07 September 2021

Read Quebec. Read Montreal Noir.


Emily Mernin's article "Montreal Noir, from Passion to Print" has been up on the Read Quebec site for some days now. It's a very nice piece on Véhicule Press, its Ricochet Books imprint, and efforts to return post-war pulps to print. I've been remiss in not sharing. You'll find it through this link.

The penultimate paragraph reveals something:

Two of Ricochet’s forthcoming books, much to Busby’s excitement, will be firsts for the imprint: Perilous Passage takes place on the west coast, while another is set between both Toronto and Montreal.
It's true!


Arthur Mayse's Perilous Passage, which I listed last December as deserving a return to print, will be republished next month. The author's daughter, Susan Mayse, is providing the introduction.

As for the unnamed title to follow – "set between both Toronto and Montreal" – I'm not about to reveal. 

Related posts:

01 September 2021

The Prince Classics Robert Barr (Monsarrat mentioned)

 


Prince Classics is new to me, but has quickly become my favourite print on demand vulture. I have it to thank for the introduction to Dutch artist Jac Mars (1919-1992), whose illustration graces the cover of its edition of this Robert Barr novella.

"One Day's Courtship" first saw print in syndication; The Detroit Free Press, for which the author had once worked, was one of the newspapers that paid for the privilege. Set in nineteenth-century Quebec, the novella starts out as social commentary, moves to adventure, and ends as a love story. Jac Mars' illustration, which first appeared in the April 1962 edition of Woman's Realm, has nothing to do with Barr's story. There are no embraces, but one can imagine. My wife, a thirty-year veteran of the fashion industry, informs that the clothing is all wrong, and finds equal fault in Prince Classics' bind-up of "One Days Courtship" and Barr's 1894 novel In the Midst of Alarms:


To those who prefer In the Midst of Alarms on its own, Prince Classics can provide. The image they use, W.T. Brenda's Woman Riding Zebra, first saw print on the cover of Life (30 November 1922).

I remind that In the Midst of Alarms is set in 1866 and concerns the Fenian Raids across the Niagara River into what is today southern Ontario.

No zebras figure.

Longtime readers may remember my disappointment with In the Midst of Alarms. Barr is shaping up to be one of those writers who run hot and cold with me. I didn't think much of One Day's Courtship and The Heralds of Fame (1896), but remain enthusiastic about Revenge!(1896), The Unchanging East (1900), and The Triumphs of Eugène Valmont (1906)Prince Classics offers an edition of the last of these three: 


Don't know about that cover. Valmont looks like a down-on-his-luck gumshoe, whereas Barr describes our hero as "dressed in elegant attire, as if he were still a boulevardier of Paris." Here's Valmont, as depicted in the frontispiece of the first edition:


And then we have Prince Classics' pairing of The O'Ruddy (1903) and The Red Badge of Courage (1895). The latter is familiar to millions as Stephen Crane's great novel of the American Civil War. The O'Ruddy is the novel Crane was writing when he died. Robert Barr picked up his fallen pen and finished the novel. 


I've yet to read The O'Ruddy or The Red Badge of Courage, and so step out on a limb in describing the cover of Tekla (1898) as the most incongruous amongst Prince Classics' Barr offerings. A historical romance it's set in the thirteenth century.


Of all Barr books offered by Prince Classics, the one that most tempts is A Woman Intervenes (1896), but only because it recycles a painting by Tom Dunn. 


It was commissioned for the Pocket Books edition of Nicholas Monsarrat's The Story of Esther Costello.*


I'm getting on, but am not so old as to be familiar with the bibliography of Nicholas Monsarrat. It turns out that The Story of Esther Costello was the author's follow-up to The Cruel Sea. When published, in 1952, the novel caused some pearl clutching. Five years later, The Story of Esther Costello was adapted by Hollywood in a film starring Joan Crawford and Rossano Brazzi. From what I understand, the synopsis Wikipedia editor Sky Captain provides is equally applicable to the novel:
With her marriage to womaniser Carlo Landi (Rossano Brazzi) in ashes, wealthy and childless Margaret Landi (Joan Crawford) finds an emotional outlet in patronizing a 15-year-old deaf, dumb, and blind Irish girl named Esther Costello (Heather Sears). Esther's disabilities are the result of a childhood trauma and are psychosomatic rather than physical. As Costello makes progress with Braille and sign language, she is seen as an example of triumph over adversity. Carlo gets wind of Margaret's new life and re-enters the scene. He views Esther as a source of cheap financial gain and arranges a series of exploitative tours for her under a mercenary manager Frank Wenzel (Ron Randell). One day when Margaret is absent from the Landi apartment, Carlo seduces and rapes the now 16-year-old Esther. The shock restores the girl's sight and hearing. When Margaret learns of her husband's business duplicities and the rape, she consigns Esther to the care of a priest and a young reporter who loves her (Lee Patterson). Margaret then kills Carlo and herself.
Good God.

