This edition copyright: June 1924, by Grosset & Dunlap
Illustrated by Modest Stein
“The Brass Commandments” is a tale of a western man who lays down the law to the locals and woos a rustic, western maiden. It’s rather predictable, and there’s not much exceptional about it. It’s not very good, or terrible. Largely just a mediocre western novel. As Ron Scheer put it:
”Along with Zane Grey and William MacLeod Raine, Charles Alden Seltzer is remembered today as an originator of what’s often called the formula western. In it, a cowboy hero of sterling qualities, who is fast with a gun, meets and subdues a vicious villain. While this part of the story plays out, the cowboy also wins the heart and hand of a pretty sweetheart.”
“Brass Commandments” is nothing special, and nothing to get excited over. There are far better western novels (and historical accounts!) to read. It’s a little heavy on romance and the goodness of the primitive “elements and instincts” of mankind. But the one thing that I did enjoy was the author’s dexterity and talent in describing the landscape, people, and things. There were a few fine little spots. And his vocabulary was wide and full of good adjectives. Nothing worth reading the book for, but quite pleasurable nonetheless.
This book is bound to be of interest to two groups of people. It was made into a silent film in 1923 and is sure to interest silent film aficionados. And for the vintage western collector–and Charles Alden Seltzer collector in particular–it’s a rather rare and unread work by one of the past century’s leading western authors. Despite the fact that Seltzer seems to have vanished from the memory of most Americans, he was at one time just as famous and popular in the field as L’Amour and Zane Grey are today.
And that ends this short review. I leave you with a quote on the joys of a being astride a galloping horse, and the scent of leather:
“One thing Perrin had not succeeded in rubbing off the chaps, the boots, and the cartridge-belt with his oil and muscle. That was the strange, pungent odor of the leather itself and the the faint, peculiar lingering scent of horses. The scent brought swift memories to Lannon; vivid, compelling recollections of the past. It brought to him again the old atmosphere, the aroma of new sage crushed beneath Polestar’s flying hoofs, the feel of a steady wind pressing against him; he felt again the ripple of Polestar’s mighty muscles; he experienced again the sensation of freedom from restraint of all kinds, the breathless exultation, the wild abandon…”
Ernie Pyle in England is a straight-forward and moving account of English life during the Battle of Britain in WWII. It’s a phenomenal piece of history told as it should be told: fascinatingly. And by someone who walked the cobblestones under the bombing, drank tea in blacked out hotels, and cracked jokes with the common man.
It’s a tale of courage. A masterpiece painting of a people. Of everyday unassuming faithfulness, fortitude, and guts. Of the workaday life in an ugly war– met by a level gaze of hope. He tells the sort of things I’ve always wanted to know about a war. The things you usually wouldn’t know unless you were standing there yourself breathing in the dust as a bomb settles.
One particularly interesting part in the book is where he tells about Britain’s Home Guard. It’s essentially a deep-line-defence made up of civilians, who, with astonishing efficiency, had everything in running order to defend every home, city, town, village, road, and field of grass in the nation. Entirely manned and maintained by armed citizens– all night, every night. Of course, I’d heard of the Home Guard. But I never appreciated it on the high level it deserved before reading this. The strategy and the people merit some attention and study.
Reading history, and learning of the struggles and daily life of other folks such as this, helps to give perspective to our lives and our times. To quote a great line in the book:
I have friends here [in Scotland] who travel to London weekly and who know what has happened down there. These friends get disgusted with their home folks when they return. “Up here we are all complaining about our stomach aches and rheumatism,” they say. “It sounds mighty trivial when you have just come from London, where they really have got something to complain about–and don’t. I think a little blitzing would do us good.”
The point is NOT that stomach aches and rheumatism aren’t worthy struggles. Nor that what is a big hardship to one, is a trivial matter to another, and so should be dismissed. But rather, that the folks living with maiming and EVERYTHING a second from being stripped raw and blown to shreds could maintain an uncomplaining and cheerful attitude. “…they really have got something to complain about–and don’t.”
The point, you see, is the attitude–not the size of your dragon. And its a point well woven into what you could almost call a theme of the book.
On a personal note, I’m thankful for history like this because it increases my mental toughness. Books of this sort give me courage. They make me stronger and more cheerful. And give me a greater sensitivity and appreciation of beauty. These folks don’t pity themselves. They eschew the victim mentality.
