Fellow Traveler?

A Middle-earth Traveler: Sketches from Bag-End to Mordor (2018) by John Howe is the last of my post-birthday, pre-postmortem (for The Rings of Power) Middle-earth purchases, a collection of art and reminiscences from John Howe, the lesser concept artist from the Jackson Tolkien films, produced after the Hobbit trilogy. Howe is on the verge of being in my bad books at the moment for his defense of the upcoming Amazon production, but I suppose he must support it for commercial reasons, and from a design standpoint it seems … passable, if occasionally regrettable. I suppose Howe will even release some sort of connected art book. In which case, I might feel doubts about buying it. A Middle-earth Traveler may be the last book of his that I can whole-heartedly support.

“Combining concept work produced for films, existing Middle-earth art, and many new paintings and sketches exclusive to this book, A Middle-earth Traveler will take the reader on a unique and unforgettable journey across Tolkien’s magical landscape”. – Amazon.

Lord He’p Me

Having recently finished an (inaccurate) count of my books, I am now engaged in preparing an actual list that will help me nail down the precise number. I don’t know how much this is encouraged by my squirrel-like urge near the end of summer to turn over my hoard or my possible (if undiagnosed) obsessive/compulsive tendencies. What I do know is that this list is not the ultimate end of my compulsion.

What I want the list for is something more devious. Let me explain. The question occasionally arises in my mind: what if I am forced by circumstances into a smaller space, and must make some Solomonic decision as to which books would I keep, and which could I do without? What, really, is the core collection? What if I just decide, in some moment of sober self-reflection (it’s happened before), that I don’t need everything I’ve been clinging to all these years?

Thank God I don’t have to get rid of any (just yet), but the theoretical plagues me, and teases me as a mind game. A game I feel I must play, just to see the outcome. How will I choose between my multiple copies of Alice in Wonderland, The Wind in the Willows, of Grimm’s Fairy Tales? I think I even have copies of The Hobbit that I could squeak by without … but the pain of letting them go! Still, it is a horror that can be relished in the imagination and thinking of it makes me appreciate them better in reality.

When the list is complete, I’ll mark the essentials with a pound sign, and the dispensable with an asterisk. Then I will know exactly how many books I have, and how many I really ‘need’. I’ll post the results here; probably not the actual list, as that would be a tedious task, especially if I feel compelled to explain the reasons for my decisions. It is a game best played privately, but I thought I’d mention what I’m up to in my spare moments.

Another Interesting Side Note

 

I have had Rack Toys: Cheap, Crazed Playthings by Brian Heiler (‘Brick Mantooth’) on my Wish List so long that it went into a Second Edition! But John, who has been following the YouTube videos and podcasts of this pop-cultural aficionado, has actually gone ahead and bought it, and brought it over yesterday for me to peruse in person for myself. And what a blast it is proving to be.

As you probably know, rack toys are those ‘cheap, crazed playthings’ that existed on spinner racks and in cardboard display boxes, very inexpensive and eminently flimsy, meant to amuse and distract children for a little while at most before breaking and being discarded. Some were licensed merchandise (Star Trek, Planet of the Apes, DC Superheroes, etc) and some were merely their own weird knockoff items, but all were fascinating to the child-like mind. Why would Spiderman have a helicopter? Why would Superman need a parachute? It didn’t matter, because the figure itself was detachable and could be played with on its own. The heyday of these products was smack in the middle of our childhood: the Seventies.

As I turned page after page, I greeted old friends with cries of recognition. A Mighty Thor finger puppet (just the head and shoulders), a bendable alien from Close Encounters of the Third Kind, more bendies in the form of the Universal Monsters, a ‘Bakshi Balrog’ from The Sword and the Sorcerer, PVC Groovie  Goolies, and even the higher-end ‘Action Apeman’ (a knockoff of the Planet of the Apes in a near-Mego format). I list the ones we still have, but almost as interesting are the ‘alternate universe’ items we might have had were the timelines different.

But as John pointed out, we are united with Brian Heiler (who is our near-contemporary) not only in our possession and interest in these toys, but also in the very thoughts and comments that arise from them! Time and time again we find in this book ideas that arose all the way back when we were kids and things that have occurred to us as we examine them now. It is even more obvious in his videos. ‘Brick Mantooth’ is not just an author, he is a kindred spirit.

Now the question arises: will I or should I buy my own copy?

Wishes Do Come True

I spent all yesterday waiting for delivery of this book, which Amazon assured me was going to arrive before 8 PM. At 8 PM they finally gave in and admitted that it would be arriving late, and I could stop obsessively checking the porch every half hour. I was a little worried. It was the last of my ‘birthday books’ and had cost almost $70; I didn’t want it sitting out all night with possible rain in the forecast or vulnerable to theft. But it was there at 9 AM, delivered this morning, and soon safe in my waiting arms.

“Tolkien: Maker of Middle-earth explores the huge creative endeavor behind Tolkien’s enduring popularity. Lavishly illustrated with three hundred images of his manuscripts, drawings, maps, and letters, the book traces the creative process behind his most famous literary works—The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and The Silmarillion—and reproduces personal photographs and private papers, many of which have never been seen before in print.” – Amazon.

It is edited by Catherine McIlwaine, Tolkien Archivist at the Bodleian Library, and also contains six essays covering aspects of Tolkien’s life and imagination by the likes of Tom Shippey, John Garth, and Verlyn Flieger. This hardback clocks in at 146 pages, is 9.5 inches wide and 10 inches tall, and a full one and a half inches thick. It is connected to and commemorates the Bodleian Libraries’ summer 2018 exhibition of Tolkien’s life and works and was published on July 25^th of that year – on my birthday!

