Three Books

Biblioklept1 Comment

IMG_1041

Masquerade and Other Stories by Robert Walser. English translation by Susan Bernofsky. 1990 trade paperback published by The Johns Hopkins UP. Cover design and lettering by Ann Walston. The illustration is a detail from Adolf Wölfli’s 1917 Arnica Flower. This was the first Walser I read.IMG_1042 IMG_1043

The Leopard by Giuseppe di Lampedusa. English translation by Archibald Colqhoun. A 1966 trade paperback from Time Life Books. Cover design by Jerome Moriarty. I’m not sure why, but I just love the design of this book—I love that there’s no blurb on the back too.IMG_1017

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin. First printing of an Ace Books mass market paperback. No designer is credited, but the cover art, reminiscent of Gustav Klimt, is by Leo and Diane Dillon.

Don Quixote and Sancho Panza — Jacques Lagniet

Biblioklept2 Comments

donquixo

Lost! Tricked / Trumped / Dumped! (Maurice Sendak)

Biblioklept4 Comments

IMG_1038

From Maurice Sendak’s We Are All Down in the Dumps with Jack and Guy, which seems to me a more important book than ever.

A Hare in the Forest — Hans Hoffmann

BibliokleptLeave a comment

14042501.jpg

Entries under “G” from Captain Grose’s Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue (1811)

BibliokleptLeave a comment

The following definitions are from the “G” section of Captain Grose’s Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue (1811).

GAB, or GOB. The mouth. Gift of the gab; a facility of speech, nimble tongued eloquence. To blow the gab; to confess, or peach.

GAB, or GOB, STRING. A bridle.

GABBY. A foolish fellow.

GAD-SO. An exclamation said to be derived from the
Italian word cazzo.

GAFF. A fair. The drop coves maced the joskins at the
gaff; the ring-droppers cheated the countryman at the fair.

TO GAFF. To game by tossing up halfpence.

GAG. An instrument used chiefly by housebreakers and thieves, for propping open the mouth of a person robbed, thereby to prevent his calling out for assistance.

GAGE. A quart pot, or a pint; also a pipe. CANT.

GAGE, or FOGUS. A pipe of tobacco.

GAGGERS. High and Low. Cheats, who by sham pretences, and wonderful stories of their sufferings, impose on the credulity of well meaning people. See RUM GAGGER.

GALIMAUFREY. A hodgepodge made up of the remnants
and scraps of the larder.

GALL. His gall is not yet broken; a saying used in prisons
of a man just brought in, who appears dejected.

GALLEY. Building the galley; a game formerly used at sea, in order to put a trick upon a landsman, or fresh-water sailor. It being agreed to play at that game, one sailor personates the builder, and another the merchant or contractor: the builder first begins by laying the keel, which consists of a number of men laid all along on their backs, one after another, that is, head to foot; he next puts in the ribs or knees, by making a number of men sit feet to feet, at right angles to, and on each side of, the keel: he now fixing on the person intended to be the object of the joke, observes he is a fierce-looking fellow, and fit for the lion; he accordingly places him at the head, his arms being held or locked in by the two persons next to him, representing the ribs. After several other dispositions, the builder delivers over the galley to the contractor as complete: but he, among other faults and objections, observes the lion is not gilt, on which the builder or one of his assistants, runs to the head, and dipping a mop in the excrement, thrusts it into the face of the lion.

GALLEY FOIST. A city barge, used formerly on the lord
mayor’s day, when he was sworn in at Westminster.

GALLIED. Hurried, vexed, over-fatigued, perhaps like a
galley slave.

GALLIGASKINS. Breeches. Continue reading “Entries under “G” from Captain Grose’s Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue (1811)” →

Lucia Berlin/Ursula K. Le Guin (Books acquired, 12.11.2015)

Biblioklept10 Comments

IMG_1016

Went to the bookstore this afternoon to pick up the much-acclaimed collection of stories by Lucia Berlin, A Manual for Cleaning Women (typing out the title, I suddenly hear its ambiguities). My trusty local used bookshop didn’t have a copy, but they did have Homesick, and I love Black Sparrow editions, so hey, cool.

