A web log, an æthereal scrap-book if you will, with a somewhat vintage flavour. News items, occurrences, experiences, thoughts and opinions related to Victoriana through to Fifties Americana can all be found here.
A touching news item from East Anglia, this, featuring as it does a sterling effort on the part of Ipswich librarians to track down and record to CD a 1920s novel for a local centenarian who remembered her father reading it to her as a child. I'm sure we have all at one time or another used our local library to try to obtain a rare or out-of-print book but the thoughtfulness of the staff at Ipswich library is above and beyond anything one would normally expect and I can well understand the pride felt by the library's senior management.
Once again there are multiple facets to this story that all make for happy reading - the kindness and sense of community that came out in the early days of lockdown which this typifies (and which I'm sure we all hoped would continue once the crisis abated); the thought and effort put in by the librarians to actually go and buy the book with their own money, then to take the time to read it aloud and record it on to discs; the care and concern they obviously feel towards this valued member of the community and the recognition of the importance of this book to her and the memories it engenders; the obvious joy of reading that was imbued in to this 102-year-old lady at a young age by her father, which has not waned in nearly a century; the importance to the human spirit of books and of reading in general. Not to mention that a previously-forgotten novel from the 1920s is now potentially back on the shelves of Ipswich library, at least, hopefully for a new and appreciative audience to discover and enjoy. Then there is the wider aspect of this story - Suffolk Libraries' advice and support network for older and more vulnerable residents, which is also to be applauded as a perfect example of the value of libraries to the local community.
It's also lovely to note that as well as recording the audiobook the library staff also purchased the DVD of the 1950 film adaptation for Mrs Bugg to watch.
On a more personal note this article reminded me of my own lockdown project that I have been working on, as well as putting me in mind of one or two lesser experiences with my own library service.
To start with the lockdown project - seven years ago now(!) I made tell of picking up a book at a local vintage fair, which I regarded (and still do) as a splendid period find. It was The Test Match Surprise (subtitled A Romance of the Cricket Field), ostensibly written by the famous early 20th century cricketer Jack Hobbs (in actuality ghost-written by an unknown author, although Hobbs may have had a hand in the more cricket-oriented chapters). Anyway, I have enjoyed reading it many a time since then and one day during lockdown having re-read it again it occurred to me what a charming story it was (albeit of its time like Portrait of Clare) and that in many respects it was not unlike a Wildean plot. With this in mind the thought came to me that it could possibly be converted into a four-act play so I began transcribing it on to my computer. Well I've completed that task but since then I have received various other suggestions as to adaptations - radio play, four-person comedy version in the mould of The 39 Steps and, as the Suffolk librarians have done, a simple audiobook. Faced with this variety of sources I'm sorry to say things have stalled a little but I still hope to have this own out-of-print book of mine - published in 1926, only one year before Portrait of Clare - adapted into one of the above formats, if only for my personal enjoyment, perhaps before the year is out.
The two instances of my local library service helping me track down copies of rare books are not in the same league as Mrs Bugg's but nevertheless still form happy memories.
Ever since I first saw the B.B.C. adaptation in 1995 I was on the lookout for a copy of 1930s racing driver Sir Henry 'Tim' Birkin's autobiography Full Throttle. Then in the early 2000s I read an article about Birkin in the Autocar magazine and spurred on by this I eventually managed to get a copy through Essex Libraries' inter-loan scheme (it originally coming from Maidstone, Kent). Back then I was working at London's South Bank and I spent many a happy hour reading this copy by the riverside by Blackfriars. Afterwards I desperately wanted a copy for myself, but it had been out of print since the early '60s and I couldn’t find another one anywhere. More out of hope than anything else I dropped a brief e-mail to the chaps at Autocar asking them from where they got their copy on which they based their article, expecting at best a list of bookshops to try my luck at. Imagine my surprise and delight when the following week the journalist in question used part of his column to plead for a copy for me! Even more wonderfully, a splendid old boy who lived literally just around the corner from me had 1935 edition in remarkably good condition, plus W.O. Bentley's autobiography, both of which he said he would let me have for free. I popped round there and spent the best part of half an hour, spellbound, chatting to him, as it turned out that he used to be a marshal at lots of the major European motor races and had seen many of the greats - Fangio, Moss, Surtees - actually racing!
