Books

My Fare Lady

Author: Kirsten K., Books, Food & Drink, History, Literature, Nostalgia, Recipes

More than 25 years ago, I was browsing the book selection from Amazon—yes, 25 years and no, not that Amazon—and came across an intriguing entry: The Captain’s Lady Cookbook & Personal Journal, 1837-1917, Vol. II: The Love Story, which included the following description:

“This is an amazing look at the life of a well-to-do woman who combined her diary, recipes, shopping lists, thoughts and dreams into her personal journal. The charm is indescribable. Recipes and a love story.”

I added it by hand to my printed order form, along with a reproduction Regency dress pattern, a pair of cotton ladies stockings, a handful of faux tortoise hair pins, and a bottle of Devon Violet eau de toilette. For me, the original mail order Amazon was Amazon Drygoods: “Purveyor of Items for the 19th Century Impression.” Their seasonal 100-page catalogs, with tiny print filling every page, put J. Peterman to shame and took weeks to peruse thoroughly.

Having developed a passion for historical romance in high school, I was eager to learn more about the clothing and customs of the 1800s, and Amazon Drygoods was the place to do so, supplying books, materials, and reproduction items for history enthusiasts and reenactors.

The Captain’s Lady Cookbook & Personal Journal was a real find—literally. Editor Barbara Dalia Jasmin found it at a tag sale in the early 1960s and paid 25 cents for its 300+ ultra-thin pages handwritten in copperplate script by the young wife of a Massachusetts ship’s captain in the mid-19th century. Although the entire journal comprises the period from 1837-1917, Ms. Jasmin chose to publish “The Love Story” first, which begins with the diarist’s marriage to her beloved captain on March 18, 1857 and covers the first 17 years of their lives together. Of his imminent departure on the clipper ship The Golden Fleece two months after their wedding, she writes, “I would choose to wait for him rather than for any other man in the entire world.”

Among traditional New England-style recipes such as Baked Indian Pudding and Washington Pie Cake are directions for making washing fluids, cough syrup, a digestive aid, and a dressing for the hair; lists of shopping items needed, wedding gifts received, and shipping cargo inventoried; “humour,” quotes, and poems (some by the author herself); mention of notable events (the end of the Civil War, the death of Abraham Lincoln); and stories of personal tragedy, like the loss of her brother at sea and the suicide by drowning of her cousin Jane. But there are also meditations on nature, family, faith, and, most of all, her undying love for her captain.

Instead of saying goodbye when he left for a voyage, the captain would tell his lady, “I think I shall sail across the Bay, but I shall be back in time for a piece of your special lemon pie.” She writes that, “When his return was imminent, I would make a lemon pie almost every day…Then, that special day arrived…My Captain would stride through the door…and say playfully, ‘Well, my Lady, isn’t that lemon pie ready yet?’” For their third anniversary, he gave her a gold pin and matching ring encrusted with precious stones. “Laid in succession, the first letter of each stone spells the word ‘Dearest.’ Diamond, emerald, amethyst, ruby, emerald, sapphire, and topaz.” O Captain! My Captain!

Reproduction of a page from the original manuscript of The Captain’s Lady Cookbook.

Amazon Drygoods noted that “Vol. I will be next in the series with a total of 9.” But—though Vol. II was first published in 1981 and the copyright page of the book states: “Vol I The Early Years 1837 – 1857 to be published October 9, 1983” and “Vol III The Children From the Sea 1863 in preparation”—I have never seen another book in the series published. These days, The Captain’s Lady Cookbook & Personal Journal can only be found from secondhand bookstores and select online vendors. I don’t know if something befell Ms. Jasmin or where the original journal resides today, but I do know that it’s a document of historical and human significance that should be preserved for posterity.

As Valentine’s Day approaches, you can indulge in this captivating cookbook and swoon-worthy story of true love by reading the digitized version online for free at the link below, but you’ll want your own copy to flip through whenever you need help navigating the rough seas of life and love. The Captain and his Lady demonstrate kindness to each other, respect for family, courage in adversity, celebration of life, and, above all else, a deep and abiding love—qualities we could use more of in THIS day and age. So open this present from the past to chart a course (and courses!) for your own happily ever after, and “fare” thee well.


Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice™️ in this post:

The Captain’s Lady Cookbook & Personal Journal

 

Original copies of The Captain’s Lady Cookbook are available for purchase at Abe Books, Amazon.com, and eBay, along with other versions.

 

Phantom Thread

Author: Kirsten K., Books, Entertainment, History, Literature, Nostalgia, Theatre

On this day in 1986, Andrew Lloyd Webber’s The Phantom of the Opera premiered in London’s West End, beginning its theatrical journey around the world and into the record books as the longest running show in Broadway history,* but it wasn’t until years later that I first fell under the Phantom’s spell. I heard The Music of the Night while watching Brian Boitano skate his signature routine on a frozen pond in some long-forgotten television special, but I could not forget the song.

