It was only a matter of time until I bought an e-reader.
Actually, I've been reading e-books since 2002 when I got my HP Jornada. Three years ago, a couple of our friends showed up at Timegate with Kindles, more friends have purchased various brands in the interim, including Phyllis, who bought a color Nook, and a few months ago, unable to resist the price at a Borders liquidation sale, James bought a Kobo. I have all three of the "name" book reader apps on my Droid: Kindle, Nook (which is a whopper at 12MB), and Borders, plus Google Books reader and Aldiko, which reads the new e-book darling, .epub format (taking the title away from Mobipocket and Microsoft Reader, which were the two leaders when I bought the Jornada).
I'd always had an interest in a Kindle, as Amazon just sells so many books, but when the color Nook came out, I was intrigued. It functioned not only as an e-reader, but had a browser, and you could get magazine subscriptions since it was in color. And, to be frank, it had other allure: it's an Android operating system and you can hack them to make them operate like a Droid, or even boot off an micro SD card and operate on a Droid. (I'm twisted that way, but it would give me a giggle to use a Kindle app on a Nook. <g>)
Not to mention the fact that it's upscale. My dad used to say that if you asked me to pick out a certain electronic, I'd invariably head for the one with the most buttons and the highest price (he also claimed I could sense a bookstore at five miles <g>).
However, I've pretty much been fence-sitting since after Christmas. I still don't like the price of most new e-books. Printed books have an entire pile of expenses having nothing to do with the writing or editing of a volume: costs to produce paper and ink, cost for the printing, cost for the cover graphic and the book cover (and the hardcover if it's a hardback). An e-book must still be written and edited, but the formatting doesn't take any of the labor or the cost of printing (I know, since I've formatted e-books myself with ReaderWorks). So why do e-books, especially paperbacks, cost the same as a printed book? If I knew the author was getting that extra profit, it would be different, but I know they're not.
So I think you know the answer to this one: I bought the color Nook last Friday. Most of the apps cost money, so I have a couple of the free ones: the calendar, Word of the Day, and GoodReads. I downloaded Evernote but you need an SD card for it. It comes with a crossword app, Pandora, and a sudoku app (I hate sudoku).
And nope, I haven't bought any books—yet. Every Friday, Barnes & Noble's Nook blog features a free e-book. Lots of vampires and paranormal stuff, it appears, which I'm really not into. I did download a reprint of a 1930s Fodor's guide to Europe and a chick-lit type thing. Read a few samples. Mostly I have downloaded some stuff off Munseys.com, Gutenberg, and ManyBooks (a bunch of Angela Brazil books, which I've just discovered and as many of the ten Hildegard Frey Camp Fire Girls books as are online—I have the other two; one I scanned and one I bought) and the three James Potter books by G. Norman Lippert. (I just discovered these. They are fanfiction originally written for Lippert's family. Apparently they were put on line and at first J.K. Rowling's lawyers tried to have them taken down. But she found out about the contents, realized they didn't infringe on anything she'd already written, and said she didn't mind it. So evidently she has no intention of writing about James Potter [Harry's son, not Harry's dad]. So far as I've read, which isn't much, they're well written, but lack that little bit of mischievous humor that make the Harry Potter books a bit different.)
On the other hand, I may be investing in a few e-books soon. I've become interested in the Daisy Dalrymple mysteries after reading about them on a book blog, and bought the first three of the British editions really cheaply from Hamilton Books. They're light mysteries set in England in the 1920s. Trouble is, Daisy is up to book eighteen now, and nine of the "middle books" are out of print (they were published in the 1990s and early 2000s) and some of them are going for as much as $45 used (yes, for paperbacks!). I thought of ordering them from Amazon.co.uk (they are just being published in England) and really, £26 was not bad for six books—until I saw the postage, which was nearly as much as the books. £21! For the slowest postage they have. Yow! But I managed to find the fourth book on Deep Discount, and Barnes & Noble carries the rest of them as e-books for the same price as a US paperback. So...maybe I might be persuaded to pay that silly price after all.
Showing posts with label ebooks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ebooks. Show all posts
07 June 2011
20 April 2011
For Molly Murphy Fans
Are you a fan of Rhys Bowen's Molly Murphy mysteries? If you have a Kindle or a Kindle phone app, you can get a free, prequel Molly Murphy story from Amazon.com that will be delivered to your device when the story is released on May 10:
"The Amersham Rubies"
"The Amersham Rubies"
11 March 2011
Read an E-Book Week: Those Adventurous Boy Heroes
Given the era of the boys' series books contained in e-book archives, it was a given that the boys would experience more adventure and danger than their female counterparts.
Boys were definitely boys in those days, and while the girls did get to solve mysteries, frequently face unpleasant people, and even encounter spies, the boys invented, fought in wars or against enemies, were shot at, participated in long trail rides or motor rides, hunted and faced wild animals (not to mention wild men—outlaws and such), occasionally used their fists, always used their wiles—and remained gentlemen to boot!
The granddaddy of all boys series' was the Rover Boys. They're quaint reading now, even for 19th century book fans: they speak in pseudo-British slang (the opening stories take place in the boys' boarding school, Putnam Hall, and their schoolmates were spun off into yet another series). During their adventures the boys age, eventually marry, and their sons take over the youthful tales.
Probably the most famous of the boys' series was Tom Swift. Despite decades of "tom swifties" jokes, the Tom Swift series was a serious set of books about young Tom, a budding inventor and his inventor father, and what seemed like the constant efforts of other, lesser inventors to steal Mr. Swift's blueprints, patents, etc. The first books discussed machinery like motorcycles and motorboats, which, while commonplace to us, were quite novel to the readers of 1910. Later inventions included electric guns and other more fanciful equipment. Tom, like the Rover Boys, aged, married, and had a son, Tom Swift Jr, who participated in more space-age adventures with rocket ships and ray guns.
As time passed, the boys' series leads were often paired with the newest technology. There were boy motorcyclists, boy radio operators, boy motorboat owners, boy motorists, boy submariners, and, of course, boys involved with the newest, most amazing invention of all, the airplane. There were several boy aviator series, most of which took place during "the Great War." Their names changed, but the plots mostly followed the same plots: the gallant American boys flying for freedom against the "Boche" (Germans), saving the helpless and foiling evil spies. (If you blanch at the thought of ten-year-olds flying airplanes, driving cars and motorcycles, and thwarting enemies, please recall that the term "teenager" had not been coined when these books were written. The "boys" represented in series books were usually seventeen to nineteen years old.)
A more typical set of boys to begin with were H. Irving Hancock's "High School Boys," initially a set of sports-themed books. "Dick & Co.," as they were often known, after their leader, Dick Prescott, also included Greg Holmes, Dave Darrin, Dan Dalzell (also known as "Danny Grin"), Tom Reade, and Harry Hazelton, all of whom lived in the town of Gridley and attended Gridley High. Well-mannered, honest "square fellows," they were nevertheless frequently tormented by the town bully and his toadies. Hancock followed with a summer series about the boys, and then, having exhausted their later schooling, wrote a series of "Grammar School Boys" adventures about them. Once the boys reached adulthood, however, they split into three groups, each with a series. Dick and Greg went to West Point, then became "Uncle Sam's Boys" and fought in Europe. (Dick, amazing as always, on his first day in the trenches spots a spy who has fooled everyone else, including the officers, for weeks!) Dave and Dan went to Annapolis, then participated in various famous naval encounters, including adventures in Vera Cruz. Very soon our young lads were officers commanding small ships! Tom and Harry took a less military approach and attended engineering school, then managed to be coupled on assignments in various wild places, including Mexico and Nevada, where they always earned the lasting hatred of the biggest, baddest gunslinger around (who, of course, they always bested with superior thinking).
One of the more unusual series was the five-book "Circus Boys" series. Phil and Teddy, two bored country boys, join...well, the circus, starting out as general dogsbodies and tenderfoot performers, and by the end of the series, due to their pluck, initiative, and staying power, have worked themselves up to be publicists for the show, before even hitting their 20s. It was an interesting look behind the workings of an early 1900s traveling circus.
Again, one cannot discuss these early series, boys' or girls', without mentioning the sometimes blatant, sometimes more subtle, racism that was included in the stories. One of the most memorable characters in the original Tom Swift series, for example, is Eradicate Andrew Jackson Abraham Lincoln Sampson, the typical minstrel-show African-American supporting character. While "Rad," as Tom calls him, often provides Tom with important "clews" and saves him, he also speaks in stereotypical "colored dialect" and prefers to travel with his mule, Boomerang. These sad individuals spot both boys' and girls' series, for both younger and older children: Dinah and Sam in the Bobbsey Twins and Hercules, the family retainer in two of the Frey Camp Fire Girls books (another stereotypical African-American provides a plot point in yet a third Frey book) are only two of many examples, which is why I was surprised to discover The Air Ship Boys by Saylor, which contained a young black character who spoke in dialect, but not as bad as other novels, and did not act the fool; while he did most of the scut work for his white companions, he was also considered a trusted guard and companion.
Most minorities and many ethnic groups came in for drubbing. The worst series in this respect was the Pony Rider Boys series, about a group of boys and their older escort, who visited various Western and wilderness locales on horseback, encountering rustlers, cheats, land grabbers, and other villainous types. I had a tough time making it through my first Pony Rider book, despite thrilling adventures, faced with such epithets as "greaser" and "spic" directed to every Mexican, "dirty savages" in regards to Native Americans, "Chinamen" to Asians, etc. As observed in my girls' series entry, it is not surprising white children who read these books came away with such racist attitudes, as these books were provided to them by people they respected: parents, relatives, friends, perhaps even clergy.
