osprey_archer: (books)
Ruth Goodman’s The Domestic Revolution: How the Introduction of Coal into Victorian Homes Changed Everything is saddled with one of those maddening subtitles that is directly contrary to the actual point of the book. Goodman’s whole point is that coal became the dominant fuel in London homes at the end of the Elizabethan Era, and this domestic coal usage spurred the use of coal for industrial purposes which, in turn, helped spark the Industrial Revolution, all of which occurred long before the Victorian era!

The subtitle issue is especially exasperating because it obscures the truly revolutionary nature of this book: in placing the home squarely at the center of the adoption of coal, it upends the traditional history of the industrial revolution.

Goodman’s day job is as a hardcore historical reenactor, using old advice books to recreate daily life in the past, so like all her books, this book is full of fascinating tidbits about daily life. Often Goodman discovers that advice that seems bizarre today makes good sense in context: one bit that sticks with me from a previous book is that brushing your hair one hundred strokes each night actually does keep your hair clean and shining if you do it with a natural bristle brush.

In The Domestic Revolution, Goodman answers a lot of questions that I had only vaguely formulated before. For instance:

Coal is responsible for the fact that British food is so different from food across Europe: coal fires are perfect for things like puddings that boil for hours and hours, while wood is better suited for things that need a long slow simmer, like stews. (This also explains why things like roly-poly pudding never caught on in America: American homes continued to be wood-based long after most of England had switched to coal, and it’s very hard to keep a wood fire at the pitch of heat necessary to boil a pudding for hours.)

The rise of coal-burning homes coincides with the fall of tapestries, because sticky coal smuts are almost impossible to clean off an expensive, difficult-to-launder tapestry. It’s much easier to wash them off a painted wall or that fashionable new wallpaper.

Wood-burning houses are generally easier to keep clean than coal-burning ones, and require very little soap, because wood ash is itself a natural cleaner. As you may recall, wood ash is one of the ingredients in soap: you pour water through ash to get lye. In a wood-burning house with plenty of ash, you can simply use that lye directly in the laundry, for instance. In a coal-burning house, however, only soap can clean away the oily coal smuts. In time, soap came to be seen as the only way to clean, a link that has only strengthened over time, so that when people today see ye olde cleaning advice that doesn’t feature soap, they assume it can’t possibly work and that people in the past and/or faraway places where this advice is still used must be filthy.

(Goodman notes that soap advertisements basically manufactured the “dirty native” trope: it became much more common after it was employed in massive ad campaigns that linked soap and civilization.)

Because of the sticky nature of coal smuts, it takes much longer to clean a coal-burning home than a wood-burning one. Thus, the adoption of coal forced women to spend much more time cleaning their homes (and concomitantly less time working in the garden, the dairy, the poultry yard…), and Goodman suggests that this contributed to the rise of separate spheres ideology that so powerfully identified women with the domestic sphere. Coal technology forced women to spend ever more time in the home, and people moralized from the accomplished fact, as people are wont to do. Whatever is, is not merely right, but the best of all possible worlds.
osprey_archer: (books)
I am returned from Massachusetts! As I was busy visiting Louisa May Alcott’s house, eating lobster rolls, plundering the bookstore at the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art etc., I didn’t do a whole lot of reading on the trip, but I thought I would go ahead and post about what reading I did.

What I’ve Just Finished Reading

Delighted to inform you that in Concord (at Barrow Books, a delightful bookshop) I did indeed find one of Jane Langton’s Hall Family Chronicles - moreover, one I’ve never gotten my hands on before, The Swing in the Summerhouse! Happily I informed the bookseller that I had just that morning recreated Georgie’s walk from her house (based on an actual ornate Victorian house in Concord, 148 Walden Street!) to Walden Pond, (actually I did it backward, starting at Walden Pond and working my way in), and she gave me $10 off the purchase price and also a cup of tea.

This series is so variable. As a kid I loved and reread over and over The Diamond in the Window and The Fledgling, and although I didn’t find The Fragile Flag till after college, I remember it very well. Yet twice I’ve read books in this series and then entirely forgotten them: The Time Bike and The Astonishing Stereoscope (the book I was so pleased to find a few weeks ago!) completely slipped out of my head.

I suspect that The Swing in the Summerhouse might fall into this category, although on the other hand I may remember it because of the unforgettable tale of its acquisition.

I also listened to Ursula K. Le Guin’s Tehanu on audiobook! I understand that the main pairing in this book is controversial, but as [personal profile] littlerhymes can attest, I started calling Ged “dungeon boyfriend” the moment he showed up in The Tombs of Atuan, so all in all I was delighted by this turn of events.

