Netflix for Books

I love reading, and I'm a huge consumer of print media - approximately 20 books a month, plus countless articles. I use the library out of necessity. It would cost me around $6,000 a year to buy all the books I read, so the library is my best choice for affordable access to the books I want to read. I love ebooks, which are slightly more affordable and can't be easily digested by my two toddlers, but once again, I can't really justify buying 20 or more ebooks a month (after all, how many books can my kids destroy per month?). But I do get tired of lugging all the books back and forth from the library and paying fines when I need to keep them a few extra days. Also, it's difficult to tough it out for months on end waiting for new books that I am positively dying to read (my husband bought me the new Steve Jobs biography after he heard me mention I was looking at about six months on the waiting list).

All this has got me to thinking - why doesn't a service like Netflix exist for readers? In my opinion, such a service would need to provide:

• Simultaneous access to multiple titles (I'd go crazy if I wasn't able to read at least three books at once - and I know I'm not alone in this)
• Availability of pretty much any title I could find at my local library
• Ability to read books on multiple platforms (tablet, smartphone, pc)
• Affordable pricing (i.e., along the lines of Netflix)

This might sound like a tall order, but Netflix is able to provide these things for movie fans. I do realize that there are probably fewer readers out there demanding a service like this than there are movie and tv fans.

Amazon.com recently announced a service along the lines of a "bonus feature" for Amazon Prime customers. It is pretty much useless, in my opinion. You have access to one book per month (one? Are you kidding me?), have a mere 5,000 titles to choose from, and can only read these books on your kindle. The only good news is that you don't have to pay extra for this horrible service, which is lumped together with Amazon Prime at a cost of $79 USD per year.

Now, I'm sure that Amazon has been begging publishers to allow them to offer more titles, but I'm sure it's difficult to get enough publishers on board. And as this article from Wired magazine notes, nobody really knows what a digital book is "worth" to the publishing industry, nor are they used to negotiating with anyone over the aftermarket for their titles.

Although it was comparatively easier for Netflix to discuss these issues

Now, I hate to say it, but I suspect one of the reasons that book publishers haven't been as willing to acquiesce to the likes of Apple and Amazon is that they have felt less pressure from piracy. The music and film industries are truly suffering from the availability of free content on the web. In contrast, publishers earned 27.9 billion worldwide in 2010, and their revenue appears to be growing, not shrinking.

Adaptation to digital books has started off a bit slow, but it is growing. According to the New York Times (see link above), ebooks represented just 0.6 percent of the the market in 2008. Two years later, they had grown to 6.4 percent. Book publishers might not be feeling the pinch right now, but if this trend continues, they will not be able to ignore the pressure of  the web. I've never read a pirated ebook myself, but they do exist, and I'm sure that if they become readily available, they'll be a much more evident threat to the publishing world.

Hopefully, publishers will not let it get to that point, and will come up with an affordable way for consumers to access books. I realize that not everyone reads as much as I do, but, as my husband pointed out when I discussed this issue with him, they might be willing to pay for a subscription to a book service simply because of the way it makes them feel.

This time of year, I'm always reminded of the job I took at the YMCA after high school. I was amazed that so many people would sign up for memberships in January. I worried that the facility would never hold them all! Not a concern, my boss informed me. Most of them will never show up after the second week of January. "But they'll just cancel their memberships!" I protested. "No," she replied. "Just having a membership makes them feel good, even if they never use the gym."

I think an ebook membership would work much the same way. There are a lot of people out there who would feel great about having unlimited access to books, even if they never actually use the service! What do you think? Does the idea of an "ebook membership" appeal to you? Do you think it makes sense for publishers to offer this option through providers like Apple and Amazon?

William Morris' Kelmscott Chaucer on Display in Buffalo, NY

If you are in Buffalo, New York, this month, be sure to check out the Central Library at Lafayette Square, which will be presenting an exhibit of entitled "The Ideal Book--William Morris and the Kelmscott Press." Included in the exhibit is an original copy of William Morris' Kelmscott Chaucer, along with books produced by the Roycroft Press.

My University library has a facsimile copy of the Kelmscott Chaucer, but I've never seen an original up close. The facsimile itself is nothing to sneeze at - it's a gorgeous book. It never hurts to add it to your Christmas list, though $650 for the gorgeous Folio Society edition might be a bit steep (though it pales in comparison to the real deal - the genuine article recently sold in New York for $160,000 USD). There are some nice editions available on Amazon.com for considerably less, though. I got my sister this very pretty edition (which only includes the Canterbury Tales, but it's a lovely hardbound edition) for under $20 a couple of years ago. I'm afraid I would dissolve into tears if my daughter tore up a folio edition, but at less than $20, this copy is probably just the ticket for a family with small children.