Again, however, I still maintain these books have much to offer. They portray the virtues the early 1900s' adult wished good, manly boys to have: honesty, courage, conviction, drive, steadiness; open a window to the technological advances of the time; portray the closing frontiers of the United States and even Europe; show how the First World War was "spun" as a great crusade even to the youngest citizens of the United States; and vividly point out what strides have been made in defeating cruel and ugly stereotypes. It is a trip back in time that displays the realities, good and bad, of the era in a much more honest way than more recently written books that try to pretend that such things were not common among educated persons.
Boys were definitely boys in those days, and while the girls did get to solve mysteries, frequently face unpleasant people, and even encounter spies, the boys invented, fought in wars or against enemies, were shot at, participated in long trail rides or motor rides, hunted and faced wild animals (not to mention wild men—outlaws and such), occasionally used their fists, always used their wiles—and remained gentlemen to boot!
The granddaddy of all boys series' was the Rover Boys. They're quaint reading now, even for 19th century book fans: they speak in pseudo-British slang (the opening stories take place in the boys' boarding school, Putnam Hall, and their schoolmates were spun off into yet another series). During their adventures the boys age, eventually marry, and their sons take over the youthful tales.
Probably the most famous of the boys' series was Tom Swift. Despite decades of "tom swifties" jokes, the Tom Swift series was a serious set of books about young Tom, a budding inventor and his inventor father, and what seemed like the constant efforts of other, lesser inventors to steal Mr. Swift's blueprints, patents, etc. The first books discussed machinery like motorcycles and motorboats, which, while commonplace to us, were quite novel to the readers of 1910. Later inventions included electric guns and other more fanciful equipment. Tom, like the Rover Boys, aged, married, and had a son, Tom Swift Jr, who participated in more space-age adventures with rocket ships and ray guns.
As time passed, the boys' series leads were often paired with the newest technology. There were boy motorcyclists, boy radio operators, boy motorboat owners, boy motorists, boy submariners, and, of course, boys involved with the newest, most amazing invention of all, the airplane. There were several boy aviator series, most of which took place during "the Great War." Their names changed, but the plots mostly followed the same plots: the gallant American boys flying for freedom against the "Boche" (Germans), saving the helpless and foiling evil spies. (If you blanch at the thought of ten-year-olds flying airplanes, driving cars and motorcycles, and thwarting enemies, please recall that the term "teenager" had not been coined when these books were written. The "boys" represented in series books were usually seventeen to nineteen years old.)
A more typical set of boys to begin with were H. Irving Hancock's "High School Boys," initially a set of sports-themed books. "Dick & Co.," as they were often known, after their leader, Dick Prescott, also included Greg Holmes, Dave Darrin, Dan Dalzell (also known as "Danny Grin"), Tom Reade, and Harry Hazelton, all of whom lived in the town of Gridley and attended Gridley High. Well-mannered, honest "square fellows," they were nevertheless frequently tormented by the town bully and his toadies. Hancock followed with a summer series about the boys, and then, having exhausted their later schooling, wrote a series of "Grammar School Boys" adventures about them. Once the boys reached adulthood, however, they split into three groups, each with a series. Dick and Greg went to West Point, then became "Uncle Sam's Boys" and fought in Europe. (Dick, amazing as always, on his first day in the trenches spots a spy who has fooled everyone else, including the officers, for weeks!) Dave and Dan went to Annapolis, then participated in various famous naval encounters, including adventures in Vera Cruz. Very soon our young lads were officers commanding small ships! Tom and Harry took a less military approach and attended engineering school, then managed to be coupled on assignments in various wild places, including Mexico and Nevada, where they always earned the lasting hatred of the biggest, baddest gunslinger around (who, of course, they always bested with superior thinking).
One of the more unusual series was the five-book "Circus Boys" series. Phil and Teddy, two bored country boys, join...well, the circus, starting out as general dogsbodies and tenderfoot performers, and by the end of the series, due to their pluck, initiative, and staying power, have worked themselves up to be publicists for the show, before even hitting their 20s. It was an interesting look behind the workings of an early 1900s traveling circus.
Again, one cannot discuss these early series, boys' or girls', without mentioning the sometimes blatant, sometimes more subtle, racism that was included in the stories. One of the most memorable characters in the original Tom Swift series, for example, is Eradicate Andrew Jackson Abraham Lincoln Sampson, the typical minstrel-show African-American supporting character. While "Rad," as Tom calls him, often provides Tom with important "clews" and saves him, he also speaks in stereotypical "colored dialect" and prefers to travel with his mule, Boomerang. These sad individuals spot both boys' and girls' series, for both younger and older children: Dinah and Sam in the Bobbsey Twins and Hercules, the family retainer in two of the Frey Camp Fire Girls books (another stereotypical African-American provides a plot point in yet a third Frey book) are only two of many examples, which is why I was surprised to discover The Air Ship Boys by Saylor, which contained a young black character who spoke in dialect, but not as bad as other novels, and did not act the fool; while he did most of the scut work for his white companions, he was also considered a trusted guard and companion.
Most minorities and many ethnic groups came in for drubbing. The worst series in this respect was the Pony Rider Boys series, about a group of boys and their older escort, who visited various Western and wilderness locales on horseback, encountering rustlers, cheats, land grabbers, and other villainous types. I had a tough time making it through my first Pony Rider book, despite thrilling adventures, faced with such epithets as "greaser" and "spic" directed to every Mexican, "dirty savages" in regards to Native Americans, "Chinamen" to Asians, etc. As observed in my girls' series entry, it is not surprising white children who read these books came away with such racist attitudes, as these books were provided to them by people they respected: parents, relatives, friends, perhaps even clergy.
Again, however, I still maintain these books have much to offer. They portray the virtues the early 1900s' adult wished good, manly boys to have: honesty, courage, conviction, drive, steadiness; open a window to the technological advances of the time; portray the closing frontiers of the United States and even Europe; show how the First World War was "spun" as a great crusade even to the youngest citizens of the United States; and vividly point out what strides have been made in defeating cruel and ugly stereotypes. It is a trip back in time that displays the realities, good and bad, of the era in a much more honest way than more recently written books that try to pretend that such things were not common among educated persons.
10 March 2011
Read an E-Book Week: Those Sturdy, Principled Girl Heroines
Perhaps the most famous girls in series books are Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden, followed by Judy Bolton, Cherry Ames, and the other girl sleuths from the 30s and 40s, but they were preceded by an entire flock of earnest, principled girl heroines from early series books.
Not all of the stories these girls were involved in were mysteries. Some involved character studies, like the story of The Three Margarets (Margaret, Rita, and Peggy), all manipulated by their tyrannical relative to emerge friends, or slice-of-life stories in which girls like Patty Fairfield, Billie Bradley, and Nan Sherwood faced problems in growing up, or stories in which the girls embarked on newfangled adventures: they traveled in motorcars like "The Automobile Girls," appeared in the "flickers" like "The Moving Picture Girls" who faced rival actresses, or even flew "aeroplanes" like the Girl Aviators. Jean Webster's fun-loving Patty got in college scrapes but always came out fine at the end.
You can see the early face of girls' mysteries, however, in most of the series of the times. In between attending school, vacationing, and making their way through rivalries with other girls, our heroines usually managed to find missing papers and inheritances, make discoveries about lost children or adoptions, rescue abused kids, etc. Unlike the series of today, most of the girls were allowed to age, go from high school to college to a brief career, even to marriage. Ruth Fielding even finds a successful career as a movie screen writer, Ruth and Alice DeVere (the Moving Picture Girls) become actresses by accident (it's their father who actually wishes to become a film actor)
Typical of these girls were the Outdoor Girls. Dependable Betty Nelson, age fifteen, was the head of the little group—indeed, she is known to her friends as "the little Captain" due to her practical nature—who formed a "Camping and Tramping Club." The other members of the group are Grace Ford, who manages to keep a "Gibson girl" figure despite the fact that she always seems to have a box of chocolates on her; Molly Bilette, known as "Billy," the emotional member of the group (she's of French descent, you see, so she's excitable); and quiet Amy Stonington, who finds out to her great astonishment in the first book that she is adopted. Later in the series she finds out more about her real family. In addition, Grace's brother Will Ford and his friends appear, as well as Billy's insipid small twin siblings Paul and Dodo, who usually manage to blackmail the girls into giving them candy.
The one thing you will notice about all these girls' series is that the girls in them are chiefly in their late teens, but, despite the fact there are boys about, the girls do not spend their time mooning over them, or even obsessing about sex at all. It is a given that Betty likes Allan Washburn, and that Grace Harlowe, in her own series, is fond of Tom Gray (later her husband), but these girls have no time for boys until they reach their 20s. The same goes for the Camp Fire Girls, who are in their 20s by the time the series ends. It is refreshing to see supposedly old-fashioned girls acting so sensibly as opposed to their modern counterparts, who are obsessed with bodies rather than brains, looking good for boys, and being "princesses" when younger instead of independent women.
The other things emphasized are the girls' sense of virtue and fair play. They would never think of cheating or being deliberately "mean" to others, although they occasionally uttered a too-impulsive words or actions which they apologized for later. Grace Harlowe, Betty Nelson, the "Winnebago" Camp Fire Girls, Nan Sherwood, and their sisters would be horrified by the Gossip Girls.
Grace Harlowe was one of the straightest arrows in the series world. She was so "straight," in fact, that numerous girls in each year of high school and college attempted to "get even" with her by blackening her name. Grace spends several books being mistrusted by teachers, professors, or other authority figures because of resentful classmates. Yet she always managed to persevere with dignity and clear her name, and still have fun with her friends: Anne Pierson, a poor girl despised by her classmates who Grace takes under her wing; Nora O'Malley and Jessica Bright. Some of her enemies, like Eleanor Savell and Miriam Nesbit, later become her friends.