Yes, it’s really just a tiny sliver of English history, but is has the tonic-like affect of a brisk fall wind on a muggy August afternoon. It’s bracing, and makes me ready to tackle life with my chin up. That’s the power of history books like this. They change your mindset. Your attitude toward life. It’s far better than the best routines and strengthening exercises I could try to inculcate as habits. Those are things imposed from the outside. But once your very mindset has been altered, all else external follows. Because we really do “live like we live, because we think like we think.”¹
One of Ernie Pyle’s strongest points is in his quick eye and hundreds of descriptive accounts of the normal little people who make up the population. The average Joe and his breakfast. Or Johnny making ice-cream during a night flying bombing mission. It’s a theme throughout all his books I’ve read, and one of the elements that gives them such charm.
Here’s a couple quotes before I wrap this review up:
“There are thousands of “Davises” serving these harassed people of London.
I have a friend who works as an accountant all day then serves most of the night as a shelter marshal, without pay. I’ve seen girls who clerk all day in a ten-cent store and then go to an East End shelter to serve thousands of people over the canteen counter till ten o’clock at night. And they are up at five in the morning to serve early tea and coffee. They do that every night, and they get no pay for it. In the West End I saw women of comfortable means who go every night to sit on stools and make sandwiches by the thousands to be sold to the shelterers at cost.
Britians’s civil army has it’s big blitz heroes who are the greatest this war has produced. But it also has it’s little heroes by the tens of thousands. I think it’s lots harder to be a little hero, because you have to keep so everlastingly at it.” ~p.123
“I sat until 3 A.M. in front of a glowing fireplace with David McQueen, a Presbyterian minister here in Paisley. The Church of Scotland, you know, is Presbyterian; and it used to be a part of the State. Presbyterian ministers here are highly educated in classics. When you sit with Mr. McQueen you are sitting with a man of intellect.
Mr. McQueen is in the war. He has raised thousands of pounds for soldier’s entertainment. His church runs a canteen for the troops stationed here. Wounded R.A.F. fliers come to live with him in his manse, to recuperate. And Mr. McQueen is a private in the Home Guard.
They wanted to make him a padre for the Guard but he wouldn’t do it. He said that if they did that they they should make the pipe organist a bandsman, and no band is needed. So on every duty night David McQueen, Presbyterian minister, is out in the dark fields in uniform, patrolling up and down, looking for Germans.
When his turn falls on Saturday night, he has to go right to church Sunday morning without a wink of sleep, and preach two sermons. He says he has to keep the church cold in order not to fall asleep while he’s talking.
That’s the Home Guard for you.”
Ernie Plye has quite a sense of dry humor. As I’ve said before on this blog, his writing is superb, and he is the most engaging newspaperman I’ve read in my life. His lean sentences, eye for beauty, and “sun-tanned” conversational tone are a delight. As do his other works, this book on the ‘Battle of Britain’ stands out as stellar among it’s peers.
I’ve never been the same since “meeting” Ernie Pyle. And I’m much indebted to the fellow who read his books aloud to me for a couple of years until I realized what treasures they are, and started reading them myself.
If I haven’t convinced you to read this book yet, take a hop over to Goodreads andread a review or two. That should do the trick.
It’s a short 228 pages of fine history by a master writer. If all history were told like this I would be beside myself with joy. But I’m grateful that at least there is this book. Be sure you don’t miss it.
Photos in this post are of the “George Newnes, Limited” edition from London (early 20th century)
A lesser-known mystery from the roaring 20’s. J.S. Fletcher was a very successful author of the last century, whose works aren’t widely read today. But he is read by mystery-loving readers of this day to some extent, and certainly a lot of collectors know how rare and hard to find a handful of his titles can be. He books aren’t often sought out, but when they are it’s with a vigor.
When an elderly pawnbroker is murdered in London, a young down on his luck novelist is accused of the crime. Struggling to make ends meet during the first years of his writing career, his efforts to raise a bit of money land him in an international murder-mystery–as the prime suspect in a court trial.
Old Spanish manuscripts, diamonds, opium dens, and tea cafes keep things lively and mysterious in a twisting London puzzle.
