Literary Cats

 

Mystery of the Haunted Hut, by Mary Graham Bonner

I'm finally getting caught up on the books that I've read since January 1, 2023.  In fact, this post wraps up all of the titles that I've completed thus far within the calendar year.  After this review, I will be posting in real(ish)-time, starting with the two books that I'm presently reading.  Anyway, I'm only launching into this entirely unnecessary exposition to tell you that I have read a lot over the past three months.  And this is one of the more forgettable ones.

Originally published in 1950, Mystery of the Haunted Hut by Mary Graham Bonner is very much of its time.  Free-range, cow's milk-drinking children get into precarious situations, solving mysteries -and crimes- in this "chapter book" full of mid-century nostalgia.  Featuring a trio of siblings whose guardians never know where they are except at mealtimes when they force feed them entirely too much meat and lard, Mystery of the Haunted Hut is somewhat reminiscent of the more successful Nancy Drew or Hardy Boys series.  Kids who -like me- grew up reading The Boxcar Children will readily recognize the wholesome adventures punctuated by the childish ingenuity of its protagonists.  Adults of the present will mostly find themselves concerned with how the fuck these kids don't have scurvy with all those animal by-products and nary a fruit or vegetable in sight.

While Mary Graham Bonner's novel is certainly contrived in both dialogue and intrigue, I did sincerely appreciate the simplicity in the plotline and denouement of the story.  Of course, one might expect this in a mystery novel of only 156 pages that is expressly written for children, but to thoughtlessly make that assumption strikes me as too dismissive.  Younger readers would likely benefit from a mystery that isn't overly complex.  Regardless of age, I like to think that we can all value a story that doesn't require deep analysis.  Sometimes, it's just nice to read something for fun, right?  Not every book has to be a manifesto on social justice or political reform; a book can simply be a diversion from life.  Hell, any language major could tell you that "brainless" books can provide a much needed respite from other books with meanings that need to be decoded.  

Friends, I can confidently say that Mystery of the Haunted Hut is not meritorious of a deeper dive.  It was fun while it lasted, but I can assure you that it won't stick with me beyond the final punctuation of this post.  If that's your kind of read (or if you just need a break from life for a couple of hours), then sure.  I guess.  I don't mean to sound harsh, but this is not a book that I would seek out, per se; it just happened to cross my path and I thought, why not?  If you have a young reader who enjoys mystery novels, it meets that criteria.  Plus, there is a cute fox in it and a sweet old dog who pops in from time to time.  

Otherwise, meh.

Charles Dickens - Writer's Block

 

Mugby Junction, by Charles Dickens (et al)

Charles Dickens is, without a doubt, one of my most favorite authors.  As a child, my family went annually to our local community theater's production of A Christmas Carol and, long before I could fully understand this performance in its entirety, I found myself mesmerized by the sumptuous costumes, the props, the sets, the music...  It was just so damn sparkly.

Fast forward a few years and I was required to read A Tale of Two Cities in English class.  At the time, Dickens's writing was quite challenging for me, but I was still pulled in by the story itself, by the characters.  Later in life, I found myself pulled back again and again to works by ol' Boz.  I finally read A Christmas Carol (and had since seen dozens of iterations of the well-loved story in movies and on stage), but I'd added numerous other works including Bleak House, The Cricket on the Hearth, and even one of my all-time favorite books Nicholas Nickleby.  Despite his sometimes formulaic writing (mysterious personages, surprise relations, blending both gothic and humorous themes), Charles Dickens is a master of beguiling characters from crotchety villains to underdog sidekicks to flawed heroes.  While his treatment of women and minorities is often flat, I find myself granting him more amnesty than I would a modern writer.  He is, after all, a 19th century male author in Victorian England.  Plus, he makes me laugh out loud.