The Vancouver Sun
4 December 1957

If the November 1896 review is anything to go by, Barr's A Woman Intervenes isn't nearly so unpleasant:


I'm keen on reading one of the two.

You can guess which.
* My thanks to Jim Stephenson for identifying the Avati painting. Thanks also to my old pal Chris Kelly, who suggested the former had been used to illustrate a book titled Backstage: My Life with Clarence Darrow, the Amnesiac, and the Red Ladder. Coffee up my nose.

23 August 2021

Double Fantasy



One Day's Courtship and The Heralds of Fame
Robert Barr
New York: Stokes, 1896
219 pages

Novellas both, "One Day's Courtship" and "The Herald's of Fame" were first gathered for book publication with a third tale, "From Whose Bourne." That the resulting volume was titled From Whose Bourne, etc. says much, I think.

"From Whose Bourne" is one of the earliest attempts at marrying the supernatural with what was then the emerging mystery genre. In the story, the spirit of a murdered man, William Brenton, follows the investigation of his widow, Alice, who is accused of having committed the crime.

From Whose Bourne, etc.
Robert Barr
London: Chatto & Windus, 1893

"One Day's Courtship" and "The Heralds of Fame" are lighter fare and aren't nearly so groundbreaking. Both are woven from tired worn threads we continue to today in today's romantic comedies. Each relies heavily on coincidence and unfortunate misunderstandings. Neither is recommended, though both may appeal to those interested in nineteenth-century depictions of artistic and literary life. Lovers of rom coms will find more satisfaction with Netflix.

"One Day's Courtship" concerns landscape painter John Trenton, who returns to Shawinigan Falls – "Shawenegan Falls" in all editions – with the intent of capturing its beauty on canvas. He was first made aware of the natural wonder through a letter sent by an admirer and lesser talent.

Shawinigan Falls, 1904

As it will turn out – I spoil things a bit here – that letter came from a young woman named Eva Sommerton. A very pretty, very wealthy American, Miss Sommerton has hired a canoe and crew to take her to the falls. Owing to a comical mix-up, John Trenton has hired that very same canoe and crew. Each thinks the other the interloper! What's more, neither knows the identity of the other!

You can imagine to possibilities.

"The Herald's of Fame" is lighter still, though I enjoyed it more. It's hero, Kenan Buel, is a young Englishman with two published novels under his belt. Neither did all that well, so it comes as some surprise when American publisher L.F. Brant expresses interest in his third. Brant reads the proofs when visiting Buel's London publisher and pays £20 for the American rights. Because he'd entered negotiations with the expectation of paying £100, Brant gives the author the difference.

It's all too wonderful. Buel now has more money than he's ever had, and so accepts his American publisher's invitation to visit New York. At the dock, the novelist enters W.H. Smith and Sons, where he spies a young woman looking over the "New Books" shelf. She hesitates over Buel's latest before settling on a title written by our hero's idol, the great novelist J Lawless Hodden. Owing to a comical mix-up, that young woman – a very pretty, very wealthy American named Caroline Jessop – finds herself with a copy of Buel's new novel.

Buel himself ends up sharing his ship's cabin with none other than J Lawless Hodden. The latter proves a mean, cheap, and deceitful bastard, and pretends that he paid for a private cabin. Miss Jessop, who just happens to be in the neighbouring suite, overhears the conflict and clasps her hands together in glee at the drama of it all. Of a sudden, Hodden, whose work she'd admired, is out; Buel is her new favourite. And so begins the flirtation.