One of the more interesting series is that of Ethel Morton. In each of the Morton books, an educational theme accompanies the story line; for instance, in one of the books Ethel learns to cook healthful meals and grow fresh vegetables, in another book she and her friends learn decorating and designing a healthful and happy home.
One of the common topics of all the books written between 1914 and 1918 is the girls' participation in some type of aid during what was known then as the Great War. They knit, raised money, put together packages for European waifs, appeared in parades, bought Liberty Bonds, and otherwise encouraged their readers to help in the war effort. Of course, they occasionally caught spies as well! Hildegarde Frey's Winnebagoes even capture a German spy in The Camp Fire Girls Do Their Bit while defending their friend, Veronica Lehar, a Hungarian refuge.
An unexpected and interesting series is "Aunt Jane's Nieces." Louise, Beth, and Patsy are all summoned to their Aunt Jane's deathbed. She will leave only one of them her fortune, and tries to set the girls against one another, but instead they become friends. They also befriend Aunt Jane's ward Kenneth, who should be the recipient of her fortune, but she dislikes him. However, Kenneth eventually does inherit Aunt Jane's fortune, leaving the girls without support. Unexpectedly their Uncle John turns up. They believe him as poor "as a churchmouse" but it turns out he's rolling in dough and adopts all three girls, as well as appointing Patsy's father as his majordomo. The girls and Kenneth go through various adventures, including making a go of a farm, buying a newspaper, traveling to Europe, etc. The books touch upon some subjects that were surprising for girls' novels of their day: in one Kenneth runs for office and the girls help him politically.
The biggest surprise, however, of the series is that the Edith Van Dyne writing their adventures is in actuality L. Frank Baum of "Oz" fame. In fact, he wrote several other girls' series under a pen name, including the Mary Louise books.
These girls' novels are a window to the world of young women from 1900 through the 1920s. It is an eye-opener to see them emerge from the Victorian world where girls sewed samplers and painted china to vigorous young ladies who compete in basketball and tennis, drive automobiles, even start to lead independent lives even though there are expectations of marriage and children in their futures.
As in all the novels of this era, bigotry and racism sometimes appear. While it is sometimes painful to read, it also reminds us of how far we have come in racial and ethnic equality. It also explains to us how children of the era fell victim to racism and negative ethnic stereotypes, being presented as common and normal in these much-read volumes.
The next time you're looking for an e-book, try one of these old series. I have a particular fondness for the Hildegard Frey Camp Fire Girls (a series of ten books, eight which can be found online), but Betty Gordon, Grace Harlowe, Ruth Fielding, the Outdoor Girls, and others are all fun choices. If nothing else, you can smile at the quaint dialog, the funny medical beliefs, and even occasionally those annoying cutsey younger brothers and sisters!
Not all of the stories these girls were involved in were mysteries. Some involved character studies, like the story of The Three Margarets (Margaret, Rita, and Peggy), all manipulated by their tyrannical relative to emerge friends, or slice-of-life stories in which girls like Patty Fairfield, Billie Bradley, and Nan Sherwood faced problems in growing up, or stories in which the girls embarked on newfangled adventures: they traveled in motorcars like "The Automobile Girls," appeared in the "flickers" like "The Moving Picture Girls" who faced rival actresses, or even flew "aeroplanes" like the Girl Aviators. Jean Webster's fun-loving Patty got in college scrapes but always came out fine at the end.
You can see the early face of girls' mysteries, however, in most of the series of the times. In between attending school, vacationing, and making their way through rivalries with other girls, our heroines usually managed to find missing papers and inheritances, make discoveries about lost children or adoptions, rescue abused kids, etc. Unlike the series of today, most of the girls were allowed to age, go from high school to college to a brief career, even to marriage. Ruth Fielding even finds a successful career as a movie screen writer, Ruth and Alice DeVere (the Moving Picture Girls) become actresses by accident (it's their father who actually wishes to become a film actor)
Typical of these girls were the Outdoor Girls. Dependable Betty Nelson, age fifteen, was the head of the little group—indeed, she is known to her friends as "the little Captain" due to her practical nature—who formed a "Camping and Tramping Club." The other members of the group are Grace Ford, who manages to keep a "Gibson girl" figure despite the fact that she always seems to have a box of chocolates on her; Molly Bilette, known as "Billy," the emotional member of the group (she's of French descent, you see, so she's excitable); and quiet Amy Stonington, who finds out to her great astonishment in the first book that she is adopted. Later in the series she finds out more about her real family. In addition, Grace's brother Will Ford and his friends appear, as well as Billy's insipid small twin siblings Paul and Dodo, who usually manage to blackmail the girls into giving them candy.
The one thing you will notice about all these girls' series is that the girls in them are chiefly in their late teens, but, despite the fact there are boys about, the girls do not spend their time mooning over them, or even obsessing about sex at all. It is a given that Betty likes Allan Washburn, and that Grace Harlowe, in her own series, is fond of Tom Gray (later her husband), but these girls have no time for boys until they reach their 20s. The same goes for the Camp Fire Girls, who are in their 20s by the time the series ends. It is refreshing to see supposedly old-fashioned girls acting so sensibly as opposed to their modern counterparts, who are obsessed with bodies rather than brains, looking good for boys, and being "princesses" when younger instead of independent women.
The other things emphasized are the girls' sense of virtue and fair play. They would never think of cheating or being deliberately "mean" to others, although they occasionally uttered a too-impulsive words or actions which they apologized for later. Grace Harlowe, Betty Nelson, the "Winnebago" Camp Fire Girls, Nan Sherwood, and their sisters would be horrified by the Gossip Girls.
Grace Harlowe was one of the straightest arrows in the series world. She was so "straight," in fact, that numerous girls in each year of high school and college attempted to "get even" with her by blackening her name. Grace spends several books being mistrusted by teachers, professors, or other authority figures because of resentful classmates. Yet she always managed to persevere with dignity and clear her name, and still have fun with her friends: Anne Pierson, a poor girl despised by her classmates who Grace takes under her wing; Nora O'Malley and Jessica Bright. Some of her enemies, like Eleanor Savell and Miriam Nesbit, later become her friends.
One of the more interesting series is that of Ethel Morton. In each of the Morton books, an educational theme accompanies the story line; for instance, in one of the books Ethel learns to cook healthful meals and grow fresh vegetables, in another book she and her friends learn decorating and designing a healthful and happy home.
One of the common topics of all the books written between 1914 and 1918 is the girls' participation in some type of aid during what was known then as the Great War. They knit, raised money, put together packages for European waifs, appeared in parades, bought Liberty Bonds, and otherwise encouraged their readers to help in the war effort. Of course, they occasionally caught spies as well! Hildegarde Frey's Winnebagoes even capture a German spy in The Camp Fire Girls Do Their Bit while defending their friend, Veronica Lehar, a Hungarian refuge.
An unexpected and interesting series is "Aunt Jane's Nieces." Louise, Beth, and Patsy are all summoned to their Aunt Jane's deathbed. She will leave only one of them her fortune, and tries to set the girls against one another, but instead they become friends. They also befriend Aunt Jane's ward Kenneth, who should be the recipient of her fortune, but she dislikes him. However, Kenneth eventually does inherit Aunt Jane's fortune, leaving the girls without support. Unexpectedly their Uncle John turns up. They believe him as poor "as a churchmouse" but it turns out he's rolling in dough and adopts all three girls, as well as appointing Patsy's father as his majordomo. The girls and Kenneth go through various adventures, including making a go of a farm, buying a newspaper, traveling to Europe, etc. The books touch upon some subjects that were surprising for girls' novels of their day: in one Kenneth runs for office and the girls help him politically.
The biggest surprise, however, of the series is that the Edith Van Dyne writing their adventures is in actuality L. Frank Baum of "Oz" fame. In fact, he wrote several other girls' series under a pen name, including the Mary Louise books.
These girls' novels are a window to the world of young women from 1900 through the 1920s. It is an eye-opener to see them emerge from the Victorian world where girls sewed samplers and painted china to vigorous young ladies who compete in basketball and tennis, drive automobiles, even start to lead independent lives even though there are expectations of marriage and children in their futures.
As in all the novels of this era, bigotry and racism sometimes appear. While it is sometimes painful to read, it also reminds us of how far we have come in racial and ethnic equality. It also explains to us how children of the era fell victim to racism and negative ethnic stereotypes, being presented as common and normal in these much-read volumes.
The next time you're looking for an e-book, try one of these old series. I have a particular fondness for the Hildegard Frey Camp Fire Girls (a series of ten books, eight which can be found online), but Betty Gordon, Grace Harlowe, Ruth Fielding, the Outdoor Girls, and others are all fun choices. If nothing else, you can smile at the quaint dialog, the funny medical beliefs, and even occasionally those annoying cutsey younger brothers and sisters!
06 March 2011
Read an E-Book Week
I'd planned to do an e-book post at some point, and this appears to be the perfect time. E-books are nothing new to me—just the concept of paying for them are! :-) I've been reading e-books since I bought my HP Jornada in 2002. One of the applications it came with was Microsoft Reader, which is the ".lit" format.
At that time there were no Kindles, Nooks, Kobos, etc. There were e-readers on Jornadas and Palm Pilots and other PDAs, however, in two formats that I knew about (there may have been others), Microsoft Reader and Mobypocket. The Jornada came with some fairy tales, but I later found e-books of classics on a University of Virginia site. Gutenberg.org also had e-books. Again, at that time these were public domain classics: Louisa May Alcott, Robert Louis Stevenson, Frederick Douglass, Wilkie Collins, Arthur Conan Doyle, etc.
