Saturday, March 31, 2012

Jamie Bell's Bottom


Okay, so the title of the post might be a little misleading... I have a not-so-secret crush on Jamie Bell. Not only is he, I believe, a much better actor than he has ever been given credit for, he also has one of the best looking bottoms in the movies and, most importantly, is not backward at coming forward with said tush on screen, most notably in quirky little 2007 film, Hallam Foe. So it will be no surprise that, despite critical indifference, I was something of a fan of the recent film The Eagle with Jamie and Channing Tatum getting all sweaty in skirts and sandals pursuit of the lost Eagle standard of the Roman Ninth Legion... What did strike me at the time, and several reviewers too, was the distinct lack of romantic interest for the film's main character.

It wasn't until today as I was browsing in a bookshop in Southsea that I realised why this was. I came across a book which seemed to be about the same story as the film; further flicking through the pages and I begin to realise that this is, in fact, the book on which the film was based. And it's a children's book! Hence, I realised, why there's no heavy, overarching love-story to underpin what is, after all, essentially just another Hollywood quest movie.

So, the book is, of course, The Eagle of the Ninth by Rosemary Sutcliff, (Oxford University Press: London, 1954) and is illustrated by C. Walter Hodges who illustrated a number of Sutcliff's many historical novels for children.

As for that beautiful bottom... pretty much any Google image search with "Jamie Bell Naked" in the box will take you there...

you're welcome!









Friday, March 30, 2012

The Raven Series as a Whole


A little while ago, with the publication of Raven 15: The Splendid Olympian, we came to the end of our  five and a half year publishing project, the Raven series of monographs. At the head of each edition there were 12 casebound copies which, when we started, seemed like a perfectly sensible number. However, it soon became clear that demand for the special state was going to outstrip supply but we took the decision to keep the number at 12. As a consequence I think you are looking at one of only 3 complete sets in the world: I have a set, the author also and one particularly assiduous and lucky collector. I say, 'I think' because from time to time copies have been in the hands of dealers and so I can't be 100% sure to whom some of these books were finally sent. Anyway, as I am painfully aware of how out of date and in need of an overhaul my website is, I thought this might be a good time to run through all fifteen Ravens, making sure to mention whether, as of this date, they are out of print or not. Please be aware that when a title is marked as having a few copies available still, that may mean, in some instances, just two. So, here is the original blurb for each publication:

Raven 1: The Quest For Cockerton
Since the original publication of The Venice Letters by Frederick Rolfe some forty years ago, the identity of the man referred to only as Cockerton or Cocker, who travelled to Venice with Charles Masson Fox for their fateful meeting with Rolfe, has remained a mystery which has stumped all of Rolfe’s biographers. The Quest for Cockerton tells the story of a brilliant piece of detective work by the Corvine scholar Robert Scoble, who has followed leads all over the world to track down this elusive character. OUT OF PRINT

Raven 2: Alfred James Rolfe: The Real Sebastian Archer
The protagonist of Rolfe's novel of Venice, The Desire and Pursuit of the Whole, is a struggling writer named Nicholas Crabbe,whose tribulations mirror those suffered by Rolfe himself in that sparkling city. Crabbe is eventually saved from his troubles by an unexpectedly generous offer from his publishers for a novel he has been writing, entitled Sebastian Archer. The Corvine scholar Robert Scoble has tracked down the real person upon whom the hero of Sebastian Archer was based - Frederick Rolfe's younger brother, Alfred. In a life full of incident, Alfred spent his childhood at a prestigious London school, emigrated at an early age, met with misfortune in the Australian outback, but ultimately carved out a successful career nurtured by a happy marriage. OUT OF PRINT

Raven 3: The Lost Borgiada
The Lost Borgiada, turns the spotlight directly upon Rolfe himself, describing how a simple workaday commission to write a book on the Borgia family was turned by him into an obsession. As he researched and wrote, he began to identify with the Borgia Pope Alexander VI and with his wayward children. Rolfe became convinced that, like himself, the Borgias had been execrated and condemned unfairly. When his book was published it attracted little interest, but Rolfe's obsession continued to absorb him. He spent the following few years creating a massive genealogical wall chart, documenting the history and vicissitudes of the Borgia family from its twelfth century origins to the modern day. This multi-coloured chart, which Rolfe called the 'Borgiada', contained almost three hundred names, each meticulously numbered and many sporting tiny hand-painted coats of arms. The story of the chart's creation, of Rolfe's deluded attempts to sell it, and of its mysterious disappearance, is vividly told in this fast-paced narrative. OUT OF PRINT

