MOTHER KNOWS BEST...

...Which was what got my attention at the library giveaway shelves.

This was a quick shot before having to catch a bus. At second glance though, it's an impressive mix of oddities. Plus a title (third from the left) that can only be about heathens seeing the light.

Merry Merchandising To All...

2003; from "The WALK THE TALK Company"...

Number 7 is a good one: "Santa" profits from those helpful elves, so industriously reporting on the co-workers...

Sign "Your Committment Letter (To Santa Claus)" with a Ho, Ho, Ho!

And to all, a merry Buy More Product!

Creating with Printing Materials

1969 translation of a 1968 German teaching guide. I find the credits confusingly Germanic, but here goes. Author is Lothar Kampmann, acknowledging work by students of the Ruhr Advanced Teachers' Training College, Dortmund Section. That acknowledgement apparently applies to a section illustrating techniques, some used in succession to create complex prints. The book also credits illustrations from other printed sources, along with a school in Trantenroth, Bochum (also the Ruhr), the Kothe-Marxmeier School (the source of at least some of the student work reproduced, it would seem).

When introducing a variety of techniques, authorial outlook is sometimes philosophical.

It starts with fingermarks
We see our children's first printing achievements on wallpaper and windowpanes, in magazines and books: their fingermarks. They are greasy or black with dirt Sometimes jam makes them coloured. They may be annoying to the housewife, but technically they are genuine poducts of printing. The young artist merely has to be guided on to the right lines.

Dirt and jam make way to colour. The little cups of the poster-paint box are ideal as the first inking pads. Since the tip of the thumb and the fingertips are of different sizes, we already have various sizes of block available for finger painting.

This is not by any means a technique only for infants' schools. Masters as eminent as Pablo Picasso have repeatedly made use of fingerprinting in lithography.

...

The whole hand, too is a suitable block. The print of a single hand can be extended with a print of the edge of the hand, the single whole fingers, or the fingertips. Or 'many hands' are used for printing.

Such handprints are known from the very early days of man. Neanderthal and Lascaux man used earth-coloured handprints in their cave paintings. One can rightly regard the fingerprint as the beginning of printing both for the individual and the human race.

In the sample work by students, ages range from nine to the teens. Some of this looks pretty sophisticated to me.

'Two Figures' (girl, 16). Paper print of patterns cut out of cartridge paper. Water colours.

Mostly, students observed their surroundings.

'In Port' (boy, 11). Grey-tone lino-cut.

'View of the Town through Scaffolding' (boy, 14). A lino-cut in which shape and white-line printing are combined.

'Industrial Landscape' (boy, 15). Two-colour roller print, brown and black block-printing ink.

'My Daddy is a Miner' (girl, 9). Print-through from a glass plate. All accidental features are reproduced.

Images suggests the region's heavy industry was still very evident in the 1960s. Now, notes wiki, Dortmund

...is known as Westphalia's "green metropolis". Nearly half the municipal territory consists of waterways, woodland, agriculture and green spaces with spacious parks... This stands in a stark contrast with nearly a hundred years of extensive coal mining and steel milling in the past.

Gritty though the area may have been at the time of this publication, that didn't stop the author from finding this merited a stern finger wag.

'Bicycles Outside the Playground' (boy, 14). Print-through monotype.
This is not how they should be left, blocking the entrance.

Industrial landscapes may have changed, but this 12-year old girl's lino-cut observes a scene that remains familiar (and pretty much universal).

'After a day's work, only Mummy has to carry on'

THE PLAIN MAN'S GUIDE TO WINE

1961. From the front matter—

TO HIS FRIENDS, AND, AS HE MAY NOW SAY,
    HIS COLLEAGUES OF THE JURADE OF ST.
     EMILION THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY
                            DEDICATED
  BY THE AUTHOR, RAYMOND POSTGATE,
       CHANCELIER D'AMBASSADE POUR
                LA GRANDE BRETAGNE

That's the only illustration. Even so, I'm always fascinated by such period books that present fine dining and wining as topics of potential interest to anyone, not an elite. Though it's also depressing to see the degree of literacy exhibited, from the vantage point of a time when even basic literacy is not evident in most spheres.