From that moment, The Phantom of the Opera began to weave a ghostly thread through my life. I promptly purchased the Original London Cast Recording of the musical and—as Kirsti can attest—learned every word and every note. That year, I dressed as the Phantom for Halloween (when I couldn’t find his trademark half-mask, I made my own) and held out the vain hope of traveling to New York City to see the show on Broadway, but when the touring production finally came to Los Angeles, tickets were so in-demand and expensive that I couldn’t afford one!

I was in school at the time and supplemented my meager income by babysitting. When I was asked to watch the children of a couple who were going to the theater, I was both excited and envious to discover that they were seeing The Phantom of the Opera. I was also secretly resentful: as season ticket holders, they were merely going to see the latest show, whereas I—a TRUE “phan”—was stuck watching the kids. But they brought me back one of the free programs, which I read cover-to-cover and still have to this day.

I eventually saw the show for the first time with my family, and it was both phantastic and anti-climactic, as such long-awaited moments tend to be, but it rekindled my childhood love of musicals and gave me a new appreciation for live theater—another thread that continues to twine its way through my life.

During The Phantom of the Opera’s historic 4½-year run in Los Angeles, the theater began to offer upper balcony (aka “nosebleed”) seats to students for just $15, so I went there every few months to see the show, taking a different friend or co-worker with me each time and delighting in their reactions to the phanfare. Serendipitously, I happened to be there on the night of Davis Gaines’s 100th performance as the Phantom, as well as the time he surpassed Michael Crawford as the longest-running Phantom. In addition to various touring productions and Phantom – The Las Vegas Spectacular, I’ve seen the show almost 20 times, which is a modest number, considering the 100+ times that some phanatics have seen it.

As most people are aware, the stage production is based on the French novel Le Fantôme de l’Opéra by Gaston Leroux, but it was largely the musical that inspired a wave of phanfic in the ensuing years, the first—and, arguably, the best—of which is Phantom by Susan Kay. This year marks both the 110th anniversary of the publication of Leroux’s classic novel† and the 30th anniversary of  the release of Susan Kay’s reimagining of the tale, which follows the disfigured genius Erik from his birth all the way through the dramatic events at the Paris Opera.

There are other threads in my life that have spun off from the original—books I’ve read, movies I’ve seen, music I’ve played, friends I’ve made, and places I’ve traveled as a result of my introduction to the Phantom. When I started piano lessons as an adult, the first song I learned to play was The Music of the Night. I’ve studied both voice and French, the latter culminating in a trip to Paris, where I visited the Palais Garnier and stood outside Box 5, a favorite haunt of the O.G.‡

The Phantom of the Opera unspooled more of its own thread to produce both a film version and a sequel to the original stage production called Love Never Dies, which—despite its lush sets and some truly beautiful music—was not well received by either critics or audiences (much the way an unseen monster is more frightening when conjured in the mind’s eye, an unfulfilled love story is more intriguing when left to the imagination).

Some threads become worn with time and need to be stored away to protect them, but every once in a while I like to pull gently at the Phantom thread, revisiting the musical and hearing those haunting melodies again, allowing them to weave their spectral spell once more.


Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice™ in this post:

The Phantom of the Opera

 

*The Phantom of the Opera is the longest running show in Broadway history to date, but another blockbuster may come along someday to push the Phantom off its pedestal.

†Le Fantôme de l’Opéra by Gaston Leroux was serialized in the French newspaper Le Gaulois beginning in 1909, but was officially published in volume form in March of 1910.

‡The Phantom signs his letters O.G. for “Opera Ghost.”

 

Creature of Habits

Author: Kirsten K., Books, Literature, Self-Improvement, Wellness

Hello, Swooners! It’s been a while. Four months, to be exact, since our last post and even longer since our last in-depth story. After a few years of writing for The Swoon Society, Kirsti and I began to experience an “enthusiasm gap” and decided to take a short break, but short-term behaviors can easily become long-term habits…

Years ago, I read the book The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg and was slightly disconcerted to realize that almost everything we do—both self-serving and self-defeating—is simply a habit we got into somewhere along the way. While a new habit can overwrite an old one, the neural pattern for the old habit still exists in the brain, lying dormant until something comes along to reactivate it. This explains how, months or even years after adopting a positive habit, we can suddenly fall off the wagon and find ourselves right back in the throes of the negative habit we thought we’d kicked.

I am usually good about establishing habits when I’m highly motivated, but I can’t always figure out why some habits stick, while others fall away. I enjoy exercise and take long, nightly walks with my dog, but I’ve struggled to maintain a consistent upper body workout. I might do push-ups several times one week, then slip to once or twice the next week, and do nothing at all for a week or two after that, despite having a strong desire to be strong.

For this reason, an online article caught my eye recently. The teaser mentioned that a man had strengthened his upper body by developing the habit of doing just two push-ups every time he went to the bathroom. I was intrigued enough to read the entire article, which introduced me to the Tiny Habits method from Stanford behavior scientist BJ Fogg.