I hit the jackpot when I found a site called Blackmask.com. This site not only contained the same classics, but it also had pulp magazine stories and, best of all, old children's series books. Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys? No, these are still under copyright. But everything else, and much earlier than Drew or Hardy, all the way back to the much joked about Rover Boys and the original Bobbsey Twins (where they rode around in horses and carriages), and everything else.
(The owner of the Blackmask.com site was later sued for using Doc Savage and the Shadow pulps on his site, ignoring the fact that Conde Nast still owns these characters. The site vanished for a time, but is now back, sans Doc and Lamont, as Munseys.com. New e-books join the ranks daily.)
So here I discovered all the early girls' series: Grace Harlowe, Ruth Fielding, Betty Gordon, Nan Sherwood, and more. Plus the boys' series: the Pony Rider Boys, the High School Boys (later the Dick Prescott books, the Dave Darrin books, and the Young Engineers), the Boy Allies, even Tom Swift. It's all been great fun to peek into the past: fashions, mores, school customs, speech patterns, how the adults of the time expected girl and boy protagonists to act. Some of the plots are paint-by-number, sadly bigotry reared its head many times, language might be florid—but all of it has been interesting, occasionally fun, and I have even come to love some of these early characters.
I'm hoping to write more this week about the books I discovered, some characters I found endearing, and more during Read an E-Book Week.
At that time there were no Kindles, Nooks, Kobos, etc. There were e-readers on Jornadas and Palm Pilots and other PDAs, however, in two formats that I knew about (there may have been others), Microsoft Reader and Mobypocket. The Jornada came with some fairy tales, but I later found e-books of classics on a University of Virginia site. Gutenberg.org also had e-books. Again, at that time these were public domain classics: Louisa May Alcott, Robert Louis Stevenson, Frederick Douglass, Wilkie Collins, Arthur Conan Doyle, etc.
I hit the jackpot when I found a site called Blackmask.com. This site not only contained the same classics, but it also had pulp magazine stories and, best of all, old children's series books. Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys? No, these are still under copyright. But everything else, and much earlier than Drew or Hardy, all the way back to the much joked about Rover Boys and the original Bobbsey Twins (where they rode around in horses and carriages), and everything else.
(The owner of the Blackmask.com site was later sued for using Doc Savage and the Shadow pulps on his site, ignoring the fact that Conde Nast still owns these characters. The site vanished for a time, but is now back, sans Doc and Lamont, as Munseys.com. New e-books join the ranks daily.)
So here I discovered all the early girls' series: Grace Harlowe, Ruth Fielding, Betty Gordon, Nan Sherwood, and more. Plus the boys' series: the Pony Rider Boys, the High School Boys (later the Dick Prescott books, the Dave Darrin books, and the Young Engineers), the Boy Allies, even Tom Swift. It's all been great fun to peek into the past: fashions, mores, school customs, speech patterns, how the adults of the time expected girl and boy protagonists to act. Some of the plots are paint-by-number, sadly bigotry reared its head many times, language might be florid—but all of it has been interesting, occasionally fun, and I have even come to love some of these early characters.
I'm hoping to write more this week about the books I discovered, some characters I found endearing, and more during Read an E-Book Week.
31 December 2010
Books Finished Since December 1
None?
No, plenty, but they've all been reviewed in Holiday Harbour under the "Christmas Book Review" banner.
I did finish one book, however, which was not Christmas-themed:
The Camp Fire Girls' Larks and Pranks, Hildegard G. Frey
I discovered e-books back in the day of my PDA, reading in Microsoft Lit format and getting the books from BlackMask.com, now Munseys.com. This site contains books that are in the public domain, including those wonderful kids' series books originally published by Saalfield, Altemus, and other extinct publishers. These are even older than Nancy Drew vintage; some, like the Rover Boys, go back to the 19th century.
This particular series was written between 1914 and 1920 and centers on a group of Camp Fire girls and their "Guardian." Today Camp Fire is for both sexes; I don't think they even wear the cute little uniforms and beanies the Camp Fire Girls wore in the 1960s. Frey's prose is livelier than many of the didactic series of those day, and all her girls are memorable: Migwan (Elsie Gardiner) the writer of the group, Sahwah (Sarah Brewster) the champion swimmmer and prankster, Hinpoha (Dorothy Bradford) the plump redhead, and more. Incidentally, these are not what you think of as "girls": the youngest of them is fifteen, and by the end of the ten-book series even college-age Migwan, Hinpoha, and Sahwah still go to camp. Parents in those days hoped their daughters would remain innocent until they were ready to be married and go out in the world.
So although in this volume, about midway through the series, the girls make the acquaintance of a group of boys who call themselves "The Sandwich Club," there is no snogging, clandestine meetings, and raging hormones: we know the Captain (real name Cicero St. John) likes Hinpoha, but it's all very innocent. This is a pivotal book in the series as we meet at least one character who will figure in the rest of the series, Katherine Adams, a tall, awkward young woman of careless dress and Southern origins but friendly and talented, who is visiting the Girls' home town in order to attend high school. We are also introduced to the Sandwich Club; Veronica Lehar, an Austrian girl who has lost her family in the Great War and who is snobbish to the girls until she finds out what good friends they are; and also to a trick donkey the kids name Sandhelo ("Sandwich" and "Wohelo," the countersign of the Camp Fire Girls—WOrk, HEalth, LOve—melded together).
As always in these old books, subtle racism and ethnicism raise their heads. In this outing the girls try to help the poor folks in an area of town known for its Polish and Slavic citizens, but are thwarted in their efforts to help by the "superstitious" townsfolk. The young folk in these novels are so nice it's hard to see them today marred by this silly bigotry. Otherwise it's a fun narrative of how kids used to make their own fun rather than depending on electronic toys.
No, plenty, but they've all been reviewed in Holiday Harbour under the "Christmas Book Review" banner.
I did finish one book, however, which was not Christmas-themed:
The Camp Fire Girls' Larks and Pranks, Hildegard G. FreyI discovered e-books back in the day of my PDA, reading in Microsoft Lit format and getting the books from BlackMask.com, now Munseys.com. This site contains books that are in the public domain, including those wonderful kids' series books originally published by Saalfield, Altemus, and other extinct publishers. These are even older than Nancy Drew vintage; some, like the Rover Boys, go back to the 19th century.
This particular series was written between 1914 and 1920 and centers on a group of Camp Fire girls and their "Guardian." Today Camp Fire is for both sexes; I don't think they even wear the cute little uniforms and beanies the Camp Fire Girls wore in the 1960s. Frey's prose is livelier than many of the didactic series of those day, and all her girls are memorable: Migwan (Elsie Gardiner) the writer of the group, Sahwah (Sarah Brewster) the champion swimmmer and prankster, Hinpoha (Dorothy Bradford) the plump redhead, and more. Incidentally, these are not what you think of as "girls": the youngest of them is fifteen, and by the end of the ten-book series even college-age Migwan, Hinpoha, and Sahwah still go to camp. Parents in those days hoped their daughters would remain innocent until they were ready to be married and go out in the world.
So although in this volume, about midway through the series, the girls make the acquaintance of a group of boys who call themselves "The Sandwich Club," there is no snogging, clandestine meetings, and raging hormones: we know the Captain (real name Cicero St. John) likes Hinpoha, but it's all very innocent. This is a pivotal book in the series as we meet at least one character who will figure in the rest of the series, Katherine Adams, a tall, awkward young woman of careless dress and Southern origins but friendly and talented, who is visiting the Girls' home town in order to attend high school. We are also introduced to the Sandwich Club; Veronica Lehar, an Austrian girl who has lost her family in the Great War and who is snobbish to the girls until she finds out what good friends they are; and also to a trick donkey the kids name Sandhelo ("Sandwich" and "Wohelo," the countersign of the Camp Fire Girls—WOrk, HEalth, LOve—melded together).
As always in these old books, subtle racism and ethnicism raise their heads. In this outing the girls try to help the poor folks in an area of town known for its Polish and Slavic citizens, but are thwarted in their efforts to help by the "superstitious" townsfolk. The young folk in these novels are so nice it's hard to see them today marred by this silly bigotry. Otherwise it's a fun narrative of how kids used to make their own fun rather than depending on electronic toys.
30 May 2006
I Want My "Fix" Back
Granted, I still have many books in waiting, but I'm beginning to get worried about Blackmask.com. (For those who don't know, Blackmask.com's webmaster is being sued by Conde Nast. He has been publishing pulp novels that he said were in public domain on the site, but it turns out Conde Nast owns the rights to a bunch of them, especially Street and Smith's most famous creation, the Shadow. I don't have the whole story, just what I read on various Usenet groups, but apparently he was told to take them down and refused, so now the whole site's down.) Combined with the disappearance of Mary's series book site, this is pretty disappointing.
It's a pity because I am enjoying those wonderful old Stratemeyer Syndicate and other series novels for kids. Not only are they a wonderful window on the mores of kids as they were (and probably a lot of what adults wanted them to be!), but they're now unintentionally funny. How can you not laugh at boys calling each other "old bean" or spouting funny epithets like "great horny toads!" in place of profanity? Right now I am concurrently reading H. Irving Hancock's saga of Dick Prescott (and Greg Holmes) at West Point and Dave Darrin (and Dan Dalzell) at Annapolis (the other members of the "Dick & Co. sextette" as they are referred to in the ubiquitous summation, formerly "the High School Boys," Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton, are off being civil engineers all over the US).