Raven 4: Justus Stephen Serjeant
Frederick Rolfe's final five years were spent in Venice. Halfway through that time, when his fortunes seemed to have reached their nadir, a nondescript Anglican clergyman arrived in the city on a holiday and walked into his life. The Reverend Serjeant was a somewhat colourless and unprepossessing man, and Corvine scholars have long been puzzled as to why he should have found Rolfe so impressive as to agree, after a short acquaintance, to bankroll his writing career. Now, at last, the clergyman's life has been thoroughly researched, and his full story can see the light of day. Ensconced, by his own choice, in a lucrative but stultifying country parish, Serjeant travelled alone on the Continent for many weeks of each year, in search of adventure and good cheer. When he met Rolfe, he found they had much in common. Rolfe proved an enthusiastic and entertaining guide to the artistic wonders and carefree inhabitants of the city, and Serjeant's judgement began to cloud in the drowsiness of that Edwardian summer. The story of his hitherto uneventful life, and the circumstances surrounding his patronage of the eccentric writer, are engagingly told in this charming addition to our Series. OUT OF PRINT


Raven 5: Rolfe the Jacobite
This latest volume in the Raven Series on the life and work of Frederick Rolfe, 'Baron Corvo', examines his lifelong enthusiasm for the Jacobites. Having embraced the Catholic religion in his mid-twenties, Rolfe lived in Scotland through the next several formative years, and did not need much persuading to support the cause of the Stuarts, who had lost their throne because of the fear that they were planning to restore Catholicism as the preeminent religion in England. Throughout his life, Rolfe was drawn to historical figures who had been rejected, disenfranchised and treated unjustly both by their contemporaries and by later historians. The story of the Stuart Pretenders, and their attempts to regain their throne, is a romantic and colourful one, with martyrs such as Charles I and Mary Queen of Scots in starring roles, and Rolfe did not hesitate to weave it through his own novels and essays. OUT OF PRINT

Raven 6: The Ruin of the O'Sullivans
A few years before the outbreak of the First World War, one of the most prominent business families in the United States was comprehensively ruined when its head suddenly engaged in some spectacularly inopportune trading on the coffee market. Percy O'Sullivan was still only 39 and had been for several years at the apogee of his career as President of the New York Coffee Exchange when he made his incomprehensible mistake. What his business colleagues - and perhaps even he himself - did not know was that Percy had been portrayed a few years before as one of the principal characters in the great novel Hadrian the Seventh. When Percy was a boy, his Irish-American millionaire father had sent him and his brother Vincent, later to achieve enduring fame as a fin de siecle poet and short story writer, to be schooled at St Mary's College at Oscott in England. The two brothers had spent a good deal of their time with the Oscott seminarian and part-time teacher Frederick Rolfe. Although he never saw the brothers again, Rolfe never forgot the prepossessing Percy, whom he decided to immortalise in his most famous book. OUT OF PRINT

Raven 7: The Constant Family
Frederick Rolfe was in the habit of exciting the sympathy of any new acquaintance by mentioning that he had been ostracised by his family. His story would usually be that his parents' strict Protestant sensibilities had been offended by his decision to become a Catholic. The Catholics who heard his story were moved to help him in any way they could, and even some Protestants were inclined to feel he had been treated harshly. The reality was entirely different. Rolfe grew up in a loving environment, and his parents were unfailingly supportive of him. Even after his death, his family defended him against public assaults upon his reputation. Uneasy at the prospect that he might be portrayed unsympathetically or with insufficient nuance, they did what they could to convince prospective biographers to produce balanced, unsensational accounts of his life. Robert Scoble's latest monograph in this series contains a considerable amount of new biographical detail on Rolfe's siblings. This is complemented by a table setting out the full genealogical details of his immediate family. A brace of previously unpublished letters is quoted at some length, to demonstrate that, insofar as there did occur temporary estrangements from his family, these were of Rolfe's own choosing and often resulted from their well-meaning attempts to help and advise him. A FEW STILL AVAILABLE