In his book I learned that, over years of personal experimentation and research with large numbers of people, BJ discovered some key components of successful habit formation:

    1. Start TINY. When he wanted to develop the habit of flossing his teeth daily, BJ began by flossing ONE tooth, then built on that until he was eventually flossing all of them. If he was short on time or simply not feeling it one day, he’d scale back and floss just one tooth, because that was his original habit, and even this small action served to reinforce it.
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    2. Create a recipe. To remind yourself to do the desired habit without needing a Post-It note or alarm on your phone, do it immediately after some other activity in your day that’s already habitual. Using the original example above, BJ’s recipe for upper body exercise would be: “After I use the bathroom, I will do two push-ups.” Rehearsing the sequence a few times in succession is often enough to decisively link these behaviors in your mind. (My favorite trick from a Tiny Habiteer featured in the book is to use a negative event or habit as the trigger to do something positive for yourself, helping you to instantly turn that frown upside down.)
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    3. Celebrate! BJ emphasized that this easily-overlooked action is actually one of the most important for lasting habit formation. By following the activity with a moment of celebration, the behavior becomes hardwired in the brain as something associated with a reward, making it more likely to “take.” How you celebrate will be unique to you, but some ideas are to pump your fist in the air, kick up your heels, or say, “Yes!”
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    4. Begin with three habits. Conventional wisdom suggests that you develop one habit at a time—then, once it’s established, try to add another and another—but BJ advises focusing on the system of habit formation rather than on a single habit. By starting with three habits, you’ll reinforce the practice of using regular, daily activities as triggers to do the new, desired behaviors.

The steps above are an extreme simplification of what’s in the book, which contains abundant examples and in-depth explanations for how and why these steps work. And they DO work. Since discovering this method, I’ve become a creature of habits, quickly establishing several daily behaviors that I’d previously failed at doing consistently for months or even years…including writing for this blog again by taking just one minute to type out my thoughts each time I sit down in front of the computer.

BJ Fogg believes that his method is nothing less than a revolution in how to approach and achieve long-term change. Based on my experience so far, he may be right, so join the movement and find out how Tiny Habits can make a BIG impact in your life.


Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice™ in this post:

Tiny Habits

 

I highly recommend listening to the Tiny Habits audiobook, which is read by the author. There’s an inspirational preface (not included in the print version) in which he explains how he used Tiny Habits to overcome some lifelong speech issues and earn the right to narrate his own book.

To get started right away with the Tiny Habits method, click here and follow the link to “Your next step” at the end of each page.

 

Cover Story

Author: Kirsten K., Books, Fine Art, Literature, The Arts

Neither Kirsti nor I has posted anything for The Swoon Society in more than two months due to, among other things, a number of milestone birthdays in our circle of family and friends, a graduation, out-of-town guests, an overscheduled social calendar (Kirsti), general laziness (me), and simple inertia—a blog at rest tends to stay at rest. But I am suspending this spontaneous sabbatical to celebrate the birthday of someone who literally turned swooning into an art form: romance cover illustrator Elaine Duillo.

Classic cover art collection or cry for help – my chronic case of “Elainia.”

Before retiring in 2003 from an illustrious (emphasis on “lust”) 44-year career, Elaine’s artwork graced more than 1,000 book covers, ranging from science fiction and mysteries to Gothics and—most notably—romance. I discovered her cover art as a teen, when I developed an interest in historical romantic fiction while babysitting, of all things. Some mothers would leave their books lying around the house and I’d read them to pass the time while the kids slept. Among titles by authors such as Shirlee Busbee, Johanna Lindsey, Christina Skye, and Bertrice Small, I noticed that certain covers were particularly eye-catching, with vibrant colors, incredible detail, beautiful period clothing, and scenes from the story playing out in the periphery around a couple in a classic “clinch” pose.

A sampling of Elaine Duillo’s hair-oines.

Whenever I came across this singular style, I’d flip to the back of the title page to see the words “Cover art by Elaine Duillo.” If there was no attribution, a quick scan for her swirling signature hidden within the painting would confirm the identity of the artist. And the original was an actual painting, despite the fact that her photoreal style could almost fool the eye into thinking it was an embellished photograph.

In the mid-1980s, Elaine hired an Italian fashion model named Fabio Lanzoni to pose for one of her illustrations and launched him into superstardom as a romance cover model. After that, her covers were in high demand, but, while their prolific partnership was a huge success, I was more likely to swoon over the flawless features, gorgeous gowns, daring décolletage, and down-to-there hair of her heroines.* Forget the hunky hero, I wanted to BE one of these bombshells. While my friends were looking to the covers of Seventeen, Vogue, and Harper’s Bazaar for their unrealistic beauty standards, I was looking to the covers of Angel in Scarlet, Defy Not the Heart, and Hellion (one of my favorite Duillo illustrations, with no bare-chested beefcake in sight).

Shortly after college, I got a job at a romance audiobook company, which had recently moved into new, spartan offices. I’d read that Elaine Duillo was offering some of her romance covers for sale as posters, so when I saw her contact information in our Rolodex (squee!), I wrote to her. After introducing myself and fangirling a bit, I explained our situation and joked, “We’re looking at bare walls when we’d rather be looking at bare chests.” She responded with a sweet note and an order form featuring four of her illustrations. We didn’t end up buying any of her art for the office, but I later managed to score a promotional Johanna Lindsey poster featuring one of Elaine’s paintings surrounded by several of her covers.

