The Retired Reverend King on Abolishing Death

A new Canadian Notes and Queries arrives bringing another Dusty Bookcase sur papier. This one, a bit longer than usual, focuses on that old odd bird Basil King's spiritualism.  Eternally fascinating.

Seth's superhero cover compliments an appreciation of Alvin Schwartz by Devon Code, my old dining parter Shaena Lambert contributes a new short story and Michel Basilières reviews The Sister Brothers. Steven W. Beattie, Marc Bell, Alex Boyd, Michael Bryson, Mark Callanan, Kerry Clare, Emily Donaldson, Aaron Gilbreath, Alex Good, Philip Marchand, John Martz, David Mason, K.D. Miller, Tara Murphy, Shane Nelson, Tina Northrup, Patricia Robertson, Christian Schumann, Kenneth Sherman, Zachariah Wells and Nathan Whitlock add to the goodness. But let me draw attention to Mike Barnes' contributions: an essay and The Reasonable Ogre, a Biblioasis chapbook featuring a new short story with illustrations by Segbingway.

Produced in an edition of 450 copies as a collectible for subscribers of CNQ. My copy's #149.

Information on subscriptions to Canadian Notes & Queries can be found here.

Freedom to Read Week: Under the Hill

Under the Hill

Aubrey Beardsley, completed by John Glassco

Paris: Olympia Press, 1959

An elegant favourite, in both appearance and content, I've written about Under the Hill here and in my biography of John Glassco. There will be few words today... just some images of a work that was seized and destroyed by French authorities. This is one of roughly 1500 copies that escaped the flames.

Related posts:

Canada's Olympians (Part II)

Three Centuries of Piracy

A Dutch Treat

A Local Poet is Recognized

And so another National Poetry Month begins. In little St Marys we'll be kicking things off with James MacRae Poetry Night, a free event at Stewart Books, the town's lone bookstore. An historic evening, it will feature what is likely be the first public reading of the man's verse. The Friends of the St Marys Public Library will be raising funds through the sale of this 24-page chapbook. It's cheap at $5 – and with a numbered print-run of only 40 copies, is sure to be sought-after by future generations.

More MacRae (né MacDonald) to whet the appetite:

Written in the House of a Quarrelsome Wife and Drunken Husband

Oh! What pleasure it would be
To reach the gates of hell
For those who in a place like this
For many years must dwell.

Good angels, if ye ever weep,
Here drop one pitying tear;
But, demons, dare not tread this place,
If woman’s rage ye fear.

A Mildly Eccentric Man Turns Nasty

Much of this past weekend was spent working on a limited edition chapbook of verse by John J. MacDonald – a modest fundraiser for the St Marys Public Library. MacDonald, better known as James MacRae, one of William Arthur Deacon's unfortunate 'Four Jameses', was a patron. Indeed, Deacon tells us that MacDonald "spent a pleasant old age" in the library, where he poured over "books on controversial subjects like political economy and religion."

In the three years I've lived in this little town, I've done a bit of digging into MacDonald's life, but until last week knew nothing of his verse beyond the few scattered snippets Deacon had chosen to reproduce in The Four Jameses. MacDonald's writing – all self-published – is not exactly easy to find. Poems of J. J. MacDonald, a Native of County Glengarry, the c. 1877 volume from which the chapbook is drawn, has almost vanished. Held by a handful of academic universities, it's much more common in microfiche – which is to say that it isn't common at all.

The exposure to MacDonald's writing has been something of an eye-opener. Nothing in Deacon prepared me for the quantity of venom in MacDonald's verse. Drops are found throughout, even in otherwise innocent and inoffensive poems like "The Scattered Family", a sentimental thing about home, hearth, and momma and papa:

We left our sweet home distant climates to range,

To meet there with nothing but infidels strange,

Who know not our feelings, who know not our hearts;

Such is often the fate who from parents departs.

We left all the pleasures of birthplace and home,
To wander about, for a living to roam,
Cast on the wide world – so unfriendly, so cold
Where honor and virtue mean riches and gold.

How bitter is life, full of sorrow and woe,
When children from father and mother must go!
When brothers must part from the sisterly smile,
To live with the stranger, the wretched and vile.

Now, is that any way to talk about one's neighbours?

MacDonald lived amongst the wretched and vile of St Marys and its environs for over sixty of his nearly eighty-eight years. "Among the townspeople he was reported to be mildly eccentric," writes Deacon, "which probably means nothing more than a strongly marked personality intensified by a touch of the artistic temperament, without which no poet is properly equipped... I like to picture him as he has been described to me – sitting in the Library, lost in a book, and, as the theme grippd him, conducting audibly an animated debate with himself, and finally becoming quite excited as the argument progressed."