Last but assuredly not least! My long Dracula journey is over, as Dracula Daily has come to an end. (It turns out that the ending is a trifle anticlimactic when you stretch it out over a week, but IIRC I found the ending abrupt in high school too, so perhaps it’s just like that always.) I am pining slightly, but I’ve signed up for Whale Weekly (a three-year odyssey through Moby-Dick) AND regular installments of Sherlock Holmes in 2023, so perhaps those will fill the Dracula Daily hole in my heart.

What I’m Reading Now

[personal profile] skygiants gave me Phyllis Ann Karr’s At Amberleaf Fair, and I’ve gotten just a few chapters into it, so I’m still sorting out the quirkily elaborate worldbuilding. Our hero has just had a chat with a toy that he accidentally brought to life, an incident that seems to encapsulate the atmosphere of the book in miniature.

And at Commonwealth Books, [personal profile] genarti recommended Ruth Goodman’s The Domestic Revolution: How the Introduction of Coal into Victorian Homes Changed Everything, one of those fascinating nonfiction books with a subtitle completely at odds with the book’s actual thesis! Goodman is in fact writing about the introduction of coal into homes in Elizabethan London, and her argument is that Londoners’ familiarity with coal as a domestic product helped kickstart the Industrial Revolution; coal did of course eventually reach the rest of England (and thence the world), but the part that changed everything is way before the Victorian era. I suppose the publishers couldn’t stand to put the word “Elizabethan” in the title of a book about coal.

What I Plan to Read Next

I’ve figured out how to get my paws on the final two books in the Hall Family Chronicles, The Mysterious Circus and The Dragon Tree, and I’ve decided I owe it to myself to finish up the series.
osprey_archer: (window)
What I’ve Finished Reading

Ruth Goodman’s How to Be a Tudor, which I ended up purchasing - in hardcover, no less! - because I enjoyed her book How to Be a Victorian so much. Again, full of fascinating (and potentially useful for writing) tidbits about everyday life in history; Goodman is particularly good at teasing out the way that practices that seem bizarre now actually worked: brushing your hair a hundred times a night with a natural bristle brush will keep your hair clean and shiny even if you never wash it, for instance.

She’s also good at taking apart the givens of modern thought, if you will, and showing how societies can be organized differently. She notes, for instance, that most modern people assume that reading and writing will be taught concurrently, but in Tudor times they were viewed as separate skills, so there were quite a lot of people who could read but nonetheless signed with a mark because writing classes were quite a bit more expensive than reading.

I also read Maud Hart Lovelace’s Emily of Deep Valley, which I enjoyed very much! It’s loosely connected to the Betsy-Tacy stories, but I think that was a marketing decision as much as anything, because that could easily be cut out; Emily is a few years younger than Betsy and Tacy and thus her social world is quite separate from theirs.

At the beginning of the book, Emily is graduating from high school; she would like very much to go to college, but she’s an orphan living with her kindly but increasingly frail grandfather, who needs her care, and can’t leave, and the book is about her finding a way to move forward and pursue her goals even though she is in a sense stuck.

I’ve been thinking about taking a trip to Minnesota this summer, partly to see my aunt and also partly to visit Maud Hart Lovelace’s house in Mankato, and this might be the book to buy while I’m there. And also perhaps a box set of the first four Betsy-Tacy books? Or maybe I should splurge for the whole set of ten...

I also finished Elizabeth Stuart Phelps’ Gypsy’s Cousin Joy. Following Joy’s mother’s death, Joy comes to live with Gypsy’s family; the two girls are initially at loggerheads, but slowly learn how to get along with each other and see each other’s good points. Lots of fun if you like mid-nineteenth century children’s books (I recognize this is perhaps an obscure taste) - somewhat moralistic but of course that comes with the territory. There are two more in the series, but Amazon doesn’t have them. :(

What I’m Reading Now

I’ve started Constance Fenimore Woolson’s Anne, from the list of Eight Classic Female Bildungromane You Should Know about If You Don’t Already. I’m enjoying Anne, I’m enjoying the immensely atmospheric island which used to be a fur-trading post, and has dwindled from its former glory (I am all about dwindling from former glory), and I already have grim forbodings (and not the good kind) about where the subplot with Anne’s little one-eight Chippewa, three-eighths French half-sister Tita.