While I viewed many of these types of illustrations (including works by Robert McGinnis and Pino Daeni) as fine art, I also enjoyed the over-the-top campiness of others, but some readers were embarrassed to be seen in public with these books, so publishers came up with the “step-back”: an innocuous front cover that could be turned back to reveal the passionate pose beneath. Eventually, changing tastes in the industry led to the evolution of cover art away from the kind of fanciful and lushly romantic images for which artists like Elaine Duillo were known.

For many years, illustrators—especially those in the field of romance cover art—did not receive the respect or recognition they were due, but in June of 2003, the prestigious Society of Illustrators in New York presented Elaine Duillo with a Lifetime Achievement Award and inducted her into its Hall of Fame, an honor worthy of “The Queen of Romance Cover Art.”

Over the years, I’ve amassed quite a cache of covers, calendars, articles, advertisements, and more relating to Elaine Duillo and her art, including the premier issue of Imaginings, a short-lived newsletter celebrating “The Art of Romance,” and Book 1 of Pro-Illustration: A Guide to Professional Techniques. I used to regularly visit a secondhand bookstore in my area that sold romance paperbacks for just a dollar or two, including several of the so-called “bodice rippers” that Elaine illustrated. Like so many bookstores in recent years, it was forced to close, so I’m glad I stocked up. You know, for the pictures. That’s my cover story, and I’m sticking to it!


Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice in this post:

Elaine Duillo

 

*When I was taking a class on psychology in advertising years ago, I read of a study in which researchers tracked subjects’ eye movements as they were shown pictures of a man and woman in a suggestive pose, finding that males and females both tended to look at the woman first and longest.

 

The Bees’ Needs

Author: Kirsten K., Books, Flowers, Home & Garden, Literature, Wellness

A few months ago, I was baffled when my boss gave me a book about beekeeping for my birthday. While I enjoy honey and have always had a healthy respect for bees, my interest has never gone beyond that, so I wasn’t sure how to react to this unexpected gift. But my boss has an otherworldly knowing and assured me that, once I perused these pages, I’d never look at bees or the natural world in the same way again. As usual, she was right.

In Song of Increase, author Jacqueline Freeman tells the story of how she became an accidental beekeeper when a friend offered her some bees to tend on her farm in the Pacific Northwest. Having no prior knowledge about beekeeping, but possessing a keen intuitive sense, Jacqueline sat quietly next to the hive for a time to simply observe. As she did, she began to experience a feeling of joy emanating from the bees while they went about their work.

Over time, as she learned the rhythms and routines of the hive, she started tuning more and more to the bees’ frequency and began receiving direct and detailed messages about the inner workings of the colony, its vital purpose on the planet, the magic of the hive mind, and the various songs the bees sing as they carry out their tasks, including a celebratory anthem of abundance known as the “song of increase.”

Illustration by Melissa Elliott

Skeptics and cynics may doubt her story or even question her sanity, but these insights have given her a unique perspective on how to care for a colony of bees. Much of what she learned runs counter to the practices of conventional beekeeping, and this “bee-centric” method—focusing on the bees’ needs rather than our own needs from the bees—restores the sacred trust between human and hive, helping both to thrive.

This book gave me a glimpse into a world of industry, harmony, and beauty that I’d never fully appreciated or understood before. The eloquence of the bees is expressed in both action and awareness, as they comprehend the interconnectedness of all things and embrace their role within the whole. We have much to learn from them.

I don’t think I’m up to the practice of beekeeping—yet—but now I’m more likely to pause and acknowledge the bees in my own backyard, taking a moment to radiate gratitude for their tireless work and wisdom. And in the midst of a rainy winter week here in Southern California, I’m already dreaming of the bee-friendly flowers I plan to plant in the spring, because a garden in full bloom and buzzing with activity—that’s the bee’s knees.


Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice™ in this post:

Song of Increase

 

Song of Increase is also available on audio as read by the author. You can learn more about Jacqueline Freeman and her bee-centric approach to beekeeping at Spirit Bee.

 

Committed to Memory

Author: Kirsten K., Books, Holidays, Literature, Nostalgia

One December afternoon many years ago, my high school English teacher, Miss Weakland, announced that she would be reading a story aloud for the entire class period. Miss Weakland was my favorite teacher, in part because she liked to intersperse drilling grammar and parsing Faulkner with days like these where the class could relax and enjoy some literary entertainment. That same year, she caused a minor stir when she decided to screen Franco Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet. There’s some brief nudity in the film, so the administration of our private Catholic school required that students bring a signed permission slip from their parents in order to watch. This created an awkward anticipation during the screening, which grew in intensity until one student let out a loud wolf whistle when Leonard Whiting’s ass-ets finally made an appearance, breaking the tension amid gales of laughter.

