in the furnace

My mama will sure be out of town

She'll be entertained by Mister Brown

My papa won't be 'round, he will call on Missus Brown

Angel pet, don't forget

Goodbye

Banned From Books: A Reading List a Mile Long, Part I

I received the Early Spring 2009 Daedalus Books catalogue in the post yesterday. A book catalogue in my hands is, ordinarily, a thing at once dangerous and heavenly: it is porn, complete with alluring, tasty pictures.It is my ritual to grab a pen, throw myself into a chair, and hastily circle anything that catches my fancy or piques my intellect.The arc of my interests is wide, and ever-growing: there are many blurbs touched with ink by catalogue's end.Occasionally,when my curiosity gains the upper hand, I will add up the cost of every circled item. The figure is always embarrassing, even with a discount purveyor like Daedalus.

Even as the no-books challenge is winding down, I am still trying to quell and quash my desire--I will stop shy of calling it a need--to read, read, read! In lieu of picking up a book, I picked up that catalogue and marked my desires with a half-empty black pen, which is now drained and dry. Below is a sampler of some of the delectables, oddities and inspirations I found.

1-Bugatti Queen In Search of a French Racing Legend by Miranda Seymour (RANDOM HOUSE) I am a sucker for biographies of independent,odd and accomplished female souls.

2-Black Barty The Real Pirate of the Caribbean by Aubrey Burl (SUTTON) I have a sick fascination for all things piratical, historically speaking.

3-Eating with the Victorians C. Anne Wilson, ed. (SUTTON)I am a Victoriana nut and I love food. This tome seems like the perfect blend of sociological commentary ( food says loads about a people and culture) and cookbook. Yum!

4-Faces of Science by Mariana Cook. Intro by Gerard Piel (NORTON) While I am not a science fiend, I do find the minds and lives of scientists to be enthralling curiosities ( hello, Johannes Kepler). I also love photography.

5-Penicillin Man: Alexander Fleming and the Antibiotic Revolution by Kevin Brown (SUTTON) SEE ABOVE.

6-A Theatrical Feast in New York by Elizabeth Sharland (SUTTON) How, and where, famous thespians and playwrights pass the time before and after opening night.

7-DEAR FRIENDS American Photographs of Men Together 1840-1918 by David Deitcher (ABRAMS) Doesn't the title say it all? And, no, it is not erotica, at least not in any modern sense.

8-Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson. Ralph Steadman, illus. (VINTAGE) Sometimes only Gonzo will do.

9-Wordsworth:A Life by Juliet Barker (HARPER PERENNIAL) My gluttonous yearning for biographies of writers of every stripe will never be sated. Bonus points if it gives good coverage of his famous sister Dorothy,as well.

10-Dolce Vita Style by Jean-Pierre Dufreigne (ASSOULINE) Anyone who has ever seen even 5 minutes of the Fellini film understands why it merits a book such as this.

Painting:The Reader by Jean-Honore Fragonard

Hello Gorgeous

Hello, Spring! I am ready for you, oh so ready for you! My pale legs are ready, too, and my arms are asking to be bared. My haircut is new and my makeup is seasonal. My dreams have been of warm weather since Winter's onset, all those months ago: months of such cold and wind that time itself seemed frozen.

While my soul is singing, a couple of hold-outs have yet to fall in line: shoes and wardrobe. I will not be performing a wholesale massacre of my clothes but it is time for sweaters and long-sleeves, tights and boots to go into hibernation. I have a wish-list of covetables a mile long, all of which are windows to Spring and Summer.

With so many options, covering every need, want and wild whimsy, I am starting small. I made my first warm-weather purchase today, bought off of Etsy. Strictly speaking, as it is a belt, it is not season-specific. Yet it is white satin-- which fairly screams that the weather has turned.

It is vintage (old=environmentally friendly, don't you know), darling, versatile and, the greatest lure of all, be-bowed. One of the upcoming additions to 1000 Follies will be bits about my personal style so you will, doubtless, see it a number of times. Until then, here is a photo of it from the Etsy site of the seller, ERNGRN. Many thanks go out to her for sacrificing such a lovely, happy piece. If I was her, I would definitely have kept it!!

PHOTO: ERNGRN (LOVE GRANNY) on Etsy.Click on the photo to go straight to her shop.

Something to Occupy You While I am Writing Other Things

The Family Larder

"If God had intended us to follow recipes, He wouldn't have given us Grandmothers."-Linda Henley



My Great-Grandmother, Ethel to you, Nanny to me, died a few weeks before my tenth birthday. She was much-loved by all, to say nothing of her cooking. Three generations of us sat at her table, enjoying her dishes, taking for granted that the recipes, if not the lady herself, would always be there for us. We were wrong. A handful of prized recipes died with her. Some have been partially recovered though never fully duplicated; others are simply gone.