McIlwaine has also edited Tolkien: Treasures which showcases the highlights of the Tolkien archives held at the Bodleian Library and is kind of a slimmed down, less expensive version of Maker, and she has contributed to the recently published The Great Tales Never End: Essays in Honor of Christopher Tolkien, which is definitely on my radar.

The book itself is a beautiful object. You can’t tell from the picture, but that TOLKIEN on the cover is in gold leaf. Although I have many of the pictures contained therein, scattered around in other books that I own, there are, as stated, many others that have never been published. There is one of Tolkien’s drawings, labeled “The Back of Beyond” which is alone almost worth the price of admission. The reproduction of every picture is of the highest quality and the size reveals details clearer than ever. One can see the texture of the original papers themselves, so it is nearly like handling the genuine artifact. It seems to put you one step closer to Tolkien and his world.

Right now, the book resides on the top shelf of the Inkling Archive, but I believe I will have to demote some lesser work and find a place for Tolkien: Maker of Middle-earth in the Tolkien Shrine itself.

Lucifer, We Hardly Knew Ye

I spent much of Friday night and some of Saturday morning watching the long-anticipated adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman on Netflix. I have heard some complaints (or to be more accurate, I have heard many complaints about the complaints) about the race- and gender-swapping that occurred between the adaption from the comic to the show. Frankly, I don’t care one way or the other; it makes surprising little difference to the storytelling, which remains superb. But then it is neither horrifying blasphemy nor a brave necessary redressing of an error. As far as characters are his creations, he has every right to control their representation.  But while Neil Gaiman can retrofit his own work as much as he likes, I do not think he should have made the DC canonical figure of Lucian into Lucienne (though I think I can see the dramatic reason why he did it).

Nor do I have any problem with the character of Lucifer Morningstar being played by a woman. Angels (even fallen angels) have no gender; this is why Gaiman himself first imagined Lucifer as the androgynous rock star David Bowie. There is no reason why it should matter one whit whether the devil is played by a man or a woman. But I was rather hoping for something more like this:

Tilda Swinton as the angel Gabriel in “Constantine”

Rather than this:

Sorry, that was actually Florence Foster Spencer, renowned as The World’s Worst Opera Singer. Here is Gwendoline Christie as the Netflix Sandman Lucifer:

You can see my momentary confusion. I’m not saying the Fallen One cannot or should not be played by a woman; I just don’t know if this lipstick Lucifer would be the image I would choose for the role.

I don’t know, though. She’s giving off kind of a Dolores Umbridge (Imelda Staunton) vibe. I guess that’s pretty evil?

An Interesting Side Note

 

Yesterday evening Susan and Andy came over to show me a couple of items they had bought at an estate sale. They were two old Japanese fairy tale books that they had got for Kameron because of his interest in Japanese culture. They were somewhat damaged (one lacked a front cover and the other had a chunk out of the detached spine) and I don’t think they paid over ten dollars for them. But you could tell they had been beautifully made and exquisitely printed, on strangely textured, limp, but strong sheets. My curiosity was aroused, and using only the titles (The Serpent with Eight Heads and The Silly Jellyfish) did some quick research.

It turns out they were Volumes 9 and 13 of a “Japanese Fairy Tale Series, Nos. 1-20 (English), complete set of 20 numbers, Tokyo, all but one carry the 17 Kami Negishi address for Hasegawa, small size for a Hasegawa/Kobunsha book, small 18mo (4 x 6 in - 10.3 x 15.1~2 cm), crepe paper in folded sheets. -  http://www.baxleystamps.com/litho/hasegawa/20vol.shtml

Hasegawa Takejirō (長谷川武次郎, 1853–1938) was an innovative Japanese publisher specializing in books in European languages on Japanese subjects. Hasegawa employed leading foreign residents as translators and noted Japanese artists as illustrators, and became a leading purveyor of export books and publications for foreign residents in Japan. – Wikipedia.

Chirimen, or crepe, is a Japanese textile that has a fine, wrinkled texture. For centuries it has been used to make kimono, furoshiki (wrapping cloth), and many other decorative objects used in daily life. I recently learned of the genre of books made not with textile crepe but with crepe paper (chirimen-gami). Called Chirimen-bon (crepe-paper books), their covers and text pages are made entirely of crepe paper. Chirimen-bon were first produced by Takejiro Hasegawa, who began to publish them in 1886, not long after trade reopened between Japan and the West after almost 300 years of isolation. Japonisme was much enjoyed in Europe, and chirimen-e, or chirimen-ukiyoe—woodcut prints that are processed to add texture—were popular by that time.  https://www.metmuseum.org/blogs/in-circulation/2016/crepe-paper

Depending on which edition and printing they are from, these books are anything from one hundred to a hundred and twenty years old. Their condition, as I stated, is poor, and they would probably not be worth anything to a serious collector. Still, they are wondrous little things and a connection to the past. It would be curious to know how they came to be in our small Texas town, whether the owner had the whole series, and if they were collectors or just some long ago children who got them as an entertaining present once upon a time. The mind slowly blossoms with musing on it. In the meantime, these orphans of the storm have a new home with a new family and just might stay with them for the next hundred years.   

Just In Yesterday: The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt

 

I figured that before I read Theodore Rex, I should probably start with The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt, the first and Pulitzer Prize-winning volume in Edmund Morris's biographical trilogy. Not only is it the revised and updated edition, this nice thick brick of a book is in pretty good condition and even with shipping only cost about five dollars; it was here in a flash. If I like these two well enough, I might be on the lookout for the third volume, Colonel Roosevelt. Teddy has always been a colorful and even controversial fellow. Does he really deserve that head on Mt. Rushmore? When I finish reading I might have a better idea.