The Kelmscott Chaucer gives readers a sensual experience. I still remember the first time I picked it up and thought "this is what a book should be like." Sir Edward Burne-Jones illustrations are stunning, and the borders have exquisite details that the eye can follow for hours. In general, I'm a bit of a minimalist when it comes to my books. I know that there have been many tomes written on decorating with books, etc., but I personally believe most books really aren't that attractive. They take up too much space! As a result, I tend to either borrow from the library or read eBooks. There are not that many books I consider worth having physical copies of, but this is one of them. As Morris said, "have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful." This is certainly an item that any fan of William Morris and Pre-Raphaelites would be thrilled to find under the tree.

For more information on the Kelmscott Chaucer, visit the Buffalo Library's exhibition website. The Kelmscott Chaucer will be on display until January 30, 2011

Proust's Madeleine

As a fan of fine literature and food, I was curious when I first ran across Edmund Levin's article for Slate "The Way the Cookie Crumbles: How much did Proust know about Madeleines?" 

In Remembrance of Things Past, the narrator tastes some crumbs from the bottom of his teacup and experiences a flood of childhood memories: 

"I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure invaded my senses."

In his article, Levin argues that Proust pretty much made the whole thing up. A typical madeleine leaves no crumbs he argues, and worse yet, he claims that the crumbs have no taste. 

Like Proust's child narrator, I've loved madeleines since I was a kid. When I was a young girl growing up in Olympia, my mom would take me to Batdorf and Bronson after ballet or violin and I'd always have one of their delicious madeleines (I think I tried the cookies with pretty much every beverage there - but tea was the best). My mom and I would chat about art, music and all manner of delightfully grown-up topics while taking in the aroma of roasting coffee beans and thumbing through independent newspapers. Those are fabulous memories. 


At least I thought they were! 


For a moment after reading Levin's article, I questioned my childhood experiences. Were Proust and I both crazy? I knew I'd tasted those crumbs, but it had been a while. Surely this food writer must be right, and I wrong. There's no way he would have made this up...right? 


To see if I could replicate some childhood memories and have a "Proust moment" of my own, I sat down with Julia Child's recipe from The Way to Cook and the madeleine pan I received for Mother's day. I figure that if anyone could settle this once and for all, it was Julia. 


Here's Julia's recipe (more or less). 


2 large eggs, lightly beaten
2/3 c. sugar
1 c. flour + 1 T for preparing pans
5 oz. butter
pinch of salt
zest of 1 lemon
juice of 1/2 lemon
1/2 t. vanilla


Now, while I fiddle with Julia's ingredients a bit (she calls for "drops of lemon juice and vanilla" - whatever that means), I stick to her preparation guide fairly religiously: 

• Preheat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. 
• Measure 1/4 c. eggs into bowl. Beat in sugar and flour. Blend and allow to rest for 10 minutes. 

Meanwhile: 

• Melt butter in saucepan. Bring to a boil and let brown slightly (it should be a lovely caramel colour). Place 1 1/2 T. in a bowl and set aside (very important!)
• Stir the rest of the butter over ice until cool but still liquid
• Blend the cooled butter with the reserved 1/4 c. of the eggs into the butter with the salt, lemon juice, rind and vanilla
• Mix remaining butter (1T) with the 1T of flour you have reserved, and use the mixture to prepare the madeleine pans. 
• Divide batter into 24 lumps of 1 T each (okay, so I don't follow this part so religiously - measuring 1 T for each madeleine should do the trick)
• Bake 13-15 minutes or until browned around the edges and a teensy bit on top!

I love this recipe. I put a fair bit of lemon juice in my madeleines. I like them that way - they smell positively divine when they come out of the oven! And Julia's trick of mixing the melted butter with the flour and using the mix to prep the pans is pure genius - there's never so much as a speck of batter left clinging to the pan. All you need to do afterwards is rinse the pans with warm water. Don't use any detergent - it's unnecessary, and can harm the seasoning of the pan. Also, don't buy a nonstick madeleine pan! It's a terrible waste - not only are most nonstick pans junk, but even the expensive ones won't allow your madeleines to brown properly.


These delightful cookies are pure poetry, and will leave delightfully perfumed crumbs in the bottom of your teacup after dunking. Feel free to use your spoon to capture a few, a la Proust, when no-one's looking!


Now to the controversy. Levin extrapolates several things about Proust's madeleines from the text, all of which seem silly to me. Most importantly, he argues that Proust's madeleine would have needed to be very dry, in order produce such a quantity of crumbs. Now, this is plain nonsense. Has this guy ever dunked a donut? 


I could go on... but for now, I think I'll just enjoy my madeleines. 

Decorating and the Death of Ivan Ilych

While flipping through Pottery Barn Home the other day, I was suddenly reminded of Leo Tolstoy's short story, The Death of Ivan Ilyich. It was one of those tales I read back in University that had a lasting impact on me for some reason, though perhaps not for the reasons my Professor might have hoped.