Raven 8: A Duchess and Her Past
When Frederick Rolfe was expelled from the Scots College in Rome in May 1890, he turned for help to the members of the Sforza Cesarini family, from whom he felt sure of a sympathetic hearing. The elderly Dowager Duchess Sforza Cesarini did not hesitate. She immediately invited him to spend the summer as her guest at the family's magnificent palazzo south of the city. The following six months in idyllic Genzano were crucially important to Rolfe's development as a writer, and gave him a lasting insight into Italian history and character. While his psychological wounds were being dressed, he was finding inspiration for the extraordinary books he was soon to write. This is the first biographical sketch ever written about the feisty duchess. It is only when we know the circumstances of her eventful life that we begin to understand why she felt such an immediate sympathy for Rolfe. Herself an Englishwoman, and like Rolfe a convert to Catholicism, she had been born illegitimately, and had faced an uncertain future before she met her future husband, a rich Italian aristocrat whose early life had been as checkered as her own. Together they played a not inconsiderable role in the fight for Italian unification, and the duchess's husband and son were both appointed to the Italian Senate. By the time she met Rolfe she was a rich and lonely old widow, with a history of standing up to the church authorities. OUT OF PRINT


Raven 9: A Genius for Inaccuracy
When in the early months of 1903 Frederick Rolfe decided to seek financial help from the Royal Literary Fund, he was unaware that the most influential of the Fund's committee members was determined to thwart him. Edmund Gosse was one of England's foremost men of letters, despite his reputation for literary criticism which was distinctly careless with the facts. At times his mistakes were so egregious that Henry James was moved to lament Gosse's 'genius for inaccuracy'. When Rolfe's case came before the committee, Gosse urged its rejection, embroidering his remarks with gratuitous exaggerations. He was a man used to getting his own way, and having come to the view that Rolfe was undeserving, he took his 'genius for inaccuracy' to the Committee table and ensured that Rolfe's long struggle against dire poverty would continue. The inside story of this cruel reverse is here told for the first time, using holograph letters newly discovered in several great libraries and in the archives of the Royal Literary Fund itself. A FEW STILL AVAILABLE

Raven 10: The Crab and the Moon
In late 1899 and well into 1900, Frederick Rolfe worked for most of every day in the great circular Reading Room at the British Museum, researching his book on the Borgia family. One of his fellow researchers was the Museum's recently-retired Keeper of Printed Books, Richard Garnett, also working on the Borgia. The two men had several conversations about their common interest in Renaissance Italy. Rolfe will have been intrigued to discover that, while in his public life Garnett had reached the very pinnacle of Victorian respectability, in his private moments he pursued an activity which was in technical breach of the law. He was an astrologer. For the first forty years of his life, Rolfe had little interest in astrology, but it is noticeable that the two novels on which he worked most strenuously after meeting Garnett, Hadrian the Seventh and Nicholas Crabbe, are studded with astrological references. Born under the sign of Cancer, the Crab, and 'ruled' by the Moon, Rolfe began to refer in his correspondence to his crab-like characteristics, and to find in astrology a fertile source of powerful symbolism. This latest addition to the Raven Series traces the trajectory of Rolfe's interest in astrology, and elucidates the many astrological references in his published work. It analyses Rolfe's own natal chart, showing how he would have been tempted to see in it a foreshadowing of his life's vicissitudes. A FEW STILL AVAILABLE