Having made it through plebe year with Dick, Greg, Dave, and Dan, I have to admit the stories haven't changed much: each pits the boys against some physical and often moral challenge, and there's always some idiot classmate with a chip on his shoulder against Our Heroes who keeps trying to get them expelled/in trouble. Over at West Point, after two years of ragging on Prescott and Holmes, fellow Gridley High School classmate Bert Dodge finally was exposed and sent packing. I'm sure some fellow Dodge-supporter is primed to take his place. In Dave Darrin's Second Year at Annapolis; or Two Midshipmen As Naval Academy Youngsters, classmate Pennington is aiming his big guns at Dave for getting him in trouble, although Dave actually saved him from getting booted from the Naval Academy by covering up the fact that Pennington stupidly smoked opium as a toothache remedy. The ethnic stereotypes are, as always, mildly distasteful—the whole opening opium den scene with its "velly evil" Chinese proprietor was pretty bad—but I find it interesting reading about the behind-the-scenes life of Army and Navy cadets: the system of hazing that is forbidden, but still exists; the grind of studies, "Flirtation Walk" along the Hudson and battleship cruises with the "middies."
Presumably everyone makes it through unscathed because Dave Darrin goes off to Vera Cruz in one book and then is mentioned as serving on a destroyer escort (along with Dan) when Dick Prescott goes off to fight the Boches in World War I. But getting there has been fun...
It's a pity because I am enjoying those wonderful old Stratemeyer Syndicate and other series novels for kids. Not only are they a wonderful window on the mores of kids as they were (and probably a lot of what adults wanted them to be!), but they're now unintentionally funny. How can you not laugh at boys calling each other "old bean" or spouting funny epithets like "great horny toads!" in place of profanity? Right now I am concurrently reading H. Irving Hancock's saga of Dick Prescott (and Greg Holmes) at West Point and Dave Darrin (and Dan Dalzell) at Annapolis (the other members of the "Dick & Co. sextette" as they are referred to in the ubiquitous summation, formerly "the High School Boys," Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton, are off being civil engineers all over the US).
Having made it through plebe year with Dick, Greg, Dave, and Dan, I have to admit the stories haven't changed much: each pits the boys against some physical and often moral challenge, and there's always some idiot classmate with a chip on his shoulder against Our Heroes who keeps trying to get them expelled/in trouble. Over at West Point, after two years of ragging on Prescott and Holmes, fellow Gridley High School classmate Bert Dodge finally was exposed and sent packing. I'm sure some fellow Dodge-supporter is primed to take his place. In Dave Darrin's Second Year at Annapolis; or Two Midshipmen As Naval Academy Youngsters, classmate Pennington is aiming his big guns at Dave for getting him in trouble, although Dave actually saved him from getting booted from the Naval Academy by covering up the fact that Pennington stupidly smoked opium as a toothache remedy. The ethnic stereotypes are, as always, mildly distasteful—the whole opening opium den scene with its "velly evil" Chinese proprietor was pretty bad—but I find it interesting reading about the behind-the-scenes life of Army and Navy cadets: the system of hazing that is forbidden, but still exists; the grind of studies, "Flirtation Walk" along the Hudson and battleship cruises with the "middies."
Presumably everyone makes it through unscathed because Dave Darrin goes off to Vera Cruz in one book and then is mentioned as serving on a destroyer escort (along with Dan) when Dick Prescott goes off to fight the Boches in World War I. But getting there has been fun...
11 March 2006
Reading Online
One of my two favorite short stories, online: "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty"
Here's the other: "The Most Dangerous Game"
Here's the other: "The Most Dangerous Game"
03 March 2006
Tom, Dick and...Sam?
Here are some of the e-books I've whiled my way through during spare moments:
The Rover Boys at School
You've probably heard joking references to the Rover Boys all your life—but do you know who they actually were? Penned by "Arthur Whitfield," they were actually the very first series book creation of Edward Stratemeyer, whose syndicate series books for children and young adults later included The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, the Dana Girls, and a whole stable of others. The Rover Boys are the sons of a famous archaeologist who is lost as the series opens, and the boys drive their uncle so wild they are sent to a military boarding school, very fashionable in that day, and to which they are wild to go. Dick is the levelheaded oldest, Tom is the prank-playing middle boy, and Sam is the youngest. Today they sound ridiculously old-fashioned—in several instances the boys even call someone "old top" and use British expressions—and Tom's pranks would probably get him sent to a psychiatrist, and of course ethnic humor and racial stereotypes abound. Still they are an amusing curiosity.
Miss Elliot's Girls
Cross Louisa May Alcott (children learning to be more patient and kind) with a naturalist story and a bit of humane teaching alá Black Beauty and Beautiful Joe and you have this curious story about a "lame young woman" who teaches the children in her care (mostly girls in a sewing circle, but also two boys) about the joys of insect life and being kind to animals. Pretty dull but a good example of a 19th century instructive tale.
The High School Boys' Canoe Club
H. Irving Hancock's sextet of clean-living American boys (their later adventures chatted about here) purchase a damaged "war canoe" from a show, have it repaired, and then participate in boat races at a nearby lake. Since it would be totally boring if they did nothing but, a vindictive bully from school keeps trying to sabotage their summer. Today the boys' parents would have the bully jailed or sent for counseling; back then the boys just solved their own problems until the bully's father figures out what his kid's been up to and ships him home in disgrace.
The Puritan Twins
I've read negative reviews of this Lucy Fitch Perkins "Twin book" and I must agree with them; pretty dull. The story is mostly about the male half of the twin contingent, Daniel, who gets to do all the interesting stuff, while his sister Nancy has to stay behind and be ladylike, or is always being berated for daydreaming and thinking for herself. So realistic of Puritan attitudes to women that it's boring.
The Motor Boys on the Pacific
Another in one of those series stories in which the boys are lucky enough to have some wonderful machine for themselves. In this case, the boys' wonderful speedboat is actually wrecked before the story even opens and several dull opening chapters are reserved for the filing of the insurance claim on it. Then the boys visit California and (how coincidental!) a boy leaving lets them use his big powerful motorboat for the summer! The rest of the story involves looking for a ship full of valuables. The lead characters are so forgettable that...darn...I've forgotten them.
Keineth
Nine-year-old Keineth lives a sheltered life on New York's Washington Square with her widower Dad and a Belgian nursemaid. But as World War I encroaches on the United States, "Tante" returns to Belgium to help her people and Dad, who's a diplomat, sends Keineth to live with friends while he goes to Europe to help make peace. Shy Keineth blossoms under the friendship of the family's children and learns many things before her Dad is safely returned. That's it. Think Understood Betsy with a parent and you have the story, if not the enthralling text.
The Boy Inventors' Radio Telephone
Some of the series' books involved ordinary kids; then there were the pseudo-science fictiony Tom Swiftian series that involved fantastic inventions and the boys who worked with them. In this case, one of the boys has a famous inventor dad who comes up with things like a fabulous electric car that goes miles without a charge, a fabulous airship which his sons and his friends get to travel on, and his newest invention, a radio telephone (which is more like a cell phone many years before its invention). Naturally the boys run afoul of bad guys. Despite the cool inventions, yet another set of youngsters so forgettable that I don't even remember their names.
Penrod and Sam
Booth Tarkington's sequel to Penrod is slightly less funny, but still amusing. Way back then the hi-jinks of Penrod and his buddy Sam were just taken as boys' pranks; they'd probably be arrested now.
The Secret of the Tower
A mystery by Anthony Hope that does not involve Ruritanian swordplay, involving a house with a mysterious tower room and the death of an old man. Main item of interest here, in this early 20th century novel, is that one of the protagonists is a woman doctor who neither faints, simpers, or acts like a fragile flower of Edwardian womanhood.
The Red House Mystery
The visit of a wealthy man's Australian brother provides the beginning of the mystery, which deepens after the wealthy man is murdered. Who did it? How did the murderer escape without being seen? Our sleuth is one Antony Gillingham, a friend of one of the people staying at the home of the murdered man, an amateur who slowly discovers all the clues. Most notable thing about this story: it was written by A.A. Milne of Winnie-the-Pooh fame.
The Rover Boys at School
You've probably heard joking references to the Rover Boys all your life—but do you know who they actually were? Penned by "Arthur Whitfield," they were actually the very first series book creation of Edward Stratemeyer, whose syndicate series books for children and young adults later included The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, the Dana Girls, and a whole stable of others. The Rover Boys are the sons of a famous archaeologist who is lost as the series opens, and the boys drive their uncle so wild they are sent to a military boarding school, very fashionable in that day, and to which they are wild to go. Dick is the levelheaded oldest, Tom is the prank-playing middle boy, and Sam is the youngest. Today they sound ridiculously old-fashioned—in several instances the boys even call someone "old top" and use British expressions—and Tom's pranks would probably get him sent to a psychiatrist, and of course ethnic humor and racial stereotypes abound. Still they are an amusing curiosity.
Miss Elliot's Girls
Cross Louisa May Alcott (children learning to be more patient and kind) with a naturalist story and a bit of humane teaching alá Black Beauty and Beautiful Joe and you have this curious story about a "lame young woman" who teaches the children in her care (mostly girls in a sewing circle, but also two boys) about the joys of insect life and being kind to animals. Pretty dull but a good example of a 19th century instructive tale.
The High School Boys' Canoe Club
H. Irving Hancock's sextet of clean-living American boys (their later adventures chatted about here) purchase a damaged "war canoe" from a show, have it repaired, and then participate in boat races at a nearby lake. Since it would be totally boring if they did nothing but, a vindictive bully from school keeps trying to sabotage their summer. Today the boys' parents would have the bully jailed or sent for counseling; back then the boys just solved their own problems until the bully's father figures out what his kid's been up to and ships him home in disgrace.
