I Have Been...

Poppy Field Near Vetheuil (1879) by Claude Monet

{Reading}

Finished The Grand Sophy by Georgette Heyer yesterday.

Just ordered Jerome K. Jerome's Three Men in a Boat.

Bibliotherapy continues. :)

{Writing}

Academic work on Elizabeth Gaskell

and Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 

(Three cheers for all the great Elizabeths!)

{Looking}

 At flowers, buds and plants.

Currently obsessed by all flora and fauna.

{Listening}

Regina Spektor's Samson. So haunting!

 Bach's various string compositions. So invigorating!

{Watching}

Emma. This adaptation is sunshine for my soul:

 

{Feeling}

 Discouraged by my recent past yet hopeful for my future.

Also, hungry. Time for a snack.

{Anticipating}

 The imminent blooming of our tulips.

A forthcoming holiday in June.

{Loving}

Percy. Poor thing hurt his paw today, 

but he's revelled in the extra attention. 

Dogs are the best.

Victorian Artists: Sir Edwin Landseer

Dignity and Impudence 1839

I wrote my MA dissertation on dogs in nineteenth-century literature, and since then animals seem to pop up everywhere in my reading. Actually, they were most likely always there, but now I take notice of them. 

Throughout the Victorian Celebration, this trend has continued. Animals act as symbols that signify the wider themes in Lady Audley's Secret and The Professor. A labrador is an important character in the Sarah Waters novel I just finished earlier this evening (not Victorian, but still), while Sonnets from the Portuguese brings to mind the affectionate relationship Elizabeth Barrett Browning had with her spaniel Flush and how that's mirrored in her poetry.

So, I obeyed the sudden inclination to look through some Landseer artwork.

Sir Edwin Henry Landseer (1802-1873) produced an incredible array of paintings featuring domestic animals and wildlife during the Victorian period -- in fact, he was commissioned to paint several portraits of Queen Victoria and the rest of the royal family, pets included. Although he is best remembered today for his lion sculptures that adorn Trafalgar Square, it's his portraits of animal that are, to me, the most poignant. 

Some of his representations are rather fanciful and anthropomorphic by twenty-first century standards (and some are disturbingly violent), but I feel he truly captured the spirit and individuality of animals. Landseer's work transcends the portrayal of animals as mere accessories to their aristocratic masters. I'm looking forward to finding out more about him and other nineteenth-century artists as I continue my fascinating research on the Victorians.

Here's a small sample of his paintings...

Queen Victoria and Prince Albert 

at Home at Windsor Castle in Berkshire, England 1843

The Old Shepherd's Chief Mourner 1837

The Arab Tent 1866

 Laying Down the Law 1840

 The Monkey Who Had Seen the World 1827

And this last one makes me smile. It reminds me of my own terrier who is always begging for food with a similar pleading expression. It's as if he's saying, 'Please, sir, I want some more.' 

Macaw, Love Birds, Terrier, and Spaniel Puppies

Belonging to Her Majesty 1839

P.S. Just scouted out this book containing Landseer's private drawings. I want it!

Wordless Wednesday: A Percy Post

It's hard work being a chubby, cuddly dog of the manor

(especially when people rather rudely interrupt nap time)

but someone's gotta do it!

The Artist

Having been nominated for (and won!) a plethora of awards this year, I was quite looking forward to seeing The Artist. I am here to inform you that the hype is warranted. I absolutely fell in love with this creative and poignant motion picture.

The Artist chronicles silent film star George Valentin's fall from grace as Hollywood is invaded by the 'talkies' while he is rendered obsolete. Peppy Miller, the fan-turned-actress with whom George shares a flirtation, has managed to transfer her talents over to speaking roles. The gap between them proves a difficult one to breach. Throughout the narrative George is accompanied by his adorable terrier (played by canine superstar Uggie). Watching their entertaining antics was a highlight of the film for me. But then, I clearly have a soft spot for feisty terriers.

I admit I was a bit apprehensive about seeing a silent film -- despite hearing rave reviews that assured me its charm needed no verbal translation. I've built my life around words! I needn't have worried. Viewers quickly adapt to gleaning dialogue from the title cards. In fact, I was amazed at how much more I noticed when not distracted by dialogue. Facial expressions, sets, costumes: these all provided added layers of meaning and insight, and I was forced to take notice. It's almost a lesson in subtextuality. Both hilarious and heart-warming, The Artist is a cinematic treat. I'll be rooting for it throughout awards season!

P.S. I highly recommend watching Uggie's appearance on Ellen. He has so much character!