Raven 11: Cigars and Tree Carvings
Over the two decades of Frederick Rolfe's adult life prior to his embrace of writing as his profession, such salaries as he was able to earn came principally from teaching, first as an under-master in a succession of schools, and later as a tutor to private pupils. Rolfe was an intelligent man, with an absorbent mind and a surprising range of practical accomplishments. He was musically proficient, fond of the outdoors, and a watchful student of human behaviour. These attributes, combined with his inexhaustible resourcefulness in proposing and planning new entertainments and iconoclastic topics of conversation, made him a memorable teacher. This latest addition to the Raven Series traces the stories of three of Rolfe's pupils: Lawrence Grant, later to achieve a measure of fame as a Hollywood character actor; Malcolm Hay, who went on to contribute importantly to British intelligence in World War I; and Leo Schwarz, future pillar of the Catholic community and papal knight. Each of these three left a detailed account of their time with Rolfe, recalling happy memories of him, and from their fascinating stories an aspect of his personality emerges which has largely been missed by his biographers: his skill as a stimulating and confident teacher. A FEW STILL AVAILABLE

Raven 12: The Pedestrian Uncle
One of the more puzzling aspects of the way Frederick Rolfe related to others was his compulsion to embroider what he told them of the details of his life, hinting at his colourful antecedents and record of impressive accomplishment. The family into which he was born was in fact entirely respectable and worthy, but its very ordinariness seems to have dissatisfied him, and he constantly sought to represent his earlier life as having been more interesting and remarkable than it actually was. In his latest addition to the Raven Series, Robert Scoble reveals that Rolfe had an uncle who was an even more accomplished fantasist than he was. William Henry Patten Saunders had been married to Rolfe's Aunt Augusta, but by the time of Rolfe's childhood had embarrassed the family so irretrievably that his name was no longer mentioned among them. 'Captain' Patten Saunders, as he took to calling himself, was one of the most accomplished impostors of the Victorian era, convincing the newspapers that he was a renowned scholar, decorated soldier and champion athlete. These claims were ultimately exposed in the press as utterly bogus and fanciful, but the Captain was undeterred, moving seamlessly on to further preposterous impersonations. Successive biographers, unaware of Patten Saunders's existence, have missed his part in Frederick Rolfe's story. Like his uncle, Rolfe turned to fiction as a part answer to the wounding injustice of a scathing press exposure, and it is tempting to speculate that it was from the Captain's life story that young Frederick learnt the power of public relations and the advantages to be gained from exaggerating his accomplishments.  A FEW STILL AVAILABLE


Raven 13: The Family Business
A J A Symons, Frederick Rolfe's most influential biographer, had no interest whatsoever in music, and this accounts for his failure, in his book The Quest for Corvo, to acknowledge the role of music in Rolfe’s life. The fact was that, like all his siblings, Frederick Rolfe had grown up surrounded by music. His father James, the manager of the family piano business William Rolfe & Sons, lived above the company's office at 61 Cheapside, played the organ at St Mildred’s in Bread Street, and taught his first two sons, Frederick and Herbert, to play both the organ and the piano. When he was a young schoolmaster, Frederick trained boy choirs and performed in amateur concerts, and several of his students later recalled his proficiency in music. Over the course of the 1890s, however, he began to lose interest in playing the piano. He no longer had classes to teach or performances to give in public, and it is probable that he gave up practising with any regularity. Meanwhile, the family piano business had been in precipitate decline, and James Rolfe had been reduced to tuning pianos for a living. After his death in 1902, his son abandoned music altogether and made writing his overwhelming priority. He was proud of his family’s musical heritage, but it was not what he wished to be remembered for. A FEW STILL AVAILABLE

Raven 14: The Artist and the Scholar
It was Frederick Rolfe's good fortune to find himself invited to accompany the archaeologist Richard MacGillivray Dawkins in the summer of 1908 on a trip to Venice. Dawkins was intelligent, good-natured and equanimous, and it would have been a great advantage to Rolfe had he cultivated this new friendship in the conventional way. True to form, however, Rolfe squandered the opportunity, quarrelling with Dawkins and subjecting him over the next few years to a barrage of insulting letters. With the publication in 1934 of A J A Symons’s The Quest for Corvo, the more disreputable aspects of Rolfe’s life became public knowledge, and Dawkins came under pressure to explain his friendship with Rolfe and his bankrolling of their trip to Venice. This he did by emphasising Rolfe’s charming and unusual personality, hinting that he had had to terminate the friendship when he realised Rolfe’s propensity for unseemly behaviour. Subsequent commentators, including Rolfe’s several biographers, have reinforced this narrative. Rolfe has been portrayed as grasping and ungrateful, with Dawkins as his kindly and long-suffering victim. This telling of only half the story, with its homosexual subtext downplayed, does a disservice to Rolfe. In this penultimate addition to the Raven Series, Robert Scoble describes the trajectory of the short-lived friendship between Rolfe and Dawkins, a friendship unable to survive the incompatibility of their temperaments.  A FEW STILL AVAILABLE