The Puritan Twins
I've read negative reviews of this Lucy Fitch Perkins "Twin book" and I must agree with them; pretty dull. The story is mostly about the male half of the twin contingent, Daniel, who gets to do all the interesting stuff, while his sister Nancy has to stay behind and be ladylike, or is always being berated for daydreaming and thinking for herself. So realistic of Puritan attitudes to women that it's boring.
The Motor Boys on the Pacific
Another in one of those series stories in which the boys are lucky enough to have some wonderful machine for themselves. In this case, the boys' wonderful speedboat is actually wrecked before the story even opens and several dull opening chapters are reserved for the filing of the insurance claim on it. Then the boys visit California and (how coincidental!) a boy leaving lets them use his big powerful motorboat for the summer! The rest of the story involves looking for a ship full of valuables. The lead characters are so forgettable that...darn...I've forgotten them.
Keineth
Nine-year-old Keineth lives a sheltered life on New York's Washington Square with her widower Dad and a Belgian nursemaid. But as World War I encroaches on the United States, "Tante" returns to Belgium to help her people and Dad, who's a diplomat, sends Keineth to live with friends while he goes to Europe to help make peace. Shy Keineth blossoms under the friendship of the family's children and learns many things before her Dad is safely returned. That's it. Think Understood Betsy with a parent and you have the story, if not the enthralling text.
The Boy Inventors' Radio Telephone
Some of the series' books involved ordinary kids; then there were the pseudo-science fictiony Tom Swiftian series that involved fantastic inventions and the boys who worked with them. In this case, one of the boys has a famous inventor dad who comes up with things like a fabulous electric car that goes miles without a charge, a fabulous airship which his sons and his friends get to travel on, and his newest invention, a radio telephone (which is more like a cell phone many years before its invention). Naturally the boys run afoul of bad guys. Despite the cool inventions, yet another set of youngsters so forgettable that I don't even remember their names.
Penrod and Sam
Booth Tarkington's sequel to Penrod is slightly less funny, but still amusing. Way back then the hi-jinks of Penrod and his buddy Sam were just taken as boys' pranks; they'd probably be arrested now.
The Secret of the Tower
A mystery by Anthony Hope that does not involve Ruritanian swordplay, involving a house with a mysterious tower room and the death of an old man. Main item of interest here, in this early 20th century novel, is that one of the protagonists is a woman doctor who neither faints, simpers, or acts like a fragile flower of Edwardian womanhood.
The Red House Mystery
The visit of a wealthy man's Australian brother provides the beginning of the mystery, which deepens after the wealthy man is murdered. Who did it? How did the murderer escape without being seen? Our sleuth is one Antony Gillingham, a friend of one of the people staying at the home of the murdered man, an amateur who slowly discovers all the clues. Most notable thing about this story: it was written by A.A. Milne of Winnie-the-Pooh fame.
01 March 2006
A Name from the Past
I remember reading selections from Mary Antin's The Promised Land in school, but had not thought about her in years. Antin was a Russian Jew whose father moved the family to Boston in the late 1800s. Land is an absorbing autobiography about being an immigrant to the United States.
Mass Moments has a little newsclip, Mass Moments: Crowd Gathers to Hear Writer Mary Antin, that you can listen to and also more information.
You can read Promised Land online here, or read it online or download it in various e-book formats at Blackmask.com.
Mass Moments has a little newsclip, Mass Moments: Crowd Gathers to Hear Writer Mary Antin, that you can listen to and also more information.
You can read Promised Land online here, or read it online or download it in various e-book formats at Blackmask.com.
10 January 2006
E-Books Redux
Ah, I've been absent here for a bit while I celebrated over in Holiday Harbour. Tend to read Christmas books over Christmas, but have been digging into the e-books lately.
Last read were two of Edith Van Dyne's "Aunt Jane's Nieces" books. In Aunt Jane's Nieces on Vacation, the girls and Uncle John spend their vacation in the quaint country town of Millville and start and run a newspaper. The colorful country characters from Aunt Jane's Nieces in Millville reappear while we also meet the mysterious "Thursday Smith," a clever but dissipated artist named Hetty Hewitt, and the usual (for the early 1900s) foreign rabble-rousing and drunken workmen, this time workers at a nearby mill. Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad takes place chiefly in Italy, where Uncle John runs afoul of a family of brigands who kidnap rich Americans and then demand they purchase some "antique" in order to be freed. Additionally, Louise is pursued by young Count Ferranti, who has a mysterious pass. The Italians in the story are all pretty stereotypical, but are also presented as having an odd sense of honor, which I find amusing rather than offensive. Young Tato, especially, is full of surprises.
The Meadow-Brook Girls Under Canvas is the first in a series about a group of four teenage girls and their older chaperone, a teacher, who travel about having adventures. Miss Elting is their guiding force, and the girls are Jane McCarthy ("Crazy Jane," the one with the car, whose widowed father has allowed her to run wild), Harriet Burrell (the pretty, talented, intelligent one), Grace Thompson (the childish and rich one who, hilariously—well, according to the book she's hilarious, anyway—lisps), Hazel Holland (pretty much of a cipher) and Margery Brown (nicknamed "Buster" because she is fat). In the initial offering, the girls attend camp with the "Camp Girls" who more than vaguely sound like Campfire Girls and must cope with two unfriendly campers who take a dislike to them. Of the girls, Grace "Tommy" Thompson is the most odd; I'm with Mary Crosson's "Plain Jane" Series List, on which Mary comments "When the reader first meets this series, one burning question leaps to mind: what the heck is wrong with Grace 'Tommy' Thompson? She is short schoolbus material if I've ever seen it—she makes Bobby Belden or Betty from Roy's 'Girl Scouts' series look normal. At 14, she lisps, babbles, frequently needs to 'cuddle,' hallucinates pink elephants when she eats too late at night, wants to sleep in her tentmate's cot because she's 'thcaired of bearth,' etc." The lisping thing gets old really fast, but the girls can be vaguely interesting.
The Meadow Brook girls also go hiking, strike out on a houseboat, visit the White Mountains and the ocean, and play tennis.
Annie Fellows Johnston is most famous for her "Little Colonel" series of books, but she wrote other novels about friends of Lloyd Sherman, "the little Colonel" (if you've only seen the Shirley Temple movie, you don't know the entire story of Lloyd Sherman, who grows up, finds love, and gets married in a series of novels). The Gate of the Giant Scissors is one such book, about Joyce Ware, an American girl who has been sent to France with an aunt to continue her education. She is homesick for her active family and country home and befriends the little nephew of the owner of the estate on which "the gate of the giant scissors" opens; the little boy is perpetually abused and starved by the cruel caretaker of the estate. The "giant scissors" really existed. My favorite Annie Johnston is still Georgina of the Rainbows, but I haven't read that many of them yet.
Last read were two of Edith Van Dyne's "Aunt Jane's Nieces" books. In Aunt Jane's Nieces on Vacation, the girls and Uncle John spend their vacation in the quaint country town of Millville and start and run a newspaper. The colorful country characters from Aunt Jane's Nieces in Millville reappear while we also meet the mysterious "Thursday Smith," a clever but dissipated artist named Hetty Hewitt, and the usual (for the early 1900s) foreign rabble-rousing and drunken workmen, this time workers at a nearby mill. Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad takes place chiefly in Italy, where Uncle John runs afoul of a family of brigands who kidnap rich Americans and then demand they purchase some "antique" in order to be freed. Additionally, Louise is pursued by young Count Ferranti, who has a mysterious pass. The Italians in the story are all pretty stereotypical, but are also presented as having an odd sense of honor, which I find amusing rather than offensive. Young Tato, especially, is full of surprises.
The Meadow-Brook Girls Under Canvas is the first in a series about a group of four teenage girls and their older chaperone, a teacher, who travel about having adventures. Miss Elting is their guiding force, and the girls are Jane McCarthy ("Crazy Jane," the one with the car, whose widowed father has allowed her to run wild), Harriet Burrell (the pretty, talented, intelligent one), Grace Thompson (the childish and rich one who, hilariously—well, according to the book she's hilarious, anyway—lisps), Hazel Holland (pretty much of a cipher) and Margery Brown (nicknamed "Buster" because she is fat). In the initial offering, the girls attend camp with the "Camp Girls" who more than vaguely sound like Campfire Girls and must cope with two unfriendly campers who take a dislike to them. Of the girls, Grace "Tommy" Thompson is the most odd; I'm with Mary Crosson's "Plain Jane" Series List, on which Mary comments "When the reader first meets this series, one burning question leaps to mind: what the heck is wrong with Grace 'Tommy' Thompson? She is short schoolbus material if I've ever seen it—she makes Bobby Belden or Betty from Roy's 'Girl Scouts' series look normal. At 14, she lisps, babbles, frequently needs to 'cuddle,' hallucinates pink elephants when she eats too late at night, wants to sleep in her tentmate's cot because she's 'thcaired of bearth,' etc." The lisping thing gets old really fast, but the girls can be vaguely interesting.
The Meadow Brook girls also go hiking, strike out on a houseboat, visit the White Mountains and the ocean, and play tennis.
Annie Fellows Johnston is most famous for her "Little Colonel" series of books, but she wrote other novels about friends of Lloyd Sherman, "the little Colonel" (if you've only seen the Shirley Temple movie, you don't know the entire story of Lloyd Sherman, who grows up, finds love, and gets married in a series of novels). The Gate of the Giant Scissors is one such book, about Joyce Ware, an American girl who has been sent to France with an aunt to continue her education. She is homesick for her active family and country home and befriends the little nephew of the owner of the estate on which "the gate of the giant scissors" opens; the little boy is perpetually abused and starved by the cruel caretaker of the estate. The "giant scissors" really existed. My favorite Annie Johnston is still Georgina of the Rainbows, but I haven't read that many of them yet.