Following his dedication, Postgate cites a poem in Latin, by Canon Walter Map. This translation follows—

It is my proposed aim to die in an inn; let wine be placed to the lips of the dying man, so that, when they come. The chorus of angels may say: 'God be kind to this drinker.'

The translation is presumably Postgate's own, though he adds this exegesis—

The translation does not do justice to the Latin of this agreeable poem. Propostium, for example, has an intentionally formal character: 'this is the proposition,' it says, as if the matter were put before a meeting and the Canon were looking round for a seconder.... Observe, too, how, being a Prebendary of St. Paul's as well as a Canon, the author writes chori, choruses; for you or me, perhaps, one brisk cherub will suffice, but as an escort to heaven he knows he is entitled to at least two ranks of angels. He was chaplain to Henry II and aware of his importance. He unwisely added other verses to these; they are of no importance.

Dated it may be, and getting to the punch lines takes a little reading on. Still, I can't help but enjoy an occasional serving of this style.

These are the contents of chapter 1—

THE ELEMENTS

Simplicity of wine-drinking — Falsehoods of the Wine Snob — 'Drink what you like' — Smoking — List of chief varieties of wine — Apéritifs, table wines, dessert wines — Temperature of wine, shaking of wine, wine with food — The vintages that matter — Glasses — How to taste wine — The minimum of knowledge on a postcard.

The "post card" is closest the book comes to having a second illustration.

Water All Around

Withdrawn school library book, found on the public library sales reject-overflow cart—

1959 (first ed.)

Science explained simply and entertainingly, with charming illustrations by Bernice Myers.

Sometimes the water vapor itself, high up in the air, freezes instead of condensing into water droplets.
The frozen water vapor falls.
We have snow

...water sometimes flows up!

This was part of a series by the same authors and illustrator (Electricity/Friction/Gravity/Light/Sounds... All Around). Fishink has samples of other books in the series. Like "Water," the rest of the series used B&W and two-tone illustrations. The link also has some wonderful, more colorful illustrations from other books, and those apparently are more typical of Myers' work. Elsewhere, Eric Sturdevant has illustrations from some French titles.

Fishink proprietor Craig adds—

I did get in touch with Bernice who told me that she was flattered to be featured on my blog. How great is that !! She also mentioned that the work you see above [All Around series], helped her to pass a test for a Ford Foundation Scholarship, where she learnt enough to go for a specially created college degree. Some 60 books later and she's still working !

That was in 2012; it seems she's still at work, though she doesn't have a web presence herself. Just fans posting stuff; according to this, she turned 90 last April. I do find that I recognize her son from his jazz writing.

She often collaborated with her husband, Lou Myers. He died at 90 in 2005, continuing to work until nearly the end. The Times' obit is fascinating in its details of Lou's life and career, apart from childrens' books.

The couple lived for years in Paris, and their collaboration is an intriguing one. A jacket image from Studevant's blog—

Childrens' books, 1959, and roles that were (to say the least) gendered... Although, if Mother was stuck in the kitchen while Father had the fun...

... Ms. Myers managed to slip in a hint about Mother's physical and emotional state...

March Comes In

Around these parts, it's not really a lion's roar: it's Old Man Winter dumping more snow. But Childcraft represents the more usual idea of the season—

Illustration: [Mary] Latham

I do like those post-war fashions.

And unlike what happened to gents, the March wind of yesteryear never dared interfere with a lady's hat.

Divided Attention

Childcraft (v 2): Storytelling and Other Poems
1949 - Field Enterprises, Chicago

It seems this volume first appeared in 1923, as The Child's Treasury. The original publisher, W.F. Quarrie & Company, issued several editions into the 1930s; editions from 1939 to 1947 were published by the Quarrie Corporation.

Fields Enterprises (headed by an heir to Marshall Field) had moved into publishing by buying The Chicago Sun in 1944. From 1945 to 1978 the company owned the World Book encyclopedia. It seems the Childcraft series also was marketed by encyclopedia salesmen.

Other titles in series.

Endpapers—

The text has at least one illustration for page, with a single artist illustrating a 2-page spread. As a number of different artists are represented, the book is interesting for variations in period styles aimed at children.

Text is grouped in three sections: "Poems for Everyday," "Humorous Poems," "Storytelling Poems and Ballads."

Near the end is this colorful spread—

Patriotism here—

Followed by some broadening of the sales market—

I'll have to get to more illustrations in future, but another item of interest for now is an item left in the book. It would seem that around the 1980s, this copy was handed down to a child with more up-to-date daydreams than those the Fields Co. promoted—

Page from a tear-out sticker book (to scale)

Problem Solved (In Under 100 Pages)

Young Adult fiction, 1974—

Full of '70s problems, for this California family. Parents' divorce, father's remarriage and suicide are the background. The current problem: 11-year old Chloris can't accept the loss of her father, and chooses to believe in a rosy past unlike the family's real history. And she's mad at her mother, who not only dates men as the novel opens, but has—a mere 59 pages later—married a widowed Mexican artist.

The new step-father: "Fidel Mancha"—as in Man of La ...

Faithful, indeed: Fidel's quest will be not against windmills, but to break through to Chloris, and end her increasingly dangerous behavior.

As described by the narrator, 8-year old sister Jenny, Fidel is a man of infinite patience, folk wisdom, and—

He is the happiest man I ever met. He is always laughing. When he isn't laughing, he sings or whistles.

Quite the catch—

Mom walked smack into the gallery that was exhibiting his paintings and sculpture pieces. She liked everything she saw, she said. Mr. Mancha was there, too, as most of the artists are at opening nights of their exhibitions. They got to talking to each other about this and that and discovered they had a lot in common. According to Mom, she didn't think about him being Mexican, one way or the other. All she saw was a very talented, big-hearted, good-natured human being. She found out he was a widower, and he found out she was a divorcee, and that was the beginning of everything.

On the other hand, to make him a bit less than super-human, "he has a big belly that swells out over his silver belt buckle."(Unless the belly and silver meant as details making him an extra-jolly Mexican ...)

Jenny's openness to Fidel  is used to introduce issues other than step-parenting—

Mr. Mancha is very easy to talk to and one day I asked him how come there were so few Chicanos at school, and what did they do to get out of it. Mr. Mancha explained that most black and browns were poor and couldn't get good jobs. That was why they couldn't afford to live in good neighborhoods like ours and go to our good school.

"This is a very good country," he said, "but some people are not so lucky. To be born the wrong color is a big mistake."

"But that's not fair," I said. "They can't help it."

Mr. Mancha smiled.
...

"So, how come?"

"Don't forget the Indians," Mr. Mancha said. "I think maybe they are even worse off."

"That's different," I said. "Indians used to scalp people. They attacked our wagon trains. They scalped all the helpless women and children."

Mr. Mancha looked puzzled. "Where did you hear that?"

"I saw it myself on TV"...

Mr. Mancha nodded and pursed his lips and didn't say anything. He didn't seem convinced. Maybe he's so busy painting pictures that he never gets to watch TV and you can miss a lot that way. I've probably seen over a hundred Indian massacres already and I'm only eight years old.

Mother and daughters soon move to Fidel's place, so he can be near his studio. The house (of course) is charming and artistic, in the natural surroundings of a peaceful canyon. The new setting lets Fidel school the girls on California history—

"All this land you are sitting on now... was once owned by Mexicanos. From here to the sea. Up north past Malibu and Santa Barbara. And Orange County, too—Yorba Linda, where our President was born—all California was Mexicano. They were the real Californios."

When Jenny asks how come, Fidel elucidates for a page and a half: missions and ranchos, land grants and treaties. Choris ostentatiously goes to her room, but Jenny wants to stay and hear the end.

"That's the whole story, little one. From now on, when you hear of some poor chicano complaining about how he is being treated, you will understand why. There was a time when he was somebody in this country."

I stood facing him, "I don't have anything against the chicanos, Fidel. And remember, I didn't take their land away from them. I'm only eight years old."

Fidels's laughter followed me all the way upstairs.

Well, it's really not a bad treatment for young readers, even if Platt can lay things on thickly, between the lessons and the dialog he gives his 8-year old.