Raven 15: The Spendid Olympian
In a letter from Venice to Charles Masson Fox, written in late 1909, Frederick Rolfe describes a casual conversation in the street with a seventeen-year-old youth on the staff of the Bucintoro Club. Rolfe has seen him working at the rowing club, but does not yet know his name, so refers to him in the letter as ‘the Corfiote Greek Jew.’ The young man pops up only a few more times in the correspondence, so previous scholars have taken no note of him. True to form, however, Rolfe has left us several clues which, when pieced together, identify his importunate young interlocutor as none other than Giorgio Cesana, who remains to this day Italy’s youngest-ever Olympic gold medallist. Born into a Levantine Sephardi Jewish family which had emigrated from Corfu around the time the island had been transferred from Britain to Greece, the boy had grown up in Venice's Ghetto district and at the age of thirteen been chosen to cox the Bucintoro's crews at the Olympic Games. Winner of three gold medals, Giorgio soon found that his celebrity was destined to fade, and although the Bucintoro initially gave him a job in some menial capacity, history gradually lost sight of him.  In this final essay in the Raven Series, Robert Scoble brings Giorgio Cesana back from obscurity. He describes a young man with an exuberant and playful personality, whose antics as Rolfe's assistant gondolier endeared him to one of the most original writers to have graced the canals of Venice, and ensured him a tiny but immortal place in the literary history of that enchanting city. A FEW STILL AVAILABLE


Thursday, March 29, 2012

Soldiers: 1906


A woman in 1906 is writing to a friend on a postcard and proudly talks about her brother Arthur in the army. On the front of the card she put a little cross on his leg (sitting, right) to point him out. Very sweet I thought. The one standing on the far right reminds me of a young Hugh Laurie!

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Architecture Sketches


Even when buying what appears to be a lot of mixed children's books at auction, it appears I still can't avoid picking up the remains of amateur artists. These rather sweet drawings were tucked between some books. From top to bottom, Sir John Soane's Mausoleum, The Red House (i.e. the place where William Morris made his home), the Bank of England, The Gaiety Theatre and Glasgow School of Art. None of these drawings are much bigger than a postcard.




Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Vintage Photos of Light


If I were a very rich man then, alongside a large number of other things, one of the things I would collect would be brilliant candid amateur photography (without the appearance of vintage swimwear). These two, for example, I suppose linked in theme insofar as they both play with light in different ways, but just two really great images.

Monday, March 26, 2012

Sleeping Beauty in 3D


From the sublime to the ridiculous, my last post was about 18th century music, this one is about 1950s gimmickry. Nonetheless, it is completely wonderful gimmickry. This is the story of Sleeping Beauty but we have gone beyond pop-up books here. This book opens all the way around and you can use two little ribbons to tie the front cover to the back making a pentagonal display with five different three dimensional scenes - almost like toy theatres - from the story, with a chunk of text underneath. Although the concept has been carried on until quite recently, this original 1950s version is not so easy to get hold of now.









Sunday, March 25, 2012

Ryde


Here on the South Coast we have been basking in unseasonably warm temperatures, misty hazes and strange tides. My recent trip to the Isle of Wight was quite delightful: a morning in the Ryde Bookshop, lunch with a lovely friend followed by a walk all the way from Ryde to Seaview and back again with tea at the cafe on the sea wall at Puckpool (from whence the view above). It is amazing what a little bit of sunshine can do for one's mood! When I got back to the mainland I witnessed a charming encounter at the bus station whilst I was waiting for my bus home. A young man in a thin white t-shirt was clearly covered in more than the usual extent of tattoos and two of the sweetest little old ladies you can imagine decided to ask him about them: a vibrant, interested and in-depth conversation ensued for at least ten minutes between the three of them on all the finer points of tattooing - delightful...

Imagining a Dance With Jane Austen



It's not quite the discovery of a previously unkown Mozart piece in the attic but I was really excited to win this at a local auction recently. Last year I did really very well with some early printed music sold at Sotheby's and so, although I'm not particularly musical, I've kept a weather eye in that direction every since. This book contains more than 350 pages of music meticulously transcribed by hand and is dated 1804. There are a couple of entire Sonatas by the Italian composer Clementi, and several other Italians of the period. As well there are some airs and arias from Italian operas and a version of the folk song that became the French National Anthem. In particular I like that interspersed with the longer pieces there are folk dances, or rather what are now thought of as folk dances but which, at the time, might have been more like court dances. One imagines Jane Austen tip-toeing back and forth across the floorboards during an evening's entertainment.

Such is the wonder of technology that, without being able to play them myself, I have been able to use a whizzo piece of software that R has to transcribe and hear these pieces, and therefore, so can you...










Saturday, March 24, 2012

Vintage Photo: Hunky-Monkey


How's this hunky-monkey as a representative of all-American stereotype, with the 1950s style white t-shirt and blond hair, the dog on his knee, the picket fencing at the end of the lawn. Of course, the biceps help a little too!

Friday, March 23, 2012

Book Collecting as a Disease: The Case of Peter Rudland



You see, we are now entering a borderland where book collecting becomes potentially injurious to the wallet and the soul.... A couple of days ago I blogged about a book I had bought purely for the design of its dust jacket, it was signed Rudland and I think that refers to a Peter Rudland I found glancing images from on the Internet. So, just two days later I am on the Isle of Wight, browsing the Ryde Bookshop, a tall town-house of a shop with all the literature at the top of the building. And lo, not one, not two but three more books with jackets by Rudland jump off the shelves and into my hands. I am fond of telling people that two of anything is a pair, three is a collection... It appears I now have a collection of books with dust jackets illustrated by a man, about whom I know absolutely nothing. And I'm really not sure how it happened.




Thursday, March 22, 2012

Keith Vaughan's Tom Sawyer


If he had lived, this year would have seen Keith Vaughan's 100th birthday. As a consequence there is something of a flutter or all things Vaughan at the moment and last weekend, R and I went to the Pallant Gallery in Chichester who have a large and excellent exhibition of his works at the moment. It's a brilliant exhibition and the Pallant is going from strength to strength in its ability to present A-list exhibitions. Like the Edward Burra show before it, this one has that rare quality where you actually want to read every word of the curatorial text beside each painting: there's nothing ethereal and art-nonsensical about the texts, rather they are clear, interesting and above all, supremely relevant to what you are looking at. The exhibition, contained in three rooms, covers all the periods of Vaughan's too-short career and the middle room in particular, shows off his large figural studies or assemblages of figures in brilliant style with a dark blue wall colour helping to create a cocoon-like feeling, a small and sacred space "with secular intent".

A display case in the first room of the exhibition reminds us of just how involved Vaughan was in book design and illustration. And so, mine own contribution today is some illustrations from Mark Twain's The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (Paul Elek: Campden Classics, London, 1947). I think it would be fair to say that some of the illustrations are more sucessful than others, but where they really work it seems almost as if you have Vaughan's own copy in your hands and he has been doodling on the blank pages left by the printer. Below is just a small selection.







Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Reasons to Buy a Book...