As a contemporary of Sir Arthur Connan Doyle, and a predecessor to Agatha Christie by several years of published detective fiction, he is an interesting part of the history of mysteries. And with well over 100 detective novels to his name, he was quite an influential British gentleman in that field.
‘The Orange-Yellow Diamond’ reads much like an English version of a Hardy Boys book, though for an older audience: it’s full of adventure, chases down London streets in the dark, and a group of men that work together to solve the crime (which differs from the typical single detective approach, or the detective and his sidekick/officer of the law). A group of men/boys has a different dynamic. However the story is intricate, slightly complex, and full of twists. Unlike most Hardy Boys mysteries.
There are a few strong complains of modern readers towards this book. I’ll only touch on one here. It has been accused of carrying a “shut up and don’t make a fuss, little lady; the men have work to do” attitude towards, and treatment of, women. Which same I found to be entirely false. The main gal in this story is as quick witted, resourceful, a business woman, competent, and reliable as it could be wished for in her part in the story. Even allowing for contemporary folks misunderstanding of older culture, feminism and work, and the etymology in old books itis crystal clear that that complaint has no grounds in this book.
My final thoughts: The bad men are caught, but the mystery is not wrapped up traditionally or like the reader expects. There might be a revolt among the readers. 🙂 All in all I found it to be a fun lark, but not a favorite. I wouldn’t go out of my way to find it, nor ever read it again. I found Fletcher’s ‘The Eleventh Hour’a superior novel by far.
Written by Nell Speed (a pen-name of author Emma Speed Sampson)
Originally published in 1924
Illustrated by Thelma Gooch
This is book #4 in “The Carter Girls Series,” and this is one series that makes the most sense when read in order. This book wraps up all the loose ends and character’s stories.
With the return of their father’s health, the Carter family moves back to their old home in the town to revive their fortunes. With 5 of the 7 family members working (as building contractor, doctor’s secretary, shopkeepers, tea room owners, and auto salesman’s assistant) they move back into a life of wealth–but with iron forged character they lacked before their years of struggles. Future prospects come knocking…some in the form of young men, and love, laughter, and jealousy are met with the Carter spirit…
As usual with Nell Speed’s (Emma Speed Sampson’s) writing, the story is characterized with a contagious work ethic, ambition, cheerfulness, and entrepreneurial endeavors. She shines in the realm of attitudes toward hardship. Written for young girls.
While this is not one of her best books plot-wise, nor among my favorites of her works, it is nonetheless a nice story, and a great addition for people (like me) who collect her works. For all you collectors of Emma Speed Sampson: This one is rare and highly collectable—in any condition. Hard to find.
My reading list is never confined to the seasons. Just the same, it is tremendous fun to select a few titles from the stacks of unread books and purpose to read them over the summer. Of course, I often read quite a few books that you’ll never see a trace of on my list…sometimes one comes to my attention and slips ahead of the books that have been patiently waiting their turn in orderly lines across my dresser. 🙂
But without further ado here’s the list of vintage books planned so far:
American Ceasar; Douglas MacArthur by William Manchester
Paul Revere & The World He Lived In by Esther Forbes
Photos in this post are of the handsome Franklin Library edition (1989)
This famous mystery has been well reviewed and discussed by much abler pens than mine, and I don’t have the time at this moment to do it justice with a good long glance. But regardless, I shall make a few quick observations:
A friend writing a mystery novel once read me a line from a book on the craft of writing. He had it written out on paper and stuck to his computer. I’ve long forgotten the source, but the line went something like:
“Your dialogue should crackle. Like Rice Crispies. Snap! Crackle! Pop!”
And that line kept going through my head while buried in the dialog of Murder Must Advertise. The dialogue, the DIALOGUE ladies and gentlemen, is so much fun. I don’t know when I’ve come across this brand of dialogue since an old Cary Grant comedy about newspaper writers.
I grew to love the detective, Lord Peter Wimsey. He is one sleuth a reader grows increasingly fond of as a man, in a way that Sherlock Holmes can never achieve– regardless of his fine cases and deducing skills.