IMG_1017

I’ve been tearing through Ursula K. Le Guin’s Hainish novels lately after picking up Rocannon’s World at sorta-random. I’m in the middle of City of Illusion right now, having finished (a third read of) The Dispossessed (fantastic), The Word for World Is Forest (a bit too on-the-nose critique of the Vietnam War; also, James Cameron should send Le Guin some Avatar bucks), and Planet of Exile, which was great. (And oh: George R.R. Martin should send Le Guin some Game of Thrones bucks for that one: Planet of Exile has barbarian invaders from the north, seasons that last for decades, a constant fear that “winter is coming,” and its own white walkers (snow ghouls)).

So well and anyway: I already have a copy of The Left Hand of Darkness, which is the next title in the sequence in which I’m reading the Hainish books. My pilfered copy isfrom years back, and I’ve read it a few times—but I just couldn’t pass up this first edition copy with its lovely Klimtesque cover art by Leo and Diane Dillon.

The Flagellants — Pieter van Laer

Biblioklept1 Comment

flagella

One of the better autobiographical notes I’ve ever read

BibliokleptLeave a comment

1563_001

One of the better autobiographical notes I’ve read. This comes from The Norton Anthology of American Literature, Vol. E (8th ed.); my copy of Yellow Back Radio Broke-Down unfortunately doesn’t actually include this note.

The Destruction of the Temple — Samuel Colman

Biblioklept1 Comment

T01980_10.jpg

“I am alive—I guess” — Emily Dickinson

Biblioklept1 Comment
“I am alive—I guess”
by
Emily Dickinson

I am alive—I guess—
The Branches on my Hand
Are full of Morning Glory—
And at my finger’s end—

The Carmine—tingles warm—
And if I hold a Glass
Across my Mouth—it blurs it—
Physician’s—proof of Breath—

I am alive—because
I am not in a Room—
The Parlor—Commonly—it is—
So Visitors may come—

And lean—and view it sidewise—
And add “How cold—it grew”—
And “Was it conscious—when it stepped
In Immortality?”

I am alive—because
I do not own a House—
Entitled to myself—precise—
And fitting no one else—

And marked my Girlhood’s name—
So Visitors may know
Which Door is mine—and not mistake—
And try another key—

How good—to be alive!
How infinite—to be
Alive—two-fold—the birth I had—
And this—besides, in Thee!

Greek Girls Playing at Ball — Frederic Leighton

Biblioklept2 Comments

greek-girls-playing-at-ballhd

“Tomorrow” — Langston Hughes

Biblioklept3 Comments

Screenshot 2015-12-09 at 3

Still Life with Animals — Melchior d’Hondecoeter

Biblioklept1 Comment

still-life-with-animals-1690

“A Psychological Shipwreck,” a story by Ambrose Bierce

BibliokleptLeave a comment

“A Psychological Shipwreck”

by Ambrose Bierce

 

In the summer of 1874 I was in Liverpool, whither I had gone on business for the mercantile house of Bronson & Jarrett, New York.  I am William Jarrett; my partner was Zenas Bronson.  The firm failed last year, and unable to endure the fall from affluence to poverty he died.

Having finished my business, and feeling the lassitude and exhaustion incident to its dispatch, I felt that a protracted sea voyage would be both agreeable and beneficial, so instead of embarking for my return on one of the many fine passenger steamers I booked for New York on the sailing vessel Morrow, upon which I had shipped a large and valuable invoice of the goods I had bought.  The Morrow was an English ship with, of course, but little accommodation for passengers, of whom there were only myself, a young woman and her servant, who was a middle-aged negress.  I thought it singular that a traveling English girl should be so attended, but she afterward explained to me that the woman had been left with her family by a man and his wife from South Carolina, both of whom had died on the same day at the house of the young lady’s father in Devonshire – a circumstance in itself sufficiently uncommon to remain rather distinctly in my memory, even had it not afterward transpired in conversation with the young lady that the name of the man was William Jarrett, the same as my own.  I knew that a branch of my family had settled in South Carolina, but of them and their history I was ignorant.
Continue reading ““A Psychological Shipwreck,” a story by Ambrose Bierce” →