What better to argue over than politics, especially when religion, hellfire and damnation are added to the mix:

Epitaph for a Grit Politician

As your victim with Government money has got away,
We Canadians, Satan, would thank you sincerely
If you kindly consent to return to Ottawa,
When you come for the next of the clique you love so dearly.

There's plenty of hate in this poetry, most of which is inflicted upon Charles Chiniquy. The protestant convert and conspiracy theory kook is the focus of "Father Chiniquy’s Prayer", "Lines Written on a Bill Announcing One of Chiniquy’s Lectures" and this poem, in which he imagines the man's death:

For Chiniquy

Here lies the priest who changed his creed
To get what custom calls a wife,
But solemn vows most strongly plead,
He never led a married life.

St. Peter, if your dome he seek,
Refuse to open heaven’s door,
For he would scarcely stay a week,
When for a wife he’d hell explore.

Dear reader, please in mind to bear,
That in the realms of bliss above,
There is no wife permitted there
To Man, however strong his love.

The former Father was a healthy sexagenarian when MacDonald published these poems – he would live for a further two decades. Although Chiniquy isn't mentioned by name, it is clear that he is also the subject of this final fantasy:

For a Fallen Priest

Ye passers by here pause to mourn
Around this melancholy urn,
Where loathsome maggots careless feast
Upon the poor degraded priest.

No more the hungry passions rave;
The appetites no longer crave
Their usual supply of ill,
And all around is solemn still.

The soul – that slave of fear and dread,
Of shame, remorse, and pride – is fled.
Oh! Poor, immortal soul, couldst thou
Reveal what’s thy religion now.

For some time now I've been pushing for recognition of MacDonald in this, my adopted hometown, all the while describing him just as Deacon does: a mildly eccentric man. Now I'm beginning to wonder... is it really so strange that his books aren't found on the shelves of the library in which he "spent a pleasant old age"?

Related posts:

Poet Names Newspaper Editor as Lucifer's Heir

A Prudish Poet's Struggles with Stays

Limited Time, Limited Editions (6/6)

General Ludd

John Metcalf

Downsview, Ontario: ECW, 1980

Bought nearly a quarter century ago, it turns out that this, not No Man's Meat, was the first signed and numbered edition in my collection. That General Ludd was overlooked is understandable, I think; there's no real indication that this book is in any way unusual. What we have here is John Metcalf's signature, with a number in the upper right hand corner. This latter feature caused considerable confusion when it was purchased. No, not the price, but the number: 45 of 100 copies. Or was it 50 copies?

As I say, nearly a quarter century ago.

At the time I was a student at Concordia, the model for the novel's St. Xavier University. I'd been on a tear through Metcalf's writing after having being introduced to it by Harry Hill. Goodness, I miss Harry. A wonderful teacher, he features briefly – too briefly – in Metcalf's Shut Up He Explained (Biblioasis, 2007); all to do with "cottaging":

I'd heard the word used by the late Harry Hill, actor and raconteur, in one of his scabrous anecdotes involving a power failure in the lavatory of the Montreal Voyageur Bus terminal at Berri-de Montigny and the loss of his partial plate.

The binding of this General Ludd is by The Porcupine's Quill. I'm a great fan of the press – it has produced some of the finest and finest looking small press books this country has seen – but this design seems deathly dull; quite the opposite of the novel itself.

A quarter century ago.

That confusion at the cash took place in the Double Hook. Also gone.

The ladies of the Double Hook were wonderful booksellers, unlike these folks:

Not the limited edition, mind you, but the paperback. It's a new, unread book that is typical of used books and just might have some notes or highlighting. Oh, it might also be an ex-library book. Still, you'll be surprised. Just remember, it's a new, unread, used book.

This can be yours for only US$102.76 (shipping included!).

Limited Time, Limited Editions (5/6)

Collected Poetry

Louis Dudek

Montreal: Delta Canada, 1971

"This first edition of 3,000 copies, printed by W. & G. Baird Ltd., established in Belfast since 1861, was printed in Northern Ireland. The test is set in 11/12 Baskerville, with section headings in 12 pt. Albertus. Printed on Clan Bulkrite. Cover and book design by Glen Siebrasse. Of this edition, 100 numbered copies are signed by the author."

The most attractive of all Delta Canada's books, I think, though this image hardly does it justice. My photographical limitations aside, the problem is that embossed title on the front cover. No ink, just glossy white paper. Commercial suicide? Not necessarily – consider the original pressings of The White Album.