You may recall (spoiler alert!) that Ivan Ilyich dies while trying to install some new curtains in his home. You see, Ivan has a desirable, bourgeois home he has filled with the sort of objects that the upwardly mobile fantasize about. Ironically, Ivan is completely unaware that the design choices he thinks make his home unique actually render it quite common. Worse yet, these decorating decisions ultimately lead directly to his untimely death (weekend warriors: you have been warned!).

Now, when I read Ivan Ilyich back in University, it made the sort of impression on me that such stories generally have on the young (I saw Fight Club the same year and came to the same conclusion): middle-class tastes are bad, if not downright dangerous. Perhaps this is what Tolstoy was saying, perhaps not. At any rate, these days I'm a little more hesitant about passing out judgements. I said nasty things about Ikea for years after watching Fight Club; today I'm a big fan.  I might not be fully in love with Pottery Barn, but their styles are quite pleasant, and as long as your life doesn't revolve around having the latest and greatest end tables, I don't see how it's harmful.

It could be that I'm a little older and wiser, or it could be that I've simply become a little more cynical. At any rate, these days, I can't help but think that Mr. Ilyich could have died just as easily while protesting globalization, and it wouldn't have necessarily made him a better person (thought it would have rendered him a more romantic character, to be sure).

My personal theory is that Tolstoy was tired of watching decorating shows on HGTV (or whatever the 19th century Russian equivalent) with his wife, and decided to exact his revenge by penning a scathing novella.

Now, back to Pottery Barn Home: it's a beautiful book. Yes, the interiors are the sort of thing you see everywhere. They are ubiquitous, tasteful and relaxing. I was definitely inspired by the lovely photographs. As I sat picturing the changes I would like to make to my humble abode, I was reminded of our friend Ivan:

Looking at the yet unfinished drawing room he could see the fireplace, the screen, the what-not, the little chairs dotted here and there, the dishes and plates on the walls, and the bronzes, as they would be when everything was in place.--The Death of Ivan Ilyich

 We all have a little Ivan in us, don't we?

Review: Classic Design Styles

In an effort to familiarise myself with basic interior design periods, I picked up Henrietta Spencer-Churchill's book, Classic Design Styles. It's a beautifully illustrated volume, filled with lush photographs (I freely confess that I'm all about glossy picture books).

At the beginning of the book, each section examines an historical period in English and American interior design, covering the basics, such as furniture, art, moulding and window design. The latter half focuses on "The House Today" and is considerably weaker, in my view. The author's commentary can also get a bit ponderous at times. Regarding the contemporary tendency to reserve the formal dining room for special occasions, she writes, "[o]ur hectic lifestyles and the lack of inexpensive and easily obtained domestic help have led us to adopt the originally American style of one room living." Ah, for the good old days, when we could rely on indentured servants to do the work for us. Perhaps Ms. Spencer-Churchill can look with fondness on the days of yesteryear, when the supply of desperate domestic workers exceeded the demand; however, since I probably have been stuck working for her, I can't be quite so wistful.

This book would be useful for anyone looking for a basic introduction to period design. But don't read it too carefully...unless you find the author's troglodytic tone amusing (which I did). As the dust jacket proudly proclaims, she is "the daughter of the 11th Duke of Marlborough, whose family home is Blenheim Palace", so one can forgive her for thinking that her readers may have likewise grown up in palaces. I shan't burst her bubble by confessing that I picked up her book in the public library. Oops, too late!

'Desperate Romantics' Makes Telegraph's List of Art History Books of the Year

It's been a great year for the Pre-Raphaelites! Franny Moyle's book, "Desperate Romantics", which inspired the television series of the same name, was named in the UK Telegraph's list of Art History Books of the Year.

There are a number of books on the list that will be of interest to Art History lovers. For the full list, click here.

Victoria and Albert Museum's William Morris Print Book

The Victoria and Albert Museum has announced publication of a new William Morris Pattern Book. The book will come with a CD of the pattern images, so that designers can be free to research and modify the designs as they choose.

The collection was put together by Linda Parry, whom many William Morris buffs will immediately recognize as the author of some of the best books on Morris' design work. Parry served as curator of the V&A's 1995 William Morris exhibit, and is one of the world's foremost experts on Morris. Parry also worked as deputy keeper of the Furniture, Textiles and Fashion Department at the V&A for many years.

I just ordered my copy and I can't wait for it to arrive! I'm really curious to see what I can do with the CD--I'm thinking it will be perfect for adapting some of the designs to needlework, etc.

This title is available through The Earthly Paradise Bookstore.

Andrew Lloyd Webber Announces Sequel to Phantom of the Opera

Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber has been busy working away at a sequel to his 1986 hit, The Phantom of the Opera. The sequel, entitled Love Never Dies, will premiere in London this fall and is slated for production in Toronto and Tokyo shortly thereafter.