But this day’s presentation was free from controversy. Miss Weakland would be reading A Christmas Memory by Truman Capote. I’d heard, of course, about the famous author of Breakfast at Tiffany’s and In Cold Blood, but hadn’t read this short story about a memorable holiday from his youth or seen the 1966 film starring Geraldine Page. “Imagine a morning in late November,” it begins. Just two paragraphs later, I was already drawn in by the time the author’s elderly, childlike cousin and best friend exclaimed that “it’s fruitcake weather!”

I was so charmed and deeply moved by this tale of innocent pleasures, selfless giving, true friendship, and pure love that I went on and on about it when I got home from school. That year, my mother gifted me with a special edition of the book for Christmas. I’d also told my own older (though not elderly) cousin and friend—a bibliophile who later became a librarian—about the joy and wonder of first hearing this story read aloud, so she enthusiastically suggested we hold a reading at our family’s Christmas celebration the following year, but it didn’t go over as well as we’d hoped. She’d read the story, but we hadn’t read the room—a captive audience of AP English students it was not.

Since then, I’ve pulled the slim volume from its slipcase each Christmas to reread on my own, marveling that it still has the power to bring tears of joy and sadness to my eyes, even though, after all this time, it is practically committed to memory.

I recently learned that Miss Weakland passed away exactly one month before Christmas…on a late November day that, perhaps, signaled the start of fruitcake weather. She will forever remain a special part of my Christmas memories.


Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice™ in this post:

A Christmas Memory

 

Incredibly, an audio version of A Christmas Memory is not available from Audible, but Barnes & Noble carries an edition of the book that includes a companion CD featuring the story read by Celeste Holm. Or, start a new tradition this year by downloading the ebook and reading it aloud at your own holiday celebration. Just make sure to read the room first.

 

Drear Diary

Author: Kirsten K., Books, History, Literature

On March 9, 1992, a former scrap metal dealer rang up a London literary agent and asked the question that would upend one of the most enduring mysteries of the previous century: “I’ve got Jack the Ripper’s diary. Would you be interested in seeing it?” The story that followed was almost as convoluted and contentious as the search for Jack the Ripper itself, involving forensic and psychological analyses, confessions and retractions, infighting among “Ripperologists,” the intersection of two sensational murder cases, and the curious appearance of a pocket watch that may have belonged to the killer.*

At the time, I was getting my degree in psychology and had a particular interest in the minds and motivations of serial killers (not an especially swoon-worthy topic, unless by “swoon” you mean “pass out from fright”). I read about the diary in the newspaper shortly before its publication in 1993 and got a copy for my birthday later that year. Until then, I’d only had a passing interest in the mystery of Jack the Ripper, but after reading the diary I became well and truly hooked.

Over the years, I’ve read numerous books on the subject and spent hours on forums like Casebook: Jack the Ripper going over various theories about the killer’s identity, but the majority of posters seemed to dismiss the diary as an elaborate hoax. While it is one of the most fascinating documents I’ve ever read, the diary has been dogged from the beginning by persistent questions about its authenticity and the dubious manner in which it was discovered. When the man who made that extraordinary phone call eventually confessed to forging the diary, the skeptics were smug, but even though few believed he had the necessary skills to pull it off and he later retracted his confession (then changed his story again), the damage was done. Most experts agreed that the diary was likely a forgery, and they returned to their furious speculation about the identity of Jack the Ripper.

But I’d never been able to shake my conviction that the alleged author of the diary—Liverpool cotton merchant James Maybrick—was the real killer. For years, family and friends have had to put up with my repeated discussions and dissection of the diary, as well as the trial of Florence Maybrick, the young wife of James Maybrick who, in an ironic twist, was convicted of murdering her husband in 1889.

Despite the doubters, nobody has been able to prove that the diary was forged. Comparable hoaxes, such as the Hitler diaries, have been uncovered quickly, but as the years passed without a similar revelation about the Ripper diary, my belief in its legitimacy only strengthened. A forger would have had to be an expert in both the Jack the Ripper killings and the Maybrick murder trial, the psychology of a serial killer, the symptoms of arsenic addiction, and the composition and style of Victorian-era paper, ink, and writing. A person like that would surely have come forward at some point to take credit for this monumental feat, but no credible forger has stepped up or been exposed.

Then, this past summer, it was announced that a new book about the diary would be released in September proving that it was an authentic 19th-century document that had been traced directly to James Maybrick himself. I was unable to obtain one of the 500 limited edition copies of this book, but it claims to present two primary findings:

  1. In-depth forensic analysis of the diary dates it definitively to the late 1800s, rejecting the theory that it’s a modern forgery.
  2. Research has revealed that, during a 1992 renovation of Battlecrease House (home of James Maybrick at the time of the murders), the diary was discovered beneath the floorboards of Maybrick’s own bedroom by three workmen, one of whom knew the infamous caller.

Given that the diary contains details about the murders that could only have been known by the killer and police at the time, these revelations make the strongest case yet that James Maybrick and Jack the Ripper are one and the same.

True skeptics will remain unconvinced, because there is an entire industry that has sprung up around the Ripper riddle and people are invested in maintaining the mystery, but after stumping seekers for almost 130 years, I’m more confident than ever that this case is closed.


Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice™ in this post:

The Diary of Jack the Ripper

 

The limited edition facsimile of the diary with updates from its owner, Robert Smith, is currently sold out, but you can email the publisher, Mango Books, and request to be informed if/when it is reprinted.

 

*The story of the watch is almost as intriguing as the diary itself. For a more thorough description of the discovery and analysis of the Maybrick watch, read Ripper Diary.

 

Flying Under the Radar

Author: Kirsten K., Books, Literature, Nostalgia

No Flying in the HouseKirsti and I met in third grade, which is notable for both the beginning of our friendship and our introduction to the book No Flying in the House. Our teacher, Mrs. Jansen, would read a few pages from the book each day after the lunch recess, and students impatiently lined up at the classroom door to hear the next part of the story. Today is the birthday of the book’s author, Betty Brock, who passed away in 2003 at the age of 80, but will live forever in our childhood memories and in our hearts.

No Flying in the House tells the story of Annabel Tippens, a young girl who mysteriously appears one day on the terrace of wealthy Mrs. Vancourt accompanied by her guardian, Gloria—a talking dog just three inches high and three inches long. Although the formidable lady has no interest in children, she is an admirer of small things and wants Gloria for herself, so she accepts them both into her home. But when a talking cat named Belinda causes Annabel to question her origins and abilities, will Gloria be able to protect her secret?

The ShadesI have reread the book a number of times as an adult and it is still as captivating as it was in third grade. First published in 1970, No Flying in the House delighted a generation of children, but seems to be flying under the radar today. Kirsti and I marvel that it hasn’t been made into a movie yet. Betty Brock wrote only one other book, The Shades, which is equally fantastical and worthy of its own adaptation. The books are both suspenseful and even mildly frightening at times, which is what kept me on pins and needles as a child, but it was No Flying in the House that first inspired my imagination to take flight.

On this special anniversary, I want to honor all of the teachers and authors who shaped my childhood and introduced me to the infinite wonders that can be found within the pages of a book. You wove your own special brand of magic and created swoon-worthy memories that will last a lifetime. Thank you.

S.W.O.O.N. Stamp
Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice™ in this post:

No Flying in the House

 

No Flying in the House and The Shades can both be purchased from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

 

Tie Yourself Up in Scots

Author: Kirsten K., Books, Entertainment, History, Literature, Pop Culture, Television, Travel

Outlander 1As I mentioned in our Holiday G.I.F.T. Guide (that thing keeps coming up again and again and again), I went to Scotland in 1997 with Diana Gabaldon, author of the Outlander series, which has been developed into a popular television show on Starz that will begin its second season this Saturday, April 9th.

At the time of my Highland fling, I worked for an audiobook company that did business with Romantic Times magazine (now RT Book Reviews). I was already a huge fan of the Outlander books—a genre-bending series that defies categorization—when the magazine announced that it was organizing a trip to Scotland led by Diana Gabaldon in which the author would take readers to the places she’d written about in her books. So, 19 years ago today, I hopped on a plane to spend a week in the land of kilts and bagpipes with one of my favorite authors.*

Outlander 2

Flushed from too much Scotch whiskey with Diana at the Stakis Grosvenor Hotel in Edinburgh.

Looking back, I’m not sure why Diana agreed to do it. If I was an author, being trapped in a foreign country with a bunch of fangirls would be my worst nightmare, but she was gracious and accommodating, making herself available to sign our books and answer our endless questions about the series. Her fourth novel, Drums of Autumn, had just been released, so the trip doubled as a book tour of sorts. Walking into one store, we were amused to see Diana’s novels displayed with other “Books by Scottish Authors,” since she is an American who had never set foot in Scotland prior to writing the first book in the series.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Outlander, the novel is told from the perspective of Claire Randall, a British World War II combat nurse who, while vacationing in the Highlands of Scotland with her husband after the war, is transported through a circle of standing stones to 1743. There, she encounters her husband’s ancestor—a sadistic Redcoat—and a band of Scottish clansmen that includes Jamie Fraser, a man who will force her to choose between two different lives and two distant centuries. The series is enthralling, with its combination of historical realism, eloquent prose, pulse-pounding adventure, and passionate romance.

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With Diana at Clava Cairns near Inverness, April 14, 1997

***BOOK/SEASON TWO SPOILER AHEAD***

Back in 1997, Diana accompanied us to Clava Cairns, a prehistoric burial site near Inverness surrounded by stone circles that inspired Craigh na Dun, the fictional circle through which Claire travels back in time. We also visited Culloden field, site of the definitive battle between Scottish clans and British troops that, within the space of an hour, brought an end to the clan system and changed the course of Scotland’s history. There was a tangible sense of grief pervading the area, making us aware that the characters Diana wrote about in her books had flesh-and-blood counterparts who shed that blood on the very field beneath our feet.