In an almost carbon copy of the above, the autobiography of forgotten army officer and eccentric Lt.-Col. A.D. Wintle MC was also adapted as part of the same three-part B.B.C. series (titled Heroes & Villains) and it was through this that I first became aware of this unique individual and the story of his remarkable life. Following this I was able to locate a copy of The Last Englishman in Southend Library's "stack" (i.e. store unit) and for several years would request it every time I felt in need of reading it until one day, a few years ago, I was distraught to discover that it was no longer available! Clearly it had been disposed of (or possibly, due to its rarity value, misappropriated), much to my chagrin. Since then I was constantly on the lookout for a copy - mainly on eBay, where the prices more or less confirmed my suspicions that the library copy had either been sold or snaffled by someone who realised its value. Then just a few months ago one came up on the aforementioned auction site and my bid - far less than I'd seen any other copy go for - was the winner! So once again after several years of searching I was finally able to add another long sought-after book to my collection and in both cases it has been thanks in various degrees to my local library service (although nowhere near the same league as Ipswich's).
At the risk of repeating myself, then, these experiences and the wonderful story that forms the crux of this post just goes to show the overwhelming importance of libraries to society in general. I take my hat off to the staff of Ipswich library and hope that Mrs Bugg enjoys listening again and reminiscing to Portrait of Clare.
***What has been your experience of your local library service? Is there a book you would like to see turned into an audiobook or similar? Let me know in the comments below!***
Barely one month since my visit to the optician for a new pair of specs (actually the same pair of specs, just different lenses) I was back in town for my biannual dental check-up. I can hear many of you shuddering at the thought of the dentist but personally I have always been very lucky (touch wood) when it comes to the old gnashers (apart from my teenage years when I had half-a-dozen removed and a brace fitted - but didn't everyone?). A quick polish and a scrub up and everything was tip-top for another 6 months, although the suggestion for minimising the need for such polishing - drink less tea - wasn't met with great enthusiasm I can tell you. If the cost is just a twice-yearly polish and buff-up then I'll keep having my cuppa, thank you very much.
Nice noir-ish cover art too!
Then it was off to trawl the charity shops, which sadly this time did not yield as many goodies as before. I did manage to pick up a brand new - and I mean brand new, as in only published 5 months ago - copy of an Erle Stanley Gardner Perry Mason mystery: The Case of the Crooked Candle. I'm a big fan of the Perry Mason stories, as you probably know, not to mention the TV series starring the late Raymond Burr. The few books I have are of varying ages; most are the early 2000s House of Stratus reprints (funnily enough all sourced from library sales) although I do have one 1942 fourth edition of The Case of the Shoplifter's Shoe. This latest title isn't, sadly, part of a new reprint of all of Gardner's work but rather one of a selection of "once famous but now neglected talents" of crime fiction including Margery Allingham, Francis Durbridge and D. M. Devine from publishers Arcturus. Still, this was a title I hadn't got in my collection and at £1 for a book in the same condition as one that would retail for £6.99 I snapped it up.
It was at the library that I really hit the jackpot, however. But before that... I'd gone in to return some books and pick up a reserved copy of R. J. Mitchell: Schooldays to Spitfire, a biography of the great aircraft designer written by his son Gordon Mitchell. (After yet another viewing of The First of the Few starring Leslie Howard I felt moved to read more about the man, and at a cursory glance I can tell I shan't be disappointed with this book!). It was at this point however that I encountered what I consider to be one of the banes of modern living. The automated service.
No.
Yes.
Now, I know the thing exists because I walked past it on my way to the counter but - call me a Luddite - I hate automated system whatsits. I use cash machines, but that's as far as I go (and if that makes me a hypocrite, so be it). I don't know whether it's an extension of my - for want of a better word - old-fashionedness but I prefer to be served by a human being rather than a machine. Don't even get me started on self-service tills! The ones with two members of staff hovering nearby poised to offer assistance whenever the inevitable happens ("unexpected item in bagging area!") when they could be put to much better - and more efficient - use by, oh I don't know, sitting at a till scanning products through for the customer. It's the same with this automated library system. I remember when it was first introduced the mixture of pity and amusement I felt watching person after person struggling to work the touchscreen and the scanner, placing their books in front of this faceless box of bolts like worshippers offering up gifts to a mechanical god, before finally waiting for the librarian to come over and complete the process for them. Upon which the machine spits out a receipt (which you have to keep with the book because it has the return date on it - apparently this is somehow better than a librarian with an ink date stamp) printed on paper the quality of which I'd be embarrassed to have in my bathroom.
Is this too much to ask?
So I ignore this waste of space and always head up to the counter (or a manned till, if I'm in a supermarket). I hadn't been steered back to the self-checkout area for some time so when this happened:
Librarian: "Can I show you how to use our automated check-in system?"
I remembered my previous responses to this question, drew myself up and said as politely but as firmly as possible:
Me: "I'd really rather you didn't, if it's all the same to you."
I have to admit that after that the atmosphere dropped by several degrees but really! what is it with this blasted self-service culture? What annoys me even more is the fast-increasing view that by having these machines installed the library/supermarket/hospital is somehow doing us all a favour and that we should all be queueing up in excitement and appreciation, eager to use them and wondering how we ever got by just talking to another person. Well they aren't and I'm not. Honestly, they'll be expecting us to stack the shelves next. Machines were envisioned to help (and maybe even replace) us in unpleasant and difficult tasks but instead they have been hijacked by penny-pinching corporations and used in unnecessary situations, forcing people into using them and putting customer relations (not to mention jobs) in jeopardy. How soon before there is a whole generation who will never have experienced person-to-person interactions outside of their own home?
Anyway, rant over (and apologies, but this is something I feel very strongly about - I know that my readership includes one or two librarians so perhaps we shall also hear a contrasting view); let me show you all the books I got! The same two tables and one shelf unit from my previous visit were still there but they had been replenished and joined by two boxes full of some really quite good (and in good condition) titles. I ended up with an armful of five books. Five! For £2.20! None older than ten years (and some again hardly withdrawn). They are: Mr Bojangles: The Biography of Bill Robinson, A Land Girl's War by Joan Snelling (I must admit in my head I had Charly 'LandGirl's' voice - not that I've ever even heard it! - shouting "buy that!"), Elizabeth The Queen Mother by Hugo Vickers, Empire of Sand (a fictional story but using the character of T. E. Lawrence ["of Arabia"] and set in the Middle Eastern theatre of the First World War) and the biographical Joan Crawford: Not the Girl Next Door.
I'm really going to have to limit my book intake for the next few months now, I think. Certainly I've got enough to keep me busy for a long time. At the rate things are going my local library will soon be out of books and I'll have to open up my own library. And I can assure you there wouldn't be a self-service machine in sight.
I've been out and about all over the place today, back and forth, hither and yon on various un-vintage errands, but this afternoon I stopped off at my local library to pick up a book I had reserved.
This was the biography of 1930s racing driver and land speed record holder Sir Malcolm Campbell (left), Malcolm Campbell: The Man as I Knew Him, which was written by his widow Lady Dorothy Campbell shortly after he died. It looks to be a fascinating read and if it is anything like the autobiography of his contemporary racing colleague Sir Henry 'Tim' Birkin, of which I own a 1935 copy, I'm sure it will be.
While I was there I of course browsed the sale shelves but there seemed to be nothing particularly interesting and I was about to turn to go when I saw, in the corner of the bottom shelf surrounded by audiobooks and large hardback novels, a book entitled Beau Brummell: The Ultimate Dandy. It looked like the fiction books either side of it but closer inspection revealed it to be a biography of the great man by actor/writer Ian Kelly who played the starring role on stage and in the 2006 B.B.C. adaptation Beau Brummell: This Charming Man, which I'm sorry to say I never saw - so that's something to seek out, once I've read the book!. It might take me a while though as it's a 500-page life-to-death analysis of the man and the period (which is a little outside my sphere of interest really, but for The Ultimate Dandy I'll make an exception!), but I'm looking forward to it and at the moment I've certainly got the time!
This hefty, almost as-new tome, which was only published in 2005 and would have set you back £20 in a bookshop, was mine for the princely sum of 25p. Twenty-five pence! (In fact it should have been 50p, but the librarian made the same mistake as I initially did and thought it was fiction, and I didn't like to correct her!). BARGAIN!!
This brings me to the real point of my post - here is a book barely 6 years old, which cost a not inconsiderable sum and it ends up in the sale section for next to nothing in next to no time. What's more, the Campbell biography had to come from one of the main county library's "stack" (library-speak for the storage room, I think). I've borrowed a couple of books from the same source over the last few years (another being the autobiography of eccentric British Army officer Lt. Col. A.D. Wintle, which only I seem to withdraw these days!) and it always saddens me that such fascinating books rarely see the light of day or are sold off by the library so quickly (although for 25p from £20 I suppose I shouldn't complain about the latter!) without being fully appreciated by the reading public. Of course I imagine its all a matter of taste and interest (not to mention demographics - books about 18th Century dandies and 1930s racing drivers/army officers probably aren't in much demand in my part of deepest darkest Essex!) as well as the changing (and not always for the better) role of the public library, but it still seems a shame to see what people are missing out on. When I look at the withdrawal history of the Campbell book, for example, I see that since 1961 it has been borrowed roughly once every 10 years! I wonder what kind of people took the book home with them, what their interest was and what they took from it. Ah well, I suppose that as long as these books are in stack I'll know where to find them, and at least I appreciate them. Plus it frees up my bookshelf for more cut-price books!
This weekend I visited my parents and Saturday found me in the local library returning a book. The perennial book sale trolley was by the door and at a glance appeared to contain all the usual suspects - 6-year-old travel guides and computer manuals, large print mystery novels and - I had to laugh - a mint copy of Katie Price's autobiography. Ah, schadenfreude! Still, I had a closer look; there was a pile of books toward the back that looked promising and it always pays to have a delve about, even if nothing automatically catches your eye. It turned out to be one of those funny yet welcome occasions where the first couple of books were nothing of interest, then - oh! that's a good one, and the next one too, ah! and the third... I ended up uncovering four books in a row from this little pile that I cradled in my arms and took to the desk.
The first was a clean copy of Curtain: Poirot's Last Case, the final Poirot mystery by Agatha Christie. I've a few Poirot stories in my collection (not to mention the David Suchet DVD box set!) but I haven't read this one since I left college almost 10 years ago. I look forward to reacquainting myself with this final story.
Then came Philip Reeve's award-winning 2001 novel Mortal Engines (left). I'd heard good things about this story from the Steampunk community as apparently it is set in some far-off alternate future where cities have become giant floating airships(!). Although ostensibly a children's book, many are written in such a style that they can be enjoyed by adults; certainly I have read several supposedly "children's" books - most notably the Biggles stories - and found them engrossing and not at all unsophisticated. Mortal Engines is the first of a series of 4 books, so I will be interested to see if I enjoy this with a view to reading the others.
The first of the big-money books (by which I mean "jackpot!" rather than expensive - at 50p each they certainly weren't!) - Fashion Sourcebooks: The 1940s. This little gem contains 329 duotone illustrations charting the year-on year progress of men's and women's fashions from 1940 to 1949 in wonderful detail. Split into Day Wear, Evening Wear, Sports and Leisure Wear, Accessories, Underwear and Wedding Wear, each picture has detailed descriptions and summaries of colours, cut, necklines, lapels, sleeves, pockets, fastenings, buttons - you name it! I shall certainly be drawing some sartorial inspiration from this book, let me tell you! There is also a 1930s edition (and ones for every decade up to the 1970s), which I shall be keeping a lookout for.
By far the greatest find, though, was this mint (well, the library's plastic jacket was torn, but the book itself was fine) hardback The Orient Express: The History of the Orient Express Service from 1883 - 1950. A veritable treasure-trove of facts, figures, enthralling stories and over 100 rare photographs. One that particularly caught my eye as I leafed through it was this photo from 1929 (below), rather apt considering the recent weather conditions I thought! The Orient Express has always held a fascination for me and it would be my dream to travel on its spiritual successor - the Venice-Simplon Orient Express - one day. Until then I can now lose myself in this wonderful book.
It never ceases to amaze me how the library service can come to part with such recent, fresh copies of books like this but a glance at the infrequent loan history on the inside page gives a clue as to why. In many ways it's a pity but then, their loss is my gain! The whole lot came to less than £1.50 (the Orient Express book alone was £16.99 new!) and I came away a very happy chappy.
Another quaint little community story from my local rag. Good to see such a little place doing well. Here's to the next 35 years and many more besides. Libraries are so very important for people and the local area in general, and there is usually so much bad news about them closing, cutting hours or being forced to provide ridiculously unnecessary services that articles such as this are all the more welcome. Why not pop down to your local library, take out an improving book and, if you've the time, sit in a quiet corner and enjoy the peace, tranquility and mentally enriching surroundings.