Love Never Dies is set in Coney Island (of all places), and features an older Christine, her husband Raoul and son Gustav. Christine agrees to a "one night only" performance and everything goes terribly wrong...

I fell in love with Phantom of the Opera when I was fifteen. I heard the soundtrack to the musical at my friend Alisa's house and was entranced. After that I even managed to get my hands on the original book by Gaston Leroux, which I highly recommend, even though it's quite different from the musical. The book has a very recognizable Victorian Gothic quality to it, and reminds me a lot of Bram Stoker's Dracula (the writing style is very similar).

I'm looking forward to the new show, though I have my reservations about the Coney Island setting (which will probably be delightfully macabre). The music has already been recorded on a concept album, though no word yet on when the album will actually be available for sale. The word is that it might be released before the premiere, but I rather doubt it.

What do you guys think about a sequel to Phantom of the Opera? Would you be excited to see it? Are you worried that Andrew Lloyd Webber will damage the legacy of Phantom of the Opera with a sub-par sequel? Please weigh in.

You can read more about Webber's upcoming production on broadway.com.



Image courtesy Wikimedia.

A Good Children's Book is Hard to Find

I love illustrated children's books. When I was a little girl, my mother had a tremendous collection of gorgeous illustrated books that she would read to me. Now that I'm older, I can't help but to acknowledge what a profound effect they must have had on me. Through those books, I gained a life-long appreciation for beautiful art and beautiful words.

I'm not sure if my mother was just exceptionally gifted at finding beautiful books (which of course she was), or if children's books were just a lot better then (which I think they probably were). Whatever the case may be, I just have a very hard time finding well-written, beautiful children's books.

Yesterday I spent over an hour at our local independent bookseller and could not find a single book that I thought was worth getting. It was majorly depressing. I went through every single shelf in their children's department and I couldn't find anything that really spoke to my soul. Some of the books were okay (who doesn't love "The Hungry Caterpillar"?), but they certainly didn't speak to my imagination. The illustrations were either banal or downright bad. I did find some books by Demi Hitz which were quite pretty, and I was a little bit tempted by them. But overall, nothing really stood out. Oh...I also found a copy of "Bread and Jam for Frances", by Russell and Lillian Hoban, which I also love. (By the way, do any of you remember the Caldecott medals they used to have for kids books? Do they still do that in the States? I have not seen any awards on kids books here in Canada, though I'm not surprised, as the choice here seems pretty dismal).

My husband picked me up afterwards and we had a long conversation about the whole experience in the car. I decided that for now I'll just collect used illustrated children's books, and if I want to get good books for very young children, I may just have to write them myself! I'm ready to run out and get some coloured pencils and have at it...

Does anyone else with young children ever feel like there are no books for children that are worth reading? I would love to know if any of you have found great new children's books recently!

Desperate Romantics by Franny Moyle

Franny Moyle's new book, Desperate Romantics, catalogues the lives and loves of the Pre-Raphaelites, while occasionally touching on their art. The book, which serves as the inspiration for the upcoming BBC miniseries of the same name, sounds like it will be a delight for those looking to dwell on the shallower aspects of the Pre-Raphaelite movement.

First, I will confess that the bohemian lifestyle of the Pre-Raphaelites has held a certain fascination for me ever since I first picked up Beth Russell's Traditional Needlepointand suddenly found myself entranced by the beauty of Morris and Rossetti's art and the sordid details of their personal lives. Whether for good or ill, the countless affairs, intrigues, love triangles and suicides that pepper the Pre-Raphaelite movement have undeniably added to their allure.

It still seems a shame that the book ignores the Pre-Raphaelites' art almost entirely, in favour of tabloid coverage of their exploits. There is so much more to the Pre-Raphaelite vision than sultry models and randy artists. William Morris himself was a fascinating man with beautiful ideas that are still pertinent today. The same is also true for the inspiring John Ruskin, who is sidelined as a mere deviant in Moyle's work. In her defence, however, I notice that Moyle is a television producer, which probably explains her conviction that sex is the best way to sell art. And perhaps she's right. It certainly worked for me. Today my interest in the Pre-Raphaelites goes far beyond their sordid personal lives, but in the beginning, their fascinating lives were instrumental in drawing me into their world.



For more information, read the Times review of Desperate Romantics

The Pre Raphaelites and Their World

I've really been missing the University library lately. I need to get an alumni membership, but I'm afraid I haven't gotten around to that yet. But as you can see from the picture above, I am starting my own collection of Pre-Raphaelite materials!

The other day my husband and I took a stroll near our home in Edmonton to enjoy the last of the lovely fall weather. He spied this beautiful book in a shop near Whyte Avenue and made me get it! We had been scouring the used book stores near our house for books on the Pre-Raphaelites. Generally I don't see much of anything, but this book was quite a find.