Delta Canada co-founder Michael Gnarowski tells me that Dudek was less than keen, likening the shiny white book to a refrigerator. Siebrasse, on the other hand, was justifiably proud of the design.

The title design used on the jacket and boards is more easily made out on the title page.

Three thousand printed – seems such a high number in today's sorry market. You'll find only fifteen copies listed for sale online, none of which are numbered and signed. I bought mine for $75 back in 1994.

Limited Time, Limited Editions (4/6)

As for Me and My House

Sinclair Ross

Saskatoon: Fifth House, 1994

"This is an edition of 250 signed and numbered copies, of which the first 25 copies have been presented to the author."

The rise of As for Me and My House from forgotten to canonical is as curious as it is controversial. First published in 1941 by New York's Reynal & Hitchcock, the novel was all but ignored by critics and book-buyers, yet there it was sixteen years later as title #4 in the fledgling New Canadian Library. The novel has been a part of the series ever since; "a landmark work... essential reading for anyone who seeks to understand the scope and power of the Canadian novel," says current cover copy. I won't disagree, but do wonder as to its place. How is it possible that sixteen years after publication, fourteen years after the author's death, Fifth House has yet to run through the 225 copies for sale? Evidence of a disconnect between the academic's canon and the public's classic, or just another sad reflection of the deflated market for things CanLit?

A bit of both, I think.

Ross was eighty-six and suffering from Parkinson's when he signed the sheets used in this limited edition. Copies can be purchased directly from the publisher.

Addendum: In her Twayne study of Ross, Lorraine McMullen tells us that just a few copies of the 1941 Reynal & Hitchcock edition were imported into Canada. One ended up in Bayfield Public Library, was discarded and, finally, rescued from a leaky, mice-infested barn by yours truly. The "Date Due" slip indicates that it was only once ever checked out of the library.

Limited Time, Limited Editions (3/6)

Venus in Furs [Venus im Pelz]

Leopold von Sacher-Masoch [John Glassco, trans.]

Burnaby, BC: Blackfish, 1977

"This book was printed in an edition of 1,500 copies on Byronic Text India paper. There is a special series of 26 hardbound copies printed on Byronic Text Grey paper, signed and lettered from A to Z by the translator."

Booksellers invariably mention the low print run of this, the finest English language translation of Sacher-Masoch's masterpiece. And why not? A full thirty-three years have passed and still it has never been reprinted.

Blackfish co-publisher Brian Brett once told me that the he wasn't so sure that all 26 copies of the signed and lettered edition were ever produced. Seems they were pretty much made to order... no order, no book.

This copy, which once belonged to Glassco, was bought for C$150 twenty years ago. The dab of liquid paper remains something of a mystery, though I do have my theories (most involving drink).

The remaining 1474 or so copies were published in both paper and hardcover. As might be expected, the former is less dear – Very Good copies go for US$30 to US$60 (ignore the copy currently listed online at C$125). The hardcover is more uncommon – expect to pay nothing less than US$150 (a bargain).

I've not seen another copy of the signed and lettered edition offered for sale.

Caveat emptor: A European collector emails asking my opinion on the inscribed paper copy of Venus in Furs that is currently listed on Abebooks at US$325. A fair price? Well, let's just say that amongst the thousands of handwritten documents studied in my eight years researching Glassco I never once saw anything that even remotely resembles the handwriting and signature found in this copy.

Limited Time, Limited Editions (2/6)

No Man's Meat

Morley Callaghan

Paris: Edward W. Titus at the Sign of the Black Manikin, 1930

"I have had printed of this edition five hundred and twenty-five copies on Verge de Rives, of which five hundred copies for subscribers and twenty-five copies, numbered 501 to 525, for the press. The entire edition is signed by the author. This is no: 165 E.W.T."

I'm pretty sure that this is the first signed, numbered edition I ever bought. At the time I was writing for television – a daytime soap, if you must know – and felt pretty flush with cash. How flush? Well, I plunked down US$125 for this novella from Callaghan's summer in Paris.

It's that old familiar story. A husband and wife entertain a female friend. The guest ends up sleeping with the man to pay off a gambling debt. Everybody is unhappy... until the wife realizes that she's in love with her gal pal and the two run off together. Saturday night, Sunday morning.

The novella didn't appear in Canada until 1978 when Macmillan published it in No Man's Meat & The Enchanted Pimp. Its dust jacket makes for interesting reading:

...when No Man's Meat first appeared in 1931, its frank treatment of perverse sexuality [whoring? bisexuality?] made it unsuitable for a commercial house, and it was privately published in Paris by an avant-garde press. Since then the limited edition of four hundred copies [525, actually] has gained widespread fame by word of mouth. Its early notoriety has been softened by Edmund Wilson's description of the piece as "a small masterpiece", and the original edition as become an underground classic, changing hands for two hundred dollars and more.