We love to cook, the lot of us. Our pleasure, collective and individual, in good food could fill several volumes.We savor it, we talk about it, we anticipate it: it is one of the ingredients in the glue that binds us together as a family.

Yet ask each of us which dish of Ethel's we miss the most and you'll have a variety of answers, answers which are likely to change like the weather. I have not tasted real banana pudding in nearly 26-years. Perhaps one day I will make it myself, playing around in the kitchen until I find the exact combination which reminds me,the most, of hers.

In order to prevent such future disasters, my mom and I complied a family cookbook about nine years ago. It was difficult, complicated and a pain. For several months, my Grandmother conducted what we called LEONA'S TEST KITCHEN. In other words, we cajoled and begged and ordered the woman to measure things while she prepared dishes which had long been habit. I am sure that she whined for a moment or two but, no matter: we now all have access to the same well-loved recipes, with the same little-to-no chance of making anything half as well as she does. With all of our ability and passion, my Grandmother remains the head chef and pie maker for a reason.

Somehow, no matter how accomplished you become in the kitchen, food always tastes better when it comes from the family food archivist:Grandma!!

Austen Family Cooks/Recipe: Sauerkraut Balls

This is the most-requested appetizer we make--especially when my Aunt Lauree prepares them. When I was a little girl, it was a treat to roll the balls into the bread crumbs. My fingers always became yellow-coated with egg yolk before swelling to three times their slender size with bread-crumb residue. While it is not season-specific, it seems to surge in popularity during the colder months. This weekend is the perfect time to make sauerkraut balls, as Winter takes its last, extinguishing gasp.

SAUERKRAUT BALLS

1/2 pound bulk sausage

1/4 cup onion, chopped 14-ounce can of sauerkraut, drained and snipped

2 Tablespoons bread crumbs (not fine)

3 ounces cream cheese

2 Tablespoons parsley

1 teaspoon mustard

1 dash garlic salt

1 dash pepper

2 eggs, well beaten

1/4 cup milk

3/4 cup bread crumbs (not fine)

Flour for coating

Brown sausage and onion;drain. Add sauerkraut and bread crumbs to sausage mixture. Combine remaining ingredients and add to sauerkraut mixture. Chill. Shape into balls and coat with flour. Roll the balls into a mixture of eggs and milk; and then into 3/4 cup bread crumbs. Deep-fry in hot oil until golden brown.

Painting:La jeune cuisiniere by Francois Moreau

Series:Moods #3-Pensively Hoping that Spring Has, Indeed, Sprung

Has Spring Sprung?? - by amisslis on Polyvore.com

Betsy Blair-1923-2009

Banned From Books, Part IV-Bucherwurm

At this hour, I am deeply envious of the woman in the painting. Night is slowly descending and the light in my loft is of the same haziness as the boudoir in Hermann Fenner-Behmer's work. Perhaps she is reading by a slowly awakening light, in the morning's dawning, but I like to think that she is enjoying the languorous waning of a day that is passing into memory. The leavings on the table could be of any meal; I choose to make them the remains of an evening's repast. I, too, have tea nearby.Yet, while I remain mistress of my clothing, I am missing the key accessory of that engrossed reader, a book.

I have adhered faithfully to the outlines of this challenge:no books for the entire month of March, except for research purposes. No novels,no autobiographies, no enticing histories of anything, no poetry.I have been busy, and this very busyness, while exhausting, is what made the first two weeks fly by, what made the lack far less trying, or noticeable, than it would have been ordinarily.

I missed, initially, the book that I was then reading. I had been visiting the world contained within its pages, gathering its story to me at odd moments throughout each day, for a few weeks, intentionally lengthening the process. It was Charlotte Bronte's "Villette"; approximately one-third remains, waiting to be picked up again when the Challenge has ended.

The real sense of loss has been appearing in the last few days, pricking me for a few seconds before scuttling off again. Reading is not just a past-time, an addiction or an addendum to my character. So many things, vast and subtle, are caught up in the coils of this pleasure. I never realized, fully, how sensual an experience words are, for me, nor how many other vital enjoyments are joined to the act of reading.

Tea, fragrant steam rising off of eddying milk,housed within a familiar cup, rests on its saucer at my elbow. Too hot to bring to my lips, it cools as I read. Engrossed in the book, I forget about the liquid, I forget about everything but the words before me, the words and the scenes and emotions those words evoke. I forget about the tea until it has nearly become too cold for its purpose, catching it to my lips immediately before it is a waste, when its warmth is just right, downing it in three long gulps, Goldilocks-like.