30 October 2005
Books from the Past
I'm toying with buying (which means I'm nosing around E-bay) a set of the Collier's Junior Classics again.
According to this site, Collier Targets Children with Junior Classics, Collier's intended this set of ten books as a child's counterpart to the Harvard Classics (a.k.a. "The Five Foot Shelf," which figured in an early episode of The Waltons). The set I would be looking for would be 1960 or earlier, as after that, Collier redid the volumes and arranged the stories under different categories. I have a single volume from that later set, the holiday volume, which I do enjoy, but the older set has a nostalgic interest as well.
In my early elementary school years, my best friend was a girl who was also named Linda. She lived one street down and several houses further on. Her older sister was already married, but her older brother's room was upstairs across the hall from her. One of the fascinating things in his room was a set of these Collier's Junior Classics.
As I got into fifth grade, Linda's and my interests started to diverge, plus she made two friends I really didn't like all that much. When these two girls were around all they wanted to talk about were clothes and boys. I thought boys, at least in the fashion they were talking about them, were boring, and clothes even more so. I confess that more often than I should I would excuse myself to go to the bathroom, sneak upstairs, and filch a copy of one of her brother's Junior Classics volumes to read for a while to get away from the ordeal of frills and fashion.
It was in "The Animal Book" that I first read one of my favorite dog stories, Albert Payson Terhune's "One Minute Longer."
According to this site, Collier Targets Children with Junior Classics, Collier's intended this set of ten books as a child's counterpart to the Harvard Classics (a.k.a. "The Five Foot Shelf," which figured in an early episode of The Waltons). The set I would be looking for would be 1960 or earlier, as after that, Collier redid the volumes and arranged the stories under different categories. I have a single volume from that later set, the holiday volume, which I do enjoy, but the older set has a nostalgic interest as well.
In my early elementary school years, my best friend was a girl who was also named Linda. She lived one street down and several houses further on. Her older sister was already married, but her older brother's room was upstairs across the hall from her. One of the fascinating things in his room was a set of these Collier's Junior Classics.
As I got into fifth grade, Linda's and my interests started to diverge, plus she made two friends I really didn't like all that much. When these two girls were around all they wanted to talk about were clothes and boys. I thought boys, at least in the fashion they were talking about them, were boring, and clothes even more so. I confess that more often than I should I would excuse myself to go to the bathroom, sneak upstairs, and filch a copy of one of her brother's Junior Classics volumes to read for a while to get away from the ordeal of frills and fashion.
It was in "The Animal Book" that I first read one of my favorite dog stories, Albert Payson Terhune's "One Minute Longer."
06 April 2005
War is Swell?
I finished reading Thomas Fleming’s very absorbing Illusions of Victory: Americans in World War I a week or so ago. This is a no-holds-barred look at the politics behind and during America’s entry into the war in April 1917, including censorship of any anti-war sentiments (if you’re one of the folks at odds with the Patriot Act, this book might provide an eye-opener of how extremely restrictive the American government really can be).
On the other hand, if you’re looking for a completely unbiased look at this entire situation, be forewarned: this ain’t it. Fleming expends a lot of vitriol on personages on either side, but reserves his harshest criticisms for Woodrow Wilson. This is the flip-side to writings where Wilson comes off almost able to be recommended for sainthood.
I thought the portions of the book concerning how Americans against our entry into “the Great War” (including fiery Senator Robert LaFollette and Congresswoman Jeanette Rankin) were treated even more interesting because of my reading the old children’s/young adults’ series books from the early 20th century. I speak in several paragraphs on my St. Nicholas web page about how this one magazine threw itself into promoting the war effort to children. However, St. Nicholas was not a lone anamoly; in almost all the series books written between 1917-1920 (the Bobbsey Twins were a notable exception), the series’ protagonists, from the hiking and motoring Outdoor Girls and the close-knit Camp Fire Girls of Hildegarde Frey to the various series of Boy Scout books and other boys’ series books, all became involved in the war effort. The girls, of course, were relegated to serving tea and cookies at the precursors to USO halls or knitting for victory, but the older boys quit the Scouts, or whatever their organization, to join the Army or Navy or even the neophyte Air Corps to "join General Pershing’s forces in France and fight for Uncle Sam."
Ninety years ago these books were unabashedly patriotic and thus considered good reading for children. Today they are often absurd propaganda with plotlines full of violence and racial and ethnic stereotypes that make even students of history, who know this existed and aren’t shocked, laugh or cringe.
The latest of these epics I recently finished was H. Irving Hancock’s Uncle Sam's Boys with Pershing's Troops, or Dick Prescott at Grips with the Boche. Hancock’s hero Dick Prescott goes back many years to "The High School Boys" series, with "Dick & Co." as they are called in the descriptions, including Dave Darrin, Dan Dalzell, Tom Reade, Harry Hazelton, and Greg Holmes. Hancock then did a series portraying the boys in grammar school while also portraying their post-school lives: Dick and Greg go to West Point, Dave and Dan to Annapolis, and Tom and Harry become young engineers in three different book series. All or most of the boys (not sure what happened to Harry) then serve during World War I: Dick and Greg of course in the Army, Dave and Dan in command of escort ships, and Tom in the Air Corps.
With Pershing’s Troops actually opens in "Camp Berry, Georgia" where Dick and Greg, now young, manly, outstanding—all our heroes being manly and outstanding, of course—officers train with other "doughboys" for embarcation to France. While there they run afoul of not one, but two, German spies and a member of the Army who they suspect also is a spy.
In one absolutely jaw-dropping scene, Dick has to speak to three conscientious objectors. He pretty much views them as and then calls them cowards, and in persuasive arguments, actually convinces two of them that they can kill if their loved ones are threatened by German imperialism. The third he determines really is against killing, even in self-defense and finds a non-combatent role for him. But before this latter man leaves, Dick asks him to take his hat off and notes that it "has a pointed shape" and that he will remember what the head of a conscientious objector looks like!
Finally Dick and Greg are off on troopships and are fired upon by “the Hun.” Of all the ships in the Navy, guess who are captaining two small escort ships of their transport—yep, you guessed it, Dave and Dan!
Once in France they go directly to the front, met by fawning Frenchmen who thank God for Pershing and Uncle Sam’s boys. Although the French have been in these trenches for months, it is Our Hero Dick, during his first tour, who is the first one to notice one of the French privates is signalling the German line with little electric bulbs whenever an officer puts his head up! (Of course we readers should have suspected the French private was a bit "off"—he has a German name, Berger!) Through the private they find out one of the respected French officers is really a German and also a spy; when caught the scornful man makes a rich melodramatic speech about how he is proud of his German heritage and how German superiority will wipe out the French and the British and even the Americans…yadda, yadda, yadda.
Dick isn’t at the front for 24 hours before he’s captured by "the Boche," marched to a cattle car and taken away to a prison—and of course being Our Hero he is the only one with brains to escape when the train stops. He makes his way to a road where he is saved by a French farmer, who takes him to hide in a barn with another American soldier— guess what, it’s Tom Reade!
I don’t think I have to tell you Our Heroes get back to the Allied side eventually; these stories all end the same. The combination of adulation, coincidence, and jingoism is simply breathtaking.
But as counterpoint to Illusions of Victory, like Dick Prescott it can’t be beat as an illustration of how even the youngest citizens of the U.S. were shown the "right" side of the war in Europe.
On the other hand, if you’re looking for a completely unbiased look at this entire situation, be forewarned: this ain’t it. Fleming expends a lot of vitriol on personages on either side, but reserves his harshest criticisms for Woodrow Wilson. This is the flip-side to writings where Wilson comes off almost able to be recommended for sainthood.
I thought the portions of the book concerning how Americans against our entry into “the Great War” (including fiery Senator Robert LaFollette and Congresswoman Jeanette Rankin) were treated even more interesting because of my reading the old children’s/young adults’ series books from the early 20th century. I speak in several paragraphs on my St. Nicholas web page about how this one magazine threw itself into promoting the war effort to children. However, St. Nicholas was not a lone anamoly; in almost all the series books written between 1917-1920 (the Bobbsey Twins were a notable exception), the series’ protagonists, from the hiking and motoring Outdoor Girls and the close-knit Camp Fire Girls of Hildegarde Frey to the various series of Boy Scout books and other boys’ series books, all became involved in the war effort. The girls, of course, were relegated to serving tea and cookies at the precursors to USO halls or knitting for victory, but the older boys quit the Scouts, or whatever their organization, to join the Army or Navy or even the neophyte Air Corps to "join General Pershing’s forces in France and fight for Uncle Sam."
Ninety years ago these books were unabashedly patriotic and thus considered good reading for children. Today they are often absurd propaganda with plotlines full of violence and racial and ethnic stereotypes that make even students of history, who know this existed and aren’t shocked, laugh or cringe.
The latest of these epics I recently finished was H. Irving Hancock’s Uncle Sam's Boys with Pershing's Troops, or Dick Prescott at Grips with the Boche. Hancock’s hero Dick Prescott goes back many years to "The High School Boys" series, with "Dick & Co." as they are called in the descriptions, including Dave Darrin, Dan Dalzell, Tom Reade, Harry Hazelton, and Greg Holmes. Hancock then did a series portraying the boys in grammar school while also portraying their post-school lives: Dick and Greg go to West Point, Dave and Dan to Annapolis, and Tom and Harry become young engineers in three different book series. All or most of the boys (not sure what happened to Harry) then serve during World War I: Dick and Greg of course in the Army, Dave and Dan in command of escort ships, and Tom in the Air Corps.