Both these books were bought today from Charity Shops. The first (above) I bought purely on the strength of the lettering on the jacket: moody, dark, and portentous as any 'tall dark man' should be. The jacket is signed 'Rudland': I believe that might be the illustrator Peter Rudland. The second (below) I picked up because of the jacket but probably wouldn't have bought it, but for the fact that it turns out to have an obscure connection to one of my Queer Victorians. The Hon. Roden Noel was fairly openly bisexual, his story is related as one of Havelock Ellis's case histories, he wrote enough whimsical and sometimes baroque poetry about ambiguous and androgynous youth that he was included in the canon of Uranian poets. He wasn't the only member of the family to lead an unconventional life however. His son, Conrad Noel became known as the Red Vicar of Thaxted and this book, it turns out, is based upon events in Thaxted during Noel's time as incumbent. Strange how the slightest of connections can nudge us one way or another when the we have to decide if we are going to part with our money.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Notre Dame Hottie


Well, gentle reader, I am afraid today you must be satisfied with Frank Neubauer here - his name was helpfully written on the verso - in the athletic kit of Notre Dame University in the US, alma mater of President Josiah Bartlett, among others equally prestigious but less fictional... I hope his rugged good looks and vintage musculature will make up for the fact that I am essentially just blogging a single photo today. I have been in London all day setting up a stand at a major antiques fair and it's been exhausting. Auction tomorrow... so early to bed...

Monday, March 19, 2012

Beautiful Letters


The Agence Eureka blog is always worth keeping an eye on but this post, shows off this and two other plates from an 1880s French Album de Lettres which are frankly stunning. It would be brilliant to see more.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

A Little More Patterned Paper


A little while ago I wrote a post on this blog about all the various pieces of patterned paper that were knocking around my desk and I forgot this, perhaps the most lovely of them all. This is the pattern designed and created for the book (below) by Clare Leighton on Wood Engraving. Strangely, although the book is full to brimming of examples of woodcut illustration from some of the 20th Century's most eminent hands, nowhere in the book does it say who designed or printed the paper on the boards.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Six Poems from the Greek by Lawrence Durrell


One of the things I have learnt in my short years as a bookdealer, is to look out for the small things: the ephemeral, early, before-they-were-famous pamphlets or articles or booklets that might otherwise get overlooked. This is a perfect example of that kind of material. It has been sitting so long in my 'for the blog' folder that I confess I have forgotten exactly where I got it but I know it cost me next to nothing as part of a job lot at an auction. But it's an exciting item, not least because it has a very rough and ready feel to the printing and, of course, for its rarity. I ended up cataloguing it as follows:

8vo, 18pp, stapled into printed card covers. The upper cover as well as the title page bear a half-tone reproduction of a photograph depicting the head of a Greek statue. The staples are rusted and the edges of the card covers are a little browned but overall the booklet remains in excellent condition. The text comprises Durrell's free translations of six poems, three each from the Greek poets, Anghelos Sekilianos (1884-1951) and George Seferis (1900-1971). According to Durrell's 'Note', he was keen to bring these poets to the wider audience of the English-speaking world and makes a call for "translators fully equipped to render these poets as they deserve to be rendered", a job for which Durrell "does not feel himself to be properly qualified". How much influence such an ephemeral publication can have had on the trajectory of the two poets careers is debatable but certainly both went on to be nominated for a Nobel Prize for Literature and in Sefereis's case, to win one in 1963. There was an ongoing relationship between Seferis and Durrell. Durrell continued to promote Seferis's work through critical writing and personal friendship: Seferis, it appears, returned the compliment of translation. This delicate publication is now very rare. It is thought that less than 50 copies were printed and certainly, outside institutional collections, the book is very difficult to find: British and American auction results record only two sales in the last 40 years, both at Sotheby's and possibly of the same copy.

It took a little while but by maintaining faith in this as a valuable and interesting item I eventually sold it late last year to a North American University for several hundred pounds. A smiliar item in this category which also ended up on this blog some time ago was a signed Bernard Leach tract, overlooked and undervalued at an antiques fair. Very often bookdealers don't have time to consider every last booklet or pamphlet that comes their way and so they go on the shelves with a couple of pounds on them without thought to the possible rarity and importance because they seem such small things... Equally, in a mixed auction lot, even a dedicated book auction, these are the kinds of items that simply don't get catalogued as stand-out items. Of course, the dream would be that, one day, sitting among a small pile of Holy Cards and religious tracts and postcards on a table at a fair would be the small and very unassuming first-publication by Rolfe, Tarcissus, The Boy Martyr of Rome. I haven't seen a copy for sale for a very long time but it would certainly be multiple thousands.
 
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