helmets on, kids!

prussian helmet, early 20th century. grenadier collection, 2013.

apparently, aside from looking really fierce over the top of a trench (and also giving away your position due to the really shiny spike on the top), this was supposed to protect your head from being blown apart. the fact that it is made with cured leather and is thinner than a foam mouse-pad does little to reassure me…

one of the groovy parts of working amongst a bunch of old stuff, is being plunked straight into the context of these objects. someone wore this and expected that it would protect him, or at least (one would hope) felt slightly braver with it on his head.

go away monty

one wonders why it is necessary to have QUITE this many ‘monty’ biographies… yes, he did win el alamein, but still. currently, i dream about boxes that overflow with copies of biographies on MONTGOMERY and CHURCHILL. in my dream, they have cage-match fights to determine who was the better guardian of the nation. for the moment, churchill wins, since he has more biographies. if only montgomery wrote more speeches… (like these!)

music police

i can now officially declare that i have bad taste. this is what happens after a large work week spent unpacking the 300 (!!!!!) boxes of badly organized books that arrived on the week-end. my brain has officially shut down and all i can now manage to do is wander around my apartment, singing along to RIHANNA.  in fact, i had a brief moment where i thought that i should attempt to listen to JUSTIN BIEBER. luckily, my good sense kicked in before this hideous mistake could be made and i am still un-bieber’d .  my general ennui is compounded by the fact that it is only wednesday and i still have two more lovely sorting days to go…

 

 

how to be a lit snob

Joyce, James. Letter, 1928. Caresse Crosby Collection, Southern Illinois University. Box 53, Folder 2. Image with permission.

becoming a literary snob takes practice and dedication. for instance, making the wrong  JRR TOLKIEN reference at a tolkien party could make you a pariah for life… AND heaven help you, if you manage to mix up HENRY JAMES and JAMES HERRIOT. that is a fast ticket to book snob hell.

SO; for all the aspring lit snobs out there (or those who want to impress girls/boys in bars) here is a quick primer.

1) read at least ONE page of “ulysses” by JOYCE. luckily, the english language does not distinguish between “reading” and actually finishing a book (unlike russian, which does a brilliant job of trapping aspiring lit snobs) then, talk about how you have read “ulysses”. everyone will be amazed.

2) next, make a brilliant reference to the fact that a large portion of his collected papers are held at southern illinois university as part of their extremely groovy “irish collections”. 

3) after which, you can point out that mister JOYCE’s handwriting is like chickenscratch, and that he would re-write over his page proofs, making them UTTERLY incomprehensible and making HIM the scrouge of long suffering publishers everywhere

in all seriousness however, you (dear readers) should read “ulysses” if only to see creative ways of using the word “gripes”…

messy handwriting contest

Pound, Ezra Loomis. Letter. Caresse Crosby Collection, Southern Illinois University, Box 64, Folder 7. Image with permission.

before boasting that i have seen, held, smelt and generally pored of the handwriting of MR. POUND, i would like to point out that for those of you who think that my handwriting is bad, it would appear that i have a competitor in that department. no wonder his long suffering wife had to type all of his letters…  many thanks to the helpful librarians at the MORRIS LIBRARY at SIU for letting me take (and use) all of the pictures that i wanted. more to come, i promise.

notes from america I

i am on a safari to my southern neighbour, to do research for my thesis. apparently, SOUTHERN ILLINOIS UNIVERSITY has a teeming archive of modernist writers, having had a rather ambitious library budget at one point (oh the heady days of the ambitious library budget…)

things learned so far about the land of the free (though without a handbook, unfortunately):

-any food item not the size of a small dog is suspect and should be thrown out for being puny
-a mickey of whiskey is not actually called a mickey; if you ask for one you will be laughed out of the store
-unless you are very poor or very odd, you do not walk around on the street. result? constant honking horns. i pray that this is because people are trying to warn me (in a friendly way) to drive a car, not because they think i am a hooker

attack of the moustaches

    lord kitchener and his moustache. image courtesy fineartamerica.com

i am surrounded by moustaches… in my latest incarnation as a cataloguer and general oddsbody for a collection of rare military things, i see ALOT of moustaches. every colonial soldier, appears to have one. along with your bayonet, it must have been a groovy accessory. the result? first lord kitchener and his moustache (in various incarnations and thicknesses), then garnet wolsey, then lord so and so and such and such. all with magnificent (if you like moustaches) ‘staches. perhaps they too celebrated MoVEMBER??? and we thought we were so cool, trying to take back the moustache… out-groovied by a bunch of gun carrying, local oppressing aristocrats.