Thirty-two years later, there are plenty of copies listed online for US$60 (US$35 without slipcase). How to explain its decline. The internet has certainly played a part, but I think the real blame lies with Macmillan. In making the novella more accessible, the new edition took away much of the mystery – No Man's Meat isn't nearly as risqué or quirky as the title suggests.

Stoddart re-resurrected the novella in 1990, but you'd never know it from their jacket copy, which implies that No Man's Meat is a new work. I believe it was the last book that Callaghan lived to see published.

Note: That's Titus not Tutis.

This:

Not this:

Limited Time, Limited Editions (1/6)

Hetty Dorval

Ethel Wilson

Vancouver: The Alcuin Society, 1967

Typographer: Charles Morris/ Illustrator: Gus Rueter

"This is number 230 of an edition limited to 375 copies which was produced especially for members of the Alcuin Society."

Anyone looking for evidence of the neglect shown Ethel Wilson, British Columbia's greatest novelist, might want to consider the prices being asked for this unusual edition. An elegant production, with a five-page author's introduction that appears nowhere else, it can be bought online for as little as US$25. Twenty years ago, during those heady days of bookseller catalogues, I paid C$75 for this copy. At the time, I thought it was a fantastic bargain.

And it was.

Canada's Olympians (Part II)

Under the Hill

Aubrey Beardsley, completed by John Glassco

Paris: Olympia, 1959

Beardsley devoted a good portion of his short life to this retelling of the Tannhaüser legend, and returned to it repeatedly until the last cough.

While Glassco claimed that he first read an expurgated version as a boy (unlikely), and that he hand copied the true text as a McGill University student (possible), it wasn't until 1948 that he began this completion of Beardsley's work. He picks up the abandoned thread mid-way through the tenth chapter, then, following the legend and Beardsley's rough plan, adds a further nine. Glassco doesn't create so much as a seam - despite introducing personal interests not shared by the dead Decadent: flagellation and the touch of the governess. In his completion, Glassco has Tannhaüser attend a performance of Pink Cheeks, a pantomime-operetta that is advertised as 'Two Hours of Fun & Flagellation'. Later, while in Rome to seek absolution, the Minnesänger sets out to transcribe his sins, lest he forget any transgression before the Holy Father. In doing so, he casts his mind back to the governesses of his childhood: Mlle Fanfreluche, with whom he'd shared 'merry games at bedtime', and a later woman who had first introduced him to the pleasures of the birch.

In the summer of 1965, French authorities seized Under the Hill. The unsold stock, more than half the print run, was threatened with destruction. In defending the book, publisher Maurice Girodias was placed in the absurd position of having to prove Beardsley's reputation as a respected artist in a court of law.

The charges attracted interest from the London's New English Library, which quickly published a paperback edition to capitalize on a Beardsley revival, fuelled by an immensely popular retrospective at the Victoria and Albert Museum. Yet, despite all this excitement and interest across La Manche, Girodias lost his case. In August 1966, all copies of the elegant Olympia Press edition seized eleven months earlier were condemned to the flame.

Glassco was heartbroken, and could not understand the decision in that he'd never thought of Under the Hill as pornography: 'It is romantic, rococo, faisandé, Huysmanesque, playful, madly affected, solidly in the tradition of dandyism; it's even got a highly moral ending, with Tannhaüser officially damned & trapped forever under the hill. I wouldn't be in his elegant slippers for anything.'

Tannhaüser Before the Hill of Venus

Trivia: Under French law, Glassco, as copyright holder, should have been charged alongside the publisher. After the court case was lost, Girodias wrote the author: 'Curiously, and strangely, the prosecuting magistrate preferring to consider that you did not exist, and that you were a figment of my imagination, if you pardon the expression. I did not oppose that view naturally.'

Object: Under the Hill looks nothing like any other Olympia Press book. Illustrated by Beardsley, printed on heavy stock, bound in green watered silk, and issued in a numbered edition of three thousand, it was a extravagant production that Girodias would never repeat.

Access: A common title, but one not usually found in public libraries. Under the Hill continues to be published in the England and the United States; there has never been a Canadian edition. Used copies can be had for as little as a few dollars. Given its beauty and history, the first edition seems surprisingly inexpensive - generally between C$75 and C$200. Copies currently offered by Canada's online booksellers are priced at well over twice as much as those listed by their European and American brethren. Make of that what you will.

Related posts:
A Dutch Treat
Canada's Olympians (Part I)
Canada's Olympians (Part III)
Canada's Olympians (Part IV)