Fidel's sense of justice also leaves him unimpressed by money. He makes art that interests him, selling if he chooses. When he buys Choris gifts he knows she's longed for, the gifts get "lost," or turn up damaged beyond use. When Jenny tells him he's wasting his good money, he laughs that money isn't important, it's what a person feels inside that counts. Jenny's reaction—

I looked up at Fidel, kind of disgusted. Had he had all those hundred thousand acres given to the original Don Bernardo Yorba during the Mexican reign, he would have given them all away if he felt like it.

Yup:  Jenny's narration does tend to be on the overly precocious and omniscient side. Though when the sisters speak with each other, Platt inserts slang—both period ("Right on!"), and—well—odd (they constantly exclaim, "Gy!")

I assumed "gy" was meant to be "gee," in a guise somehow more '70s What's Happening Now (a bit like the spelling, "phat," decades later). But Platt has one of the mother's pre-page 59 suitors ask the girls what's that word they keep using—

Mom answered for me. "The kids use it nowadays the way we used "Gee,' 'gosh' or 'golly.' They shortened it to Gy, pronounced Guy."

The laboriousness of this gives me the feeling that "Gy" was not exactly on everyone's lips. Perhaps the author was trying to invent Valley Girl speak, a few years ahead of its time?

Big belly aside, Fidel's character verges on romance novel wish-fulfillment; after all, what unattached gal wouldn't be attracted to such a wise, kind, teddy bear of a guy? And what hurting step-child wouldn't eventually warm to him? Never mind Chloris' attempt to burn down his studio; by the end, Fidel's sensitivity to her feelings, as expressed in his art, will reach her. Then she can stop being, in Jenny's words, "the biggest creep of all." All achieved from Fidel's introduction at page 59, to the conclusion at page 156.

Followed by these ads: more YA titles and authors I've never heard of.

The second two seem pretty much forgotten. But Donovan's book was reissued in 2010, and is considered the first YA general reader fiction to present a same-sex relationship between protagonists.

But I do remember this author and title—something for the 1970s adult reader—

Family Album

Judged by its cover, this library sale leftover looked more than a little bizarre—

"Grub," according to Goodall's introduction, was simply the family's nickname for son Hugo Eric Louis van Lawick, who spent extended periods of infancy and early childhood accompanying his parents on research trips.

Or, as the pictures and words have it—

There was a time when chimps came first in their lives...

but then things changed.

Grub, says Goodall

... had learned to imitate the roar of a lion, the whooping call of a hyena, the strange high-pitched bark of a zebra, and the grunting and lowing of a wildebeeste long before he could speak a single word of human language.

...

By the time Grub was two he could recognize and identify most of the different sorts of wild animals we encountered around camp or on our drives, just as a city child may pick out different makes of cars he sees in the streets. Grub stands no more danger of being attacked by a wild animal than a city child of being knocked over by a car, but from dawn to dusk our son is never out of the sight of some responsible person.

With pictures mostly by the photographer father, this originally was intended for grandparents and other family, not for publication, says Goodall.

But because so many people enjoyed it we decided that the pictorial account of a baby's life, in surroundings quite out of the ordinary to most people, might be appealing to other children and perhaps to their parents as well.

The result is a weirdly arresting mix: pictures from a childhood lived exceptionally close to a dramatic natural world—

Accompanied by the cutesiest of captions.

I made sure I didn't get left behind...

when Daddy and Mummy packed up to drive 600 miles to the shores of Lake Tanganyika

where the chimps are.
Mummy and Daddy built a whole, huge, strong, well-provisioned cage...

for ME!

In the next year's return to the field—

One morning I asked Mummy to help me study an elephant. But she wouldn't go close enough,

so I decided to study zebra on my own.

When I had finished I rushed back to tell Mummy about them.

The next day we moved to the Serengeti and I was able to get my first close look at a giraffe. Unfortunately it galloped away when Mummy ran after me.

Soon after this Daddy employed two nannies...

they were HUGE fun!

I always helped to collect firewood.

After reassuring readers about adult supervision, the book closes with Grub's kindergarten career ("I attended the local school and enjoyed outdoor sports the most")...

But I kept up O.K. with the academic side, too.

The End...

I've grown up a lot this year. I've learned to be ready for anything.
Now I'm all set for my next safari.