The Pre-Raphaelites and Their World is William Michael Rossetti's reminiscences about his brother and the rest of the members of the Pre-Raphaelites. For those of you who are familiar with William Holman Hunt's more gossipy version of the PRB's history, William Rossetti's account is something of an adjustment. His book is far less sensational, but as a historian, I think it's a great deal more reliable! Although William acknowledges that he cannot recall minute details about conversations that had taken 50 years before (unlike Holman Hunt, who transcribed full conversations), Rossetti fills the book with fabulous anecdotes that reveal a different, more thoughtful side of the Brotherhood. I would hugely recommend it to anyone who wants to learn more about the Pre-Raphaelites.

Of course, one of the main things that stood out to me immediately about this book was its beauty. It's a 1995 Folio edition of William Michael Rossetti's writing, and the whole volume is filled with lovely photographs (most by Margaret Cameron) and Pre-Raphaelite paintings. It's a truly lovely book and it's so nice to see a relatively new book that has been so beautifully made (it even came with a lovely little case to keep it looking pretty!). I don't think it's original owner had ever even opened it--I was really lucky!

So far, my favourite aspect of the book is William Michael Rossetti's recollection of his childhood. The Rossetti household must have been such an exciting place to grow up. No wonder that Christina and Dante Gabriel were such prolific writers and artists! Their home was really the ultimate in terms of a nurturing environment (and as I mentioned in an earlier post, this was really true of Millais' home as well). How lucky the Rossetti children were! They had the chance to actually converse with all of their father's artistic and literary friends from the time they were small children. I love William's story about four year old Dante Gabriel terrifying the milkman, who "saw a baby making a picture." Perhaps he was as much a prodigy as Millais, though it's hard to know.

Although this book doesn't offer theories about the Janey-Topsy-Rossetti love triangle, I appreciate its more subdued approach. There are so many books that dwell on the scandals of the Pre-Raphaelites that it is refreshing to be reminded of the exciting ideas, talents and aspirations that this group of people had.

Rossetti: His Life and Works by Evelyn Waugh

It seems like whenever I begin to imagine that I have unique, individual, interests and tastes, I am at once brought crashingly down to earth with the discovery that my likes and dislikes are downright predictable. It's like those lists on Amazon.com "other readers also bought:", where I'm always irked that I actually AM interested in the books they recommend. But however much I'd love to be one of those independent thinkers with wildly unpredictable tastes, it seems the more wildly different my tastes seem to be, the more they are somehow interconnected.

Take, for example, my interest in Evelyn Waugh. I've loved his witty novels for some time, but I only recently discovered that he had a passionate interest in the Pre-Raphaelites. I really was sort of surprised. I would have thought the Pre-Raphaelites far too modern for Waugh, but it seems I was mistaken. In fact, Waugh's first book was actually a biography of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, entitled Rossetti: His Life and Works.

The book has all the wit of Waugh's novels and is a delightfully gossip-filled take on Rossetti's life. Through numerous anecdotes, Waugh paints a portrait of Rossetti as an extremely talented, self-absorbed individual with a great appreciation for beauty, but an even greater capacity for self-pity. I found one aspect of Rossetti's story particularly telling: all of the writing about Rossetti make it clear that he was an animal lover who amassed great collection of exotic pets. What I did NOT know previously was that most of the creatures Rossetti kept in his menagerie perished almost as soon as they were brought home.

It does not appear that Rossetti lavished any personal affection upon his various pets, except perhaps upon the first of the wombats; he met their frequent deaths and disappearances with fortitude; some indeed died or disappeared almost the moment they were acquired...(Waugh, 117-118).

True to Waugh's usual form, the female characters in Rossetti's life get little attention compared to the males that populate his story. Nevertheless, I got the distinct impression that part of the reason they get such short shrift in Rossetti's biography is that they were genuinely not all that important in his life--more ornamental and muse-like than anything else. In fact, it seems that most of Rossetti's lovers were not treated much better than his pet wombats. Lizzie Siddal fared particularly badly, having been discovered by Rossetti when she was young and beautiful, only ot be gradually neglected over time.

Of course, despite neglecting Lizzie during her lifetime, Rossetti was inconsolable after Siddal's death from consumption. During a fit of remorse, be famously interred his poetry with her in her coffin, only to have her dug up again so that he could rescue his writings when his grief had run its course and he had bills to pay.

Never one to miss a chance to judge historical actors, Waugh concludes his little book with a chapter entitled "What is Wrong with Rossetti?" In which he decides that Rossetti's "problem" was his incurable romanticism.

In Rossetti's own day, no doubt, not a little of the adulation he aroused came from this romance of decay--a sort of spiritual coprophily characteristic of the age. Even now we are inclined to think of him with melancholy tolerance and to say, "If he had not been improvident and lethargic, how great an artist he might have been," as we say of the war poets, "If they had not been killed..." But it seems to me that there we have the root cause of Rossetti's failure. It is not so much that as a man he was a bad man--mere lawless wickedness has frequently been a concomitant of the highest genius--but there was fatally lacking in him that essential rectitude that underlies the serenity of all really great art. The sort of unhappiness that beset him was not the sort of unhappiness that does beset a great artist; all his brooding about magic and suicide are symptomatic not so much of genius as of mediocrity. There is a spiritual inadequacy, a sense of ill-organisation about all that he did.

But if he were merely a psychopathic case and nothing more, there would be no problem and no need for a book about him. The problem is that here and there in his life he seems, without ever feeling it, to have transcended this inadequacy in a fashion that admits no glib explanation. Just as the broken arch at Glastonbury Abbey is, in its ruin, so much more moving that it can ever have been when it stood whole and part of a great building, so Rossetti's art, at fitful moments, flames into the exquisite beauty of Beata Beatrix. It is the sort of problem that modern aesthetics does not seem capable of coping with. It has been the object of this book to state, though, alas! not to solve, this problem. (Waugh, 226-227)

I really enjoyed this book, which is hardly surprising, since I'm a fan of both Waugh and the Pre-Raphaelites. But I think almost anyone with an interest in Rossetti would really enjoy reading all of the letters and anecdotes that Waugh gathered together. And, while my review focuses on the more depressing aspects of Rossetti's life, there were many bright points worth mentioning as well. I'll have to mention those another day!

Evelyn Waugh. Rossetti: His Life and Works. London: The Folcraft Press, 1969.

"The Anglo Files" by Sarah Lyall

It's amazing how wildly our preconceived notion of a place can differ from the way it is in reality. A friend of mine moved to Great Britain a while ago and was completely shocked at the wide gulf that separated literary England from contemporary England. She had expected the British to resemble characters from the novels in Jane Austen, and in reality, those she encountered bore a far more striking similarity to the cast of East Enders.

I still remember one of our first phone conversations after her arrival in Britain:

"Margaret, England is awful! I hate it here! I don't know what I was expecting, but I thought they would at least be well educated! But they all drink too much, have terrible grammar and bad manners and all they seem to care about is football!"

Unfortunately, my dear friend was expecting the England that most of us become familiar with through historical dramas--a pristine land teeming with Oxford-educated gentlemen: tee-totaling tea-drinkers, clad in argyle with better English than the Queen (I put this confusion down to watching too many episodes of Masterpiece Theatre and not enough soccer/football games!).

While journalist Sarah Lyall's The Anglo Files does little to dispel these myths (although she does examine the British love of alcoholic beverages--I'm still mystified as to how my friend came up with the idea that British people didn't drink), it serves as great entertainment for those who know to take it all with a grain of salt. As this New York Times Book Review suggests, some clichés run deep (for some reason I'm instantly reminded of Mireille Guiliano's French Women Don't Get Fat), and Anglo Files revels in some of the most worn out generalisations about British society. At least Lyall devotes a good portion of the book to examining the British obsession with sport.

Clichés are always a great deal of fun, but I recommend anyone planning a trip to England to temper some of their BBC-driven enthusiasm with a few episodes of East Enders and a Manchester United football game or two before concluding that Britons live in some sort of classy, tea-infused, time-warp bubble of aristocratic nostalgia. England is a lovely, very real place, and while Lyall's book promises to be a big hit with anglophiles, it's probably best to keep in mind that individuals, wherever they may live, rarely consent to being compartmentalised as easily as outsiders might hope.

Title Page of the Kelmscott Chaucer

The Kelmscott edition of The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer is considered by many specialists in antiquarian books to be one of the finest works of English book production. Without a dout it certainly was the most impressive achievement of Morris' Kelmscott Press.

The Kelmscott Chaucer was a monumental undertaking that severely taxed William Morris and his colleagues. By the time Morris began designing the title page for the volume in February 1896, his health was poor and he was suffering from extreme exhaustion. His friend Sir Edward Burne-Jones was afraid Morris would be unable to complete the project, remarking "I am getting very anxious about Morris and about the Chaucer. he has not done the title-page yet, which will be such a rich page of ornament, with all the large lettering. I wish he would not leave it any longer" (as quoted in Zaczek, 32).

Morris did complete the project in May of that year, but at the expense of his health. Burne-Jones assistant remarked during the process that Morris appeared "very ghostlike, feeble and old looking"(32). The Chaucer was released for publication in June, but the damage to Morris fragile health had already been done. He died only four months later.

The title page, with its richly interwoven grape vines remains one of Morris' crowning achievements as a draughtsman and a testament to his avility to imagine incredibly organic patterns.

Lord George Gordon Byron and Don Juan

As I mentioned in my post on Horace Walpole, I have a fascination with scandalous eccentric artistic types. Lord Byron is one of my all time favourites. A brilliantly talented writer, his poetry is lovely and just a wee bit on the wild side. Not surprisingly, Don Juan is definitely my favourite of his poems--I still remember reading the entire thing in one sitting at a coffee shop in Bellingham one afternoon. Don Juan is definitely his greatest work, full of humour, satire, adventure and romance--this is one epic poem that has it all!