Most recently, I picked up a copy of a lesser-known collaborative work led by Dickens.  Mugby Junction is a collection of eight short stories penned by five different authors.  Set around an English railroad junction/town, each story features a different character telling of his own connection to the railroad.  (Don't worry, you don't have to be into trains or anything.)  They are divided as follows:

MUGBY JUNCTION

Barbox Brothers (Parts I, II, III) - Charles Dickens
Barbox Brothers and Co. - Charles Dickens
Main Line (The Boy at Mugby) - Charles Dickens
No. 1 Branch Line (The Signal-Man) - Charles Dickens
No. 2 Branch Line (The Engine-Driver) - Andrew Halliday
No. 3 Branch Line (The Compensation House) - Charles Collins
No. 4 Branch Line (The Travelling Post Office) - Hesba Stretton
No. 5 Branch Line (The Engineer) - Amelia B. Edwards

The eight stories in this collection vary from heartwarming (Barbox Brothers and Co.) to humorous (The Boy at Mugby) to mysterious (The Compensation House).  The Signal-Man is a ghostly account of a railroad line worker who doesn't know what to do when he realizes that a specter appears before him, foreshadowing the deaths of unknown strangers.  The Engine-Driver recounts his life as a working man that culminates in his current position as driver...and father.  In The Compensation House, a strange young man (aptly named Mr. Oswald Strange) is haunted by his past.  The Travelling Post Office features mistaken identities and espionage.  Two best friends find themselves at odds over a woman in The Engineer.  

While each of these stories brings a different type of intrigue to the proverbial table, I have chosen to highlight my two favorites: 

Main Line (The Boy at Mugby) is the firsthand account of an employee of the train station's refreshment room, arguably written as a scathing critique of such workers after Dickens's own embarrassing experience at a similar (and thinly veiled) place.  Allegedly, the proprietress of such an establishment treated Boz very rudely, so he exacted his revenge upon her in literary form.  (Love it.)  Anyone who has ever been the object of impolite service -be it at a restaurant, a doctor's office, or the DMV- can heartily relate.  I can't help but feel that it is for such individuals that this funny little story is intended.

The Boy at Mugby, Sol Eytinge Junior
1867

Barbox Brothers and Co. must be read in succession after Barbox Brothers (Parts I, II, III).  In Parts I, II, III, we are introduced to a character who has something of a tragic past, leaving him alone in the wide world.  Upon taking his retirement, he finds himself wanting to outrun his own pending birthday, so he hops on a train to nowhere.  He ends up stopping and staying at Mugby Junction for a short period, to reflect upon what his next move should be.  In Barbox Brothers and Co., we follow his progress with the individuals he meets in Mugby Junction and how, after decades of loneliness and routine solitude, he makes a new life for himself.  I won't say more so I don't spoil it too much, but suffice it to say you'll feel warm fuzzies at the conclusion.

Available for free in the public domain, Mugby Junction makes for a great travel read.  (Otherwise, you can get it for a steal on Amazon -- just make sure that you get an edition that includes all eight stories.)  Light, easy to follow, and broken up naturally into short stories, there really is no excuse not to read this little hidden gem.

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/27924/27924-h/27924-h.htm

Frankenstein...'s Monster

 

The Passion of Artemisia, by Susan Vreeland

Most of the extracurriculars in which I've participated in my adult life have been things that old people do.  Since my early twenties, I have been in and out of various groups and programs that are geared almost exclusively towards retired people.  Hell, I even work for one for actual American dollars.  It's one of the reasons why I get spammed so much by the AARP.

A little over a decade ago, I completed a docent training program at my local art museum.  It was moderately intense and lasted about two years.  With art history as one of my minor areas of study during college, this was a little slice of post-graduate nerd heaven for me and I settled in easily with the other grandmas.  During my time in this program, my list of suggested books to read expanded significantly, but it was only this year that I actually was able to get around to checking some of those off, starting with The Passion of Artemisia by Susan Vreeland.

For those of you who aren't familiar with Italian Baroque painting, who are you even?  Do the names Annibale Carracci, Michelangelo da Caravaggio, and Gian Lorenzo Bernini mean nothing to you?  Why are we even friends?  If the name Artemisia Gentileschi doesn't seem to fit in with that group, then you are correct.  Points to you for being more observant than most; extra credit if you can tell me why.  (Answer:  Artemisia Gentileschi was A GIRL!!!)

Surprising as it may be, 16th and 17th century Europe was basically a sausage fest for professions beyond careers in prostitution or nunning.  This machismo certainly extended to the arts with men dominating the sector almost exclusively.  For this reason, Artemisia Gentileschi -arguably the first woman to make significant known contributions to art history- is all the more impressive.  In her novel, Susan Vreeland takes what is known about Gentileschi and marries it to a fictional narrative, imagining the events and people who may have inspired her at different points throughout her life and career.

So what is known about Artemisia Gentileschi?  As the daughter of painter Orazio Gentileschi, Artemisia would have been surrounded by art contemporary to her time and place.  (This was the Italian Baroque movement, dominated by the bosses I listed above.)  We know that, at a young age, she was repeatedly raped by her teacher, Agostino Tassi, who was also her father's acquaintance and co-worker, for lack of a better term.  This jackass (Tassi) also had plans to murder his own wife, so he was pretty rad.  For publicly accusing him, Artemisia was subsequently subjected to torturous and humiliating trials at the hands of the papal court.  (From my understanding, this would not have been uncommon in a situation like this.)  She eventually married another artist, Pierantonio Stiattesi, and the couple moved about Italy as work was available.  Together, they had several children.  As far as I know, only one of them survived childhood (infancy?) - a daughter named Prudenzia "Palmira" Stiattesi.

Professionally, Artemisia began an impressive portfolio at a young age.  I mean, when I was 17, I was watching emergent web cartoons (Strong Bad, anyone?) and finding weird ways to do my hair.  Artemisia was doing this:

Susanna and the Elders, circa 1610
(one of the earliest surviving pieces of Artemisia Gentileschi's works)

After producing a number of revolutionary works from a new (read: alien's woman's) perspective, Artemisia earned the attention of the House of Medici, garnering the patronage of this noble family.  Her success in the Florentine court would have, undoubtedly, influenced the illustrious Accademia delle Arti del Disegno to accept her as its first female member.  The networking, work, education, and exposure afforded to her by such a membership would have been unheard of for a woman at that time.  She became acquainted with nobility, other respected artists, and even with Galileo Galilei.

While things appeared to go well for a time in Florence, Artemisia Gentileschi's life was certainly not free of drama.  Is an artist's life ever not turbulent?  Reconciling her past with her future in a misogynist society bent on victim blaming would have been nearly impossible under the best of circumstances, especially for a young mother (who has mourned and buried at least four of her children) trying to make a name for herself as an artist.  Nevertheless, Artemisia's talent has certainly earned her the posterity she deserves.

Judith Slaying Holofernes, circa 1614-1620
Gentileschi painted six iterations of this story throughout her career. 
I believe that this is the second one, perhaps the best known.

In her novel The Passion of Artemisia, author Susan Vreeland explores the moments of Artemisia Gentileschi's life, beginning with her trial at the papal court.  While Vreeland tries to remain true to the timeline of Gentileschi's work, she admittedly fictionalizes the events surrounding the works.  Furthermore, she explains in the novel's introduction that she has rolled some characters together into a single one for the sake of the book (i.e. Artemisia's only daughter, but no mention of her other children).  Vreeland makes clear early on that hers is a work of fiction, based on how she imagines things could have transpired in Artemisia Gentileschi's life.  Certainly, with few details beyond the artist's movements about Italy (and Europe), we can only speculate.

[NOTE: Since the time of the book's publication in 2001, historians have learned more about Gentileschi's life, including a love affair with Francesco Maria Maringhi, a wealthy Florentine nobleman.]  

So, while Vreeland's novel may not be historically accurate, it does deliver a spirit of humanity to a cast of characters about whom we know so very little beyond their remaining written correspondence.  After all, each name mentioned in the historical documents represents a real, flesh and blood person.  Is it so far-fetched to imagine that this person had feelings or aspirations?

The Passion of Artemisia must first and foremost be taken as a novel.  The fact that it is based on real people has -in my case- only whetted my curiosity to want to learn more about Artemisia herself as a woman whom I find to be inspiring, talented, and fully human.

Self-Portait as the Allegory of Painting, circa 1638-1639

Beauty and the Beast - Libraries

 

Celtic Mythology for Kids, by Christopher S. Pinard

When I was a child, my sister and I had a smattering of babysitters over the years.  Some were better than others but, of those, a few stand out above the rest.  One of those was Majel.

I credit Majel with my love of the Classics -- most notably, my love of Greek mythology.  See, she had this book that she brought with her almost every time she babysat us.  It was chock full of myths and stories starring the ancient Greek pantheon and its heroes.  Like the fairy tales I so love(d), these stories were full of magic, adventure, and excitement.  AND there were pictures!  Most of all, my sister and I loved it when Majel read us the story of Perseus using the head of Medusa to rescue Andromeda from the giant sea turd.  Yes, you read that right.  This translation featured the sea "turd" (versus a sea monster or a kraken).  The illustration was even of a lovely girl, terrified and chained to a wall, as a giant piece of shit with a face stalked her from behind.  It was mesmerizing.

I FOUND IT!!! 
Majel read to us from D'Aulaire's Book of Greek Myths!! Look how it’s even tapered on the end in the background. Looks like shit to me! Is it wearing lipstick?

Anyway...

The Greeks are so great.  But you know whose stories are equally great?  The Celts!  I didn't grow up exposed to Celtic mythology in the same way, but I do have an innate love of leprechauns, Scottish wild cats, and the modern Celtic people, so I felt it was high time to explore that in a literary sense.  Under the guise of "getting a present for my kids", I looked up anthologies of Celtic mythology for children and found this gem of a book.  

Collected and curated by writer Christopher S. Pinard, these stories come to us from a variety of ancient and modern Celtic lands:  Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and Brittany (France).  Pinard divides them into the following categories, making for a nice linear read:  Mischief Makers and Monstrous Fakers, For Love Alone, Landscapes in Celtic Folklore, and Into the Wide and Wild World.  Of course, each of the stories can be read as a stand alone, but I have a mind that operates at its finest in the concrete; I like organization.  The end of a book features a Celtic glossary with definitions of some of the lesser known terms used throughout the book (i.e. hogney, Slievenamon, etin).  

My personal favorite feature of this glossary is the pronunciation guide.  As a linguist and eternal studier of languages, I like to learn words the right way.  Take the character of Niamh, for instance -- the wife of Oisin and princess of the otherworld.  I never would have guessed at these characters' actual names beyond "Nee-ahm" or "Oy-zin" but I'd have been profoundly off:  Niamh (Neev) and Oisin (Oh-sheen).

So many of these Celtic stories remain little known to the general population (around me, at least), yet they influence much of the fantasy writing and literature that we know even today.  It's impossible not to notice the parallels between the worlds of the elves and high kings and the populations of Tolkien's Middle Earth.  Furthermore, we might also observe similarities between the Celtic connections to the natural world and the importance of nature in the stories of America's First Peoples.  The lessons of many of the tales within this book ring true even today:  Don't judge someone by their appearance.  Be wise in your dealings with strangers.  It is important to keep our promises.  Jealousy can harm our relationships with others.  In addition to these lessons, Pinard includes conversational questions to at the end of each story to aid the development of critical thinking in youngsters.

Between the stories themselves, their thematic arrangement, the glossary of terms, and the "Questions to Think About", this book is ideal for introducing children (and adults!) to Celtic mythology.  Add to that the unique and vivid illustrations of artist Javier Olivares and you have a complete literary adventure to share with children...or the young at heart.