Aside from Anne, whose loyalty to her half-sister is presented as a part of her charming naivete, pretty much everyone in the narrative muses grimly about Tita’s flaws: she’s small and dark and sly and self-dramatizing and (no one spells this out, but I’m conjecting) is undoubtedly going to either kill someone sneaky-like or possibly run off with a deeply unsuitable man before long. They all ascribe her manipulative secretiveness to her mixed-race heritage; I think it’s because ever since she was a wee babe literally every adult in her life has been murmuring that she’s doomed to go wrong. Why should she be open with them if they interpret everything she does in the worst way possible?

But we’ll see. Maybe the story will surprise me.

I’ve also been reading Peter Carlson’s Roughneck: The Life and Times of Big Bill Haywood, mostly because Carlson wrote K Blows Top, a hilarious yet poignant book about Nikita Khrushchev’s 1959 visit to the United States. Roughneck isn’t quite in the same league (then again, what is?), but it’s an interesting exploration about the history of unionization in the United States, which previously I hadn’t known much about.

What I Plan to Read Next

In the Labyrinth of Drakes, the fourth of Marie Brennan’s Lady Trent books, is coming out! Or did come out yesterday, or something. Actually I probably won’t be reading it for a while, because I’ll be waiting till the library gets it, but I’m so excited about its existence that I had to mention it here!
osprey_archer: (books)
What I Just Finished Reading

Khrushchev's "secret speech" denouncing Stalin, which is one of those speeches that I've read about for years but never actually read. Sometimes in this situation, the real thing seems quite at odds with the things that I've read about it; but this was not one of those times. It really is pretty much a speech about how Stalin was treated as "a superman possessing supernatural characteristics akin to a god" (to quote the introductory paragraph), despite the fact that (1) this elevation is foreign to the spirit of Marxism-Leninism and (2) Stalin was actually a paranoid control freak who devastated the Soviet Union's military preparedness right before the Nazis attacked.

The one thing that did surprise me is the number of personal anecdotes about Stalin that Khrushchev scattered through the speech. One gets the impression that he spent the last five years or so of Stalin's life gritting his teeth about the fact that he had to work for this nincompoop, and is now finally - finally! - letting out some of that pent-up frustration.

I also finished reading volume 1 of The Gulag Archipelago, which is bristling, porcupine-like, with little slips of paper marking passages that I wanted to note down. To do what with? I don't know. I just felt they needed to be marked somehow.

Writing of a rumor that the Petrograd Cheka fed condemned prisoners to zoo animals during the Civil War years: "How else could they get food for the zoos in those famine years? Take it away from the working class? Those enemies were going to die anyway, so why couldn't their deaths support the zoo economy of the Republic and thereby assist our marsh into the future? Wasn't it expedient?

That is the precise line a Shakespearian evildoer could not cross. But the evildoer with ideology does cross it, and his eyes remain dry and clear."

(Ideology, for Solzhenitsyn, is "what gives evildoing its long-sought justification and gives the evildoer the necessary steadfastness and determination.")

Or on the fatalism of prisoners: "Submissiveness to fate, the total abdication of your own will in the shaping of your life, the recognition that it was impossible to guess the best and the worst ahead of time but that it was easy to take a step you would reproach yourself for - all this freed the prisoner from any bondage, made him calmer, and even ennobled him."

On a rather different note, I also read Ruth Goodman's How to Be a Victorian: A Dawn-to-Dusk Guide to Victorian Life, which is unique in that Goodman supplements her book research with her work as, essentially, a period reenactor. So she's actually lived a lot of the advice that sounds so odd to us, like keeping clean by wearing full-body linen underclothes and changing them rather than washing yourself (it works much better than most modern people expect, apparently).

For instance, the ambient temperature of the houses of even the wealthy was much cooler than in most houses today, which is something I think most people know - but knowing this fact doesn't mean that we've thought through all the implications, like the fact that wearing layers and layers of clothes actually makes sense in that environment, or that the (to our eyes) appalling fattiness of much of Victorian food is actually a way to cope with that.

Quite an interesting book! It's not often that a history book surprises me not merely with its information, but with its research method. Definitely worth a look if you're interested in that sort of thing.

What I'm Reading Now

The second book of The Gulag Archipelago.

What I Plan to Read Next

Probably the third book of The Gulag Archipelago. What? There are other books in the world, you say? LIES.

OH! But actually, I do have another book to read! The second Veronica Mars mystery (someone on my flist mentioned it; I can't remember who, but whoever you were, thank you!): Mr. Kiss and Tell. I intend to save it for my next day off to immerse myself in the glory of Veronica.

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