Some of her descriptions of people, their choices, and their lives hit me personally with a choking in the throat. They were so realistic. I felt she was describing folks I know, and the atmosphere changed from a humorous murder mystery to weighty real life truth. For most folks this book would never strike them that way. Indeed it is simply a fun bit of fiction. But I have a few unusual connections whose lifestyles I’ve rarely heard evaluated so aptly. She must have had a lot of knowledge of people to make such characters and have such insight into their paths of life.
There was one conclusion near the end of the book that was not entirely satisfactory to me–but I shall say nothing so as not to spoil the ending.
And that about sums it up. Good synopsis for this tale are in overabundance online, so I won’t write one here.
A few quotes:
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“My brother, being an English gentleman, possesses a library in all his houses…”
***
“If only I had ever seen Willis engaged in any game or sport, I should have know better where I stood, but he seemed to despise the open-air life–and that in itself, if you come to think of it, is sinister.”
***
A word of advice from an English chap to a fellow who was always bemoaning little facts about himself (like having never been to Yale):
“You oughtn’t to say a thing like that, old son,” said Bredon, really distressed. “It’s not done.”
“No–I dare say I’m not a gentleman. I’ve never been–“
“If you tell me you’ve never been to a public school,” said Bredon, “I shall scream. What with Copley and Smayle, and all the other pathetic idiots who go about fostering inferiority complexes, and weighing up the rival merits of this place and that place, when it doesn’t matter a damn anyway, I’m fed up. Pull yourself together…you mustn’t go about creating intolerable situations, you know. ” 🙂
*-*-*
If describing this book in one paragraph to a friend I would say:
The dialogue is fired off with “His Girl Friday” rapidity, the humor and wit is second cousin to “The Thin Man” films, the mystery itself is worthy of Dame Agatha, and meanwhile D. Sayers is making a telling commentary on the advertising business, marketing ethics in general, strong families, drug dealers, and the living of lives of integrity. All without seeming to do so. Skillful, yet unpretentious. This is detective fiction worth owning.
Bound in green cloth with gilt lettering on the cover and spine; originally came with a dust-jacket
Published by the Reilly & Lee Co.
A tale of an orphaned girl. But not the usual kind. This orphan is not a sad little piteous thing. She’s a 17 year old with grit, who faces hardship with a grin and quick-witted ambition–including an assumed identity, running away from her landlady, feuds with a millionaire, and dealing with the hosts of young fellows who hang on her every glance…
All things considered this is a very simple story. But that is where much of it’s charm lies. There and in the contagious attitude of the Peggy, the heroine. The thing I love about Peggy, and also about Judith in Emma Sampson’s “The Comings of Cousin Ann,” is that they are thrown into very tough situations. Not to mention what the millennial generation would call quiet, unfulfilling, lives of thankless drudgery. But they don’t see themselves as victims. Neither do they just sit around and talk and dream up all sorts of solutions to their fears and hard lives. The are doers in the here-and-now. They attack the hardship with grace and a grin–with such jovial grit and action. That’s what I like about this tale.
These sorts of books are just the sort of antidote our weary world could use. Old books have a breath of freshness that drifts out of the musty pages. It pays to learn the attitudes of a generation besides your own. It gives one perspective. That’s one of the biggest takeaways I’ve had in the hundreds of simple old stories: the attitude and atmosphere of the protagonists contrasted with my generation and my culture.
And that’s my two cents on why it’s such a fun and charming read from yesteryear–even though it is a very simplistic story. The charm lies in the attitude and sweetness, not in any masterpiece of a story. “The Comings of Cousin Ann” however, is still my favorite of Sampson’s works!
There is currently a copy of The Spite Fence available here in the shop! *SOLD OUT*
“She might have added that she had never expected to be doing what she was doing. There were times when she felt as though she could not go on with the drudgery of her days, but she had a certain sturdiness of character that made it impossible for her to give up a task once begun.”
“Occasionally, when she had saved up a little money, she would go to a book store… One must have books. Mrs. Fitzpatrick was waking up to that fact, and now that the piano was paid for she was buying the Five Foot Shelf, which was all very well, but Peggy wanted some books of her own–little chunky books she could slip in her pocket, long slim books of poetry, with deep margins and one poem on a page.”
A simple roundup of the vintage books read in 2017, and a few notes…very much overdue. 😉
I read over 40 old books last year, and much could be discussed about each volume, but to keep this a manageable length I’ll just make a few quick observations.
Vintage Fiction
Among my all time fiction favorites in 2017 were most assuredly John Buchan and Wodehouse’s books—-a sheer delight, as always. I read John Buchan’s stirring Salute to Adventures and John Macnab and relished them both. Of Wodehouse I read:
Love Among The Chickens
The Coming of Bill
Jill The Reckless
Carry On Jeeves
Very Good Jeeves (my least favorite on this list—good but not great)
Right Ho Jeeves
Blandings Castle
The Code Of The Woosters
{Note on Blandings Castle: in this volume of short stories there is one which stood out as possibly the funniest thing I’ve read by Wodehouse; or at least the funniest short story: the Bobbie Wickham story “Mr. Potter Takes A Rest Cure.”
Do yourself a favor and read it. Then do your family a favor and read it aloud on your next road trip. Its quite short and can be easily read aloud in less than an hour–that is, if you don’t keep stopping because you are laughing too hard.}
It was great fun to re-read two of my old favorites aloud: “The Comings Of Cousin Ann” and “Bulldog Drummond.”
Other fiction favorites from last year were two of the Anne of Green Gables books, “The Prisoner of Zenda,”“The Screwtape Letters,” and the hilarious “The Story of the Treasure Seekers.” I’m still on the fence about “Random Harvest” but I think it should be included in this paragraph for the cunning plot and skillful writing…but I’m not quite sure about it yet…
Vintage Non-Fiction Favorites
“Ernie Pyle in England” and “They Were Expendable” were both fascinating bits of WWII non-fiction, written with such ease and flow that it’s not even akin to the books most folks call history.
Particularly Ernie Pyle’s book. His writing is superb and he is the most engaging newspaperman I’ve read in my life. Reading his observations makes me want to write. And not just write, but write like a craftsman, with a homey “old fashioned-letter” touch. His lean sentences, eye for beauty, and “sun-tanned” conversational tone are a personal delight of mine. I’ve not met many other readers of his works, but to me they stand out as stellar among their peers. His books (particularly “Here Is Your War”) changed the way I understood war and soldier-hood. And, in turn, the way I understand the old-men-WWII-veterans I talk with.
I’ve never been the same since “meeting” Ernie Pyle. And I’m much indebted to the fellow who read his books aloud to me for a couple of years until I realized what treasures they are, and started reading them myself.
“The Great Escape” (which I’ve been wanting to read ever since I saw the movie), “The Last Chapter,”“The Letters and Recollections of Robert E. Lee,” and “A Heap Of Living” round up the rest of my top 2017 vintage non-fiction.
Not Recommended
These are the books on the list below I wouldn’t recommend seeking out or taking the time to read.
“Lin McLean” and “Lady Baltimore” by Owen Wister, while I personally enjoyed many aspects of these novels, they had a few serious flaws that I just can’t overlook enough to recommend them to anyone.
“The Egg and I,” partly wonderful, partly terrible—I’m glad I read it (and laughed ever so much at times), but wouldn’t recommend it to others.
“The Builders” was a sheer waste of time.
“Ginger Rogers and the Riddle of the Scarlett Cloak” (see review).
And I’ll finish up with a complete list of the titles read for those who may be interested:
One of the 16 ‘Whitman Authorized Editions’ about film actresses
The plot of this book is a typical WWII children’s “patriotic” spy-ring mystery. Ginger Rogers is a telephone operator in a swanky hotel, who gets involved in breaking a plot to steal American bomb technology. Romance is just as much of the book as the mystery though…handsome and rich men abound and vie for the affection of the little telephone operator.
My thoughts on it fall into a couple of categories:
Writing quality: It was written by a movie star’s mother (not an official author), and I was curious to see how it would measure up to the average child’s mystery of it’s day. It started out nicely and had the charm I love in that old style. As I kept reading I noticed an abundance of adjectives and extraneous details which made the quality plummet quickly. There were a lot of extra sentences and words explaining things that the reader would have automatically picked up on. A stiff edit could have made it a very pleasant read. Of course, I’m by no means a qualified critic of writing! 🙂
The Story: A simple mystery, easy to guess in a few parts, but fun for it’s intended audience. The thing that I loved most about it, was Ginger’s attitude towards her work. She has what many folks would consider a dull and tedious job: eight hours locked in a tiny room working as a switch-board operator for a hotel. In the middle of the night. Day after day. Year after year. Yet she is cheerful and never complains. On the contrary, she find great joy in preforming her job to the best of her ability. She has the old-fashioned pride in her work that is consistent both in old children’s fiction, and among the old folks that I know from that generation. But it is lacking among the fiction and people of this generation.