Sketches by Boz and Other Antiquarian Treasures

After looking over my post highlighting the National Book Fair in York, I realized I kinda sorta made it sound like I came away empty-handed.  That would be a lie.  I left the fair with a few treasures; never had I been so happily weighed down.  My discovery of the day was locating an 1861 copy of Sketches by Boz by Charles Dickens, complete with the George Cruikshank illustrations.  Perfect timing, when one considers this was the summer in which I discovered my love for Charles Dickens novels.  I bought it for the bargain price of seventeen pounds.  Plus, it's red!  It's not in the best condition, but I love it all the more for these minor so-called flaws.  Funnily enough, this is the polar opposite of my reaction to new books, over which I obsess in order to maintain their pristine condition.  But I love this tattered Victorian book just the way it is. 

Gold lettering on the spine

Title Page

I adore the George Cruikshank illustrations

This depicts 'Vauxhall Gardens by Day'

The pages are ragged and weathered -- I love it!

Ana also thoughtfully bought a turn-of-the-century dog narrative for me: A Thoroughbred Mongrel by Stephen Townsend.  Originally copyrighted in 1899, my edition is dated 1905.  I love the old photograph on the cover.  Again, the fact that little bits of it are missing only serves to make it more endearing.

Finally, I bought another dog book.  In fairness, literary canines are related to my dissertation, and it was only six quid.  Do you see why I simply had to buy it? (Do you see how I'll simply use any excuse to buy a book?)  It's a children's story called Thy Servant a Dog told by a young pup called Boots.  Rudyard Kipling, the reader is meant to understand, merely 'edited' the text.  

I love this detail on the back cover

So, while the autographed copies and first editions must wait until a future (read, richer) day, I'm quite happy with these gems that have been lovingly added to my growing collection of books. 

Puppy Love

My aunt's two American eskimo dogs recently had a litter of nine puppies.  That's right -- nine puppies.  When they hit the four-week mark, we made a visit for some puppy playtime.  They're just the cutest little things: tiny white furballs that adored being held and cuddled.  We watched them go crazy over meal time with mama, play together, then fall into a restful puppy slumber (sometimes in their food dish).  It reminded me of the days when Percy was a tiny toy fox terrier pup.  Needless to say, Chelsea and I went a bit crazy with the camera.  Thus, I have compiled several collages featuring these adorable little pups!

Little Puppies

Sleepy Puppies

And more puppies

Aren't they cute?

The puppies have now all been weaned and welcomed into new homes, so it was wonderful to spend some time with these pups while we could.

P.S. It's possible that one or two almost came to our house -- my mom wanted to take all of them home with us.  It's also possible that she wasn't alone.   I am happy to report that we resisted the temptation to sneak out a little furball.  We have enough dog hair in our house as it is. 

Walkin' in the Rain

I love walking our dogs.  It's one of those simple pleasures that is such a delight!  But when some rainy weather came our way a while ago, I was hard pressed cajoling a single family member to join me. Since we have two dogs, a walk is much easier when there are two humans. 

I asked my brother to come along, and he complained, 'But it's raining!'  To which I replied, 'Yeah, so?  This is June weather for Leeds.'  Which it was.

 After living in Yorkshire, I've learned that when there's a bit of drizzle or slight breeze, you just bundle yourself up and carry on.  Suburban Americans, on the other hand, will go to great lengths to avoid any contact with nature when the elements become slightly inclement.  Even on bright, sunny days I've known them to drive and drive and drive around a parking lot in search of a front-row space.  The fact that they could have parked and entered the store of their choice several minutes ago if they'd only been willing to walk a few feet carries no weight.  Therefore, convincing a family member to voluntarily step out into the cold and wet was no easy task.

After some pathetic pleading, Chelsea agreed to accompany the dogs and me for an evening jaunt.  

We had a great time!  Even Percy, who avoids stepping on damp matter at all costs, was romping through the wet grass with doggy abandon!  Chelsea professed to enjoy herself, so I should have a walking buddy the next time a gloomy day arrives.  As for me, I almost felt like I was back in England again -- always a welcome thing.

 Scavenger and Chelsea

Percy is so scrawny he requires a sweater for the cold

Doesn't he look dashing?

If you look closely, you can see raindrops in this photo

A Percy Post: Epistolary Musings

Dearest Friends,

My mother's absence had been going on for some time and, truth be told, I was growing accustomed to it.  Then lo and behold...she returneth!  I was idly lounging a matter of days ago, when she suddenly came through the door.  I was so overcome with excitement I could scarcely contain myself, and I daresay my tail wagged a great deal.  I felt it best to overlook her abandonment and welcome her back with open paws.

Since she has been restored to the estate, I find that we have once again fallen into our old routine.

I am back to my place on her lap.

I am cruelly forced to subsist on unsavoury kibble.

And I am still housed with the beagle.  I simply cannot comprehend it. 

Fortunately for her I am a forgiving chap, though I growl when displeased.

