Old Novels and the Women Who Owned Them

Last year, I participated in CrowdsourceHerBook: Women's book history and participatory science – an experiment. Overseen by Charlotte Epple, a PhD fellow at the University of Southern Denmark, it ran from March to December and involved sourcing images of "women-owned books printed before 1900 in private ownership."  

It was an enjoyable experience. My only regret was that I learned of the project too late to have contributed more than a few titles before it came to an end.

On the other hand, I didn't have much to offer. Canadian books dominate my library, the vast majority dating from the twentieth-century. Few of the two hundred or so titles printed before 1900 bear signatures or other identifying marks of former owners. More often than not, those that do appear to have been owned by men – but there are exceptions. My favourite is the first I submitted.

I've written about Margaret Murray Robertson's Christie Redfern's Troubles in the pages of Canadian Notes & Queries, and have spoken about the author and her novel since. First published in 1866, my copy likely dates from about 1892.

What had intrigued for so long was its bookplate:

Encouraged by the project, I found far more about young Katie Seymour than expected. You can read about it through this link.

I was nowhere near so successful in tracking down Lulu Bird – presuming that was her actual name – who on Valentine's Day, 1900 received this first edition of Frank Norris's 1899 novel Blix.  Of all the inscriptions in my library, this is by far my favourite.

Ownership of this copy of The Bastonnais, John Lesperance's 1877 historical novel set during the 1775 and 1776 invasions of Canada, proved every bit as challenging. 

I like to think that I narrowed the field, but "Lizzie Beaty" wasn't much to go on.

You can read of my failure here. 

On this International Women's Day I can't help but think of these women. The books they once owned are now in my hands. I've read the words they read, and on the very same pages.

I also think of Jennie Jones, "a scholar in the Methodist Sunday School." In 1898, the Missionary Society of the Methodist Church presented her with a copy of W.H. Withrow's The King's Messenger; or, Lawrence Temple's Probation "as an acknowledgement of the diligence and fidelity in collection Funds for the Missionary Society."

Jennie Jones' copy of The King's Messenger would've been my next CrowdsourceHerBook submission. 

The seed has been planted. I must know more!

Related posts:

Let the Margaret Murray Robertson Revival Begin!
Margaret Murray Robertson Matrimonial Mystery
(and Canadian literature's most tear-stained novel)

It's Tutis Time!

Three weeks have passed since I was introduced to the POD house known as Titus Digital, yet I've made little progress in solving its mysteries. Not to say that there haven't been minor victories. One case in point is the above, which is not a previously unknown title by historian N.-E. Dionne, but Champlain, first published in the early years of the last century as part of Morang's 21-volume Makers of Canada series. Students of history may take issue with the implication that the Father of New France built the colony using the currency of the Cinquième République... as seen in a mirror.

Again, a minor victory. Far greater mysteries are being solved by JRSM and the readers of his Caustic Cover Critic.

I present four more Tutis titles, accompanied by their respective first editions, as proof that technological advancement does not equal progress.

Of all our authors, Tutis appears to have a particular problem with Ralph Connor. Their cover for The Man from Glengarry (1901), the story of a lumberman working the Ottawa River, features a futuristic warrior floating above an arid landscape. Here they move Connor's novel of the Great War, The Sky Pilot in No Man's Land (1919), from the battlefields of France to the waters off 21st century Manhattan.

In Tutis Universe, the soldiers of The Bastonnais (1877), John Lesperance's 'Tale of the American Invasion of Canada in 1775-76', are deprived of their firearms and must fight with swords and daggers. On the other hand, one side – the Americans, I'm guessing – has been given lovely lavender blouses as part of its uniform.

The first edition of Charles Mair's Through the Mackenzie Basin: A Narrative of the Athabaska and Peace River Expedition of 1899 (1908) may not feature a distinctive cover, but it does reflect the time. Mair isn't much read these days. Will the image of a large truck travelling through a landscape that is clearly not the Athabaska spur sales? I have my doubts.

What POD publisher wouldn't be exploiting our own public domain darling Lucy Maud Montgomery. Curiously, Tutis offers only one title, Kilmeny of the Orchard, the 1910 romance about a troubled young lass who has been abandonned by her Scottish father. I don't see much of Kilmeny Gordon in the cover – and that can't be her dog, because she doesn't have one. Though an inapropriate image, were it any other publisher, I'd at the very least pass on grudging credit for recognizing Montgomery's popularity in Japan. However, this being Tutis, I'm certain the use of this particular picture is nothing but a coincidence.

Related post:

A POD Publisher's Alternate Universe