To them it seemed the occupation never mattered. The pride was in how the job was tackled—not in what it was. The converse is what I find emphasized in today’s fiction: make sure that the job is good enough, “you need to do what you love,” “find a job that makes you excited to wake up and work everyday,” “Is this job fulfilling?,” don’t be satisfied until you find the job of your dreams” and so on. Whereas the old books tend to whisper the message: “the secret is not in doing what you like, but in learning to love the job you have been given,” “cultivate an attitude that makes you grateful for your job, and a joy for others to be around,” and on and on. This is a topic I could use an abundance of adjectives on. And a few pages of proof and quotes from old books. 😉
The old books did encourage ambition and lofty goals, but not to the exclusion of quiet faithfulness, contentment, and pride in the ‘here and now’… The attitudes considered important stand in stark contrast to the “inspiring” Pinterest quotes and memes of today which sometimes are encouraging, but often tend to make people dissatisfied with their life instead of being grateful and tearing into the job with a ‘gung-ho’ attitude and a cheerful whistle ….
The romance and the mother/daughter relationship areas of the story, which made up most of it, weren’t good. Ginger is a Disney-princess “follow what your heart tells you about this man” sort of girl. She has a few good thoughts and evaluations (based on valuable listening to ‘intuition’ that would make Gavin de Becker proud), but mostly it’s unsubstantial. Not the sort of reading that turns little girls into strong or wise women.
The Vocabulary:
I was pleasantly surprised. From these pages came unusual words such as:
ermines
surcease
mezzanine…
Overall I don’t think it’s a very worthy book. I was curious to read it mainly because of it being written by Ginger’s own mother. The historical aspect of this series had me curious as well, and I wanted to understand and study a few things about these Whitman books, their popularity, etc. It was a fun study, and light reading. But not one I’d recommend searching out, or adding to little girl’s libraries.
The folks who might like it are book collectors, as well as historians and Ginger Rogers memorabilia collectors. And there’s a copy in at least one museum that I know of…
“We’ve just not been grateful enough lately,” Ginger said emphatically. “That’s what’s the matter with us.”
“I haven’t been, I know that,” Mary admitted.
“It’s not only you Mommie. It’s both of us. We’ve been too busy about our silly little affairs to be grateful for all our blessings. That’s why we’re all mixed up.” Ginger thought a moment, then went on, “What a thing for two people like us to do! Both of us know that gratitude opens the way to joy, yet here we are…!”
Both of the above books are currently available in the Box Thirteen Shop!
Herbert Carr’s father died. His mother’s job was taken away by an ambitious storekeeper. With no means to live on, 16 year-old Herbert takes it upon himself to provide for the two of them. By his ambition he finds several jobs and works cheerfully–even under mean employers, until he finds a proposition that suits him perfectly. He hires on as an assitant and companion to a sick man who came west for his health. His new work brings prosperity to him and his mother, and also sends along all sorts of excitement: being tried for crimes he didn’t commit, attacked by robbers, waylaid by stage-coach bandits, fighting Indians, and like adventures as he “strives to succeed.”
Originally published in 1884 by Porter & Coates, it was one of Horatio Alger Jr.’s famous books for boys: tales of ambitious poor boys who persevere with grit and finally succeed financially by hard work and diligence. Many folks accurately call his stories classic “rags to riches” tales…
Compared to many similar and contemporary works:
It’s far easier to read than G. A. Henty novels, the story pacing is much quicker, and it is geared towards younger boys. It’s not as engrossing as R. M. Ballantyne’s tales, nor is the writing and development of the characters nearly as good. The writing style reminds me a lot of the Bobsey Twins Series by “Laura Lee Hope.” The similarity is not really surprising considering the connection Edward Stratmeyer had with both series.
Do And Dare is a simple story, packed full of morals and character, some adventures, and old style vocabulary. It is a classic boy’s tale, nothing exceptional and not on my favorites list, but fun nonetheless.
