osprey_archer: (books)
About a year ago, I realized that some of the older children’s books that I wanted were available in the archive of the university where I work. “If only I knew where the archives were and how to request books there,” I mused, without of course making the faintest effort to acquire this information.

But I have become incrementally better at turning ideas into reality, so it took only a year before I learned where the archives are (the top floor of my favorite library, which incidentally is the library closest to my office) and how to request an appointment to read a book there. Then I traipsed over to the archives for The Little Angel: A Story of Old Rio, illustrated by Katherine Milhous of The Egg Tree, which is the real reason I wanted to read it, although I was also nothing loath to renew the acquaintance with the author, our old friend Alice Dalgliesh of Newbery fame.

The archives are not quite as fancy as the Lilly Library Reading Room: no mural of Great Thinkers in History! But they make up for it with comfy rolling chairs, and the archivists do still bring you your book on a pillow, which is the most important thing.

The book itself is in that particularly mid-twentieth century style where we’re gently drifting through some time in the life of a family long ago and far away. (Sometimes it is just long ago or just faraway, but here it’s both.) We enjoy some street festivals, meet a cute kitten named Gatinho, cheer as the daughter of the house furiously refuses an arranged marriage with a man who just tossed Gatinho across the room (Gatinho is unhurt, except for his dignity), and accept that this is not the kind of book that is ever going to interrogate the fact that this upper-class Brazilian family in the 1820s has slaves. Milhous’s illustrations are charming but not as magical as the illustrations in The Egg Tree or Appolonia’s Valentine.

Nonetheless, pleased by my success, I went back to trawl the library catalog for more books to read in the archives… and discovered they have a copy of one of my remaining Newbery books, Valenti Angelo’s Nino! What a score! So I’ve got an appointment tomorrow at lunch to begin reading.
osprey_archer: (books)
What I’ve Just Finished Reading

Earlier this summer, the first floor of my favorite university library closed for renovation. “Will they purge my beloved higgledy-piggledy children’s section?” I wailed. “And what if I need a book from the section while it’s closed?”

Reader, I am happy to share that they have not purged the children’s section, and moreover I found a Secret Passage into the section so I could sneak in while it is closed. (Actually I think my Secret Passage is a totally legitimate access point, but shhhh, we’ll just say I was in grave danger of Library Jail at every moment.)

The Secret Passage story is in fact a bit more exciting than the book I used it to get, Katherine Milhous’s Through These Arches: The Story of Independence Hall. You may know Milhous from The Egg Tree, one of the great picture book loves of my youth, and incidentally a Caldecott award winner. Through These Arches sadly doesn’t allow her pictures nearly as much space to shine, as there’s a lot more text, but it is interesting to get this glimpse of early Philadelphia. Although the book brings the story up to the then-present 1960s, the meat of it is really from the 1680s to 1800 or so. Lots of interesting facts about polymath Charles Willson Peale, the Leonardo da Vinci of the early republic (artist! scientist! excavator of a mammoth skeleton!) and his similarly talented family.

Intrigued by [personal profile] sovay’s and [personal profile] troisoiseaux’s reviews, I also read Ellis Peter’s Black is the Colour of My True-Love’s Heart, a murder mystery that takes place at a weekend folk music class at the gothic manor of Follymead. My only criticism is that I wanted more folk music, but this is perhaps an unfair demand to make of a murder mystery, and it is a cracking good murder mystery. I stayed up late to finish it because I just had to know what happened.

The mystery is a standalone, but I got a feeling that we were stepping into an ongoing story with the detective and his family, and later on I looked it up and indeed we are! This book is part of a series of about a dozen mysteries.

What I’m Reading Now

I’ve begun Jane Eyre! I’m not planning to post about it as I go along (although now that I’ve started…), but I was intrigued to discover that the Jane as a fairy comparisons started much earlier than I remembered. When she’s shut in the shadowy Red Room, Jane sees herself in the looking glass, and “the strange little figure there gazing at me, with a white face and arms specking the gloom, and glittering eyes of fear moving where all else was still, had the effect of a real spirit: I thought it like one of the tiny phantoms, half fairy, half imp, Bessie’s evening stories represented as coming out of lone, ferny dells in moors, and appearing before the eyes of belated travellers.’

What I Plan to Read Next

Should I continue my Katherine Milhous journey with Lovina, A Story of the Pennsylvania Country?
osprey_archer: (nature)
Happy Easter, all! I'm home for Easter dinner, and for old times sake I reread my childhood Easter favorite, Katherine Milhous's The Easter Egg Tree.

Which, apparently, is actually entitled merely The Egg Tree. I haven't been this surprised since I realized Fievel was actually called An American Tail.

Anyway! Katy and Carl go to their grandmother's house for an Easter egg hunt with their cousins. But Katy can't find any eggs - till she heads into the attic, and finds an old hatbox full of beautiful painted eggs, with designs like The Bright and Morning Star, The Deer on the Mountain, and The Horn-Blowing Rooster.

The children are so delighted by the painted eggs - as who would not be? Ever since I've read this book I've had a yen to learn fancy egg painting - that they paint enough eggs to bedeck an Easter Egg Tree, which people come from far and wide to see.

I adored this book as a child. I loved holiday books (sometime I should talk about our stock of Christmas books), with their own special time of year; and I loved little Katy, who wanted to cry when she couldn't find any eggs, and then found the best eggs of all; and most of all, I loved, loved, loved the illustrations in their odd folkloric loveliness.

There is nothing like revisiting a much-beloved picture book to bring home to pleasure of repetition. I know the illustrations in my favorites so well from pouring over them that I ought to find them boring - but instead the recognition just adds to the delight.

One more thing: a minor character in this book is named Appolonia. I have never seen this name used anywhere else, and I yearn to resuscitate it. Because Appolonia. Is that not lovely?

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