With Pershing’s Troops actually opens in "Camp Berry, Georgia" where Dick and Greg, now young, manly, outstanding—all our heroes being manly and outstanding, of course—officers train with other "doughboys" for embarcation to France. While there they run afoul of not one, but two, German spies and a member of the Army who they suspect also is a spy.
In one absolutely jaw-dropping scene, Dick has to speak to three conscientious objectors. He pretty much views them as and then calls them cowards, and in persuasive arguments, actually convinces two of them that they can kill if their loved ones are threatened by German imperialism. The third he determines really is against killing, even in self-defense and finds a non-combatent role for him. But before this latter man leaves, Dick asks him to take his hat off and notes that it "has a pointed shape" and that he will remember what the head of a conscientious objector looks like!
Finally Dick and Greg are off on troopships and are fired upon by “the Hun.” Of all the ships in the Navy, guess who are captaining two small escort ships of their transport—yep, you guessed it, Dave and Dan!
Once in France they go directly to the front, met by fawning Frenchmen who thank God for Pershing and Uncle Sam’s boys. Although the French have been in these trenches for months, it is Our Hero Dick, during his first tour, who is the first one to notice one of the French privates is signalling the German line with little electric bulbs whenever an officer puts his head up! (Of course we readers should have suspected the French private was a bit "off"—he has a German name, Berger!) Through the private they find out one of the respected French officers is really a German and also a spy; when caught the scornful man makes a rich melodramatic speech about how he is proud of his German heritage and how German superiority will wipe out the French and the British and even the Americans…yadda, yadda, yadda.
Dick isn’t at the front for 24 hours before he’s captured by "the Boche," marched to a cattle car and taken away to a prison—and of course being Our Hero he is the only one with brains to escape when the train stops. He makes his way to a road where he is saved by a French farmer, who takes him to hide in a barn with another American soldier— guess what, it’s Tom Reade!
I don’t think I have to tell you Our Heroes get back to the Allied side eventually; these stories all end the same. The combination of adulation, coincidence, and jingoism is simply breathtaking.
But as counterpoint to Illusions of Victory, like Dick Prescott it can’t be beat as an illustration of how even the youngest citizens of the U.S. were shown the "right" side of the war in Europe.
10 February 2005
Who is Edith Van Dyne?
Quiet Elizabeth "Beth" DeGraf is fifteen. She lives with her indifferent parents, a music teacher and an embroiderer, in a small town.
Glamorous Louise Merrick is seventeen. She and her mother, impoverished by her father's death, are living high in a nice apartment on the remainder of his life insurance payment rather than eking out a bare existence on the interest, in the hopes that Louise will make a good marriage to support them both.
Freckled redhead Patricia "Patsy" Doyle is sixteen. She and her Irish father, "the Major," live a poor but happy life with her as a ladies' hairdresser and him as a bookkeeper in a tenement house in the city.
At first glance the trio are a disparate lot, but what they have in common is Jane Merrick, a sickly, discontent, rude old lady who is their aunt. When Jane Merrick realizes she is dying, she sends invitations to each of the girls to come live with her for a month. She is planning to decide which of the three is the best heir for the sizeable fortune she inherited from her fiancé, who died on the eve of their wedding and left all his money to her. Dismissive Miss Merrick doesn't even consider it a possibility that the other heir to the estate might be Kenneth Forbes, her intended's nephew, whom she promised her fiancé she would care for if something happened to his mother. Ken is shy, rude, and mostly untutored, and he loathes his "almost aunt" as much as she loathes him.
These wildly divergent personalities come together in the 1906 book Aunt Jane's Nieces written by Edith Van Dyne, and appears typical in writing to the girls' series of the times, although Louise at first seems an atypical heroine for one of them as her character is closer to that of the inevitable opponents the "nice" girls have in other series stories. It will not be much of a spoiler to tell you that, despite the girls' wariness of each other at first meeting, they all are friends by the end of the book, since nine sequels were spawned, including the inevitable World War I era volume that had the three joining the Red Cross. (Almost all children's series fiction had a point where they halted between 1918-1920 and became obsessed with helping out the cause in the Great War, and many more series books were spawned by the adventures of boys who joined the Army and girls who became nurses or who deterred saboteurs.) Into the mix is also tossed the girls' Uncle John, who returns from "the West" rolling in dough from good investments he apparently makes accidentally, and who bankrolls the girls in all of their schemes in the later volumes.
Some of these volumes, however, didn't follow the traditional plots of most girls' novels of the times. Aunt Jane's Nieces at Work, for example, follows the girls as they help Kenneth–who has, under the influence of his now favorite "cousins," become a bit more agreeable–run for office. Politics was a strange bedfellow for three lively girls in that era when women still did not have suffrage, and indeed the pages were full of diatribes about evil grafting politicians and Democratic principals against Republican ones and vice versa. Indeed, several of the Nieces books not only seem to contain a small mystery, but rail against corruption in industry and politics, hardly the usual subjects in girls' books where clothing, society, and parties were the norm.
But then Edith Van Dyne's other books weren't on typical girlish subjects, either. The two volumes about "the Flying Girl," for instance, followed the adventure of a courageous young woman who learned to fly aircraft in the canvas-and-wire era. And the Mary Louise books follow the adventures of a girl who, in her first story, is pitted against detectives and the United States Secret Service (whose agents are portrayed as double-crossing and in competition with each other in an age where Government representatives were usually shown as solid, honest characters) looking for Mary Louise's beloved "Gran'pa Jim" to arrest him for treason! Strong stuff in those days for girls, but they sold well, showing that the young ladies of that day were eager for more than frills and furbelows in their literature. Indeed, Edith Van Dyne must have been a most progressive woman.
Not to fear, the mystery of Edith Van Dyne has long been solved: "she" was a he, in the person of Lyman Frank Baum–yes, the author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and its sequels. If you are interested in old girls' series books and would like something a little different from the norm, Aunt Jane's trio would probably suit you, not to mention the intrepid Mary Louise. Gutenberg.org has several of the titles, as does Blackmask.com.
A nice article/biography of Baum.
Glamorous Louise Merrick is seventeen. She and her mother, impoverished by her father's death, are living high in a nice apartment on the remainder of his life insurance payment rather than eking out a bare existence on the interest, in the hopes that Louise will make a good marriage to support them both.
Freckled redhead Patricia "Patsy" Doyle is sixteen. She and her Irish father, "the Major," live a poor but happy life with her as a ladies' hairdresser and him as a bookkeeper in a tenement house in the city.
At first glance the trio are a disparate lot, but what they have in common is Jane Merrick, a sickly, discontent, rude old lady who is their aunt. When Jane Merrick realizes she is dying, she sends invitations to each of the girls to come live with her for a month. She is planning to decide which of the three is the best heir for the sizeable fortune she inherited from her fiancé, who died on the eve of their wedding and left all his money to her. Dismissive Miss Merrick doesn't even consider it a possibility that the other heir to the estate might be Kenneth Forbes, her intended's nephew, whom she promised her fiancé she would care for if something happened to his mother. Ken is shy, rude, and mostly untutored, and he loathes his "almost aunt" as much as she loathes him.
These wildly divergent personalities come together in the 1906 book Aunt Jane's Nieces written by Edith Van Dyne, and appears typical in writing to the girls' series of the times, although Louise at first seems an atypical heroine for one of them as her character is closer to that of the inevitable opponents the "nice" girls have in other series stories. It will not be much of a spoiler to tell you that, despite the girls' wariness of each other at first meeting, they all are friends by the end of the book, since nine sequels were spawned, including the inevitable World War I era volume that had the three joining the Red Cross. (Almost all children's series fiction had a point where they halted between 1918-1920 and became obsessed with helping out the cause in the Great War, and many more series books were spawned by the adventures of boys who joined the Army and girls who became nurses or who deterred saboteurs.) Into the mix is also tossed the girls' Uncle John, who returns from "the West" rolling in dough from good investments he apparently makes accidentally, and who bankrolls the girls in all of their schemes in the later volumes.
Some of these volumes, however, didn't follow the traditional plots of most girls' novels of the times. Aunt Jane's Nieces at Work, for example, follows the girls as they help Kenneth–who has, under the influence of his now favorite "cousins," become a bit more agreeable–run for office. Politics was a strange bedfellow for three lively girls in that era when women still did not have suffrage, and indeed the pages were full of diatribes about evil grafting politicians and Democratic principals against Republican ones and vice versa. Indeed, several of the Nieces books not only seem to contain a small mystery, but rail against corruption in industry and politics, hardly the usual subjects in girls' books where clothing, society, and parties were the norm.
But then Edith Van Dyne's other books weren't on typical girlish subjects, either. The two volumes about "the Flying Girl," for instance, followed the adventure of a courageous young woman who learned to fly aircraft in the canvas-and-wire era. And the Mary Louise books follow the adventures of a girl who, in her first story, is pitted against detectives and the United States Secret Service (whose agents are portrayed as double-crossing and in competition with each other in an age where Government representatives were usually shown as solid, honest characters) looking for Mary Louise's beloved "Gran'pa Jim" to arrest him for treason! Strong stuff in those days for girls, but they sold well, showing that the young ladies of that day were eager for more than frills and furbelows in their literature. Indeed, Edith Van Dyne must have been a most progressive woman.
Not to fear, the mystery of Edith Van Dyne has long been solved: "she" was a he, in the person of Lyman Frank Baum–yes, the author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and its sequels. If you are interested in old girls' series books and would like something a little different from the norm, Aunt Jane's trio would probably suit you, not to mention the intrepid Mary Louise. Gutenberg.org has several of the titles, as does Blackmask.com.
A nice article/biography of Baum.
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