Sincerely Yours,

Sir Perceval P. Pup

A Percy Post: The Green-Eyed Monster

I have a firm conviction that this is the image Shakespeare had in his mind when he wrote of the green-eyed monster:

How could Iago have been thinking of anything but this Percy Beast when he said:

O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;

It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock

The meat it feeds on.

I know I am most envious of those who have a puppy to curl up with tonight; monster or not. 

Old, New, Borrowed & Blue

This post has nothing to do with weddings; rather, it is about books. Old Books.

Until recently I never thought much about old books.  Now I love them.  The yellowing pages beginning to fray, delicate bindings, dedications to readers of a bygone era: these are all sources of simple delight. 

Some weeks ago I found myself in need of an obscure Victorian text for my dissertation: The Confessions of a Lost Dog by Frances Power Cobbe.  It's a charming novella written, as the title would suggest, from the perspective of Cobbe's real-life pet.  My library doesn't own it but managed to procure a copy for me from another library. 

I was ecstatic to pull a small volume from an envelope, a string substituting the spine that has long worn away.  It's a beautiful little book!  I suspect it may even be a first edition, since the date in the book matches the original year of publication.  Instead of getting carried away with vague descriptions, I will let the photos I took speak for themselves. 

Title page

Note how the year of publication (1867)

is depicted in Roman numerals

The Lost Dog -- a pomeranian

Interesting how much breeds have

been modified over the years

Some blurbs

Held together with a string

I was so excited to stumble upon this small treasure: over a century old, new to me, borrowed from the library and featuring a blue cover. 

A Percy Post: Sunbathing

Percy says, 'A little sunbathing would set me up forever.' 

On this grey and gloomy day, during which I perform hard labour in the library, a little puppy sunshine perks me right up! 

Photos by Chelsea

P.S.  Percy stole Mrs. Bennet's line from Pride and Prejudice and then adapted it for his own purposes.  Or maybe I did that.  I'm so confused....

A Percy Post

As of late, my humans have made mention of a phenomenon they refer to as Skype.  Now and again, I find myself hauled up to the study where all the humans in my family gather round a moving screen. The most astonishing thing then occurs: I suddenly hear the voice of my mother emanating from its general direction.  She calls to me in her most pathetic tones and inquires if I am 'being a good boy'.  Humph!  Am I ever less than a gentleman?  However, if she believes I will condescend to respond to her exclamations after heartlessly forsaking me, she is sorely mistaken.  Am I wrong, dear reader, in feeling slighted by this abandonment?  I cannot believe that I am.  Therefore, I shall continue to toss my head from side to side and feign deafness.  

 Attacking his beloved toy: The Cuz

Photo by Chelsea

A note from the puppy parent:

I am currently reading Virginia Woolf's semi-fictional, semi-biographical narrative of Elizabeth Barrett Browning and her dog for my dissertation.  Flush: A Biography (1933) is proving to be an enchanting tale as Woolf imaginatively conjures up the spaniel's perspective.  The following scene in which Elizabeth and Flush meet each other for the first time was, for me, particularly poignant:

     
'Oh, Flush!' said Miss Barrett.  For the first time she look him in the face.  For the first time Flush looked at the lady lying on the sofa.

     Each was surprised.  Heavy curls hung down on either side of Miss Barrett's face; large bright eyes shone out; a large mouth smiled.  Heavy ears hung down on either side of Flush's face; his eyes, too, were large and bright: his mouth was wide.  There was a likeness between them.  As they gazed at each other each felt: Here am I -- and then each felt: But how different!  Hers was the pale worn face of an invalid, cut off from air, light, freedom.  His was the warm ruddy face of a young animal; instinct with health and energy.  Broken asunder, yet made in the same mould, could it be that each completed what was dormant in the other?  She might have been -- all that; and he -- But no.  Between them lay the widest gulf that can separate one being from another.  She spoke.  He was dumb.  She was woman; he was dog.  Thus closely united, thus immensely divided, they gazed at each other.  Then with one bound Flush sprang on to the sofa and laid himself where he was to lie for ever after -- on the rug at Miss Barrett's feet. 

Barrett Browning and Flush

Image via Google

I blubbered like a baby when I read this passage in the library.  I, too, was an invalid when Percy entered my life as a wee pup; and his company was medicinal.  Like Elizabeth and Flush, my mum maintains that he and I look alike.  One thing that astounds me about animals is the way in which, despite the communication barrier of which Woolf writes, they manage to make themselves heard.  Percy and I have certainly found a way to understand one another -- even if I speak, and he is dumb.  Except...Percy is not dumb.  He barks and growls to high heaven!  I feel quite lucky to know that he is being pampered and well cared for by my parents while I work towards my graduate degree.  But I sure do miss him. 

'She was woman; he was dog.'

Another great photo by Chelsea