I found this exchange between Miss Jessop and Mr Buel clever:

“I only wish I could write. Then I would let you know what I think of you.”
     “Oh, don’t publish a book about us. I wouldn’t like to see war between the two countries.”
     Miss Jessop laughed merrily for so belligerent a person.
     “War?” she cried. “I hope yet to see an American army camped in London.”
     “If that is your desire, you can see it any day in summer. You will find them tenting out at the Metropole and all the expensive hotels. I bivouacked with an invader there some weeks ago, and he was enduring the rigours of camp life with great fortitude, mitigating his trials with unlimited champagne.’’
     “Why, Mr. Buel,” cried the girl admiringly, “you’re beginning to talk just like an American yourself.”
     “Oh, now, you are trying to make me conceited.”
     Miss Jessop sighed, and shook her head.
     “I had nearly forgotten,” she said, “that I despised you. I remember now why I began to walk with you. It was not to talk frivolously, but to show you the depth of my contempt!      Since yesterday you have gone down in my estimation from 190 to 56.”
     “Fahrenheit?”
     “No, that was a Wall Street quotation. Your stock has ‘slumped,’ as we say on the Street.”
     “Now you are talking Latin, or worse, for I can understand a little Latin.”
I was never nearly so good at flirting, but imagine my readers are.

For that reason, I cannot recommend.

You heartbreakers have nothing to learn.

Object: A very attractive book with frontispiece by Edmund Frederick (above). Following the two novellas, the publisher tacks on five pages of adverts. The earliest are the most interesting, but only because of the series title:

The twentieth century, then several years in the future, didn't treat any of the titles well. Robert Barr's In the Midst of Alarms, a semi-comic novel of the Fenian Raids, saw no editions in the twentieth century. The same is true for his short story collection The Face and the Mask, despite high praise from Arthur Conan Doyle. The other books are unfamiliar – even the Ouida – but I'd buy I Married a Wife for the title alone. The author's name is a bonus.

My copy was purchased earlier this year from a bookseller in Florida. Price: US$9.95.

Access: Copies of One Day's Courtship and The Heralds of Fame can be found at Library and Archives Canada, the Canadian Museum of History, Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec, and thirty-three of our academic libraries. 

No copies are listed for sale online.

My edition can be read through this link thanks to the good folks at the Thomas Fisher Library and the Internet Archive.

Related post:

16 August 2021

The Brian Moore Centenary Festival (and Me)



This coming Thursday, August 19th, marks the start of Lonely Passions: The Brian Moore Centenary Festival. A seven-day celebration organized by Belfast's Paradosso Theatre, it kicks of with an evening event featuring Colm Toíbín, Bernard McLaverty and Tara Ison. Hugh Odling-Smee will host.

The festival features sixteen events in total. I'm participating in one, this coming Saturday, in which I'll discussing Brian Moore's Montreal years and seven pulp novels with the brilliant Joanna Braniff.


Because of bloody Covid, this is a virtual event. On the positive side, the only ticket you'll need to attend is the one that can be purchased through this link.

Please do consider.


09 August 2021

Dustiest Bookcase: R is for Richardson

Short pieces on books I've always meant to review (but haven't).

Desired Haven
Evelyn M. Richardson
Toronto: Ryerson, 1953
286 pages

Contemporary newspaper accounts record Evelyn M. Richardson's surprise when her first book, We Keep a Light, received the 1945 Governor's General Award for Creative Non-Fiction. I wonder whether she felt something similar when her second book, Desired Haven, won the All-Canada Fiction Award.

A debut novel, Desired Haven revolves around Mercy Nickerson, the desirable daughter of a Nova Scotia sea captain, and her romance with "Dan Redmond, the handsome son of an Irish gentleman."*

I'm pretty sure that's meant to be Mercy and Dan on the jacket, as depicted by American illustrator Walter Seaton.

My copy was rescued seven years ago from an outdoor book stall on a sunny, busy street in London, Ontario. You'll note that the dust jacket doesn't quite fit. This may be because it's a Sears' Peoples Book Club jacket wrapped around a Ryerson Press book.

The Peoples Book Club existed from June, 1943 through 1959. Literary historian Christine D'Arpa informs: "Sears established a publishing house in Chicago that designed and printed the book club editions and the club’s monthly catalog." As she notes, very little has been written about the Peoples Book Club, despite it once having over 350,000 members.

Desired Haven was published the year after Sears – as part of Simpsons-Sears – began operating in Canada. Was its Peoples Book Club also operating in Canada?

I've yet to uncover evidence.

The copy I picked up all those years ago in London adds intrigue by including this, which I took to be the front flap torn from the Ryerson jacket:

It led to the discovery that Walter Seaton's cover illustration was not the original. This is the cover of the Ryerson edition:

I'm betting it's the work of Arthur Steven.

Note the difference in trim sizes between the People Book Club edition (left) and Ryerson's:

There's so much to explore, including this, which appears on the front free endpaper:


Desired Haven set me back a dollar.

Clearly, I've more got more than my money's worth... and I haven't even read it.

* Here I quote the Peoples Book Club jacket.

Related posts: