Fallen into Obscurity: The Doll Who Came Alive by Enys Tregarthen

As a bookseller, I don't have the luxury of reading every book in my stock. Occasionally I'll get sucked into a book while I'm writing a description about it, or I'll be cataloging a book and think, "Gee, I'd like to read this one at some point." It is the latter of these two which brought me to the book I want to write about today.

It's an obscure title, but one with an interesting history and subject matter that fascinates many people, in fact some dedicate their entire lives to it. The Doll Who Came Alive by Enys Tregarthen was probably written in the late 1800s, but not published until the 1940s. Tregarthen, whose real name was Nellie Sloggett, was housebound from an early age due to a crippling childhood illness. During that time she became fascinated with Cornish legends and folklore and began to study and write about it, retelling many stories which had been passed down from one generation to the next in her native Cornwall. A few of her books were published during her lifetime under the pseudonym Nellie Cornwall, but most of her work would not be published until long after her death in 1923. Elizabeth Yates, an American author, took on the task of culling through Tregarthen's papers and writings, editing stories and manuscripts for publication, which is how this particular story came to be published so posthumously.

The story is about a little girl named Jyd Trewerry, who has a rather sad childhood, being raised by a wretched stepmother, is so poor she has no shoes and has only one dress and barely a crumb of food to eat. One day a sailor sees Jyd sitting on her stoop and takes pity on the child and gives her a Dutch articulated doll. Jyd, promises the sailor that she will "love her till she was alive like me." The story progresses at a pleasant pace, at times a bit too precious, but the reader gets to revel in the magic that does eventually bring the doll to life and we feel for Jyd as she tries to provide for the doll the way her own stepmother never did for her.

The story takes a giant leap into the fantastic--as if an anthropomorphic doll weren't enough--as Jyd and the doll are singing an old Cornish tune about three Piskey knights; the song begins to come true. Before Jyd realizes just how dire the situation is, she sings the last lines of the song wherein one of the knights gets to choose "the fairest in thy sight." You can probably guess what happens; but the knight chooses the doll and whisks her away. Jyd pursues, but, as mythological beings tend to do, the knights and her doll have vanished.

I won't give away the ending, in case you would rather read the tale yourself, but I will say the ending is rather how one would hope it would end. However, the means to get that end are problematic. Jyd falls asleep for an entire season, but the reader is given no explanation for why, and Jyd has very little reaction to the realization of it; it just is. The matter of what happens to the doll while Jyd is sleeping the summer away is also problematic for the simple reason that her story sounds like it would be fascinating and would enhance the book overall, but it is rather glossed over.

By and large,The story isengaging for the reader. I was able to suspetd my disbelief that Jyd loved the doll into life, but the sudden injection of Cornish folklore halfway through is a bit jarring. While the story does indeed have its flaws, its strongest quality is the emotional bond the reader will form with Jyd. A child, inner or actual, will identify with the desire to have a treasured toy come to life, will feel for Jyd as she loses her best friend and will be overjoyed by the eventual outcome.

Tregarthen's published works about folklore, and retelling Cornish legend are worth checking out, especially because many of the legends and stories were never put to the written word before she took it to task.

The Doll Who Came Alive by Enys Tregarthen. Illustrated by Nora S. Unwin. New York: John Day Company, (1942). --my copy is 2nd impression

Randomly Emotional

I came across this image in a book while I was cataloging today. It seems innocent enough--and maybe that is why it had the effect that it did--but it triggered overwhelming feelings of longing.

Most simply, it was a longing to be young again. To feel that sense of accomplishment after completing a simple task like tying your shoe, potting your first flower, or perhaps, like the girl in the photo, preparing your own lunch for the first time. A task, that as an adult, I simply take for granted. As we grow older and more experienced, finding fulfillment in such simplistic actions becomes more elusive.

On a deeper, more cutting level, one I am reluctant to share in such a public arena because I have trouble admitting it to myself, is a longing to teach my own children--children I have decided I will never have--these simple lessons. The child in this photo, or one like her, will never be mine, will never come running up to me, eyes shining, lips parted in a big, proud smile to show me that she has taken one small step toward independence.

Lastly, I think of the girl herself, who by now would be in her mid-70s, her twilight--if she still lives--so far from who she was, standing proudly in this idealized kitchen with a flower in the window. What is she doing now?

I never would have guessed that a cookbook would catch me so off-guard.

The image is from Fun With Cooking, Easy Recipes for Beginners by Mae Blacker Freeman, 1947.

Hmmm...

Two men living in a cabin in the mountains with a mouse? I would have loved this book when I was a young boy, but I wouldn't have known why.

(From Mick and Mack and Mary Jane by Richard Bennett, 1948).

Boston Book Show

If you are in the Boston area this coming weekend, we are exhibiting at:
Boston Book, Print and Ephemera Show
Park Plaza Castle
at the corner of Columbus Ave and Arlington St
Saturday November 15th from 9am - 4pm

Business and Politics

Generally, I don't like to mix business with politics, but I have a political button that is just so fitting for my business and my lifestyle. I couldn't help myself.

Husband and Wife Teams, Part One: Ingri and Edgar Parin D’Aulaire

There is something intriguing and romantic about couples who are joined together by their crafts and passion. It can be seen in many fields of both the arts and sciences and often those couples excel at what they do; I guess two heads are better than one. This couldn’t be truer in the world of picture books, particularly when considering Ingri and Edgar Parin D’Aulaire.

While there are many husband and wife teams who create wonderful picture books, I have decided to first highlight the D’Aulaires. My reason for doing so is multi-faceted; personal affection for their work, their extreme importance to the world of modern children’s books and the undeniable mastery of their craft.

Neither of the D’Aulaires is a native of the United States. Edgar Parin D’Aulaire was the son of a respected French-Italian painter and was raised in the artistic centers of Europe. Initially he was given a conventional education and was expected to choose a different career path than his father. This was not to be. Edgar chose a nomadic artists life, finally ending up in school in Paris where he met the woman who was to become his wife.

Ingri Mortenson grew up in the countryside of Norway. At the age of fifteen, her talent for painting was recognized by the foremost female artist of Norway at that time. With the permission of her father, Ingri would go on to study her craft in Oslo, Munich, and then eventually Paris.

While Edgar had developed a name for himself in Europe, recognized for his work in deluxe edition books, as well as a muralist, he set off for the promises of America, portfolio in tow. His plan was to find illustration work in America in order to save money for his wife to join him. Edgar did, obviously, find work and Ingri was able to come to Brooklyn to live with him. Almost immediately, they decided they wanted to do a picture book about Africa. With the help and faith of William C. D. Glaser, the first of D’Aulaire’s magnificent picture books was born, The Magic Rug.

The significance of this book in the world of picture books was the method by which it was produced. The artists wanted the book to be printed in color, so to offset the cost of producing the book, the D’Aulaires set to work drawing the pictures directly on stone in order to cut out the costly procedure of photographing the work for color separations (I’m simplifying, here, but it’s a complex process).

Shortly following The Magic Rug was Ola. Arguably, Ola is the D’Aulaire’s most important and aesthetically successful books, even more so than their Caldecott Award winning Abraham Lincoln, which came a bit later, in 1939. Drawing from her idyllic childhood in the countryside of Norway, Ingri brings to the reader a completely engaging story as well as a most beautiful book of pictures. As Barbara Bader says in her book, “Ola can’t be told, it has to be experienced…” (pg. 43). There were a number of books dedicated to the Lapp children following Ola, the most notable of which was the 1935 Children of the Northlights.

In 1936 the D’Aulaires hit upon a new topic for their books, figures in American history, fittingly beginning with George Washington. I personally feel that part of the success of their historical books was because these figures were less familiar to them as foreigners. In some way they could approach the characters with a fresher eye, a more eager eye, akin to the knowledge-hungry eye of a child. This certainly came across in both the story and artistic portrayal of the characters. It is no small wonder that parents at the time took to the books with some trepidation, whereas children were unquestioningly drawn in by them.

It is funny to me that only their early career is so well documented. Truthfully, I can see why. Their importance was solidified by their technical ingenuity early on and they continued to create successful books until their final book, but their later books were of little note. Not to say they aren’t enjoyable, because I’m quite fond of their book, The Two Cars (1955) and their two mythology titles, Book of Greek Myths (1962) and Norse Gods and Giants (1967).

I am curious about their artistic process as a couple, not their technical process because that is well documented, but how they inspired one another. How did they live their daily lives? I can imagine that they were adventurous because there is great photo of them on the back of a dog sled on the dust jacket flap of one book and another of them on a boat with their young child. Until I find a source that will be more enlightening, I’m happy to let my imagination invent their day-to-day life. They are one team that I would have loved to have been able to meet.

In my personal collection, I have only one of their books which is a signed first edition, in dust jacket, of their first book, The Magic Rug. It’s an extremely difficult title to find and I feel very lucky to have a signed copy, in the dust jacket, no less.

In my inventory, I have the following:

A 1940 printing of Abraham Lincoln, in DJ for $60.

A 1st Edition (but guild edition) of Benjamin Franklin, in DJ for $75.

A 1st Edition of Buffalo Bill, in DJ for $175.

A 1st Edition of Columbus, in DJ for $130.

A 1st Edition of Conquest of the Atlantic, in DJ for $375.

A 1st Edition of Don’t Count Your Chicks, in DJ for $150.

A 1st Edition of Leif the Lucky, in DJ for $150.

A 1st Edition of Wings for Per, in DJ for $150.

A 1st Edition of Star Spangled Banner , in DJ for $125, and another copy with no DJ and rather worn at the edges for $25.

Another Museum Trip!

In a recent entry I wrote about the wonder and joy of the National Museum of American Illustration. While I do, indeed, love the American illustrators at the beginning of the 20th Century, my first love is for the British illustration art of the same period: Edmund Dulac, Arthur Rackham and Kay Nielsen.

There was a renewal of interest in fairies and fairy tales at this time, and the artwork that this interest spawned is unparalleled. Not to mention that the Western world was completely intrigued and influenced by the Far East, which had its own wonderful impact on the illustration that was created at this time.

In England, galleries were showing artwork by the Robinson brothers, Rackham, Dulac, etc… to accompany the lavish and sumptuously produced limited edition gift books such as Dulac’s Arabian Nights, Rackham’s Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens and one of the most popular and ardently sought after, Kay Nielsen’s East of the Sun West of the Moon. In Australia the popularity of Ida Rentoul Outhwaite and Harold Gaze were on the rise. In America, the Oz books were still popular and much great artistry was put into illustrating Baum’s tales.

Now, it is a rare occasion that one can go to a museum and see artwork by all of these people in one place. Fortunately for lovers of illustration and children’s books, there exists a wonderful place to visit, The Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art in Amherst MA, on the campus of Hampshire College (which happens to by my alma mater).

Now through October 27th, there is an amazing exhibit which features the artwork of the artists mentioned above. Flights into Fantasy: The Kendra and Allan Daniel Collection of Children’s Illustration. The exhibit is not limited to British illustrators, however, nor strictly to fairies and fairy tale art, for this is also magnificent artwork by Ludwig Bemelmans and William Pene Du Bois, John R. Neill and Rose O’Neil. Margaret Tarrant and Hilda Cowham.

This exhibit was important for me because I learned about new artists that I had never known about, as well as books by illustrators with whom I am familiar but did not know the books.

Seeing the artwork in person is a completely different experience than seeing it in a book. No matter how good the reproduction of a particular piece is, there is still something lost, whether it be the rich colors or minute lines, or simply the difference in size between the plate and the original.

To learn more about the museum and the exhibit please visit the website: http://www.ericcarlemuseum.org/