***BOOK ONE SPOILER AHEAD***

Outlander 4During the trip, a few of us formed a group of friends, one of whom let us in on a little secret. Back in the states, she had done research on contemporary silversmiths in Scotland, trying to locate someone who could recreate the wedding ring that Jamie gives to Claire in Outlander, described as “a wide silver band, decorated in the Highland interlace style, a small and delicate Jacobean thistle bloom carved in the center of each link.”† She found a woman in Stirling who employed 18th-century techniques to fashion silver jewelry with Scottish motifs. On one of our free days, we met with this woman to discuss the ring and place our orders. Her final design was more rustic and had larger elements than the ring described in the book, but I still treasure it as a memento of the trip and an authentic piece of Scottish artistry.

***END OF SPOILER***

Outlander 5Twenty-three years after its publication, I was thrilled to see that Outlander was being made into a series for television. Like most fans, I worried about casting and changes to the story, but everyone involved in the production did a fantastic job of bringing Diana’s first novel to life. Season One is out on DVD (in Volumes One and Two) and available for streaming, so there’s still time to tie yourself up in Scots by setting your DVR to record the new season as you catch up on the previous one.

With the series currently standing at eight full-length novels (a ninth is in progress), two novellas, one short story, a graphic novel, and a spin-off series (more of a “sub-series”), the producers should have plenty of material to keep the show going for years. And with some of the highest viewership in the history of Starz, that’s not an outlandish assumption.

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Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice™ in this post:

Outlander – Books
Outlander – Television

 

*Technically, I hopped on a plane to New York City on April 7th in order to meet up with part of the RT group on the 8th. We flew to Iceland for a two-day pre-tour in Reykjavík before flying to Scotland on the 11th to join the rest of the group.

 

***SEASON ONE SPOILER BELOW***

†In the Starz adaptation, Jamie gives Claire a wedding ring made from the iron key to the front door of his home, Lallybroch. It may have been a sentimental choice, but it is not a particularly attractive one.

 

A Flood of Memories

Author: Kirsten K., Books, History, Literature, Nostalgia

When I was a child, I had a series of recurring dreams about being caught in floods and tsunamis that were so vivid and frequent, I can still remember them in detail. My waterlogged nights were the reason that, while visiting my Auntie Jo as a young girl, I plucked a book off her shelf about the St. Francis Dam disaster, kindling a fascination with the story that continues to this day, because today marks the 88th anniversary of the collapse: the deadliest American civil engineering disaster of the 20th century.

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The St. Francis Dam in February 1927, a year before it failed. At the time, the St. Francis Reservoir was the largest lake in Southern California.

Shortly before midnight on March 12, 1928, the St. Francis Dam, 50 miles north of Los Angeles, suddenly and catastrophically collapsed, sending the 12.4 billion gallons of water in the St. Francis Reservoir racing down San Francisquito Canyon and across the Santa Clara River Valley to the sea. In its path were families asleep in their beds, colonies of migrants who worked on local ranches and farms, camps of powerhouse and railroad workers, and untold numbers of animals, all swept away by a wall of water that reached 140 feet at its peak. When it was over, more than 400 people (and possibly as many as 600) were dead, the second largest loss of life in California state history.

A Flood of Memories 2This past January, a new and exceptional account of the disaster hit bookshelves. Floodpath is the result of more than 20 years of meticulous research by author and documentary filmmaker Jon Wilkman. It chronicles the rise of Los Angeles, the life and career of William Mulholland, personal stories about the night of the flood, and details of the aftermath and investigation in such a way that the book reads like a novel. Since the author may have been the last person to interview some of the remaining eyewitnesses and survivors before they died, this is likely to stand as the definitive account.

The chapters in Floodpath describing the night of the collapse are gripping, detailing events of the disaster from the first ominous rumble at 11:57 pm to the last rush of water and debris that entered the Pacific Ocean five and a half hours later. The floodwaters had scoured a path through the canyon and down the valley for 54 miles, destroying property and lives and changing the landscape of Southern California in more ways than one. Equally compelling and tragic is the story of William Mulholland, the self-taught engineer and architect of the St. Francis Dam who had been lauded as a hero for bringing water to drought-parched Los Angeles, but ended his life a broken man living in seclusion after the failure of the dam.

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All that remained after the collapse was this center section of the dam, nicknamed the Tombstone.

Because I’d known about the St. Francis Dam collapse since I was young, I didn’t realize until reading Floodpath that the disaster has been virtually forgotten by all but civil engineers, L.A. history buffs, and dam enthusiasts. Jon Wilkman lays out some possible reasons for this “historical amnesia” in his book, including a campaign by civic leaders to whitewash what had been an embarrassing misstep in the aggressive growth of Los Angeles, but it was still a shock when driving through San Francisquito Canyon this week to encounter not one sign leading to the site or marking its location. The only indication that the area had witnessed the greatest man-made disaster in 20th century America—second only to the San Francisco earthquake and fire in terms of Californian lives lost—was a single plaque behind a chain link fence at Power Plant No. 2 that I stumbled upon when I stopped to take a picture (the former powerhouse at that location having been completely washed away in the flood).

St. Francis Dam 1

The site of the St. Francis Dam today looking east. The five steps protruding from the dirt once led up the front of the Tombstone.