In University, I remember one of my English Professors actually refused to read part Don Juan out loud, because he felt it was blasphemous. This probably only made me like Byron (and the story of Don Juan) even more!



On a different note, I recently discovered the movie Don Juan De Marco (1995), starring Johnny Depp and Marlon Brando. It's a must-see fairy tale for grownups (I even made my husband watch it). It's the story of a soon-to-be retired psychiatrist (Brando) whose last case is a young man who is convinced he is Don Juan (Depp). It's not one the best movie ever, but the interaction between Depp and Brando is definitely worth watching.The film always makes me laugh, but it's also a great story about the importance of keeping romance alive.

The Last Romantics

The Last Romantics is a book I return to over and over again while doing research for this blog. It is, without a doubt, the best overall book on the Pre-Raphaelites and Symbolists that exists in print, especially for someone looking for information on specific artworks.

I still remember finding a copy at the University library and realizing I'd hit the jackpot! It's stuffed with lavish photographs and excellent articles on the artists and their work (I've noticed that a lot of museums seem to be lifting catalogue descriptions from this book--either that, or the book is borrowing its articles from museum catalogues. Either way, your getting a very reliable resource, though you can certainly tell that the writers are clearly art historians, not historians--I would have been hauled before an ethics committee in no time if I'd been that cavalier with my sources).

Back to the book itself! The Last Romantics covers the romantic tradition in British Art from Edward Burne-Jones to Stanley Spencer. Hundreds of paintings are included in the volume, though the authors have chosen to steer clear of the decorative arts. The book is filled with unabashed praise for the romantic movement, which is something of a coup, since curators are (generally speaking) rather fond of mocking romantic painters, the Pre-Raphaelites in particular.

If you ever come across a copy of this book, buy it! And if you find two, send me one! I still have mine from the library, but I think I'm going to have to break down and order a copy from Amazon (a couple of the copies available from sellers in the United States are very affordable). The University is going to make me return it sooner or later!

Image courtesy Amazon.com

Deluxe: How Luxury Lost its Lustre

I'm forever moaning about the demise of luxury--true luxury--which to me means hand crafted products made by people who are passionate about their art. And so, when I saw Dana Thomas being interviewed on Canada's Fashion Television about her new book Deluxe: How Luxury Lost its Lustre, I knew I had to read it! I bought it for the trip home from Paris and finished it in one sitting.

In the book, Thomas takes her readers on a tour behind the scenes of the world's best-known luxury brands. In the process, she reveals that many of the brands we associate with luxury and quality are actually anything but. Thomas details how luxury manufacturers cut corners to fatten up their bottom line through techniques like using cheap thread (Prada), shortening the sleeves on their suits, manufacturing goods in third world countries and then tearing out the labels and replacing them with ones that read "made in Italy" (Valentino) and making the uppers of their shoes in one country and the bottoms in Italy so that their products can legally read "made in Italy"(Prada again).

While Deluxe is critical of cost-cutting measures like having goods made in China, Louis Vuitton Moet Hennessy (LVMH) mastermind Jean Arnault comes across as the villain of the book for his aggressive business tactics (he routinely engages in hostile takeovers of family-owned businesses) and his way of re-invisioning luxury as focused on branding, rather than quality.

Thomas is particularly harsh on Louis Vuitton, Valentino and Georgio Armani , although very few luxury brands escape her critique. The one brand that seems to escape relatively unscathed is Hermes: their products may be overpriced, but they have held fast to their commitment to creating quality handcrafted objets d'art.

Dana Thomas also explores the world of fake luxury goods. In a world where brands are more prized than true quality, fakes are inevitable. People want a piece of the image they feel wearing a certain brand creates. Unfortunately, there is a real price for buying fakes--money from the sale of counterfeit goods supports organized crime and terrorist organizations like FARC in Colombia. Moreover, conditions in the factories where these goods are produced are MUCH, MUCH worse than in legal factories--since manufacturers are already breaking the law, there isn't much incentive for them to provide their workers with clean, safe working conditions. There was one truly horrific account of a counterfeit luxury manufacturer in Thailand who had broken the legs of his young workers when they said they wanted to go outside to play.

Deluxe is a must read for anyone who has ever wondered whether $700 shoes are really worth it or not (they aren't--and they probably aren't even really made in Italy). Her book proves that very few so-called "luxury products" deserve their exorbitant price tags. So, next time you are wishing you could afford couture clothes, pick up this book--you'll be glad you did.

cover image courtesy amazon.com

John Keats

I picked up a lovely volume of John Keats poetical works the other day that I thought I'd share! (I wish it was a better photo). I instantly fell in love with the little art nouveau roses on the cover. It was printed in 1908 and while the binding has faded, the rest of it is in great shape! I just love beautiful old books and when I came across this one I had to have it.