I am sinking into bathwater; indulgently hot water, no bubbles, a few candles, and a book.Magazines are cumbersome and flimsy-only a book serves to pass the time,about an hour's worth if the water temperature stays elevated. A glass of wine, red, resting on the tub's edge between sips, aids my warmth, from the inside. Drops, light as mist, scatter onto a page or two. When dry, they are lightly raised, as braille.

Face-down on my bed, reposed comfortably as the woman in the painting, I am half-covered with a sheet, foot tapping, turning the pages of a book--spending the final moments of the evening on words, sentences and thought.Drowsily stretching, I fall asleep mid-paragraph;my curling fingers mark the page. I awake, slowly, to painful rays of light ,and the book with its freshly crumpled edges.

I am deeply envious of the woman in the painting.She is in full command of her simple pleasures: a book, a pot of tea, and the evening's dying light.

Painting:Der Bucherwurm, Hermann Fenner-Behmer (1906).

GBS Quotes

Some words of curmudgeonly wisdom from Shaw, George Bernard Shaw-

"A fashion is nothing but an induced panic."

"Few people think more than two or three times a year. I have made an international reputation for myself by thinking once or twice a week."

"I often quote myself. It adds spice to my conversation."

"Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh."

Something Extra in Honour of Saint Patrick's Day: Maureen O'Hara

I am breaking my own rule--just this once--by posting something not only pre-written but previously published elsewhere. The below article first appeared, in slightly different form, in The Atomic Tomorrow in September 2005. Enjoy!!

In an industry with few certainties, where yesterday's brightest star is gone tomorrow without a trace, the charming appeal of Maureen O'Hara remains tangibly relevant more than 70 years after her graceful debut. The majority of her impressive body of work spans the 1940's-1960's, with a few decidedly worthy performances book-ending those decades.

Starting out as a player at Dublin's legendary Abbey Theatre, the teenager was soon under personal contract to Charles Laughton, debuting under the directorial genius of Alfred Hitchcock. After being brought to Hollywood to again star opposite Laughton, this time in 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame', she found herself indentured to the studio system when her contract was sold.

Faced with a confused studio hierarchy, who did not know what to do with the regal, intelligent actress, she bounced around in a handful of pretty unimpressive films. She soon found solid footing under the direction of John Ford. 'How Green Was My Valley', Richard Llewellyn's classic tale of family life in a downtrodden Welsh mining village, was magnificently adapted by the already legendary director. Well-built yet gracefully commanding, she soon carved a unique niche for herself as a female 'swashbuckler'. She found solid success by doing her own stunts while displaying a personality both fiery and self-possessed.

Portraying the logical, fairy-tale denying mother of Natalie Wood in 'Miracle on 34th Street' (original version) commenced another successful aspect of her career. Although only 26 years old, she embraced the professional opportunity that this afforded. Today, she is closely identified with a number of maternal roles,endowing her mothers with a hip, breezy, sexy and modern attitude.

She was a most-worthy partner for the otherwise stilted machismo of John Wayne in one of Hollywood's best screen partnerships. Real-life platonic best-friends, they had a sizzling yet affable chemistry that usually revolved around a well-matched battle-of-the-sexes. She hitched Wayne's talent to her own, elevating his wooden but iconic ability far above that which he exhibited on his own or opposite less-dynamic co-stars. 'The Quiet Man' is the ultimate movie of O'Hara, Wayne and director John Ford. As near to perfect as the hollywood movie machine can get, then or now, it remains refreshing, absorbing and delightful nearly sixty years after its release. Worth all 7 years it spent in the planning stages, it has spawned legions of devoted fans known as 'Quiet Maniacs'.

Forever Esmerelda, forever Angharad, forever the mother of the young Natalie Wood and the twinned Hayley Mills, forever Mary Kate Danaher....Maureen O'Hara's roster of classic performances is nearly as interesting as the lady herself. She is a real-life heroine:as a fighter for Irish identity within the American immigration process, she made history. She was the first celebrity to sue a tabloid and win, putting the shady and story-concocting 'Confidential' out of business 50 years ago. After retiring from Hollywood, she became a magazine publisher and airline president, the first woman to hold that position in the US. Tough, elegant and brave, she is one of the few actresses in Hollywood history whose real-life accomplishments and endowments match those of her on-screen counterparts.

John Ford, the quintessential American director, won two of his Academy Awards for films starring Maureen O'Hara: 'How Green Was My Valley' and 'The Quiet Man'.

Photo-Maureen O'Hara in 'The Black Swan' (1942).