The classic film Chinatown popularized the California Water Wars, but even though the St. Francis Dam failure is alluded to in the movie (as the Van der Lip Dam disaster), the collapse has slipped from public consciousness almost as quickly and completely as the waters of the St. Francis Reservoir slipped past the remains of the dam. With our aging infrastructure and shortsightedness in preventing another such disaster, this cautionary tale could not be more relevant. Hopefully, Floodpath will revive interest in this important chapter in the history of Los Angeles and unleash a flood of memories for those who can’t afford to forget.

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Stuff Worthy Of Our Notice™ in this post:

Floodpath

Floodpath can be purchased online from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Bloomsbury, IndieBound, and Powell’s.

Jon Wilkman is currently working on a documentary about the St. Francis Dam. Read more about this project on his website.

The road to ruin.
The abandoned road heading southeast toward the former site of the St. Francis Dam.
This area of blue sky was once blotted out by the 208-foot high wall of the dam.
View of the west abutment.
If you look closely at the top of the hill in the center of this picture, you can see a metal bar protruding from the hillside where the concrete of the dam was ripped away from the wing dike.
Looking northwest past the western abutment.
This tree line marks the former location of the dam.
The remains of the Tombstone lie at the foot of the east abutment. Although vegetation has covered these hills in the years since the collapse, the ridge where the hillside gave way is still visible.
Debris at the base of the east abutment.
Looking south down San Francisquito Canyon at the path the floodwaters took after the collapse of the dam.
A close-up look at the steps of the Tombstone. The center section of the dam remained upright after the collapse, but was demolished on May 10, 1929 after a young man visiting the site fell from the steps to his death.
The steps of the Tombstone from atop the pile of debris.
A tangle of concrete and rebar.
Metal debris from the demolished Tombstone takes many forms.
Everywhere you turn, metal from the dam juts out of the debris pile.
Metal debris from the dam.
More metal debris.
A metal bar showing threads where it was once screwed into place.
Power Plant No. 2, 1½ miles south of the dam site, is registered as California Historical Landmark No. 919.
This memorial plaque at Power Plant No. 2 was dedicated on the 50th anniversary of the St. Francis Dam collapse.
The rebuilt Power Plant No. 2 stands on the site of the original building, which was swept away in the flood. Only one powerhouse worker survived.

Update 3/13/16:

Yesterday, while my pre-scheduled post about Floodpath was going live, I returned to San Francisquito Canyon for a tour of the St. Francis Dam site through the Santa Clarita Valley Historical Society. This annual tour on the anniversary of the disaster was led by Dr. Alan Pollack and Dianne Erskine-Hellrigel with an assist from Evan Decker. It began in the Saugus Train Station at Heritage Junction Historic Park with a one-hour lecture and video presentation about William Mulholland and the California Water Wars, the construction and collapse of the St. Francis Dam, and the resulting flood with its deadly consequences.

On the way to the site, we passed the former location of Hollywood cowboy Harry Carey’s Indian Trading Post, a popular tourist attraction that had been swept away by the floodwaters, as well as a private cemetery on a hillside in the canyon where seven members of the Ruiz family, all victims of the flood, are buried. We also walked farther down the floodpath from the dam site than I’d gone on my previous visit, seeing large blocks of concrete from the collapsed dam that had been borne downstream by the water (new picture gallery below). The most powerful moment for me came while standing by Power Plant No. 2, where Dr. Pollack pointed up the hillside to indicate that the floodwaters had reached 3/4 of the way up the canyon walls. Referring to the powerhouse workers and their families, who lived in a small community across from the plant, he lamented, “They never had a chance.”

The SCV Historical Society is actively pursuing legislation to designate the dam site as a National Memorial and Monument and grant it federal protection. Despite the fact that the City of Los Angeles and the L.A. Department of Water and Power seem to prefer that the St. Francis Dam disaster remain a distant and fading memory, this event in our history is of significance not only for Southern California, but for the country at large. Lessons learned from the collapse of the St. Francis Dam helped to improve the building of dams nationwide, and the tragedy should be acknowledged for its role in strengthening our infrastructure and contributing to the growth of this country.

For more information, visit the Santa Clarita Valley Historical Society.

Debris strewn across the canyon floor as seen from the road leading to the dam site.
Looking northwest from the canyon floor at that same debris.
Large pieces of the dam can be seen everywhere you turn on the canyon floor.
Debris from the dam is easy to distinguish from the surrounding rock by its color and texture.
Someone left a makeshift memorial to victims of the flood at the base of this large dam fragment.
This chunk of the dam clearly shows the steps that led up the south-facing side.
Looking upstream toward the dam site from the canyon floor in the floodpath.
Three roads leading to the dam site are visible in this picture. The more modern lower road was abandoned in recent years. More difficult to discern is the original road about halfway up the hillside, which can be seen below the rocky area in the center of the picture. This was the road traveled by Ace Hopewell, the last person to have seen the St. Francis Dam intact, who drove past the dam on his motorcycle mere minutes before the collapse. A higher road that was used after the disaster runs near the ridge of the hill to the right of center.
A closer look at the original road leading to the dam, hidden amid the scrub brush. The waters of the flood would have reached the top of the ridge in this picture.