In John Keats short life (1795-1821) he wrote some of the most beloved poems of the romantic movement. Keats died of Tuberculosis (as did his grandmother, mother and brother), but poets Percy Shelley and Lord George Gordon Byron blamed his death on the scathing criticisms of his work.

Keat's poetry is brimming with emotion, which is hardly surprising, since he was just a teenager when many of his most famous poems were written. His insight is staggering nonetheless (though a trifling juvenile). When I look at how much he accomplished in his short life, there are no words.

His poem, When I have fears that I may cease to be (1818), is one of my favourites. I love the way he expresses his fears that he may die never having experienced "high romance." You could cut through the emotion with a knife! Keats is so dramatic and so honest about his feelings--no wonder the Pre-Raphaelites loved him.

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high piled books, in charactry,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the fairy power
Of unreflecting love;—then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

Both Dante Gabriel Rossetti and John Ruskin were huge fans of John Keat's poetry and helped contribute to a revival of his work in the latter part of the nineteenth century. Rossetti's favourite poems by Keats were "La Belle Dame sans Merci" "The Eve of Saint Agnes" and "Isabella." These poems were popular subjects for paintings by the Pre Raphaelites and their followers.


Of Keat's poems, La Belle Dame sans Merci had by far the most influence on the Pre-Raphaelite movement. Tomorrow I'll be doing a post on various artists' rendition of this work!

Voluntary Simplicity

I've been thinking about voluntary simplicity a lot for the past couple of days, except I wasn't aware of an actual movement. It started with a conversation my husband and I had about "affluenza." We both love beautiful things and want a lovely home, but we feel strongly that living in debt is too high a price to pay. We want to be debt-free and feel that this is one of the greatest gifts we can give our kids. After all, money is one of the biggest issues in most marriages, so why live beyond our means when we know it's one of the leading causes of marital strife?

Later, I came across the idea again while doing research for my other blog, Greener Chic. After writing about Tasha Tudor's simple lifestyle, I decided to poke around and see what grassroots movements existed that seemed similar.

After looking around, I found the book Your Money or Your Life . I think I'm going to get the book! The whole idea was reminiscent of William Morris' News from Nowhere, so I did a google search on the Arts and Crafts Movement and voluntary simplicity and came across this post by my friend Paula at The Beautiful Life! Great minds think alike, I guess!

There's nothing new under the sun, and "Voluntary Simplicity" is of course just a new name for a very old idea. Living simply has been advocated by many people throughout history, at least as far back as Jesus Christ himself.

I love Morris' vision of a more simple future, where people embrace a less complex existence:

"There were houses about, some on the road, some amongst the fields with pleasant lanes leading down to them, and each surrounded by a teeming garden. They were all pretty in design, and as solid as might be, but countrified in appearance, like yeomen's dwellings; some of them of red brick like those by the river, but more of timber and plaster, which were by the necessity of their construction so like medieval houses of the same materials that I fairly felt as if I were alive in the fourteenth century; a sensation helped out by the costume of the people that we met or passed, in whose dress there was nothing "modern"."--News from Nowhere

I'm not sure if Morris' vision of the future will ever come to pass, but it would be nice! Especially when I look around my city and see cardboard McMansions going up in droves.

Tasha Tudor

One of my favourite memories from childhood is of reading Tasha Tudor's beautifully illustrated books with my Mom. Some of my favourites were A Time to Keep, A is for Annabelle, Mother Goose, 1 is One and The Tasha Tudor Book of Fairy Tales--my favourite!

Tasha Tudor's Book of Fairy Tales was one of the first books I brought from home when I got married. Whenever I have time, I love taking a few minutes to read one of the short fairy tales and glance at the pictures.

Tasha Tudor is an inspiration to me. She's something of an icon, not only for her beautiful drawings--which grace the pages of more than one hundred children's books--but also for her simple lifestyle. I was captivated the first time I read about her way of life in a profile written in the pages of Victoria magazine (I can't recall the issue).









Tasha Tudor almost seems to have emerged from the pages of William Morris' utopian novel, News from Nowhere. Like Morris, she has spent her lifetime creating a more beautiful world through her passion and creativity. Tasha spends her days spinning and weaving flax into cloth, sewing beautiful old fashioned dresses, cooking on a woodstove, making her own candles, tending her goats, gathering fresh eggs from her chickens and growing vegetables in her garden.

Cellar Door Books is probably the best place to locate used or out of print books illustrated by Tasha Tudor, as well as pieces of her original artwork. I wish I had the money to buy one of her original works of art! They are so lovely! And quite affordable, when you think about it. You can also visit the Tasha Tudor and Family website to see what new things are going on in the Tudor family!